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Four hours later, Dallas’s head hurt worse than ever. Grilling his men had taken its toll, and Doug had a suspect that he dragged to his station for further questioning. A young man who had been with Dallas for several years. Morgan Bailey. Single. No immediate family in the area. Ripe for the picking.
But young. And weak. A little rough talk from Doug and he had squealed like a pig.
And the worst part? The trail led to a man named Jon Parker, chief legal officer for Beaumont Enterprises, his ex-father-in-law’s business.
Jon Parker. Chelsea had mentioned him on more than one occasion. They had been friends since seventh grade or something like that. For a while, Jon had been obsessed with Chelsea. Apparently he still was. But why would Chelsea want to hurt Dallas’s cattle? He had given the bitch seven figures, for God’s sake.
He pursed his lips and strengthened his resolve. He was more determined than ever never to get involved with a deceptive female again. After last night, he had considered giving Annie another chance.
Wasn’t going to happen.
He’d just have to get over her.
Funny, it sounded easy enough, but the thought of it ached in the marrow of his soul.
Speak of the devil. Annie’s Beetle drove up the dirt road as Dallas and Chad were waving Doug and the young suspect off.
“Hey, Dr. Annie,” Chad said, as she got of her car, “any news?”
“Yeah. Just got the call. Your grasses are clean, like I suspected. But the grain tested positive for cyanide.”
“Not a surprise. Doug just took in our suspect.”
“Good. You found him already. How are the animals?”
“They’re doing well, thanks to you,” Chad said.
Dallas still hadn’t spoken to Annie. She looked beautiful in a slim denim skirt and a peasant blouse. The sun cast glints in the burgundy highlights of her hair. How he wished things could be different. She turned to him.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“What about?”
“In private. Please.”
“That’s my cue,” Chad said. “I’ve got plenty to do. See you all later.”
“Can we go up to the house?” Annie asked.
“Uh, sure.”
“Good. I’ll drive. Hop in.”
When they reached the house, Annie headed straight for the kitchen, pulling things from shelves as if she lived there. For a moment, Dallas let himself imagine she did, that this was her house, her kitchen, her home. She looked right in his kitchen. Warmth filled his heart, and he stiffened. He couldn’t let the image soften him.
“How’s the headache?” she asked, filling a teakettle with water and placing it on a burner.
“Hurts like a bitch.”
“I don’t doubt it.” She pulled two teabags out of her handbag. “Lemongrass,” she said, “with some peppermint and linden flowers. The water’ll take a minute.”
Dallas smiled. He loved the way Annie said “wooder” for water.
“Annie, I should thank you. You know, for last night.”
“No problem. I owed you one.”
“No. You don’t owe me anything.”
