Tracking Secrets. Heather WoodhavenЧитать онлайн книгу.

       ONE

      Nick Kendrick lifted the edge of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his eyes. He needed to run only a little farther before starting his cooldown. A creek to his left rushed over boulders. The birds chirped and trees rustled in the breeze.

      Despite his struggle to get started, the exertion loosened his neck and back muscles after a long day of treating animals and appeasing their owners. The trails south of Barings, Idaho, were a treat for the senses. He could leave all the stress behind.

      A black Labrador rounded the corner, followed by a woman. Her brown hair, highlighted by the sun, blew back in waves. Unlike him in his sloppy basketball shorts and gray T-shirt, she looked as if she had just stepped out of a corporate meeting. A peach button-down blouse and matching pleated skirt ended just past her knees. Her sparkly sandals reflected the sunlight streaming through the trees.

      While pretty, it wasn’t exactly the most practical apparel for hiking the trail on the outskirts of town. The black Lab by her side looked to be a little over a year old, maybe two. If he had to guess, the dog still had to gain a good ten pounds before it’d be considered full-grown.

      The lady’s wide eyes regarded him. Perhaps she was a client, as he was the only veterinarian in the area. If he got closer, he might recognize the dog, which could jar his memory. He’d been so inundated with meeting new people the past several months that he was failing to recall their names.

      She frowned and slid her hand into a pocket hidden by the folds in her skirt. If she carried pepper spray, or worse, he didn’t want to do anything to startle her. He moved as far right as the trail would allow.

      The dog stiffened, and the little hairs on the back of its neck sprung up like a Mohawk hairstyle. Nick followed the dog’s gaze behind him but couldn’t see anything past the barbed wire fence except aspens and cottonwood trees. He wasn’t positive, but he thought the property bumped up against his own.

      Was barbed wire really necessary around the residential property? The first wire started two feet off the ground—unless there was another hidden by the tall grass and weeds—followed by two more lines roughly a foot apart.

      A rustle in the trees triggered an electric feeling in Nick’s spine, and he came to an abrupt stop. A patch of brown moved. A squirrel camouflaged within the matted leaves between the trees wagged its tail.

      The dog shot past him, darting underneath the fence. The woman cried out, holding a leash with a collar dangling from its clip. Nick narrowed his gaze and suppressed a groan. Didn’t she know better than to walk a dog with a breakaway collar?

      “Dog!” she hollered. “Come back!” She ran past him toward the fence and placed a hand over her mouth at the sight of the barbed wire.

      “I’ll help you get him.” The words were out of his mouth before he could process what that would mean. How would he get over the barbed wire?

      “I think it’s a her.”

      His jaw dropped. “You think? You aren’t sure?” He cleared his throat and tried to focus on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to get a bad reputation in a small town, but people really shouldn’t own dogs without at least some knowledge of how to take care of them properly.

      Unless he was willing to slide through on his belly, which he wasn’t, the options for getting past the fence were limited. He put one foot on the bottom line to lower it as far as possible. He slipped off the other sneaker and used it like a glove to lift the upper line.

      The woman didn’t hesitate and stepped through the space. The edge of her skirt caught on one of the barbs, forming a string that now hung down past the hem. She groaned. “I wore the wrong clothing for this. It was supposed to be a nice stroll. Dog!” she hollered again.

      “It might help if you called her by her name.”

      She ignored him and gingerly took his sneaker from his hand so she could mirror his method of holding the barbed wire apart. “Your turn,” she said. “Maybe we should call the police. I’m a little worried the owners won’t take kindly to intruders if they have a barbed wire fence.”

      “I’m pretty certain they won’t mind if we’re merely trying to get a dog off their land.” He bent over to step through the space then slipped his shoe back on. It would also give him an excuse to introduce himself to them. If his neighbors knew something he didn’t, maybe he needed to invest in an upgrade of his own fence. He scanned the land and spotted movement ahead. The dog had slowed near a house barely visible through the thick grove of trees. He quickened his pace back to a jog.

      “Speaking of names, I’m Nick Kendrick.”

      She raised her eyebrows and pumped her arms alongside him. “That rhymes. I’m Alexis.”

      Nick couldn’t help but notice she didn’t offer a last name. “And you don’t know your dog’s name?” He tried to keep the frustration from his voice.

      “No, I do...” She inhaled but focused on her footing. The sandals were strapped on but couldn’t be very comfortable for running through a forest. “I think it’s... Raven. Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s her name. And it’s not my dog. I’m temping for a pet-sitting service.”

      Her hands moved to emphasize each sentence. “I said I’d never pet sit, but I let my friend twist my arm since it’s a holiday weekend. I’m worried the dog won’t come back to me. She doesn’t know me. I was supposed to take her for a forty-five minute walk. That’s it.”

      Nick’s indignation slipped away. It was the pet-sitting company’s fault for not having enough staff on Labor Day weekend. They’d obviously sent her without training. The name Raven sounded familiar, though. He pointed at the leash in Alexis’s hand and the empty collar hanging from it. “That’s a safety collar. They’re great for during the day in case they catch themselves on something but not so great for walking and squirrel-gazing.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Well, someone could’ve told me that.”

      They burst through the last row of trees into the clearing. A Tudor-style house with a steeply pitched roof and a half-timbered frame sat in the center. Raven had lost the race with the squirrel and seemed intent on something else. The dog ran around the house, jumped up onto the gutter downspout at the corner and feverishly scratched at it.

      “Oh, great. No! Dog, no,” Alexis shouted. “That’s the last thing I need. I’m not an official contractor with the company. If she damages the house, I’m probably liable. Why do I let myself get talked into these things?” She spoke at speeds that could rival auctioneers or impassioned lawyers.

      The dog hopped down and shoved its nose as far as it could go inside the end of the gutter before it sat, almost as if at attention. Had the squirrel run up the gutter? Raven wagged her tail, looked back at them and then caught another sniff. She raced to the other end of the house and jumped on the corresponding downspout, repeating the entire routine. “An odd thing to do twice,” he commented.

      With Raven’s full attention on the gutter, it was their best chance to get her. Nick sprinted ahead at top speed, hoping he wouldn’t scare her away. The dog looked up but seemed to grin at his fast approach. Nick smiled back. “Good girl.”

      She wagged in response. Nick dropped