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said she was innocent. But since images of her wearing that lavender silk nightgown kept popping into his head at every unguarded moment, he wasn’t about to trust his instincts on this one.
    A small cardboard box sat on his desk. “What’s this?”
    “New batch of gadgets for testing. More sensitive sensors, longer-radius listening device, long-distance trackers. Pretty cool, actually.”
    He flipped open the box. Being able to test the latest spy gadgets was part of the perks of the job. But his phone rang before he could truly dig in. He picked it up as soon as he glanced at the display. He’d been waiting for this call all week.
    “We have some matches for the prints you got off those slashed tires,” Doug, a lab tech from the main office in Washington, said on the other end. “Dylan Rogers, Molly Rogers and a set of unidentified kid prints.”
    Logan’s, he thought as frustration swept through him. “Nothing else?” All he wanted was one small lead, dammit.
    “The tire swab samples had human blood in them. Preliminary DNA test links the blood to a murder victim in San Antonio. Garcia Cruz.”
    He shoved the box aside and sat up straighter. “Meaning the guy was killed with the same knife that slashed those tires?”
    “Looks like it.”
    Garcia Cruz. The name sounded familiar. He brought up the law-enforcement database and did a quick search. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he read.
    The Cruz murder had been a gang slaying.
    Exactly the wrong type of people for Molly Rogers to get tangled up with.
    “And the fingers?” he asked.
    “I ran the fingerprints. Another gangbanger. He has a prior record and a long list of aliases. I’ll write up a full report and send it over. Just thought I’d give you a heads-up.”
    “I appreciate that.” Mo swore under his breath. Sounded as if it was time to visit Molly Rogers again.
    * * *
    T HE DOGS WERE GOING MAD , barking and running around in the yard, then rushing up to her and pulling on her apron.
    “I don’t have time to play, sorry, guys. I’m way behind.” Molly hustled on with her buckets.
    Normally she fed the animals before she put Logan on the school bus in the morning, but they’d overslept. The power had gone out sometime in the night and reset the alarm clock. Thank God it was Friday. On Fridays she only had two deliveries, just a few boxes of produce to a local restaurant, and then the milk, both later in the day. She might catch up yet.
    The horses were restless, too, snorting at her with reproach as she entered the stables.
    “I know, I know. I’m late. Sorry.” And she was, even if she had needed the sleep.
    She’d been way too stressed since her encounter with Moses Mann at the beginning of the week. He didn’t seem like the type of man who would just give up and go away. Every time a car drove by, she expected it to be him, coming to arrest her on some trumped-up charge.
    She doled out the feed, then the water to the impatient horses. She patted Paulie, an old gelding. “There. See? Nobody starved.”
    She moved on to her four cows next and milked them by hand before she let them out to pasture. She carried the five-gallon buckets into one of the outbuildings and got the milk ready for driving it into town. She milked morning and evening, sold the raw milk to an artisan cheese maker in Hullett.
    Skipper, Max and Cocoa followed her everywhere, “helping.” She took turns pushing the dogs out of the way. “Remind me to schedule your shots.” Which brought Grace Cordero to mind. Her once best friend had recently left the army and opened up a vet practice down the road. The Cordero ranch was the closest house to her.
    Except Molly hadn’t talked to Grace since before Dylan’s death.
    Grace had been there when Dylan had been shot. She’d said Dylan had kidnapped her.... Why would she say that?
    That terrible ache bubbled up in Molly’s heart again, so she pushed those thoughts away and refocused on her chores. She let out the