She Can Hide (She Can #4)(3)

Ronnie gestured with her pen. “Officer Ethan Hale, Dennis Smith.”

“How long is this going to take?” Smith puffed his chest out rooster-style. “I have things to do.”

Six and a half feet of no-nonsense large animal veterinarian in insulated brown coveralls and steel-toed boots, Doc White ignored the conversation and focused on the three emaciated horses crowded in the corner of the fifteen-by-fifteen space. He leaned over to get a look at the horses’ feet. But inside the shed, the top few inches of frozen muck was trampled soft. Mud and manure buried the animals’ feet to the ankles.

Doc approached a filthy chestnut gelding. The horse didn’t protest as the vet took hold of its halter and opened its mouth. The poor beast probably didn’t have the energy.

“When was the farrier out last?” Ronnie asked.

“I see to my horses’ hooves myself.” The lie flickered in Smith’s beady eyes. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket. He put a filter in his mouth and lit up with a Zippo. Snapping the lighter closed, he took a long drag. The tip flared angry red.

Ethan opened his mouth to reprimand him for smoking in a barn. But what the hell was going to catch fire? Mud? Besides, it wouldn’t matter much. These animals weren’t going to be here much longer. Ronnie had already started the process. Smith should be prohibited from owning any more large animals. His cousin was known for brick-house-solid cases.

Doc patted the thin neck, slid a hand down the animal’s shoulder, and lifted a hoof for inspection. He gently set the foot back on the ground. He gave Ethan a nod of recognition and caught Ronnie’s eye. “Same as the others.”

Doc gave the red horse a final pat and moved back out into the sleet. Smith intercepted him. “Where are you going?”

Ronnie stepped between the men. The gigantic vet’s mouth twitched. He probably had a hundred pounds on Ronnie. But Ethan knew his cousin. She was the cop. She’d called the vet, and it was her job to protect him, regardless of their respective sizes.

Nearly six feet tall in her socks, Ronnie straightened to take advantage of her height. “Doc is here to assess all the animals. We have a search warrant, Mr. Smith.”

Mr. Smith pinched the filter of his cigarette to his lips and sucked in a furious drag.

Ethan tensed. Ronnie could handle herself. She’d been able to beat the snot out of him until he was twelve, but Smith was ignorant and angry, an unpredictable combination. Unpredictable equaled dangerous, and Ethan didn’t like Ronnie on the receiving end of the guy’s ire.

Ethan stepped up. “Let the vet do his thing.”

“These animals are my property.” Smith flicked ashes and avoided Ethan’s gaze. The guy was hiding something.

“If you care about these animals, you should be glad the vet is here,” Ethan said, mostly to keep the guy’s attention off Ronnie. His cousin ducked out into the sleet.

Smith clamped his lips around his cigarette tight enough to crimp it.

“Oh no.” From outside, Ronnie’s voice echoed with sadness.

Smith crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes shut down. Ronnie had just found whatever he’d been hiding.

Ethan kept his eyes on the man’s hands as he called out to his cousin, “What is it?”

Ronnie came back in. She stomped across the muddy ground to face Smith. “There’s a dead horse in the back of the yard. It’s hidden behind some underbrush. When did the horse die, Mr. Smith?”

So much for keeping Smith’s attention on Ethan.

“Yesterday.” Smith’s teeth ground back and forth.

Ronnie pressed. “Had it been sick?”

“No.” The lie shone in Smith’s eyes. “Just keeled over. It was old.”

The last straw snapped in his cousin’s eyes. Ronnie stepped forward. “Mr. Smith, we are taking all of these horses right now.”

Radiating anger, Smith bristled and leaned closer to Ronnie. “These animals are my property. You ain’t got the right to steal them from me.”

Ronnie held her ground. “Mr. Smith, these animals are in immediate physical danger. They are starving. They have no water or proper shelter. The weather is bad and getting worse. One has already died from lack of care. All of these horses are going with us today.”

Still keeping watch on Smith’s hands, Ethan moved closer.

Smith’s gaze, mean and flat, flickered to Ethan. The old man backed off. “This ain’t over.”

“No, it isn’t.” Ronnie wrote something on her clipboard. “We’ll be seeing you in court, Mr. Smith.”

Tramping toward his house, Smith’s hand moved toward his pocket. Ethan tensed, his palm on the gun at his hip. Smith yanked a cell phone from his jeans. Ethan lowered his hand.

Ronnie turned to one of her assistants. “We didn’t plan on this many horses. We’ll need another trailer.”

The college-age kid nodded. “I’m on it.”

“Shit.” Ronnie rubbed the crease between her brows. “The county shelter is two stalls short. We had another large rescue last week. What shape is your barn in?”

Ethan hesitated. He didn’t have the time or money for a couple of horses. Paying his brothers’ tuition and keeping his mom in her house commandeered all of his take-home pay. He looked back to the first shelter. The roan pony stuck its nose over the door and bleated out a thin whinny. “It’s solid. How long would you need me to keep them?”