“So somebody could have attacked him,” Loch said. Tate knew Loch was thinking through all the possible scenarios.
“Maybe, but it was a rocky stream bed,” the hunter said. “You know Meyer. He didn’t walk too steady. He could have been drunk, fell into the water, hit his head on a rock.”
“So what could have happened to the body?” Ginger wondered. “Could a wild animal have dragged it off?”
“They wouldn’t have dragged him that far this quickly, and we’d have spotted it,” the deputy said. “If he was really there, and he was dead, somebody must have moved the body. We announced it over the radio, so anybody with a police scanner could have heard it.”
“Not much we can do at this point, if you’ve already searched the area,” Loch said.
“You know, I saw Meyer standing at the edge of the crowd when you were questioning people about the tiara theft,” Tate mused.
“True, although so was half the town,” Loch said. “Hard to picture Meyer being involved. I know he’s a drunk, but he’s never been in trouble for anything more than trespassing or public intoxication. Then again, he hangs out with Rodney McColl, who has some burglary convictions. I’ll have my men pick up Rodney, see what he has to say. Maybe the two of them acted together. Meyer could have acted as lookout while Rodney broke in, and then Rodney didn’t want to share.”
“If the body was dumped in the middle of the woods, it’s a good bet whoever did it thought that it wouldn’t be found for a long time, if ever,” Tate said. “It was just dumb luck those hunters stumbled on it…otherwise, in this heat, it would have decomposed and been eaten by animals before anybody found it. Days from now, there’d be nothing but scattered bones.”
“Right,” Loch said. “And if the person who dumped the body heard that the police were being summoned to the scene, they’d want to move the body before we could have Ginger touch it and read Meyer’s final moments.”
“Darn it,” Ginger said. “And I was so hoping to get my hands on a cold, dead body today.”
“Sorry, baby, you’ll just have to settle for my hot, live body.”
Tate stared off into the woods, his thoughts drifting back to Lainey. Why had she left today without saying goodbye? Should he just go to the boarding house and ask her out to dinner, and see where things went from there? Or was he just setting himself up for disappointment?
And should he even be pursuing a complete stranger who wouldn’t tell him anything about herself? Maybe there was some reason why she was so cagey every time he tried to find out more about her, although he couldn’t imagine what the reason would be. He’d run a check on the rental car, and it had indeed been registered to a Katherine McNamara, who lived in Philadelphia and had no criminal record.
So why had she acted so squirrelly when he’d asked her name?
The truth was, he didn’t know a thing about her, except that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
“Hellooo.”
Tate glanced up, startled. Loch was waving at him. He’d been trying to get Tate’s attention while Tate mentally drifted off to lala land.
“Bobcat got your tongue?” Loch grinned at him. Damn it, was Tate’s sudden infatuation that obvious?
“Mind your own beeswax,” he grumbled. “I’m headed back to Beaudreau’s to replant the flower bed. Call me if you need me.”
And with a sigh, he climbed into his pickup truck and headed back to the Beaudreau Mansion, struggling without success to banish all thoughts of the sexy bobcat from his mind.
Chapter Five
Lainey sat at the long wooden table, ignoring the early morning chatter that swirled around her, as the other boarding house guests dug into their home-cooked breakfast. She stared into the swirling depths of her coffee cup as if she were reading tea leaves, but she found no answers there.
“Didn’t sleep too well last night?” Marigold said, sitting down in the spindle-backed chair next to her.
“What was your first clue?”
“The circles under your eyes, the frequent yawning, and you’re working on your second mugzilla of coffee.”
Lainey looked down at her extra-large coffee mug. Light, sweet, life-saving. “Third. Insomnia. What can I say?”
The truth was, after her encounter with Tate the day before, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She’d lain awake half the night imagining him naked, tangled in the sheets with her, his hungry mouth on hers…
What did it mean? Was he her fated mate, or was she just in lust with an undeniably hot man who’d kind of flirted with her, maybe?
“So you really, absolutely believe in this whole fated mate thing?” she asked Marigold.
“Of course I do. It’s the equivalent of love at first sight for humans, but different. Stronger. At least that’s what shifters tell me, including my fiancé.”