She didn’t finish her sentence. Maybe she didn’t have to.
Veronica touched the sheriff’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I trust Jasper.”
“What if you’re making a mistake?” Wyatt asked her, voice raw.
“I don’t know.” She didn’t look at Jasper when she whispered this confession.
Jasper put his arm around Veronica’s shoulder. He pulled her against his side. The woman seemed to fit him so well. “I’m going to stay with her. I won’t let anyone hurt her.”
“You’d better not.” With that snarl, Wyatt turned away and marched back into the house.
Veronica watched him go.
Jasper wanted to ask her about the sheriff. About the possessive gaze he had swept over her. But now her eyes were on him, and for a second, he didn’t say anything at all.
“I have to do something,” she said. “I can’t just stay here and watch some crime techs go through all my things.”
And she couldn’t search through the house to see what had been taken, not until Logan’s crew arrived. He blew out a slow breath. “Let’s search the rest of the property.” Well, the north end, for now. “Any buildings or places where someone can hole up for a while.” Rain was coming, so they were working against the clock, or rather, the weather. Jasper wanted to get out there and see if there were any fresh tracks before the rain washed those tracks away. But, judging by the gathering clouds, there wasn’t gonna be much time.
“You think the person who broke into my house—”
“It’s a lot of land. I just want to be sure.”
Her lips pressed together as she thought for a moment, and then she said, “I searched the area, went in all the sheds and the two cabins, about a month ago. I didn’t see anything then.” Her lips pulled down. “That was my third search. I thought that maybe Cale was in one of those places.”
Maybe he is now. Because Jasper sure thought the man was back in town.
“Let’s look again,” he murmured. “Sometimes you just need a fresh pair of eyes.” Or a trained gaze that was used to seeing what most people missed.
Like the faint signs left by another hunter’s presence.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
He nodded toward the truck. “Let’s tell the sheriff where we’re heading. If we hurry, we can beat the storm.” And catch anyone who might be lingering around, waiting for another moment to strike.
Not on my watch.
* * *
THERE WASN’T EXACTLY a road that led over the ranch’s property. Not a real road, anyway. Dirt and some gravel. If you tried hard, you could almost follow a trail.
Sometimes.
The truck bounced along the path, heaving over the terrain. Veronica tried to shove all the dark images out of her head—not images about her slashed items, but images of Reed Montgomery. His last minutes.
What did her clothes matter compared to what he’d suffered?
“You okay?”
Her head snapped up at Jasper’s drawl. “F-fine.”
“You seemed to be about a million miles away.”
Not nearly that far. Last Chance wasn’t nearly that far away. She swallowed. There was a question she wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure how he would react. “Jasper...” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
His profile was strong, hard, his attention seemingly all on the area before the truck. His gaze swept over the land, going from left to right, then back again, every few moments.
“What’s it like to kill a man?” she asked him.