Читать книгу Witness In The Woods - Michele Hauf - Страница 13

Joe woke and winced. He was sitting at an angle—ah, hell. He’d fallen asleep in the truck parked at the end of Skylar’s driveway.

The rapping noise that had woken him thumped again on his window. Sliding upright in the driver’s seat, he moaned at the tug to his aching back muscles, then managed a blinking glance to his left. And then he opened his eyes wide and took in the view.

Could a woman look more beautiful in a cowboy hat, no makeup and plain denim shirt unbuttoned to just there? He voted no. She was like sunshine and all those pretty things guys liked to look at but were always afraid to touch for fear of smearing them with dirt or breaking something delicate.

Skylar Davis was not a delicate woman. She’d made that clear to him over the years he’d known her. And he expected some stern words to follow the admonishing look she was giving him now.

Turning the keys in the ignition, Joe pushed the window button, which slid down slowly. “Mornin’, Skylar.”

“Really, Joe? Did you sleep out here all night?”

“Most of the time? Nope. Wasn’t sleeping. I was on watch. Must have fallen asleep a few hours ago.” He wasn’t sure what time it was and glanced at the dashboard. Seven o’clock. He may have gotten two hours’ sleep at most. The night had been spent with the radio turned low to the ’90s top hits, his eyes half-closed, as he’d kept an eye toward the Davis house.

“I told you I didn’t need looking after.”

“Just doing my job, Skylar. You were in danger last night. It’s not clear that danger has passed. I wouldn’t be a very good law enforcement officer if I’d walked away and left you vulnerable. How’d you sleep? Where’s Stella?”

“She’s playing with Becky. And I’m headed into town on errands.”

“Right. Pink yarn, wasn’t it?”

“Red. That, and groceries. Will you move your truck so I can drive through? Or are you now a permanent fixture that I have to learn to live with like some kind of skin growth?”

Someone was not a morning person. Still, her pretty eyes made up for that touch of rancor. “Listen, Skylar, I know you don’t care for me—”

“My feelings for you have nothing to do with what’s going on right now, so don’t bring that into the situation.”

She had feelings for him? Joe raked his fingers through his hair and sat up a little straighter.

“I appreciate you investigating the shooting,” she said. “And I understand you’ll have further questions for me. I’ll cooperate as much as I can. But I already gave you my statement.”

“As much as you can?” Joe opened the car door and stepped out. Another tug at his back muscles reminded him how little time he spent sitting all night in a car keeping a vigilant watch for intruders. “What’s going on, Skylar? I feel like you know something you’re not willing to tell me. Or are you afraid? Is that it? Is someone threatening you?”

“Of course I was threatened!”

“Yes, but why? If it was a threat, then generally the person being threatened has an idea about why.”

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, paced to the front of his truck and then swung out her arms in surrender. “It’s not what you think, Joe. I just… Did you find the place where the shooter may have been positioned?”

“I did. As predicted, I found a couple shell casings. Sent them in to forensics for analysis.”

Now she gave him her full attention. Sunlight flashed through the tree canopy, gleaming on her smooth skin. That someone had wanted to hurt her, or at the very least threaten her, tightened Joe’s resolve to find the culprit. No woman, especially Skylar, should ever be put in such a position of fear.

“I found a snare, set and waiting to spring.”

Skylar nodded subtly, taking it in. She didn’t seem surprised. And for as rampant as poaching was in the Superior Forest, it wasn’t as if most people ever encountered such a situation unless they went looking for it, as a conservation officer would.

“You ever catch poachers on your land, Skylar?”

“Catch them? No. I’d be a fool to go after an idiot with a gun and the mentality that animals are there for the taking, no matter the pain they cause the poor creatures.”

Joe nodded. They were of the same mind regarding treatment of animals. All animals. Not just the ones society had designated as pets.

“Most of the land owners around here carry a gun,” he said. “And while the majority are law-abiding and only hunt with a license, there are those idiots, as you call them, who think they can do as they please. I’ve been investigating a poaching ring close to this area for months.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. She was interested, but she was also holding back on the conversation. She knew something. He sensed it. Could she have information that might lead him to whoever had poisoned Max?

“You know it’s your duty to report poaching activity, Skylar.”

“I know that.”

“Don’t approach the culprit, just get a name or description, location of the trap or snare, and call it in.”

“I can do that. And I will. If I ever happen upon something like that.”

“You gotta be careful trekking through these woods.”

“This is my property.”

“Is it clearly marked? Fenced?”

“No.” She hooked a hand at her hip and lifted her chin. “My father had a good relationship with all the area families. We all respect boundaries and will often allow one another to hunt on our land, with permission. I’ve never had a problem…”

Joe waited as her words seemed to hang. She wasn’t saying something, and he really wanted to wrench it out of her, but he didn’t want to play hardball and force their relationship into something uncomfortable for her.

Not that they had a relationship. Well, beyond that he’d considered her a friend up until a year ago.

“What about your uncle?” he prompted. He knew Malcolm Davis’s land hugged Merlin Davis’s—now Skylar’s—land in some manner. It had all originally been owned by their father, Skylar’s grandfather.

“What about him?” Skylar now studied the ground intently.

Joe shrugged. “I see Davis Trucking driving the highways all the time. In Duluth, too.”

“They are the third biggest trucking company in northern Minnesota. I’m sure they have a loading dock on Superior.”

“Been around forever, too. You have a good relationship with them?”

“Davis Trucking? I can’t say it’s good, bad or ugly.”

“I mean your uncle Malcolm. Didn’t I hear something about him and your dad having a feud of some sort? I think you mentioned that to me once.”

“My dad has been gone for two years, Joe. Leave the past in the past.”

“Sorry.” He shoved his hands into his back pockets.

That had been a cruel means to try to get more about Malcolm Davis out of her. The patriarch of Davis Trucking was on Joe’s suspect list. But he’d yet to get hard evidence on him, save a few random deer pelts and a couple bald eagle talons found in one of his truckers’ glove compartments.

“I have to get to the store,” Skylar said, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s still early, and I have some mowing to do, plus I need to move the chicken house. I like to do that before the hot afternoon sun beats down. You going to move your truck?”

“I will. But I do have more questions. They can wait until after I’ve had a better look at the evidence. I’m not going to stand back and let you face alone whatever the hell is going on, Skylar. Just a warning. I’m here for you. Like it or not.”

She nodded and looked aside. “Sure thing, Joe. Thanks,” she said on a tight whisper. “Talk to you soon.”

She turned and strode off toward the cabin. Her long legs moved her swiftly, as did her swinging arms. No-nonsense wrapped in a tease of femininity. Had Cole Pruitt really married her? Last Joe had heard, the date had been set. And that wedding dress. So many questions he’d like to have answered.

“She’s hiding something,” Joe muttered.

And that hurt him almost as much as losing his chance at dating her had. Was she involved with the poachers his investigations were centered around? It was a quick and harsh judgment, but it was something he’d have to consider. She was a member of the Davis family, after all.

“Don’t do this to me, Skylar,” he said as he slid back behind the wheel of his truck. “I have too much respect for you.”

SKYLAR PAID FOR the two bags of groceries—pleased the small market offered sundries such as the red yarn—then grabbed the bags and headed out to her truck parked in the grassy lot in front of the store. The old Ford she drove had once been red, but the paint job had faded over the years to a rust-mottled pink. Cole had been good with the small fixes it had needed. That was about the only thing she missed about not having him around.

She set the paper bags on the passenger seat and closed the door to walk around to the back, where she paused and leaned against the tailgate to watch passing cars. She was no longer in an irritated mood caused by thoughts of Joseph Cash and his soulful green eyes. Because, mercy, that man had cornered the market on sexy.

Why had she never hooked up with him?

They almost had that one night. And then…

And then. The big rejection from him. That still hurt a little. Even though she could understand where he’d been coming from—she being drunker than a skunk. And he had been toasted, as well. That he’d had the mental fortitude to refuse her suggestion of sex was either because he was a strange beast or because he hadn’t been as interested in her as she’d thought.

Either way, at the time, his refusal had humiliated her. After that, she’d thought pushing him away was the smart thing to do. Really, the idea of being happy and in love with any man had only driven her mad after losing her father. He’d been torn apart when her mom had left. Skylar had been twelve that morning she’d found a note from her mother placed directly on top of her bowl of shredded wheat. She’d missed the school bus after reading the two sentences: I can’t do this anymore. I love you, Skylar. Mom.

And she hadn’t seen or heard from her since. No check-in calls. No Christmas cards. Not even a “hey, I’m still alive, don’t worry about me” message on the phone. Her teenage years had been depressing. Skylar had once been confident and self-assured in her schoolwork, but middle school had been merely going through the motions. By her sophomore year, Skylar had decided to put her anger into her schoolwork and had graduated a year early. As if that would show her mom.

It hadn’t, but it was how she’d coped with the situation. If her mom didn’t need her, then she certainly didn’t need her, either.

But her father had not been the same after his wife left. He’d refused to even date after that, telling Skylar Dorothy had been his soul mate. On his deathbed he had smiled and whispered Dorothy’s name before drifting away.

The woman had not deserved such reverence. Had she ever appreciated her husband’s love for her? That was a question Skylar wanted an answer to, but she knew it would never come. So she’d moved forward, and was doing as well as she could now that her dad was gone. Life had felt empty for a while after his death, but her focus on the animals she rehabilitated had worked like a jolt of life infused into her system. She didn’t need anyone to make her happy. Nor did she want to risk falling for someone and having them walk out of her life.