Page 42 of Doubting Hearts

Chapter Twelve

RAIN

OUR SHEEP-STEALING investigation was a bit of a washout for the first two nights that we were out in the field. Not literally, unfortunately. I knew the farmers in the town were all bemoaning the lack of precipitation. I’d heard them in the bar when I sat with Toby, and everywhere I went the farmers were still grumbling at how dry it had been. I, for one, was pleased it didn’t rain. Being camped out in a field with a Toby who’d really entered into the spirit of the whole detective thing was enough to drive anyone crazy without it being wet. I was also fed up with all the sheep jokes. I was sure Toby had a joke book with sheep puns secreted on his person. I think I’d heard them all by now, and I’d threatened that I was ready to stuff said book down his throat. But in hindsight I probably wouldn’t. Toby’s throat was one of his most powerful weapons, and I wouldn’t have really wanted any harm to come to it. And shoving the book up his backside didn’t do it for me either. So, I patiently endured his terrible sense of humor on all things sheep related.

Our third night on stakeout, I was on my usual point duty on the dirt lane running past the field of sheep. Dave didn’t really have all that many, I had to admit. There were probably less than twenty of the disgusting things, all lying about doing nothing and regarding us with blank stares. We’d decided that anyone wanting to steal a sheep wouldn’t just be able to carry it away. They’d need a car of some sort. I was on the lookout for rogue sheep-stealing vehicles while Toby nestled comfortably in the hedges running around the field behind me. He was watching the sheep, some of which got far too close for comfort for me. I’d seen Toby’s pert backside wriggling about, trying to shoo them away when they came over to gaze at him in curiosity. Said backside was now protruding out of the bushes, swaying a little, and I gazed at it in lazy contemplation.

“I can feel you looking, you randy bastard, so stop it. We’re here to do a job, not make out in the field again.” Toby’s amused voice echoed out of the bush as he got comfortable.

I frowned. “Toby, no one’s coming to this bloody field to pilfer sheep. This is a bloody waste of time. It’s nearly midnight, for God’s sake. We should cut our losses and go home. I have a million and one other uses for that sexy backside of yours.”

There was a snort of laughter from the bush. “I’ll bet. But not right now. If you’re really patient and stick it out, you can have it later.”

“I know where I’d like to stick it,” I muttered sotto voce. There was another deep chuckle from the bush. I grinned. Then I frowned. I could hear a faint mechanical sound in the distance, almost like a drone. I stood stock still to listen.

“Toby, do you hear that?” I whispered.

“I do. It seems to be coming from in front of me. So, that would mean from the other side of the field.” Toby’s voice was muffled, and the hedge shook as he moved himself around. “I’m trying to get the night glasses working. Come down here and give me a hand.” My boyfriend had borrowed a pair of night-vision glasses from some kid’s science set and was hell-bent on using them. I hesitated. Making my way through the four-foot hedge meant getting closer to the sheep.

“There’s no bloody sheep nearby, Rain” was the exasperated retort from the bush. “So, get on down here. Something’s not working, and you’re better at this stuff than I am.”

I sighed. Even in gay relationships there appeared to be the stereotypical man who was more technically “endowed.” I happened to be him. Toby was useless with anything like that. I’d seen him destroy a whole toaster trying to get a piece of stuck bread out of it. I scrambled through the twigs and leaves to the little foxhole Toby had made, finding myself side by side with him on a large blanket spread out on the cold ground. Next to him was the basket with the coffee flask, cups, Twix and Mars bar selection, and a couple of half-eaten assorted sandwiches.

Toby waved the glasses at me in frustration. “I can’t bloody see anything. I’ve switched it on, fiddled with it, and it still won’t bloody work.”

The noise was getting louder as I took the goggles from him. “You can’t see anything, you idiot, because the bloody lens caps are still on.” I clucked in exasperation as he flapped his hands impatiently at me. I shook my head as I removed the caps. He plucked the glasses out of my hand and lay on his stomach like a sharpshooter as he raised the glasses to his eyes.

“Do you see anything?” I whispered, watching the field anxiously for any rogue ovine species.

He clucked impatiently. “Give me a bloody chance. I’ve just started… oh—my—God.” His voice was the epitome of disbelief. The droning noise was definitely much louder now, almost upon us.

“What is it? Can you see anything?” I was excited now, peering out into the moonlit field to see what I could spot. I noticed with a sense of disquiet that a couple of sheep were loitering with intent quite far away. My skin crawled at the sight of them. I can honestly say I had no idea why I had a sheep phobia, just that I’d had it since I was about five years old. My parents had never figured it out either. Nothing had ever happened that we knew of to cause such a thing. I kept a careful eye on them as Tony wriggled around next to me.

“Fuck me to hell.” Toby’s whispered words were an invitation that in any other situation would have made me obey him there and then. But with sheep in the vicinity and a drone in my ears that was drawing nearer, the timing just wasn’t right. Wordlessly, Toby passed me the glasses, and I scooted down on my front and peered out into the gloom. When I’d finally managed to focus my eyes on the field, I saw what had made him so amazed.

Toward the middle of the field, barreling toward where most of the sheep were congregated, was a motorbike with a sidecar. The figure on the bike was too wrapped up to see who or what it was. It held on to the handlebars and almost stood up halfway on the pedals as the little vehicle trundled across to the band of sheep. I watched as it came to a stop. The figure dismounted. For a while, it looked around warily. Both Toby and I held our breaths and hunkered down deeper into the bush.

“What’s happening?” my boyfriend whispered in my ear. “Has he stopped?”

I nodded. “Yes. God, I don’t believe it. The guy steals sheep using a motorbike and a sidecar? Imagine if he got stopped on the road. ‘Son, is that a sheep in your sidecar or are you just happy to see me’?”

Toby’s snort of laughter was explosive, and I leaned forward and laid a hand against his lips, muffling him as he giggled quietly. I was starting to wish I’d never said the lines, because I felt the same amusement welling up inside me. We stared at each other, trying to contain the laughter. Toby’s eyes crinkled in merriment as his body shook. I hoped the would-be sheep burglar hadn’t heard us. Finally, Toby stopped laughing, although his eyes were wet with tears. I released his mouth, and he giggled more softly.

“Hell, Rain, we’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Don’t make jokes like that when we’re undercover.” He wiped his eyes and took the glasses from me, raising them to his eyes.

“He’s walking around, looking at the sheep,” he murmured. “Probably wondering which one of them he can fit in the sidecar. Some of them are too big to fit, so he’ll need a small one.” Even as he said the words, I winced at the sheer absurdity of it.

“We need to go over there and see what the hell he’s up to,” I whispered. “If we make our way out of here and round the hedge barriers on the outside to the other side, we can get closer to him than where we are now. It’s not far away. It’s also closer to the way he came in, so we can catch him there.” And I’d still be far enough from the sheep as well if we had to confront him, so it was a win-win situation. But if one of them made a move toward me all bets were off.

Toby nodded. Together we struggled out of the spot we were in, onto the outside of the hedge that surrounded the field. Walking as quietly as possible down past the one side of the hedge and down the other, we finally got to within about ten feet of where the man stood on the outskirts of the sheep gathering. He muttered to himself as he paced around the sheep, no doubt looking for the right one to steal. I looked at Toby, and he nodded. Together we moved swiftly through the hedge, which luckily was sparser than where we’d been, and onto the inside of the field. The man wheeled around in a panic as we appeared about eight feet away from where he stood. He made a quick, darting move toward his bike, but Toby was quicker. His long legs made short work of getting to the bike before the other man, and he held on to the handlebars as the man reached him.

“Going somewhere?” my lover asked lazily. I groaned. I could hear another sheep joke coming forth. “The sheep has hit the fan, sunshine. You’re not taking one more of these animals from my friend. He’s worked damn hard to get them.”

“Get the hell away from my bike and leave me alone.”

I frowned. The voice was younger than I’d have thought. It was also filled with trepidation. I guessed being accosted by two strange men in a deserted field when you were trying to perform a crime was a little scary.

“You’re stealing something that doesn’t belong to you,” I said. “We’ve been asked to tell the owner of these animals when we find out—” For the first time I realized that a bunch of sheep had started to mosey on over toward us. The sheep of my nightmares grew closer with every step of their hooves. I felt faint, taking a couple of steps backward, ready to bolt back through the hedge. One of the sheep sped up, almost as if it was determined to get to me, and I lost it. I turned, crashing through the bush, back to the outside field. I stood there, my chest heaving with panic, listening to the conversation from the other side of the hedge.