“All right, this is the first time we’ve had a chance to talk all together. We need to get our hands on the cows. We need to find out what killed those animals. That’s the only way we’re going to disprove this tape.”

  “If they weren’t there—” Reg began.

  “Video evidence is hard to disprove.” Drexler said, shaking his head.

  “Unless it’s crappy video.” Joseph folded his arms.

  “This is true, but Smythe doesn’t trust his own shadow most days,” Caldwell answered. “He’s putting in excellent cameras.”

  “So, who would have faked this and why would be our next avenue of approach,” Tate said. “For that, we’d need the original file. Or tape. Or hard drive.”

  “That’s going to be nearly impossible the way he’s holding onto this,” Drexler said.

  “Get me even the copy and I can prove there’s digital artifact.”

  Everyone in the room turned and looked at Tate standing there.

  He traded looks back. “What?”

  “You can do that?” Joseph asked.

  “There are two people in this state who are expert at this: me, and Saxon Abbott. There’s no one else who could find the kind digital artifact that could show this was bullshit unless you go to Silicon Valley. But!” He held up a finger. “Finding the digital artifact on a copy just shows that there was something done to the original file, not what. For that I need the original file.”

  “How are we going to know that it’s the original?”

  Tate leveled a look at him. “I’ll know.”

  Reg clapped a hand on Tate’s shoulder. “I trust you, son, but is there any other way we can prove how these two ladies are innocent?”

  “We need a cow.” Drexler’s answer was straightforward. “Get us a cow so we can do an autopsy.”

  “He’s burying them on his fence line,” Reg said. “We can’t get on his property and get one.”

  “These are our two options to get them cleared without a trial. We can get the whole thing dropped.” Drexler scratched his nose. “Let me see if I can get a warrant for the video or for the cow. I don’t think either is going to happen, because we haven’t seen the video yet and the cow is going to be too decomposed.”

  “Does anyone know why on earth he would pick me and Cady to go after?” Lucy’s voice was quiet. “I mean, I’m over at the Miller’s working my tail off, and I love animals. I would never hurt anyone’s cattle or their income. And you all know that Cady is exactly the same.”

  “We do, of course,” Deidre said. “We just need to prove that to the legal system.”

  Drexler nodded. “And we will.”

  “So, what can kill cattle like that, that isn’t mad cow?” RJ paced the floor, completely unable to sit still.

  “There are a few things, but we don’t even know that it was a mad cow-esque death,” Reg said. “We’re just not even sure. No one has seen the animals.”

  “Does he have any active cases right now?” Marcy asked.

  “Not that he’d ever tell us,” Reg answered.

  Drexler held up a hand. “Let’s adjourn ourselves until the morning. We’ll meet back here before the showing and we’ll try to take it from there. Does that sound fair?”

  “Still the same restrictions on Cady and Lucy?” RJ asked.

  The lawyer nodded once. “Yes, same. We’re going to get this solved.”

  * * *

  They were standing speechless in the dark, watching the semi-grainy, oddly clear video of Lucy and Cady pouring something into the grain bin. It was creepy to see her sister’s face on the video when everyone in the room knew that it wasn’t them.

  Cady handed up buckets of something to Lucy, who dumped it in different parts of the feed bin. It went on for about fifteen minutes, when finally they were done with whatever was out of sight of the video camera. The tape jumped to show them sneaking away out of the yard, carrying the bucket and the bag of whatever they had been dumping.

  Drexler stood slowly after the video ended. “I need a copy of the original tape, Your Honor. I don’t believe this is accurate.”

  “It’s a fucking video, Drexler, what more do you want?” Smythe snapped.

  “It’s been manipulated. I need an expert to look at the files.”

  The judge scratched at his nose. “Counselor, are you sure we can’t plead this out?”

  “Lucy wouldn’t do that!” RJ snapped from the audience.

  “Out. Get him out,” the judge said, flipping his hand at the court officers and RJ.

  RJ didn’t fight the officers, but he definitely didn’t like it, and shouted over his shoulder. “She wouldn’t!”

  The judge waited until RJ was gone. “No more of that crap, please. Counselor, my question still stands.”

  “No plea, your honor. I need a copy of the tape and few days.”

  “Very well. Mister Smythe?”

  “We have a copy.”

  “Your honor, we really want the original tape put into evidence so that we can have our experts analyze the information—“

  “I want those witches in jail!” Smythe snapped.

  “Mister Smythe, you’d do well to hold your tongue. I will have you ejected from this room on your next outburst.” The judge just shook his head. “Fine. No plea, but I want that tape in evidence and I want a copy to Mister Drexler—”

  O’Brien held out a thumb drive. “Counselor, as promised.”

  “Good.” The judge seemed pleased. “You have one week, Mister Drexler. Make use of it. I will want a confirmation of plea or court date in exactly one week from today. Bail is continued.”

  The gavel came down and Smythe turned to stare at them all. He snatched his briefcase and marched smartly out of the room, O’Brien hot on his tail.

  Once they were in the hall again, Frank leaned against the wall. “Tate, you’re sure you can do this?”

  “I am sure.”

  Marcy watched him hold his hand out and Drexler entrust him with the drive.

  “I’ll make a backup and we’ll get on this right away.”

  “Call Saxon if you need him,” Joseph said.

  “He’s on speed dial,” Tate answered.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tate’s eyes scanned line after line after line of the base coding for the video. He had briefly thought about making a program to search the code, but they only had a week, and by the time he had created the program they’d be on day five. The program would need three to scan.

  Compared to manually searching for glitches, which would take six days on the file.

  “This isn’t the original.”

  Marcy looked up from her book. “What do you mean? We knew that.”

  “Right, but this isn’t even a copy of the original. This is a copy of a copy, that was made from an altered copy. What the hell is this guy playing at?”

  “Can anyone tell that it’s copied from copy?”

  “Not unless you’re in the code. This isn’t even copied from an original. It’s copied from a copy that was manipulated.” He leaned back from the desk. “I’m not even going to go any further. We need the original. The very first file from the cameras in the feed bin. I…” He paused. “Wait a minute.”

  Leaning up, he tapped a few buttons and brought up the actual footage. He let it run for a moment.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “I don’t think this is Smythe’s feed bin. At all.”

  His fingers flying over the keyboard, another window appeared on one of the two screens, and a satellite picture of the area zoomed in. Zeroing into the address, Blackhorn Ranch’s land filled the screen.

  Tate tapped on the screen. “This is his feed silo. It’s a silo. It’s round.” Looking back at the screen, he tapped the background of the video. “That is a corner. That is a ninety-degree corner. Smythe doesn’t have a square bin.”

  Marcy leaned over stared at the screen. “So, if you’re taking night-vision video, you still have a light, right?”

  “Right. The only way night vision works is if there’s no light at all. Caves, and the like.” Tate leaned back and realized that he had a marvelous view of Marcy’s backside. He couldn’t stop from reaching out and putting a hand there.

  Marcy didn’t seem to notice. “So there has to be a source of light in this bin somewhere.”

  Tate tapped the top left corner while caressing circles on her ass. “Probably a bug zapper or light up here. Small, because it is still pretty dark.”

  “That light is still going to cast shadows.” She raised an eyebrow and looked back at his hand.

  “Shadows. Yes.”

  “Tate?”

  “Hmm? Oh, right. Yes. Shadows. Absolutely.”

  “Are you looking at the screen, Tate, or my ass?”

  “Can’t I do both?”

  “No.”

  With an exaggerated pained sigh, he looked at the screen. The image was dark, so the light source was small, and probably just a bug light. And while the girls had light and dark areas, there were issues.

  The light areas were fine, but the shadows didn’t really line up with the light source. Everything looked artificially darkened and…

  “They don’t cast shadows. At all.” Tate sat up a little straighter.

  “And what shadows there are aren’t in the right spot.”

  “Wow.” Tate popped the analysis screen back up and started scanning. “This is unbelievable. This is a copy of an altered copy because these images do exist in here, but they are…weird. Forced.” He shoved the keyboard away. “We need the original.”

  “Do you think it would be still on the hard drive at Smythe’s house?”

  “I don’t think any of this was done at Smythe’s house. I think we have to find out whose feed bin that is, and why they were out to get your sister and Cady.”

  Marcy pulled up her phone. “I’ve asked the local agricultural association to copy me in on the local cattle deaths and illnesses. I get dispatches every day. Smythe isn’t the only one who has been having head of cattle drop from what looks like BSE. But it’s not…uniform or predictable.

  “All of the ranchers who have had cattle die from it burn the corpses, and it can take four years for the BSE to present. It’s not like it’s a two day incubation period. There’s a lot of randomness to the deaths, and they haven’t called it BSE yet.”

  “So you have to go back a few months and see who’s lost cattle.”

  “Not just that, who’s lost cattle since Lucy’s been here. Cady’s only been up once or twice now, but Lucy’s been around for a few months.”

  “But she’s on an equine ranch. She doesn’t really deal with bovine ranches.”

  “No, but I think that’s not going to matter.” Marcy searched the emails and found only the ones from the agricultural association. “I may have to ask for more. I got down here six months after Luce.”

  “So we have to find out who’s been losing cattle since your sister showed up to figure out whose barn this might be. And then we have to find out which of them has a security camera and bug light inside. Then we have to hope that they have a network we can hack.”

  Not looking up, Marcy nodded. Tate studied her for a moment. She was intent on getting her sister and Cady out of this—everyone knew they didn’t do it, but the tape was damning.

  Unless it was fake. And Tate could prove that.

  He stared at Marcy, scrolling through the screens of texts and emails.

  Tate could help them prove this.

  Watching and waiting, he realized that something—the drugs, the therapy, the clarity both offered—was working, and he knew he was worth something. He was always going to have a disability with his physical imperfections. But, they needed him. They. His family, their friends, their loved ones.

  He was honestly helping them to solve this.

  Tate drew the phone out of Marcy’s hand and she watched him, confused.

  “Let’s take a break from all of our sleuthing, hmm?”

  Her eyebrows rose and a smirk formed on her lips. “Why, Mister Verhoven. Are you coming on to me?”

  His hand found the firm globe of her ass and massaged small circles. “Maybe I am. What are you planning to do about it?”

  “Take full advantage of it.”

  “I’m feeling a little manic, so let’s not even play at seduction,” Tate said, and patted his lap. “Come on up here and sit that fine ass down.”

  “Door locked?”

  “Good call.”

  While Marcy ran over and spun the lock, Tate grabbed the arms on his chair and lifted them up and locked them out of the way.

  Marcy slid her leg right over him and landed in his lap, and already had her shirt up and off.

  “You sure this is just some plain old mania?” Marcy ran her fingers through his hair.

  Tate pressed his erection up into her sex and grinned. “Oh, I’m sure.”

  “Good.” Her hands were working his buckle. “I’ve been dying for a bit more of you. We haven’t been able to sneak some time for a few days.”

  “One of the many times, recently, I wish I had my own place…”

  Working his fingers into her hair, he pulled her down for a kiss while his other hand made quick work of her bra. Her hands also moved fast, and his pants were unbuckled in a heartbeat.

  “I want fast and dirty, Tate.”

  “You sure, gorgeous?”

  Her hands worked his pants down, but it was far faster for her to lift up and let him slide them off. When she dropped back down, his cock bumped against the most sensitive part of her and she groaned with want.

  “You forgot to take those bottoms off,” he whispered, sliding his hands around her breasts.

  Lifting just her ass off him, allowing him to enjoy her tits, she slipped one leg up and out of the bottoms and just let the rest fall where they would.

  “Mm, you really do want this.”

  Palming his shaft, she smoothed her hand up and down him a few times, and Tate couldn’t stop the throaty groan from slipping out. Holding her nipple firmly in his lips, he slid down to the junction of her thighs and passed a slow finger over her clit.

  “Oh, baby, you are wet. You got that wet that fast? “

  “Well, it wasn’t like I didn’t notice you petting my ass, Tate. I felt that. And I want this.” She gave his dick just the smallest of squeezes.

  “I’m all yours, Princess. At your command.”

  Lifting herself just a bit from his lap, she settled back down, guiding him into her willing pussy, and they both let out a sigh of relief.

  Tate had wanted to sneak into her room so many times in the past week, but there were too many people around and Darren always seemed to be in the hall. He wanted her to ride him, and he wanted to start getting her used to his touch, his fingers caressing every part of her, lips exploring her every curve and dip. It was torture that he hadn’t been able to get to her that week.

  Now, though, she was seated firmly on his cock, and rolled her hips slowly at first. Little movements, adjusting him, getting used to him being there, finding her own spots of pleasure.

  His lips were still firmly around her peaked nipple, and his other hand played freely with the other. He left the other hand on her mound and teased her clit just ever so lightly as she moved, still adjusting to him.

  A moment later, as he closed his eyes to enjoy the flavor of her breast and the feel of her pussy wrapped around his cock, Marcy changed her directions and started posting up and down on him.

  “Oh, that’s amazing,” she breathed.

  He didn’t know if she was enjoying his dick, or the freedom to do as she pleased while impaled on him.

  “Oh, damn it, Tate, this isn’t going to take long at all.”

  Maybe a bit of both.

  Tate looked up at the beautiful woman sliding up and down his shaft. “You want to come?”

  “Yes.” She panted the word. “What about you…I can’t…”

  “You want fast and dirty. This is fast—I’ll give you dirty after.”

  “Oh, shi…”

  His finger was barely dusting her tense nerves, and he listened to her pant and gasp and groan as she rode him. He was amazed he didn’t come; she was hot and tight and their thighs were slick with sex, all of which he found himself adoring—because it was her.

  “Yes, yes,” she ground out, and dropped herself hard on him.

  Tate pressed on her clit and rubbed her roughly, and it was all she needed. She dropped onto him again, and tucked her head against his hair, desperately trying not to scream the climax that rocked her. She pushed herself down on him, and wave after wave of the orgasm shook her, made her shake, and finally left her panting—his cock still firmly inside her.

  A moment later, Marcy stirred against him and whispered in his ear. “Is it wrong that I want to feel you come inside me?”

  “Not even a little,” Tate said. “Here’s the dirty part, Princess. Stand up for me.”

  Whimpering a bit as he slipped out of her, Marcy looked pouty, and as unsteady as newborn calf. Tate smiled to himself for a job well done. His hand slid to her hip and he turned her around with the utmost care, and used another hand to guide her as he stood up.

  “Bend over, and press those tits to my desk. Hang on, and if it’s too much, say something.” He was still very aware of her past and didn’t want to shove her around the way his sex drive was asking him to.

  With a nudge, he made her slide her legs apart as he fisted himself, then pressed against her entrance. Her pussy was still quivering from her climax, and with the way she fluttered against him, he wasn’t long for this.

  Tate’s cock slid in and he seated himself firmly against her, slow and careful for just a moment. Marcy shuddered against him, and a moment later glanced back at him over her shoulder with a wicked look of desire in her eyes.

  “Do it, Tate. Fuck me.”

  Shit. The request tripped through him and, grabbing her hips, he withdrew and slammed back into her.

  “Oh, yes!”

  The gasp of approval landed right in his cock and he took short, deep strokes into her. Leaning forward, he planted a hand on the desk and reached around to her clit, trailing his finger over it. He felt her brace her feet tighter and he was able to reach a near-punishing rhythm.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12