Shielded By The Cowboy Seal. Bonnie Vanak

tail waved ever so slightly. She bent her head and sniffed in his direction. Then she cautiously approached him and smelled the hand he held out.

      Meg watched as her man-hating dog licked Cooper’s hand. He glanced at her and winked. “She wants me to tell you. See?”

      “I don’t understand. Sophie doesn’t like men.”

      Scratching behind Sophie’s ears, he nodded. “She’s been burned, but animals are smart. They know which people will hurt them and which ones to trust.”

      At his meaningful look, Meg sighed. “You’re not going to let this go.”

      “Nope. I can be real stubborn that way.”

      “There was a crash outside. I think it was the wind.” She looked away. “Or not. I had this feeling of being watched.”

      Immediately he assessed the situation. She’d been alone in a strange place, all sorts of noises outside in the storm where anything could sound like a threat. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. I’ll come back with you now.”

      “What about Betsy?”

      Much as he wanted to remain in the barn, he couldn’t leave Meg alone. The horse seemed to be over the worst of the colic. “She’ll do fine. Come on.”

      “It was nothing,” Meg repeated. “Just the wind knocking something over.”

      Straightening, he turned toward the door. “Show me.”

      The wind had died down, and the clouds had scudded across the night sky, showing a pale full moon as they made their way back to the cottage. The path was only a few hundred feet away, but he thought of Meg making her way to the barn in the dark with only a thin pencil beam from the flashlight to illuminate the way, and his guts churned.

      He should never have left her alone.

      At the porch steps, she gestured to the broken clay pot. Brie had planted marigolds in the three pots on the steps, and when they’d died, he simply hadn’t had the heart to do anything with them. Same reason he hadn’t cleaned out Brie’s closet or, against his mother’s wishes, gone through any of her personal things.

      Cooper saw Meg’s trim boot prints in the newly fallen snow, and a set of paw prints leading from the front steps.

      Nothing obvious. But he’d check the entire cottage to make sure.

      “Go inside, get warm. I’ll be in shortly.”

      His no-nonsense tone indicated business. Meg bit her lower lip again and then held out the flashlight. He shook his head. “Don’t need it.”

      “It’s dark out here.”

      “Yeah, and it’s how I roll. Go inside. Lock the door behind you.”

      He was relieved to see her unlock the door and head into the cottage, the dog on her heels. Soon as he heard the lock click, he began a perimeter check. The new snow made it easy to spot any disturbances. And using a flashlight would be like a neon sign if there was anyone, or anything, lurking outside.

      Cooper made his way around the cottage, using the light of the moon as illumination. Nothing. Maybe it was the wind. But he didn’t like it. Took a mighty strong wind to knock over a pot that heavy.

      As he walked to the east, hooked around the house and examined the grounds, he got a prickly feeling on the back of his neck. Gut instinct saved his butt more than once in the field, so he paid attention to the night sounds, the quietness, the smells...

      He inched toward the living room window that was parallel to the sunporch. And then his blood ran cold.

      Another set of prints in the snow, these much larger.

      As if a man had been standing outside the window, trying to peer past the curtains at Meg...

      Using the spare key, Cooper let himself into the house. Meg sat at the kitchen table. “Did you find anything?”

      “Maybe.” Coop headed to the closet and opened the gun safe where he’d stashed Brie’s .38 special. After loading it, he returned to the kitchen and showed her the gun. “Ever use one of these?”

      Meg’s eyes widened to dinner plates. “No. Is it necessary?”

      “Not as long as I’m around. It’s for when I can’t be at your side.” He showed her the safety. “Click this off and point and shoot, but only if you’re certain your target intends harm.”

      She looked at the gun as if it were a cockroach. “I can’t use this.”

      Coop considered. “Fine. Need you to do something. Ever make plaster of paris?”

      At her head shake, he told her where to find the flour and bowls, and to warm the water. Taking the flashlight, Coop next returned outside.

      After making another thorough perimeter check, he fetched the bowl of plaster. Coop poured the liquid into the footprints to let it set. Then he returned inside, locking the door. Pulling out a chair, he joined Meg at the table.

      “You asked if I found something. I found a set of man’s footprints, size 14, in the snow. I wear size 11, and no one I know, even the hired help, wears shoes that big.”

      Blood drained from Meg’s face. She hugged herself. “Prescott wears that size shoe. He’s found me. Oh God, I knew I never should have come here. He killed Randall and I’m next.”

      Coop’s suspicions flared. He knew that name, all too well... “Randall?”

      Meg’s gaze darted away. Bingo. Cooper leaned forward, all business now. She knew something and he was going to find out what.

      “I think it’s time you started leveling with me about your ex. I need to know exactly why you ran away from him, who he is and what his business is. Starting now.”