Free Run Wild by Lorie O'Clare Page A

her car door but then paused. “Once we have it off the road you can follow me out to Trinity Ranch so you can see where it is. Then you can follow me back to your room.”

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Trent sat in his office the next day, going over notes and documents he had so far on the Carl Williams case. Something told him Natasha would be punctual for their appointment, if not early. Matilda had agreed to let him know if Natasha left the bed-and-breakfast. He hadn’t heard from her all day.
    “Sheriff’s office,” he said, glancing at the clock and guessing it was Matilda telling him Natasha had just left, which would get her here about fifteen minutes early. It wouldn’t surprise him. His sexy newcomer to town would try keeping him on his toes, and showing up early was a great tactic to capture someone off guard and, as well, witness them in their own environment and not necessarily prepared for their appointment.
    He’d been ready to see her since he woke up this morning. For business reasons, he told himself. Natasha might be hotter than any other lady he’d ever laid eyes on and willful enough to push every button of his she could find, but he was a professional investigator and knew how to keep his mind on work.
    “Sheriff, it’s Lana Bishop,” Weaverville’s local veterinarian said when he answered. “Didn’t you tell me that buck was roadkill?”
    He shoved a snapshot of Natasha he’d been staring at the last few minutes, which didn’t help his argument to himself that he wasn’t affected by that sexy body of hers, back into the file. He’d found it online this morning, printed it, and included it in his file on her. It was on a Web site he hadn’t run across before this morning and part of an article about a case in Arizona from a couple years ago. She looked as good then as she did now.
    “I never said he was roadkill.”
    “Okay. Well, good. I must have misunderstood.” Lana Bishop worked a full-time job as their only vet and ran a household with a doting husband and three very active boys. There were times when she probably didn’t remember what day of the week it was. Although a bit absentminded, she was a good veterinarian and a good wife and mother. “I wanted to call you because whoever shot this animal shouldn’t have left him in the road.”
    “Shot him?” Trent hadn’t taken time to look and see how the animal had died the night before. Once he had helped Ronnie Powell get the deer in the back of his pickup truck, Trent had hurried back to Natasha. “The animal was shot?”
    “Hunting rifle,” Lana concurred. “Maybe someone didn’t realize they’d shot themselves a buck and the poor animal wandered into the road to die. But the bullet didn’t kill him right away. This poor guy bled to death slowly.”
    “Damn,” Trent muttered, and stared at his phone when his other line started beeping. “Hold on a second, Lana.”
    This time it was Matilda, speaking in hushed tones when she informed Trent the L.A. woman had left the building. It would have been comical if Matilda had laughed at her own joke, but she wasn’t joking, taking her task as the sheriff’s spy very seriously. He thanked her, cutting her off when she started asking questions about the murder and promising to update her when he could but that he had another call now.
    “Thanks for holding, Lana,” he said, and began straightening up the Carl Williams file. Trent would pull everything back out again as needed once he started talking with Natasha.
    “No problem, Sheriff. I’m sure this murder has you busier than normal. Terrible thing that happened to that young ranch hand.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” It was beyond terrible, and he would find the killer no matter who he had to get tough with and interrogate. “Tell me what kind of bullets were used to shoot it. I doubt it will help, but if I can find out who our careless hunter was I’ll give him a good lecture.”
    “Good, and thank you. I knew you