Renegade (Tin Star K9 Series Book 1) by Jodi Burnett (literature books to read .txt) 📗

lunch, he headed west to the Reed’s family ranch. On his way, Colt decided to have a look at the forest access road Caitlyn told him about. He slowed down as he neared the turnoff to the ranch. Even so, he almost missed the overgrown road. “Road” was a generous term for a six-foot-wide grass and rock two-track pathway that the forest service cut through the trees probably fifty years ago, or more. A wheeled vehicle had recently matted down the tall grasses, but unless he was searching for them, he wouldn’t have seen the tracks.

Colt switched to four-wheel drive when he turned on the path. He followed the trail as it veered upward, bouncing through aspen groves, high meadows, and thick patches of pine. Spring wild flowers were in bloom. He tucked this secret location away in his mind. This would make the perfect place for a long private picnic. He pictured Catie sitting on a blanket with her face tilted up to the sun.

At the top of the ridge, the path veered to the right and opened up to a flat rocky area. Colt parked his car. The air was crisp, prickling his nose with the sharp scent of pine. He breathed deep and, scanning the surrounding mountains, attempted to reconnoiter his location. Behind a row of trees stood a barbed wire fence, which he followed until he came to a gate. The back of his neck prickled. He hadn’t realized that the rarely used road lead up to the BLM side of the gate on top of the ridge where Catie found the body.

Adrenaline surged through his brain, and his pulse flew. Caitlyn was right to want to investigate the forest access road. Careful of where he stepped, Colt studied the ground around the gate, walking methodically back to his Jeep. He stopped cold. Tire tracks!

In the silty dirt about twenty feet from the gate, Colt recognized the unmistakable imprint of a tire tread preserved in dried mud. Skirting the area, he ran back to his car to gather both his casting and fingerprint kits. The new impression evidence sent his nerves jumping, and he dropped his keys when he tried to open the back end of the Jeep.

After photographing the tire tracks, Colt mixed water and some dry dental-stone material making a thick, smooth consistency. He poured it into the furrows of the tread prints, then left that to dry while he went to brush the gates for fingerprints. Of course, that was a crap shoot. Hundreds of people probably left prints on the metal gate over the years, including Caitlyn and Dylan.

What he found, however, was more interesting than he expected. There were no prints at all. Someone had wiped the gate clean. That made the tire tracks all that more meaningful, and Colt was thankful there had been no rain since the murder.

After the casting dried, Colt carefully peeled the impressions up and placed them in a protective box. He searched the area once more for any evidence he might have missed. Finding nothing, he drove back down the mountain to the highway. The road was steep at the bottom, and Colt imagined a car flying out of the trees and swerving to miss a truck on the road. His chest tightened and air pressed out of his lung as his gut cinched tight. He closed his eyes against the mental image of Caitlyn’s truck tumbling down the cliff, crashing into the river far below.

He shook the thought from his mind and turned right onto the highway. It was time to check on Dylan. When he got to the ranch, he found Dylan stacking hay in the loafing shed behind the barn. Colt pulled a pair of leather gloves from the console of his car. He figured Dylan might be more willing to talk if he had some help with his work.

In silence, the men stacked six bales of hay before Dylan asked, “How can I help you, Deputy? I can’t imagine you just meandered out here to help me stack hay.”

“You’re right. I have a few questions, but I don’t mind giving you a hand while I ask them.” Colt tossed a bale up to Dylan and noticed that he only used one arm to snug it up.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m wondering where you were last night?”

“Don’t tell me there was another murder?” Dylan glowered down at him.

“No, nothing like that.” Luckily. Though whoever attacked Caitlyn probably would have killed her if Renegade didn’t chase him off. “Just wondering if you were out?” Colt kept his tone casual as he tossed up another bale.

Again, Dylan lifted it and tightened the stack using only his left hand.

“My attorney told me not to answer any questions without him present.”

Colt held his hand up to shade his eyes as he looked up at Dylan. “Are you okay? Seems like you’re favoring your arm.”

“Nope. I’m fine.”

“Can I take a look?”

“What? At my arm?” Dylan scoffed. “You got a warrant?”

“I’m just concerned.” He wouldn’t get anywhere by pissing the man off.

Dylan glanced down at his right arm and then leveled his gaze at Colt and shrugged. “I got yanked off my horse this morning when I was roping a cow. Landed on it wrong. It’s just sore.”

“You sure it isn’t broken?”

Dylan cocked his head as he looked down at Colt. “When did you become Nurse Nightingale? I told you it was fine. Just a little sore that’s all.”

“Have you talked to Catie lately?”

“What’s this all about, Deputy?”

Colt perched his hands on his hips and thought about how much information he wanted to give to Dylan. The thing was, Caitlyn was his sister. If he wasn’t the one who attacked her, he should at least know it happened. “Somebody broke into Caitlyn’s cabin last night—”

Dylan jumped off the haystack. “What? Who? Is she okay?”

“The intruder attacked her, she has a concussion.” Colt watched Dylan closely. “But other than that, she’s going to be all right.”

“How did the guy get