Page 28 of Haystacks and Hoaxes

On our way, sir.

Over coffee, Gage had stated that he’d called Pete Plowman first thing this morning to give him a heads up about sending a different team out there today.

Mr. Plowman’s response flashed across Rock’s screen. No words. Just a thumbs up emoji.

“He’s expecting us.” Rock stopped by the guard shack to request the keys to a black Hummer. Normally, he didn’t care what he drove. Today, however, he had a partner to impress. Having Hawk tag along to watch Mila’s back would allow them to focus more on their crime scene sketches.

Mila blew out a breath as they reached the Hummer. “We could easily drive this thing onto an action-thriller movie set. If that was the point of wearing these bulletproof vests…” She didn’t sound like she’d forgiven him yet for making her wear one.

“The point is to keep us safe.” He opened the passenger door for her. “You okay with riding shotgun?” He didn’t mind taking turns behind the wheel if she preferred to drive.

“I’m perfectly fine serving as a passenger princess.” She accepted his assistance into the vehicle. “You know the way, and I’m the one dragging a life-sized cocklebur.”

Looking amused, Hawk pulled open the passenger door behind her and climbed inside. He didn’t seem to mind breathing down her neck from the backseat.

Rock tossed his sketchpad on the console before buckling his seatbelt. To his delight, Mila placed hers on top of his in a move that felt both playful and intimate.

On the drive to the outskirts of town,she fiddled with her cell phone. “I’m still trying to decide how to respond to Johnny.”

Rock nodded, keeping his voice bland. “About Christmas?” No doubt Hawk was curious about their conversation, but the bodyguards at Lonestar Security were skilled at being seen and not heard. For someone who’d never employed the services of a bodyguard before, Mila seemed to be equally skilled at ignoring Hawk’s presence.

“Yes. That.” She started typing. Then she sighed. “Okay, I said yes. I just hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to get something started with him.” She gave Rock a sideways glance. “Because I’m not. I’m thinking it would be best to keep things professional withallof my coworkers.”

Her announcement made his heart sing. Though he was lumped into her statement, so was Johnny. It was a relief knowing he wouldn’t have to watch his brother’s partner slobbering all over her on Christmas morning. He felt like breaking into a celebratory jig the moment his boots hit the frozen ground at Canyon Creek Petroleum, cane and all.

The refinery was sprawled across two hundred craggy acres. According to the file he’d read on the case, the company shared a property line with Chester Farm.

Pumpjacks were steadily rising and falling on the gently rolling fields as far as he could see. More than a dozen olive green storage tanks crisscrossed with walkway systems towered over the stacked stone headquarters building directly in front of him. More storage tanks rose in the distance.

Mila pushed open her door and hopped to the ground unassisted, slamming the door shut behind her.

Wondering what was wrong, he climbed out of the vehicle and limped around the front of it as fast as he could to reach her.

He found her fanning her face with both hands. One of them held the sketchpad he’d left in the Hummer. “Please assure me we’ll be working outside. I feel like a wax candle in this vest, melting into a puddle.”

“Yes, we’ll be working outside.” He held out a hand for his sketchpad. “Sorry about the extra insulation.” It was only to keep her safe. He wasn’t sorry about that part.

“Apology accepted.” She playfully slapped the sketchpad against his palm.

He hid a smile. “Alright then. Let’s do this.” He shot a quick look at Hawk Chesney to make sure he was ready and received a single up-down nod in return. Though Lonestar Security guards were trained not to be overly talkative, he was especially untalkative.

A white-haired gentleman emerged from the stone building in front of them. He was wearing a slouched Stetson and a weathered leather duster coat.

“There’s the owner.” Rock lifted his hand in greeting.

The man waved back as he ambled their way. “You must be Rock Hefner.” He nodded politely at Hawk, but he barely glanced at Mila.

“I am. Nice to meet you, Mr. Plowman.” Rock shook hands with the old timer, wondering if his reaction to Mila’s presence meant he had a burr under his collar about working with women.

“Call me Pete,” the aging fellow insisted.

“Pete, this is my partner, Mila Kingston.” Rock deliberately pulled her into the conversation. “She’s a fellow forensic artist. If her last name sounds familiar, it’s because she’s Decker Kingston’s sister.” He wasn’t above name dropping when it suited him, and right now it suited Rock to have Mila treated with the respect she deserved as a member of their team.

Pete grunted instead of saying anything. He did, however, grudgingly extend a hand to her.

She gave him a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“And this is Hawk, a member of our security detail.” Rock didn’t share the guy’s last name. He’d been trained to protect the personal information of Lonestar’s bodyguards as much as possible.

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