“I tried, but your voice mail was full. Besides my cell’s been missing a while,” she said, still disturbed about its sudden reappearance.
“Okay, so I tried to get in touch with you.”
Not too hard, she thought, but let it slide.
“I heard about Mary Beth. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“The police think it was intentional, that someone killed her?”
She nodded and all of the warmth and humor they’d shared only moments before drizzled away with the cold truth.
“How’s Robert holding up?”
> “I haven’t seen him since it happened, but according to my other brothers and mother, not well.”
“And the kids?”
“I don’t know, but it’s got to be tough.” She leaned her arms over the top rail of the fence. “The police think whoever killed her is the same one who burned down the shed.”
Nate’s gaze moved from the shed to her face. “And attacked you.”
“And probably kidnapped Dani Settler.”
“Your daughter.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t remember telling you all my deep, dark secrets.”
With a shrug, he said, “Santa Lucia’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
“Including you?”
“Only the people I care about,” he said, then, before she could reply, hitched his chin toward the paddock where the small herd of horses was grazing. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”
“What?”
“Just come on.” As if expecting her to argue, he added, “Humor me, this once. Believe me, Shannon, I think you’ll be interested in what I found out.”
Curious, she gestured broadly with one hand. “Lead away.” She followed him to the fence enclosing the paddock outside the horse barn. Inside the enclosure the horses were enjoying the last rays of evening sun. Several picked at the dry stubble that still existed in clumps within the paddock while the roan gelding was rolling in the dust, sending up great clouds that partially hid his body, so that his legs, pawing the air, were all that was visible. Still others stood, heads turned in their direction, dark eyes watching.
“Wait here,” Nate instructed as he grabbed a leather lead from a hook on the side of the building, then slipped through the gate and approached the small herd standing beneath the bows of a madrona tree. The animals lifted their heads to watch him approach. He walked surely, his voice steady, his movements deliberate and smooth.
Molly, the buckskin who had balked at being freed during the fire, was still skittish. While the other horses went back to plucking at dry blades of grass, she appeared ready to bolt. Her nostrils were flared, her eyes wide, her flesh quivering beneath her tawny coat.
Nate singled her out, stepping closer, and she snorted anxiously, but allowed him to snap the lead to her halter. He patted her shoulder gently, then led her back to the fence.
“She’s still nervous,” Shannon observed and swatted at a horsefly that hovered near her head.
“I would be, too.” Nate was suddenly grave, his dark eyes angry. “Look at her chin and around her mouth,” he said.
Shannon’s eyes were drawn to the mare’s face. Dark eyes regarded her suspiciously. Molly tried to throw back her head as Shannon reached over the fence to pet her, but Nate held the buckskin’s head steady. “I don’t see anything,” Shannon said. “What is it I’m looking for?…Oh.” Noticing the dark stubble around Molly’s mouth, she said, “Wait a minute. Her chin hairs and muzzle hairs are missing.”
“Not just missing, but I think they were singed off.”
“Singed?” she repeated, spying a few blackened hairs. “In the fire?”
“Before the fire.”