Ride Wild (Raven Riders 3)

Curious, she opened the front door.

And found a county sheriff standing there.

“Can I help you, Officer?” she asked, her eyes going to the name tag pinned to the shirt of his uniform. Sheriff Curt Davis. Medium height, medium build, with brown hair and eyes and an average face, there was nothing especially interesting about him. Except that he’d been the one who arrested Jagger and Dare at the clubhouse that day, and Cora knew the Ravens didn’t like him but didn’t know much about why. And now he was here.

“Are you Cora Campbell?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, her body filling the gap between the door and the frame.

“I’m with the sheriff’s office and I’m following up on the statement you provided to animal control yesterday. Can I come in, Miss Campbell?”

Her gut told her to say no, but that seemed kind of silly when he was doing what she hoped the police would do—investigate the dog abuse and fighting that had been landing way too many injured animals at the shelter. In fact, maybe this was a good thing. So she stepped back and opened the door wider. “Sure, come on in.”

He did, removing his hat and peering around as he stepped into the living room. “Isn’t this the house of Sam Evans?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m his nanny,” she said, not liking something in his tone. “So what did you want to know? I gave a full statement to the officers yesterday and forwarded them all the pictures I took.”

He didn’t ask to sit, and she didn’t offer. Getting out a black leather notebook, he stood poised to take notes. “I’d like to hear it all from the beginning myself, miss.”

“Oh, okay. Well . . .” She recounted the story for what was the third or fourth time in the past twenty-four hours, making sure to highlight everything about the men and the truck that she could remember. He took some occasional notes, seemingly all business, but there was something about the way he slanted his gaze at her that made Cora uncomfortable.

That just proves that your fight-or-flight instincts were working. She heard Caine’s words from the night before, and casually took a few steps back.

“So you never saw the dog inside this truck?” he asked.

“No. He’d gotten out by the time I heard the commotion.”

“But how do you know he was ever in the truck, Miss Campbell? Isn’t it possible these men had come upon a stray?”

She frowned. “No, because I heard them say—”

He held up a hand. “With the distance between you and them that you described, and the volume of the barking, and the road noise around you, how can you be so certain about what these men said?”

Why was he being combative with her? Almost accusatory, even. “I know what I heard, Sheriff. I was right at the fence. I could see and hear them pretty clearly.”

He shifted his stance. “Yet you can’t describe the suspects’ hair or eye color, whether they had any identifying marks, or tell me the license plate number on the vehicle.”

Anger stirred in her gut, and she braced her hands on her hips. “No, but—”

“Would you be able to recognize these men in a line-up?” he asked.

Her shoulders fell. “I don’t know.” Frustratingly, the answer was probably no.

“How about the vehicle? Would you be able to identify it if you saw it?”

She thought she had a better chance at that. “Probably. The old blue color with the white truck bed cap was distinctive enough, I think.”

He flipped his notebook closed and stashed it in his pocket. “I think that’s all I need, Miss Campbell.” His tone was so dismissive she wanted to scream.

“Sheriff, there’s a problem around here with these dogs. I volunteer at the animal shelter and I know for a fact how many abused dogs have been showing up with injuries consistent with dogfighting. Please, you have to help.”

“An investigation is under way, ma’am. That’s why I’m here.” He handed her a card, then turned to the door. “If you remember anything else, let me know. And Miss Campbell?”

She glanced up from the card in her hand.

“Men involved in dogfighting can be dangerous. I’d be careful if I were you.”

Chapter 19

When was the last time Slider spent time with the boys like this? He’d picked up some sub sandwiches and drinks and brought the kids to Frederick’s farm park, a big sprawling green space on the outskirts of town that combined playgrounds and picnic areas with an operating farm. Visitors could walk through and see all the animals, and watch the farmhands feed and tend them. Sometimes they offered horseback rides or let the kids hold the baby chicks.

Slider wasn’t sure he could name the last time Sam and Ben had been so happy alone with him. But they were. As they ran and climbed and made friends with new kids the way only kids could so easily do, they absolutely exuded happiness.