"You don't know that."
“I’ve crossed that moat a dozen times, and I still have all my limbs. You’ll be fine.”
"That ditch might as well be loaded with C4." Sterling skirted the far edge of the bridge, giving Dolly the widest berth the narrow crossing allowed, and Dove stifled a laugh.
The four of them regrouped on the path between the house and the equipment shed. Buddy examined the shed—door closed, no visible damage, no sign of forced entry from the outside.
"I saw them come out of the shed," Dove said.
“And you didn’t go inside?” Buddy asked.
“I wasn’t letting another intruder get away,” Trent said. “I still don’t know what they were doing on my property the last time, so maybe we’ll find a clue this time.” He reached for the handle.
Buddy and Sterling flanked him, weapons drawn. Dove took a position to the right, covering the tree line out of habit.
Trent's fingers closed around the handle.
Gravel crunched behind them. All four of them turned.
Dawson's cruiser rolled down the driveway, lights off. He parked behind Buddy's truck and stepped out, one hand on his belt, his gaze sweeping the property like he did every time he walked into a scene, whether he was on duty or not.
"Don't open that door," he called across the yard. His voice carried the authority of a man who wasn't making a suggestion. He walked toward them at a brisk pace. "Nobody goes in there without me."
Trent's hand hovered on the handle. "You're twenty feet away. What's the big deal?
“I’m not going to say it again," Dawson said, closing the distance.
“Someone came on my property again.” Trent stepped back.
Dawson reached them and positioned himself in front of the shed door. “I got a call about something happening here at Mallor’s Landing, and it didn’t have anything to do with intruders,” Dawson said.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Trent asked.
“We’ll get to that in a second. For now, everyone is going to back up and let me do my job. Got it?”
Trent nodded.
Dove didn’t like it. Something about this didn’t settle right. Not after what had just happened. She inched closer to Trent. She had no choice but to let Dawson take over.
Chapter Fifteen
Trent grabbed Dove's hand like it was his only lifeline. His only connection to anything real and safe. "Dawson." He kept his voice as level as he could. “What do you mean you got a call?”
Dawson's expression didn't shift. The man had one of those faces built for poker—wide, flat, unreadable when he wanted it to be. Right now, Trent suspected Dawson wanted it to be exactly the same way it had been a few years ago when he’d questioned him during a murder investigation.
That had not only been terrifying on so many levels, but Trent had learned that Dawson could be one scary ass cop.
"I'll tell you after I look inside,” Dawson said.
"That's my shed, and while I’m not going be any trouble or try to stop you because someone just trespassed—again—on my property. I think I have the right to know why.” Trent squeezed Dove’s hand.
“Let me do my job.” Dawson turned back to the door. Not unkindly, but with the kind of finality that said the conversation was over until he decided it wasn't.
Trent looked at Dove, who gave him the weakest of smiles.
Sterling and Buddy had moved further from the door. Buddy was tapping away on his cell, and Sterling had his to his ear.
Dawson pulled the door open and stepped inside.
