With a Vengeance by Annette Dashofy

Author:Annette Dashofy [Dashofy, Annette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Amateur Sleuth, Police Procedural, Cozy Mystery, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9781635110203
Google: WxizjwEACAAJ
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2016-05-03T03:00:00+00:00

Pete tramped through a tangle of dried grass and still-green weeds in the game lands west of where the burnt Cavalier had been discovered. The morning’s blue sky was quickly being blotted out by encroaching dark gray clouds. Any evidence out there would likely be decimated by rain, so every available cop had joined the crime scene team to scour the area. According to the crumpled map in Pete’s pocket, one of those double-track trails the bikers and quad riders used was dead ahead.

As he picked his way up a hillside, his mind meandered back to last night. Damn that Jack Utah.

Instead of a night with Zoe—alone at Pete’s place—he’d spent the wee hours following up on the man’s story. First he’d swung by Rodeo’s Bar before it closed. The bartender and several self-proclaimed regulars confirmed Utah’s story. He’d been there. A buddy had driven him home. And while the patrons admitted to knowing Snake, none of them believed Sullivan and Utah were more than acquaintances. Nor did they recall having seen Snake recently.

Utah was still awake—more or less—when Pete arrived at his house, a rundown hovel with an uneven sidewalk leading to a poorly lit concrete stoop and a door with a shredded screen. Utah staggered as he showed Pete into a space he guessed was a living room. He’d heard of a TV show about hoarders, and this guy could have been a headliner on it. Utah squinted at the photo Pete held up and acknowledged he knew Snake from the bar, but they didn’t socialize elsewhere. Utah didn’t know Snake’s last name or where he lived. Claimed he didn’t run with the same crowd. The way he said it, wrinkling his nose and curling his lip, Pete suspected Jack Utah did not approve of Snake’s friends.

Still, Snake might have known more about Jack Utah than the other way around. Pete scribbled a note linking Snake and the stolen Cavalier.

The wind in the game lands picked up, hissing through the browned late-summer grass. The terrain swept up an increasingly steep hillside. According to Pete’s map, the trail was at the top of the rise.

By the time he reached the crest, he was breathing hard. Damn, he was out of shape. Hunting season was a little more than a month away. He’d better get out and do some hiking to build his stamina if he intended to lug his new muzzleloader around the woods.

As he caught his breath, he surveyed the scenery around him. To his back, the rolling grassland from which he’d come.

At his feet, the trail he’d been looking for swept in both directions, following the ridge. Ahead of him, the ground leveled out for a hundred yards or so before dropping off again, and all of it was wide-open grassland with the exception of a few saplings too scrawny to obstruct his view.

To his left, the trail headed west-southwest—toward the parking lot where Nate had rounded up three of the four ATV riders. That view also stretched wide open for at least a quarter of a mile before disappearing into a tree line.

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