How to Howl at the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

a simple question. What are you planning to grow here, Mr. Traynor?” Lance took one step closer, crowding the man.
    “None of your business, Sheriff Beaufort.” Timothy held his ground and, surprisingly, met Lance’s stare. He tilted his chin up stubbornly for good measure.
    There was a weird frisson as Timothy’s hazel eyes stared challengingly into Lance’s, a bubbling energy at the base of Lance’s spine and a rat a tat tat rhythm that tripped through his heart like a tap dancer crossing the stage. He wasn’t used to being defied and denied. When Lan ce asked people to jump around here, they bounced like freaking Ping-Pong balls.
    Timothy’s eyes might be defiant, but his lower lip trembled. Lance stared at it.
    “I have to get back to work,” Timothy said abruptly. “If you want to visit me again, maybe you can get a warrant?”
    Lance looked back up into Timothy’s eyes, said nothing.
    “And you might want to work on your town’s welcoming committee. Maybe invite a few little old ladies to participate. Tell them I want my fucking fruit basket.”
    And with that, Timothy Traynor marched to the front door and held it open pointedly.

~ 3 ~
    Struck Dumb
     
    “MRS. FITZGIBONS? This is Sheriff Beaufort in Mad Creek.”
    It’d been a few days since Lance had been thrown out on his ear by Timothy Traynor. He’d been busy. There’d been a battalion of bad-news bikers who stopped in town and had to be encouraged to go spread their leathery charms elsewhere. He and Deputy Smith had searche d the neighboring woods for two hikers who had vanished from the Ansel Adams Wilderness. It was unlikely they’d made it this far south, but they’d looked anyway. Fortunately, the hikers had finally been found by another search party near Alpine Lakes. Lance had to attend the city board meeting and give a report. And Lance’s mother had practically dragged him by the scruff of his neck to the McGurvers to see baby Samantha.
    She was very cute. And so warm to hold. Fine. Whatever.
    But no matter what Lance had been doing, a certain young man with floppy brown hair— the color of dark straw maybe —never completely left his mind.
    Lance had a sixth sense about these sorts of things, and he was still feeling itchy about Timothy. Either the guy was trouble or he was in trouble. Hell, from what Lance had seen of Timothy Traynor, it could easily be both at the same time.
    Mrs. Fitzgibbons’s voice on the other end of the phone line sounded alarmed. “Sheriff? What can I do for you? Is everything all right?”
    “Fine, fine. Just a routine call. You’re renting out your Mad Creek cabin at the moment?”
    “Well… yes. Yes, I am.”
    “I just wanted to make sure you knew someone was staying there.”
    “Well, of course I know.”
    “Good. Would you mind giving me the name of your tenant?”
    Lance waited, tapping the paper on his desk with the tip of his pen.
    “I suppose…. You’re sure everything’s all right?”
    “It’s fine, Mrs. Fitzgibbons. It’s just when we have a property like this that’s normally empty, we like to make sure we don’t get people taking advantage.”
    “I see. Well, it isn’t empty now . I suspect it’ll be good for the place. His name’s Tim. Tim Weston. Very nice boy.”
    Ah.
    “Is he from this area?” Lance asked.
    “No, I met him here. I mean, where we currently reside.” Mrs. Fitzgibbons was being coy and was starting to sound suspicious. Once more into the breach.
    “I see. Do you know if he has plans to do anything with the propert y ? Repairs? Clearing land?”
    There was silence on the other end of the line. “I don’t know. He can do whatever he likes as far as I’m concerned.” There was a false note in her voice.
    “Right. Well thank you for your time, Mrs. Fitzgibbons. I appreciate the info.”
     
    Leesa came in with some bills that needed to be signed, and Lance’s deputy, Charlie Smith, came in to shoot the shit. Charlie was descended from bloodhounds.