Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Why not?”
“That’s a long story.”
“You can tell me now or later. Right now I suppose we need to check out this coordinate.”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Suffice it to say, for now, that we chose a brand-new veterinarian right out of that school in Fort Collins, armed with the newest techniques specifically geared toward cattle and horses. Specifically grass-fed cattle bred for meat consumption.”
“Makes sense.”
There’s more to the story. I know my father too well. Plus, he said it was a long story.
Did he and Uncle Bryce have a problem with Doc Sheraton?
I’ve always considered Doc Sheraton to be a good guy, but now? Knowing that his daughter had a part in what happened to Rory and Callie all those years ago? I’m not sure. I’m not one to blame the parent for the sins of the child, but I can’t discount the fact that kids who commit crimes usually haven’t been raised perfectly.
Doc Sheraton is a widower, though, so he had to raise his daughter alone. He probably wasn’t there for her as much as he should’ve been through no fault of his own.
Who knows? Just another piece to this puzzle that is becoming more convoluted every day.
“So this land, then,” I say to Dad. “It’s under lease to Doc Sheraton?”
“It is. When he asked if he could rent it, after buying the adjacent tract, Uncle Bryce and I agreed. We felt kind of bad for not offering him the job on our payroll.”
“I see.”
“It was a rational business decision,” Dad continues, “but like I’ve said a million times before, we’ve always wanted to support the local community. And we didn’t support Doc Sheraton this time.”
About ten years ago…
Those are the words my father started this conversation with.
Ten years ago.
Around the same time Pat Lamone and Brittany Sheraton drugged Rory and Callie and took those incriminating photos.
I file that information in my mind for future reference.
At the moment?
We need to figure out why these particular GPS coordinates were left in an envelope for Donny in a safe-deposit box he never rented.
“Let’s take a look,” Dad says.
“Okay. How do we get to the exact coordinates?”
We’re parked on what appears to be vacant land.
“No freaking clue,” he says. “Let’s drive the perimeter of this tract.”
“How big is this tract?”
“Several hundred acres.”
“Then we have to go to the exact point of the GPS coordinates.”
“Yeah,” Dad says, “except I’m not exactly sure how to get there. There are no roads here.”
“Fuck. Seriously?”
“Seriously. As far as I know, it’s a tract of vacant land. Why Sheraton wanted to rent it is beyond me.”
“For grazing maybe?”
“He doesn’t raise cattle or horses.”
“He raises dogs,” I say.
Guard dogs, specifically. Doc Sheraton may well have provided the dogs for whoever is behind all of this.
“Right,” Dad says. “Dobermans and Rottweilers. He trains them as guard dogs.”
“He doesn’t need our land for that.”
“No. But Bryce and I didn’t give it a thought at the time.”
“No, you didn’t. You were feeling guilty about not supporting him as a local veterinarian.”
“Yep.”
Something is rotten here. I sense it already. “I wonder…”
“What?” Dad says.
“What if we rented a helicopter or a small crop-dusting plane? Flew over to see what he’s got on this land?”
“Not a bad idea, son, but I’m thinking it’s best to drive the perimeter and look that way. These coordinates were given to us for a reason. And on those first coordinates, you and your cousins found evidence of rotting flesh, and then you left. By the time you returned, whatever might’ve been in that attic was gone. If we fly a plane or helicopter over the next set of coordinates, we will alert someone.”
My father’s right.
He usually is.
“All right. Let’s drive the damned perimeter.”
CHAPTER FIVE
RORY
I said it.
I said the words.
I’m falling for Brock Steel.
“Rory…”
“I know. I may be pregnant with his child. Which is of course what I wanted. But damn it, Callie, I don’t want it this way. This baby—if it even exists—deserves to be part of a family. A family with two parents. I don’t know how Brock feels about me.”
“You’re a soft spot.”
“Those words are Donny’s, not Brock’s. Is it even fair to talk to Brock about a relationship when so much else is going on with his family that I don’t even know about?”
“First things first,” Callie says. “When is your period due?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the calendar. “A week and a half.”
“Okay. There are pregnancy tests now that you can take, like, five days before you miss your period.”
“That’s still a week away.”
“I know.”
“I should talk to Brock.”
“Yeah, you probably should.”
“Why? Why did I get into this?” I let out a sigh. “You never fall for the rebound guy.”
“Good advice,” Callie agrees. “But this is still new, Ror. Maybe you are falling for him. But maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re just infatuated with the rebound guy.”