She, however, was another story. He could control the little bitch. He just had to find her.
He fired up the Internet to have a look, but was temporarily interrupted by his cell phone.
“Riggs,” he said roughly.
“Logan Riggs?”
“Yeah. I don’t recognize your number. Who is this?”
“I’m a friend. I have some information for you.”
“I don’t have time for games. I’m on parole, and I need to find someone.”
“I’m aware of your situation, Mr. Riggs. I think we can help each other.”
“How’s that, friend?”
“I know where to find a certain veterinarian you might be looking for.”
Riggs cleared his throat and rubbed his arms that had become suddenly chilly. “I’m listening.”
“I can tell you where she is,” the voice said, “but I want something in return.”
“What might that be?”
“I want her hurt. Badly.”
“Friend,” Riggs said, “I’m your man.”
Chapter Twelve
It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.
The whispered words echoed in Annie’s ears. Dusty had repeated them over and over the previous night, rocking Annie as if she were Sean. Annie had sobbed and gasped into her friend’s shoulder, eventually pouring out the whole story of her marriage to Riggs and swearing Dusty to secrecy.
When she was all cried out, Dusty had taken her upstairs to a guest bedroom and put her to bed, kissing her forehead like a child’s.
This morning, after a quick breakfast, courtesy of Seraphina, she had thanked Dusty profusely and left. Now, after having stopped at her office to send the blood and grain from yesterday to the lab and to pick up more sodium thiosulphate for Dallas’s cattle, she was driving to Dallas’s ranch. She thanked God for the Colorado sun, necessitating the sunglasses that hid her eyes, red and swollen from crying.
You need to tell Dallas.
Dusty again. As Annie drove up the dirt road toward the ranging site where the sick cattle were gathered, she couldn’t shake her friend’s words. She’d promised Dusty that she’d consider it, but she knew in her heart she could never tell Dallas. It was too humiliating.
Speak of the handsome devil himself. Dallas stood, with Chad, next to another sick steer. Annie hit the brakes and got out of the car, her vet bag in hand.
“Another one?” she said, walking toward them.
“’Fraid so, Dr. Annie,” Chad said. “We must have missed this one yesterday.”
Annie sighed and knelt down beside the sick animal. “It’s too late for him,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”
She stood up and pulled the medication out of her bag and handed it to Chad. “This is all the sodium thiosulphate I have left. I ordered a ton more this morning, overnight. It’ll be here tomorrow. I also sent the blood and the grain to the lab with a rush. Of course they can’t guarantee a specific time for the results.” She cleared her throat. “In the meantime…”
“Yeah?” Dallas said.
“I think you should contact the authorities.”
“The sheriff you mean?”