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KIERA ARRIVED AT SABRINA’S cooking school a few minutes early and took advantage of the time to evaluate the setting. A white, two-story house. Nothing commercial-looking about it from the outside. Not even a sign proclaiming what lay inside. If this was going to be part of an advertising brochure, shouldn’t there be something to identify it as a cooking school?
She could Photoshop in a sign, but then people arriving would expect to see it. She could have Sabrina stand on the porch in chef attire, which should serve the same purpose. Kiera made a mental note to ask Sabrina, then continued her evaluation. The red door would make a good contrast against the white walls. She checked the angle of the sun, thinking if they were going to do any outside shooting, they should get it done soon. Late afternoon might be good as well. Maybe better, although it would mean coming back, and that would have to wait until tomorrow.
No. If she was going to be a professional, she’d better get in the habit of doing things right. If it meant a second trip to take advantage of the lighting, then she’d do it.
Kiera meandered to the porch and knocked on the door. Sabrina answered, a wide, welcoming grin on her face. “Come in. I’ve been going over photos I took during my last couple of sessions. I want to see what you think.”
Did this mean Sabrina had changed her mind about Kiera doing the shoot? They hadn’t agreed on anything yet, hadn’t signed any papers. Steeling her shoulders, keeping a smile on her face, Kiera said, “Sure.”
She followed Sabrina to a small office filled with books. A quick perusal of the shelves showed they were—as expected—cookbooks. The desk held even more.
“Sorry about the clutter.” Sabrina went to remove the ones filling her desk.
“No, leave them. They add to showing your expertise, make you more credible as someone who will deliver on the promise of the school.”
Sabrina frowned. Kiera paused for a second, mentally replaying what she’d said.
“Bad choice of words. I didn’t mean to imply you’re not credible. You should be playing it up, making it apparent to someone who’s never heard of the school that you’ve got the creds.”
Sabrina nodded. “I get it.” She moved books from the chair by her desk and motioned Kiera to take a seat. “You said you had pictures of Tanya working at the ranch, which is great. Demonstrates there are employment opportunities when students finish but doesn’t imply they’re going to own restaurants. This isn’t the Culinary Institute—it’s a vocational school. Which brings me to why I thought it would be good to use pictures of previous classes as well as the professional ones you’re going to shoot.”
Kiera tried to hide her relief.
“With diversity being such an issue these days,” Sabrina went on, “I want to showcase it in the brochure. Tanya’s a great example, but I thought it would be better to show a wider range of ethnicities. What do you think?”
“I totally agree. Do you have the pictures?” A website was one thing, but hard copy brochures required higher resolution. She’d have to see them to verify they’d work.
Sabrina moved her mouse. “Right here. These are the ones I was considering.”
Kiera went around the desk and looked at the image on the screen. Four women. Two White, although one was tall and Nordic-looking, and the other short with curly, brown hair. The third had Asian features, and the fourth was Hispanic.
Sabrina displayed a set of more images. Kiera pointed to two. “This group shot, where everyone’s looking so happy, would be perfect, and so would this one of them working in the kitchen.”
“What about this one?” Sabrina clicked to an image of an array of completed dishes displayed on a dining table. She gave a quiet laugh. “I thought I should demonstrate the food we create here.”
“Good point.” Kiera fished a USB drive out of her camera bag. “If you can copy them onto this, assuming they’re the right resolution, I can work with them. They’ll need a few adjustments for contrast and color balance, but they’ll definitely get your point across.”
Once that was done, Kiera presented the contract she’d drawn up based on J.P.’s suggestions to Sabrina. “So we both know what’s expected and don’t have any surprises. There’s a standard fee for me coming and doing the shoot, and then you’ll pay for the images you want edited for the brochure. If you want a gallery for your website, that’s in there, too.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Sabrina perused the contract, nodding as she read.
Kiera held her breath. When she’d calculated her fees, she’d taken into consideration she was giving Sabrina a discounted rate, but didn’t want to go so low that she was undervaluing her services. Again, based on what J.P. had told her about protecting her work, Kiera made it clear the proofs would be lo-res and watermarked, and payment was expected before she’d release the processed images. She’d allowed a little wiggle room in her shooting fee in case Sabrina thought the pricing was high, but Sabrina picked up a pen and signed. “Looks good.”
The formalities taken care of, and trying to hide her excitement at having her first official paying photography job, Kiera said, “Shall we get to work?”
Kiera elaborated on what she thought would be good images for the brochure, and Sabrina added her ideas as well.
“I want to start outside while the light’s still good,” Kiera said. “One of you standing on the porch, as if you’re welcoming people to the school.” She posed her question about the lack of signage.
Sabrina giggled. “You’ve seen where we are. It’s highly unlikely anyone’s going to be driving by. There’s a sign on the turnoff.”
“It just says Barton. Shouldn’t it mention a cooking school?”
“Honestly, anyone coming here will have a good reason. Either they’ve been accepted into the program, or they’re coming for an interview. I don’t foresee discoverability as an issue.”
Sabrina’s reasoning made sense. They went outside, and Kiera posed Sabrina near the porch rail, with the red door highlighted in the background. After taking several shots from different angles, she shot semi-formal portraits of Sabrina in her office, and more of her in the kitchen. “I’ll email the proofs to you, and you can choose which ones you want for the brochure. After you’ve decided, I’ll do the edits.”
Excitement at having her first client bubbled up inside Kiera as she made her way back to the ranch and guesthouse. She wasn’t going to let thoughts of Stu interfere. Six more days and she’d turn in her formal letter of resignation—already written—and be done with him and Greene and Hart.
As long as she would be going to her house, she collected her dirty laundry. She’d have time to do a load and gather more ranch-suitable attire. She texted Frank she was ready whenever he was, and worked on more of her ranch images while waiting for his reply. Caught up in the process, she didn’t check the time until her stomach growled. She’d been working close to an hour, and Frank hadn’t responded to her text. Where was he?
~~
FRANK FOLLOWED THE trail of trampled grass punctuated by cow patties. At least two animals, but he wasn’t concerned with the number at this point. Could they be the missing Triple-D animals?
He nudged Pumpkin to a faster pace, staying to one side of the trail created by the cattle. If necessary, he could do a closer examination later.
The trail led him into the trees. He slowed Pumpkin to a walk. There were—or recently had been—cattle in the vicinity.
Frank rounded a bend and found the four missing Triple-D-tagged animals lying in a makeshift enclosure about fifty feet square. Someone had used yellow plastic rope wrapped around tree trunks to create a corral. Someone had also provided a bale of hay, and the animals were lying in the shade, contentedly chewing their cud. A quick recon showed no people in the vicinity.
He retrieved his phone from his saddlebag and called Derek to report what he’d found.
“I’ll be right out.”
“I can handle four animals.”
“Until one bolts,” Derek said.
Knowing this wasn’t a dig at Frank’s ability, rather that the boss wanted to be part of the recovery action, Frank agreed and gave him his specific location. While he waited, he took pictures of everything. Whoever had decided to keep these animals had strung three rows of rope and chosen an area with a small pond.
A compassionate cownapper? Maybe so, but one who didn’t know enough about cattle. They needed a lot more space than this. Had they been here since Friday?
Derek and Zephyr showed up as Frank took the last of his pictures. Derek leaned forward in the saddle. “What the—”
“My thoughts exactly,” Frank said.
“You think whoever did this is the same person who let the herd loose in the first place? Chased them away, kept these for himself?”
“Why keep them here?” Frank asked.
“No clue. Let’s get these babies home. I’ll report what we’ve found to the brand inspector and the sheriff’s office. I doubt they’ll think it’s worth sending a forensics crew out. Anyone working with cattle or this rope would be wearing gloves. Did you notice anything else that could point us to whoever did this?”
“Nope, but I can come back if you want me to. Take a closer look.”
Derek took off his Stetson, wiped his brow. “Honestly, I’d rather put this whole episode behind me. Unless we can connect Ed Parker to the stampede, I’d say we’re expending far too much energy for too little return. None of the other ranchers have reported any trouble, and Cecily’s been keeping an ear out for ranchers across the state. No reports as of yet.”
“Your call, D-man. Makes sense to me, except for the curiosity factor. If someone went to the trouble of penning these animals, making sure there was water and providing food, my gut says they’re coming back.”
“You’re not volunteering to camp out here, are you?”
“Was thinking of a camera.”
Derek was quiet for a moment. “Too much trouble to move the ones from my security system. Rusty Dosela has wildlife cameras. He might let me borrow one.”
“I’ll bet he will,” Frank said. “Need any help?”
Derek resettled his Stetson on his head. “If I remember correctly, you’re off the clock soon. Weren’t you going to Kiera’s place?” Derek dismounted, dropped Zephyr’s reins to the ground, and ducked through the ropes to check his animals.
“Shit.” Frank pulled his phone from his saddlebag again, only now noticing the message icon. Kiera’s text had come through an hour ago. Dammit, he’d silenced the ringer in case he’d come across someone who didn’t want to be discovered.
He tapped her number.
“Sorry, things got complicated,” he said when she answered. “We found Derek’s missing cattle and need to drive them back to the ranch. Can you wait?”
“How long?”
“Hang on.” He approached Derek. “They look all right?”
“Seem fine,” he said. “Still, I think we’ll keep them separated from the herd until I have the vet check them out.”
Which meant they wouldn’t have to drive them all the way to the distant pasture where their cattle companions grazed. “An hour?” he said to Kiera. That should allow enough time for him to change clothes.
A pause. “All right.”
“Might be sooner. I’ll call when we get close.”
They disconnected, and Frank gave a mental head slap for not thanking her for being willing to wait.
Frank positioned himself at the rope fence, and Derek cut the restraints. The animals didn’t seem to notice, just kept chewing. Derek remounted Zephyr and rode behind the cattle, getting them to their feet and out the new opening. Used to the process, they ambled along.
When they’d secured the cattle in a paddock adjacent to the barn, Frank accepted Derek’s offer to take care of Pumpkin. He let Kiera know he was back and almost ready. He hustled to the ranch house for a quick wash and to change into his spare set of clothes.
When he finished, Kiera was in her car outside the mudroom door, engine running. No trouble translating that one. Get your ass in gear.
Frank climbed into the passenger seat. Kiera took off without a word. This could be a long trip.
They were on the main highway before she spoke. “Are the cattle all right?”
“Seem to be fine.” He explained how they found them.
“Do you think whoever put them there was the same person who stampeded them?” she asked.
“No way of knowing. Did you find any clues to Derek’s threatening phone calls while you were setting up his books?” Frank asked, turning the conversation down a new path.
“Nothing I could connect. He’s got outstanding debts, but they’re all what I assume are reasonable expenses for a rancher. Most are with local merchants, and they wouldn’t be calling anonymously. They’d specify what he owed them.” She shifted her gaze his way. “What did your doctor say about the antibiotics?”
He turned to face the window. “Haven’t asked him yet. Things got busy.”
Kiera didn’t answer. She turned on the radio and didn’t speak again. A knot twisted in Frank’s gut. He pulled out his phone. “Battery’s almost dead, and the office always has what it claims are higher than normal call volumes. Do you have a charger?”
She pointed to a pink cord plugged into the car’s USB port. He checked. It would fit. He plugged it into his phone. “Should be ready in a few minutes. I’ll call then.”
Kiera shrugged.
When they hit the interstate and she still hadn’t spoken, Frank verified he had enough charge to make the call and tapped in his doctor’s number. They’d reached the far side of the Springs before a human came on the line. Frank explained his reaction, said he wasn’t sure of the cause. He listened to the expected response and disconnected.
“They’ll have someone call me back.”
Another shrug.
If she didn’t want to make conversation, he wasn’t going to force the issue. Last night’s lack of sleep and today’s work, combined with the lulling effects of the highway noise caught up with him, and he dozed.
Or, apparently crashed. The next he knew, they were on a residential street, in what he assumed was Highlands Ranch. He shook the cobwebs from his brain as Kiera pulled into the driveway of a two-story chocolate-brown house trimmed with rockwork. Aside from color variations, one house looked very much like every other one on the block.
She reached for something on the console. A remote. He stayed her hand. “Wait.”
“Why? This is my house.”
“Didn’t you say the box is in the garage?”
Comprehension seemed to set in. “You think—if it’s a bomb—it’ll explode when I open the door? How would whoever sent it know that’s where it would be?”
“Considering all the possibilities.”
She turned, gave him a wide-eyed stare. “You’re scaring me. I thought I was being overly cautious, but now I don’t know what to think.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m not saying it’s a bomb. What I’m saying is we should take precautions on the off chance there are explosives in there.”
“So, what do we do? If it’s dangerous, why did you tell me it was okay to come home and check?”
“Because I don’t think it’s really dangerous. I’d rather not be proven wrong. Give me your house key. Then, park the car at the end of the block and wait there.”
Kiera fished in her purse for her key ring. “It’s the red one.” Her hand, cold against his, trembled as he took them from her.
“It’ll be fine,” he said.