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“It’s Mark,” he said as he reentered the kitchen. I glowered at the pot sitting in front of me. “Sorry. I didn’t think he had my number. He wants us on speaker right now.” Exhaling like a drama queen, I turned from the stove as Bishop placed his cell on the island then came over to stand beside me. “Your surly face is back.”
Mark cleared his throat. “Are you two there?”
“We are,” I replied, crossing my arms over my bare chest. Bishop’s elbow brushed mine as he reached for a mug for tea.
“Good. I have two words for both of you. Obstructing. Justice.”
I gave Bishop a quick peek. His eyebrows were up at his hairline.
“Let me go get the phone number,” I grumbled, swiping the phone from the island then stalked into the bedroom. Once I found the lilac slip of paper in my wallet, I read off the numbers then let the strip flutter down to my nightstand.
“Thank you for being sensible,” Mark said. “I’ll be in touch shortly.”
“Please let us know if we can help in any way,” I jammed in before he could hang up. Which he did after a low grumbly sound. I dropped down to sit on the bed, head down, elbows on knees, mind whirling to come up with some way we could help. Bishop’s naked toes appeared.
“Have some coffee,” he said as I glanced upward. He passed me a mug then sat beside me. “Maybe he has a point. Maybe we should let the police handle things.”
“They’ll just muck shit up and—”
My phone rang. We both sprinted to the kitchen with as much speed as a man with a scalding cup of coffee in his hand can sprint. I glanced at the caller ID then groaned.
“It’s Clayton McCrary,” I passed along. Bishop’s face scrunched up into a look of disgust. I thought to just let it go to voicemail but opted to answer. There had to be a reason Clayton was calling me at five twenty a.m., and it wasn’t to admire the new day about to start.
“McCrary,” I said as a way of greeting.
“Haney,” Clayton answered, his tone crisp not sleepy. Of course, he was a rancher, so he rolled out with the chickens like the rest of us. “I decided to call you instead of that city slicker you call a boss since he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”
Bane meowed at the front door. I padded out to open it for him, Bishop on my heels. The morning was cool, by summer standards, and the crickets were winding down from their nightly concerto. Sunrise was moments away.
“What can I do for you?” I asked as politely as possible.
“I just wanted to let you know that the next time you send the sheriff to my land, his head filled with your bullshit allegations about me or my family stealing shit from that pissant dirt farm you call a ranch, I will haul you and the rest of the brownies prancing around in ladies panties over the property line and whip you like the freaks you are.”
“Careful, Clayton, your bigot is showing,” I replied, the slurs digging into my skin like chiggers.
“Call me what you want just do not sully my family name ever again. I know you pillow-biters like to sit around the table giggling and gossiping but we over here on the righteous side of the river don’t deal in spreading rumors. If I wanted to take something from you, trust me, I would have done so long ago as there ain’t one real man on that spread who could have stopped me.”
“You want to test out that assumption?” Clayton laughed as if I’d said something truly hilarious then severed the call. “Well, that was pleasant.” I sat down on the stoop, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, and stared out at the lightening sky.
“What did he say?” Bishop asked, draping a western throw over my shoulders then wiggling in beside me to share the handmade blanket. His shoulder and arm were tight to mine. Bane pranced around us, tail in the air, before sauntering off to do what tomcats did.
“Typical homophobic bullshit sprinkled with several threats.”
“Wow,” he whispered, light wisps of steam rising from the mug of tea cradled between his hands. “Where do we go now?”
I shrugged. My phone vibrated. “It’s too early for this shit,” I complained then turned my phone over to read the text coming in from Mark.
Cell number did not pan out. Probably a burner. Will keep digging.
“Great,” I huffed then tossed my phone to the step between my feet. “I should have only given Tootch a hundred.”
“Guess we just have to be patient.” He sighed as if he’d lost his dog. “I hope we can track those fossils down. The university and the world are being robbed of part of the natural history of this world.”
I leaned into him to give him a solid base to share his heavy load on if he wished. “We’ll find them and get them back. I promise. It’s partly my fault for pulling the guards we’d put at the site. That will not happen again.”
“It’s not your fault. We all thought that first hit was going to be it. Talk about brazen,” he growled then took a small sip of his tea.
“Hopefully, Mark will find something that will lead us to your pilfered bones. And we have Perry and Will keeping watch in the bunkhouse for anything suspicious.”
