No One Needs to Know. Debbi Rawlins
yesterday and flying gave him the freedom to respond immediately. It would be good to have the plane nearby when he met Annie Sheridan. There was always a chance that she’d want to give herself up. He wasn’t counting on it.
The email exchange hadn’t been as illuminating as he’d hoped. Although he found it interesting that Shea Monroe was so invested in the workings of Safe Haven that she’d authored most of the correspondence.
A quick search of Monroe’s name had prompted Tucker to send a link to George. He confirmed that she had high security clearance and was connected to some government programs that could be worth a fortune if sold to the right party. Tucker found it hard to believe that Leanna Warner would go to a backwater town like Blackfoot Falls without a good reason.
He shook his head, knowing he’d passed the point of no return given all he’d invested in that one vague online photo. Although the fact that the picture had disappeared without a trace, even in the computer’s cache, was suspicious in itself. Fortunately, he’d saved it to his hard drive.
Annie’s emails had focused on logistics, informing him of the airfield in Kalispell, the nearest moderately sized town that had accommodations and car rentals. He’d booked a room at the Hilton Garden Inn, reserved an SUV.
The closer he got to Montana, the more he thought about meeting the woman who had taken over a large portion of his brain. She confused him. Intrigued him. While he’d done his fair share of tricky negotiations with savvy competitors, he had the feeling his skills would be tested to the limit.
He’d have to be on his toes. Remember what lurked behind the beautiful face. And not for a second forget what she’d done to Christian.
ANNIE LOOKED UP FROM THE TABLE where she’d stacked copies of the Safe Haven board meeting agenda. Time had decided to slow down to a snail’s pace, giving her a wonderful opportunity to let worry overshadow every bit of potential good that might come from Tucker Brennan’s visit.
Safe Haven was too small. There were only a handful of permanent part-time volunteers. Because of their remote location, even if she could attract more help, they had to be local, and she’d already dried that well.
No, the problem was, most every animal sanctuary she’d researched had a visitor’s program and a welcoming atmosphere for potential adopters. She couldn’t even try to have guests because there wasn’t a hotel in Blackfoot Falls.
She’d hated telling Brennan he’d have to fly all the way from Dallas, then drive to Safe Haven. And she sure hoped he’d like the food at Marge’s, because that was his only choice. She just wished he would get here already.
No; in fact, what she really wished was that he would stop by, hand her a huge check, then go. Although she’d researched his credentials down to his alma mater, strangers made her nervous. Brennan lived miles away from her old stomping grounds in Manhattan, but there was always a chance that he knew someone who knew someone….
God, she had to stop thinking like that. Instead, she collated, stapled, put paper into file folders. In the end, it ate up ten minutes. Ten. And Brennan wasn’t due for another hour or so. She’d never survive.
She could change, but no, she’d wait. The clothes she had on—work jeans, old tee, boots—were perfectly fine for day-to-day. It didn’t matter that she smelled like a barn. But she would prefer to spiff up a little for the big shot with a checkbook. Nothing too fancy, just better jeans and a clean shirt.
Talk about a different life. In the beginning, she’d missed shopping like crazy, but she’d adapted. Learned to cook a little. she’d have killed for a pricy latte…okay, still would. But there were advantages to living on this very thin wire. She’d also learned to sew, and was grateful for the training because she’d had to patch up more than a few animals. Safe Haven survived due to the kindness of a few key players, like the vet, Dr. Yardley, who donated what time he could. Mr. Jorgensen from the feed and hardware floated loans for grain and other supplies. In fact, the whole sanctuary was built out of goodwill and patience, but Mr. Brennan could change all that.
Thanks to Shea, Annie had seen the difference an infusion of cash could bring to a two-bit operation like Safe Haven. But she remained cautious. Hope was only a friend in small measure. She didn’t dare put herself in a position where she might fall into another pit of despair. It had taken her almost a year to climb out of the last one.
A quick knock at the door was followed instantly by one of the school kids ducking his head in. “Pinocchio’s gotten stuck in the fence by the water pump.”
All thoughts of Tucker Brennan vanished as Annie grabbed her gloves, followed the boy out of the cabin and ran as fast as she could.
THE DRIVE WAS PLEASANT, considering the circumstances. Tucker had only been to Montana for business, and never this far north. Looking out at the Rockies and the acres of lush land brought back memories of his early days when he’d still been learning about ranching from the ground up.
His father had made sure he’d done every job the Rocking B had for a cowboy. It had been hard work, but worth as much as his college years. His apprenticeship had given him more than just hands-on experience; it had given him perspective.
He barely noticed the town of Blackfoot Falls from the highway. It was like a thousand others across the country with a local diner that served great home-cooked meals, a bar that offered cheap beer, pool tables and country music. All he cared about was that it was thirty miles from the Safe Haven turnoff.
Finally, he saw the big wooden sign that marked the entrance to the sanctuary. He was early, hoping the surprise would give him a slight edge. He liked to take stock of people when they were flustered. They revealed more than they knew.
So he slowed the rented SUV to keep the dust down as he headed for the main buildings. He passed one pasture with a half dozen horses, none of whom were particularly bothered by his vehicle. They looked pretty decent for rescue animals.
The fencing was sturdy, if old-school, about what he’d expected. According to the info he’d gathered on Safe Haven, there had been a few corrals, a barn, two stables and a cabin standing when Annie took over. Clearly, she’d made improvements.
His pulse revved as he neared the buildings. In one glance, he’d know the truth. But the truth alone wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to use every moment he could to catch her vulnerable and get the evidence he needed. Even if it took a couple of days.
He pulled into a small parking area. There were several trucks lined up, mostly pickups, a tractor that had seen better days and a short yellow school bus.
Behind it was the cabin that had to be Annie’s living quarters. She hadn’t been kidding when she said it was small. But the working buildings gave a good first impression. Well spaced, old, but taken care of. In back of the barn he saw a small crowd of folks standing in a semicircle, as if they were watching a fight. Something pretty fierce, if the dust coming from the center was any indication.
He jumped out of the SUV, his inner alarm bells ringing. As he approached the crowd, he saw that the onlookers were kids—high school age—and two adults, a middle-aged woman pressing a hand to her throat and a petite twenty-something holding the arm of one of the teenagers, preventing the boy from moving forward. They all looked worried.
And then he heard it. The cry of a panicked, bleating goat.
He jogged the last few feet until he could muscle past the outer ring of spectators. It was a pygmy goat whose horns were tangled up in some high-tensile wire. Despite the name, pygmies weren’t that much smaller than other breeds of goats, and the situation was dangerous. The woman trying to free him was taking a hell of a risk. Goats were notorious for their fear response. They kicked and struggled so fiercely they sometimes died from their hearts giving out.
Tucker knew the best thing to do was let the goat be and hope he tired himself out in time for intervention. Because a person trying to save one could well end up needing a doctor.
The woman making that mistake was Annie Sheridan. He had to admit she made quick work of cutting