You're the One (4 page)

Del took a sip
of Diet Coke, refusing to break eye contact. No way was she going
to back down, not now she’d regained some sense.

“Catch you
later.”

“Sure. If I
unlock the door to you, that is.”

One dark
eyebrow rose but he didn’t reply, leaving the kitchen in long
strides.

A small smile
quirking her lips, Del leaned against the bench and continued
sipping from the can. Boy, that man certainly didn’t know her very
well, honestly thinking she’d just stand there and take his orders.
If he only knew-

“Are you
coming to lock this damned door behind me?” Moz called from the
front of the house.

Damn it. Del
screwed up her nose. The only way she was going to get rid of him
was to do as he said. For now.

Moz was
waiting for her, standing on the veranda with arms crossed, a frown
on his face. Wow, that frown aimed at her was starting to become a
little familiar.

She flicked
the security screen lock. “There. Happy?”

“Yeah.” The
mirrored sun glasses he slid onto his nose hid his eyes, but she
could still feel the intensity of his gaze as he looked down at her
through the screen. “I’d advise you to keep me that way.”

“Pfft. I’ve
had threats from the blokes before, why would I be more afraid of
yours?”

Damn, she
wished she could see his eyes as he just looked at her. The
sunglasses did a good job of hiding his thoughts.

“I’ll tell you
why,” Moz drawled softly.

“I can’t
wait.”

“Because your
friends are more bark than bite.”

“You think
so?”

“I know so.
They bark, but Del, I bite.” With that, Moz swung around and walked
off the veranda.

Holy crap. Del
could only watch in astonishment as the inspector strode to his
ute, got in and drove off her property.

It was several
seconds before she finally closed her mouth. When her male friends
threatened her she felt nothing but annoyance or humour and
mentally flipped them the bird. But with Moz, crap on a stick, she
couldn’t help but wonder…where exactly would he bite, and just what
would his bite be?

At that
thought, she became aware of something else.

Well hell, Moz
Baylon apparently could make her panties a
little
damp.

~*~

Moz was under
no illusions. Delia Miller had no intention of taking heed of his
warnings. His jaw clenched. The damned woman had lied right to his
face without the blink of an eye or a glimmer of remorse.

If she thought
he was kidding her about his bite being worse than his bark, she
had another think coming.

Right now,
however, duty called.

Pulling in
behind the vet clinic, he saw the cop car already parked near the
back door. Getting out of the ute, he headed inside, going through
into the hallway. Being Sunday the clinic was closed, no staff
around but the vet waiting for him.

Already
familiar with the way, he turned into a side room to see Grant, the
vet, and Kirk, one of the local cops, standing beside the table
where the body of a large dog lay.

Grant looked
at him, his normally pleasant face grim, while Kirk maintained that
stoic cop face, the only sign of his anger the hardness of his
eyes.

Moz nodded at
them both before turning his attention to the dog. “So, what do you
reckon?”

“Dog fight.”
Hands in his pockets, Grant shook his head. “Poor bugger.”

“While Phil
was patrolling this morning, he found another carcass down near the
river.” Kirk looked at Moz. “You were up at the sale yards checking
the stock going on the trucks, so we didn’t call you straight away.
Thought I’d let you know when you got here.”

“Damn it.” Moz
hated this so much. “Dog fight, Grant?”

“Afraid so.
There’s no doubting the wounds, and I’m telling you blokes, the
fight was vicious.” The vet looked moodily down at the body on the
table.

Moz followed
his gaze, silence falling on the small group as they all gazed down
at the dog. The animal was a mess, old cuts and scars, fresh wounds
clotted with dried blood. What they were all suspecting was like a
bitterness in the very air, touching each of them.

“Bloody dog
fighting.” Grant stroked the dog’s head gently. “Goddamn, bloody
dog fighting.”

“I spoke to
the council rangers yesterday, no one has reported missing any
small pets,” Kirk stated. “So that’s one thing. No animals being
stolen to use for baiting and training dog fights.”

“At least not
here.” Moz paused. “Not yet.”

“Turns my
stomach to think anyone in Gully’s Fall could be involved in
something like this.” Kirk rubbed his brow.

“May not be
here, they could be just using this place as a dumping ground.
Gully’s Fall is a small place, if dog fighting were going on around
here almost everyone would know within hours.”

“Yeah. They’re
a good bunch around here.” Kirk met his gaze levelly. “But you know
as well as I do that we also get travellers through, and people
from other towns are probably involved. Dog fighting rings aren’t
just isolated, they can involve a lot of people from different
places.”

“Speaking of
isolated, I dropped in on Harding’s place just awhile ago.” Moz
leaned one hand on the cold, steel table. “Follow-up inspection to
ensure he’d complied with one of the animal welfare codes I’d
warned him about. He’d complied.”

“And you just
happened to have a look around,” Grant said.

“Doing my job.
I can say I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

“His usual
crony with him?” Kirk asked.

“Dawson was
there.”

“Figures.”

“And so was a
bloke named Cutter.”

Kirk’s gaze
sharpened. “Really?’

“According to
Del, they’ve been friends for years.”

“Del?”

Moz met his
gaze. “She was up on the roof of her house watching them.”

Kirk’s jaw
clenched, the only sign he was far from happy. “On the roof?”

“Oh yeah.”
Grant nodded. “I’ve heard about her liking for sitting up there.
She sees everything.”

Moz said, “I
had a talk to her.”

“I’ll see her
later,” Kirk said at the same time.

Yeah, and Moz
wanted to see Kirk later about the very same thing. His eyes must
have relayed something, because one of the cop’s eyebrows rose a
little.

Grant, still
looking down at the dog, missed everything. “So where do we go from
here?”

Kirk switched
his attention to the vet. “We’ll investigate from our end, ask some
questions, step up patrols.”

“You’d want to
ask discreetly, otherwise whoever is doing this is going to
hear.”

“Thanks. I’d
never have known how to do that unless you’d just told me.”

Moz
grinned.

“Sharing my
expertise,” Grant said.

“From dealing
with little old ladies and their savage little pooches?” Kirk
looked at him.

“Don’t under
estimate little old ladies and their savage little pooches. You of
all people should know that.”

“Duly noted.”
Kirk looked at Moz. “Don’t know what you’re smiling about. I hear
you got the rough end of Mrs Montague’s tongue for mentioning how
round her dog was.”

Grant
whistled. “You took on Ryder’s mother? Brave man.”

“Stupid, I’d
say,” Kirk added.

“Some of us
just have to be big boys and deal with the tougher aspects of
life,” Moz said.

“So what are
you doing about her?” Grant smirked.

“Bugger all.
The woman may look like a beauty queen, but she has a tongue on her
like a razor blade. Nearly made my hide bleed.”

“Good thing
you’re so tough.”

“I said the
tougher aspects of life. I didn’t say Mrs Montague. She’s a whole
other category.”

Kirk and Grant
grinned.

“Right, back
to business.” Moz looked at the dog. “I’ll let the town rangers
know what’s going on, as well as report to the rangers in Ellor’s
Loop and surrounding towns. I’ll see what reports they’re getting,
check the towns’ vets, see who has incidents of hurt or dead dogs.
Hopefully we can find a common link.”

“One link and
we can follow the whole thread.” Kirk started for the door. “Okay,
I’ll report back to the boss, let him know what’s happening, and we
can alert the cops in nearby towns.”

Moz helped
Grant slide the dog into a bag and place it in the freezer kept
especially for animal bodies. Once they’d finished, they washed
their hands and went into the office where Grant dropped down into
the chair behind the desk.

Moz remained
standing, hands in his pockets as he peered out the window.

“How’s the
house hunting going?” Grant queried.

“Not easy,”
Moz replied. “Julia’s boarding house is lovely, very peaceful, but
Mozart isn’t happy.”

“Mozart
doesn’t like staying with Elissa and Simon?”

“He and Arthur
don’t get on.”

“Arthur’s an
old cat who has claimed Simon’s house as his. Having an interloper
isn’t going to go down well.”

Leaning his
hips back against the wall, Moz folded his arms. “Julia said I
could have him at the boarding house, she was happy for him to stay
in the bedroom. Elissa said not to worry, Arthur would get over it.
Dee said Mozart can stay at the flat or Ryder’s depending on where
their cats are at the time. I just don’t feel right about any of
it.”

“Shifting him
from place to place with the smell of strange cats constantly
around can cause some issues.”

“Yeah. Don’t
want him to start fire-hosing the places down. Nothing worse than
the smell of cat piddle.”

Grant
grimaced. “Actually, trust me, there are worse things.”

“Okay. But I
don’t want him starting to spray other people’s homes.” Moz sighed.
“I really need to get a house, move Mozart back in with me. I could
have left him in a boarding cattery but he gets freaked.”

“Bad
memories.”

“Yeah, bad
memories.”

“He can stay
with me,” Grant offered. “I told you that.”

“I appreciate
it, but you already have an assortment of strays living with
you.”

“My place is
still bigger than a bedroom.”

“Argh!” Moz
rubbed his brow. “I don’t want to foist him on to different people
all the time. I just need to find a house and get him home with
me.”

Grant smiled
slightly. “I get it. I’ll continue to keep an eye out for you.”

“Thanks.” Moz
pushed away from the wall. “Speaking of Mozart, I better go and
visit him. He gets a little freaked if I don’t see him.”

“You mean the
way he chewed through the wool blanket?”

“He’s a little
unsettled.”

“Moz, that cat
is a lot more than a little unsettled.”

“Okay, so he
has some issues. Give him a break.” Moz started for the door.
“Catch you later.”

The drive to
Simon’s house was nice, the sun hot outside, summer all around.
Hot, dry, yet life still went on. Kids still played, birds took
shelter in the trees, sheep grazed, the fields were as a summer
season would find them.

Pulling into
Simon’s driveway, he got out and stretched, inhaling the summer
air. Yep, hot, but it was fresh country air, too, all clean and
wholesome. He’d only been here a short time, but he’d visited
Gully’s Fall a few times since his sister hooked up with the
redheaded firie so it wasn’t a strange place. Best decision he’d
ever made was accepting the job as RSPCA inspector and moving to
this side of Australia. New life, new job.

Going up onto
the veranda, he spotted the old, snaggled-toothed, one-eyed cat
giving him the wary eye from the old armchair in the corner of the
veranda.

“Hey, Arthur.”
Moving across to him, Moz knelt on one knee and proffered his
fingers to the cat.

Arthur sniffed
his fingers before looking away with a put-upon expression.

Grinning, Moz
rubbed behind his ears gently, rewarded by the spasmodic purring
that broke out.

The door
opened, his sister peering around the edge. “You’d better wash your
hands before you pat Mozart. He’ll spazz out if he smells Arthur on
you.”

Giving Arthur
a last couple of strokes, Moz pushed to his feet. “How is he?”

“Which boy?
Arthur’s angry, Mozart is, well, Mozart.”

“Mozart’s
freaked.”

“Weirdly so.”
She held the door open. “Don’t let the flies in.”

“You’re the
one with the door open.”

“I’m being
polite, boofhead.”

Laughing, Moz
followed her inside, automatically flicking the security screen
lock.

“Simon’s in
the lounge,” Elissa said.

“Okay.”

“I mean,
there’s no need to lock the door. I’m not here alone.”

“Huh. Old
habits die hard.”

Simon appeared
in the lounge room doorway, a glass of iced coffee in one hand, a
sandwich in the other. “City boys.

“You weren’t
born in the country.”

His
brother-in-law was completely unfazed. “Been here in the country
for awhile.” He affected a long, slow drawl. “Once you live in the
country, ain’t no goin’ back to the big smoke.”

“Am I supposed
to be impressed by that appalling accent?”

“City folk
just don’t understand us country folk.”

“This is
getting worse.” Moz looked down at his sister. “What did you put in
his sandwich?”

“Sardine and
onion. Don’t look at me, it was his choice.”

Simon grinned
widely. “Want to give your brother-in-law a big, welcome hug
hello?”

“Prefer to
kick your arse.”

“I’m
hurt.”

“You would be.
I have to order my size boots.”

“Big foot.
Maybe we should nickname you Yeti.”

“Maybe I
should rearrange your accent.”

“Maybe you
should go see Mozart.” Elissa slid between them.

“She’s worried
about little me.” Smugly, Simon took a big bite of the smelly
sardine and onion sandwich.