Page 11 of Branded

He turns when my boots hit concrete. “Mr. McCall. This involves a possible break-in.”

“Then investigate the room.”

“The device may contain evidence related to stolen livestock.”

“You have a warrant?”

His face does the thing men’s faces do when they recognize my name and start calculating. “I have authority to secure evidence at risk of destruction.”

“I’ve offered copies through counsel,” Tessa says through the gap. “I haven’t consented to a search.”

“Then you heard her,” I say.

The deputy rests one hand above his belt. Not reaching for the weapon. Just wanting all of us to notice it’s there.

Tessa’s second phone rings inside the room. She puts it on speaker, and Mercer’s voice carries along the walkway. “Deputy, state the case number and the authority for your request.”

“I responded to a report.”

“That was not the question.”

The deputy looks toward the office, where the clerk is still watching him. He says he’ll return when the sheriff is available.

“Bring a case number,” Tessa says from behind the door.

He leaves without examining the broken seal or asking what was touched. Men who respond to break-ins usually care about the break-in. I watch his taillights go east past the unmarked Barbed Crown pickup parked beyond the sign, and I call Cole.

“Follow him from a lawful distance. I want his route, not a confrontation.”

“And her?”

I look at the closed door. “She doesn’t leave alone.”

“Does she know that?”

“She will.”

She lets me in only because counsel and Mercer are still on her phone. The room has been searched by someone careful enough to disappoint a thief. Her suitcase is closed, her cash is where she left it, and a spare case sits by the desk inside a plastic bag she’s put over it without touching the latches again.

Fear has made her more exact, not less. I recognize it. Mine looks like a locked gate and three men with rifles.

“Pack what you need,” I say. “You’re coming to Barbed Crown.”

“No.”

Twelve hours ago she refused me her notes in exactly that tone. I respected it then because I had no right to them.

This is different. That may be the most dangerous sentence a man can believe when he wants control.

“Somebody searched your room. A deputy showed up knowing what’s in your photographs.”

“Those facts don’t make your house neutral.”

“My house has locks, security, and room for counsel or the Ranger to meet you.”

“It also belongs to the man whose operation I’m auditing.”

I step outside before we can go another round. Her rental sits three spaces down. Nothing looks wrong until I crouch by the front wheel and see the dark wet line on the inside of the tire.