“Oh my god.”
I glanced down at Natalie. Over the course of two seconds, her demeanor had changed entirely. Her muscles tightened and her breath caught.
“What’s the matter?”
“That truck. I’ve seen it before.”
Okay.
“Yesterday. I thought I saw…no.” She shook her head and turned to go inside.
I cupped her biceps and spun her about. “What?”
“I’m pretty sure I saw that truck, that I saw Patrick just after the tire blow out.”
I stared at her for a few seconds, took in the seriousness of her dark eyes, the confidence of her words. She sounded unsure, it seemed, not because it wasn’t true, but because she didn’t want it to be true. Glancing up, Ashe was frowning. She’d met Patrick before, a quick introduction the first day she was here and then again yesterday when we took the horses out. She knew what he looked like. Knew his name.
“I’ll get Archer.” Ashe went inside.
A minute later, he came back with Archer who held a bottle of beer in his hand. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, clearly off duty. He shook my hand and greeted Natalie. “Ashe said you wanted to share something.”
Natalie nodded, wiped her hands on her jeans. “Yesterday, after the tire blew, a guy stopped to help. You met him.”
Archer nodded. “John Feranski.”
“Right. But another car passed soon after. Well, a truck.” She glanced up at me. “Patrick’s.”
Archer gave no outward sign of surprise, definitely a nod to his experience as a sheriff. I was fucking stunned.
“You’re sure?”
Natalie thought for a second. Nodded. “Yes. I know there are a million pickup trucks in Montana. I mean, each one of you men drives one. But his is pretty old and well, has those ridiculous truck nuts on the hitch and the red mud flaps.”
“True,” Archer added, looking toward the bunk house as if he could see Patrick’s truck from here.
“Yesterday, I didn’t really notice the truck, but I noticed Patrick driving. He caught my eye and surprised me since we were in the middle of nowhere. When he didn’t stop, I figured I was wrong because any one of you would’ve. But then when I saw the truck go by just now, and him behind the wheel, I remembered the details.”
Patrick had been up on the pass, saw the women’s car tire blow out and hadn’t stopped? It didn’t seem like him. Hell, any Montanan stopped when someone was in trouble. It was a wild place and everyone watched out for each other, even strangers. The guy, Feranski, was an example. But why the fuck was Patrick up there in the first place? And right then?
“You don’t think he put that tire spike in the road, do you?” Ashe asked, tipping his voice low.
What. The. Fuck?
Archer glanced in the open door. All was quiet within.
“I don’t know, but it’s worth looking into.”
“Are you shitting me?” I ran my hand over the back of my neck. “You think Patrick wanted to hurt the women?”
Archer didn’t respond, but instead said, “The tires on Kady’s SUV are a year old. Full tread still. Cord and Riley wouldn’t risk shitty tires on a vehicle Kady drives. And now that they have Cecily…they’re protective as fuck.”
Weren’t we all?
“You mean it shouldn’t have just blown,” I added, trying to calm down and not storm off to the bunk house and beat the shit out of Patrick and ask questions later. “You’re thinking Patrick sabotaged the women’s SUV?”
Natalie glanced between us, wide-eyed. “Oh, my god,” she whispered, her fingers over her lips. Lips that had been around my dick at five this morning. And that little fucker had wanted to hurt her? He was going down.
Archer shrugged. “Don’t go all ape shit.” He looked to me and held up his hand in the stop gesture. “But the hole in the tire wasn’t small. Not like a nail or something. It was ripped.”