Desert Rescue (K-9 Search and Rescue)

by Lisa Phillips

  “What is it, son?”

  I’m not your son. Patrick didn’t remind him that it was “Officer Sanders” even though he wanted to. “This seems to be personal to Ms. Wilson. Do you have any idea why that might be?”

  This sheriff had been in the job for nearly twenty years now, according to the news article framed on the wall. He had to have known Jennie’s father. After all, he’d insinuated she might be involved in all this.

  What Johns didn’t seem to know was Patrick’s personal connection to Nate—and it was none of the man’s business. Patrick had no intention of giving the sheriff ammunition to have him pushed aside on this case.

  He was all in, until Nate and Jennie were safe.

  The sheriff glanced from Jennie back to Patrick. “Have you asked her that?”

  “I wanted your take first. As the law in this town, you must have an idea who’s behind the trespassing. And I know you don’t believe it’s just kids.”

  “We’ll see what’s what when my deputy reports in.”

  “A bit risky, don’t you think, sending someone out there alone? This Ted person, whoever he is, sticking his neck out. You need to send more men before something bad happens.”

  “It’s as risky as taking a civilian into an unknown situation.”

  Patrick knew then he wouldn’t get far calling this man out. He might be a decent sheriff, but he was also stubborn and prideful.

  “What information I choose to disseminate to those private citizens in my care is up to me,” Johns said. “And scaring a young single mom isn’t how I operate.”

  “You don’t think she should exercise caution? You blew her off and she called the DEA.”

  “Which put her in more danger.” The sheriff huffed. “I told her to be careful, and that didn’t mean calling in a bunch of cowboy Feds. We both know how quick they are to shoot first, with no intention of asking any questions later.”

  Patrick shrugged. “What’s done is done. The issue here is what will happen going forward. I’ve got my partner in the mix, but he’s watching out for Nate—which is what I intend to do as soon as Jennie has identified those men. What I’d like to know is what you plan to do.”

  If something needed doing that wasn’t being done, Patrick would move in regardless of the sheriff’s wants.

  The men who’d taken Jennie and Nate and held them at gunpoint, scared for their lives, would be locked in a jail cell as soon as Patrick located them.

  “Put a name to the faces, and I’ll go round them up.”

  Patrick pressed his lips together. There wasn’t much point belaboring anything with a sheriff who wanted to do things single-handedly.

  Could there really be a drug operation in town, akin to what Jennie’s father had accomplished? If there was, Sheriff Johns probably wasn’t as in the dark as he pretended. Just to save face? Patrick wasn’t sure about that. He was probably used to politicking. Holding things close to his vest and then disseminating information in a way that kept his position and respect in town. If it seemed like he was having trouble maintaining order, it probably wouldn’t play well for the next election.

  Was he planning on running again soon? That would explain him downplaying drug-trafficking across land belonging to a private citizen.

  “Hey.”

  Patrick pulled a chair up to the desk where Jennie sat. “Hey. You okay?”

  “I haven’t found anything, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Partly. But I also want to know if you’re hanging in there.”

  Jennie blew out a breath and refocused on the monitor. “I’ll be better when I’m back with Nate.”

  “Me, too.”

  They shared a smile. Patrick wondered if it would be the first of many, or if things between them would always be tense.

  Jennie gasped. “That’s one. I found one.”

  Patrick yelled, “Sheriff!”

  She jumped.

  “Sorry.” Patrick looked at the picture. A man he hadn’t had a clear view of in the dark. “Click that.”

  Jennie tapped the mouse button.

  He raised his eyebrows at the name Carl Andrews. “Wasn’t he friends with your brother?”

  NINE

  “My brother?” Jennie turned, aware of the frown on her face. Given the last day or so, she figured she looked like a recently showered person...who had been through the ringer. Scared for her life. Running across a mountain. Falling down said mountain.

  Not exactly date-night ready. But then, she hadn’t done that in so long she probably had no hope.

  Maybe in another ten years, when Nate was out of the house, she would find a nice man. Settle down. Though, when she pictured that dream, it was Patrick standing on her doorstep with flowers, ready to take her out.

  Cue another frown.

  “Ms. Wilson.”

  She blinked and glanced at the sheriff. “I’m sorry...what was that?”

  “I asked when the last time you saw your brother was.”

  How did she even begin to count that? Years. More than a decade. “Longer than the last time I saw Patrick.” She saw him wince but kept her attention on the sheriff. “Martin left for the army right out of high school, and he’s three years older than me. So it’s been a long time.”

  “He never came back to visit?”

  “I called him when my father died,” she said. “He never even came back for the funeral.”

  “Wow.” Patrick shook his head. “I remember him being a piece of work, but that takes the cake. The army surprises me, though. He got in so much trouble in high school I’m surprised he managed to have a career in the military.”

  “I always figured he either straightened up his life and just didn’t want anything to do with home or family. Or he dropped out of the army, maybe even ended up in jail again, and still didn’t want anything to do with home or family.”

  Either outcome, same thing. It meant she had no brother in her life. And considering how Martin had treated her—and the things she was pretty sure he’d done for their father back then—she figured that was no loss. Nate didn’t need an uncle like that in his life.

  “This isn’t anything to do with my brother. He hasn’t come back to town, right? Or he’d have probably come asking for money.” She didn’t know how much more plainly to say it. “Carl Andrews and whoever his associate is work for someone. But it has nothing to do with Martin. I can assure you of that.”

  “Okay.” Patrick nodded. “Sheriff, do you know this Carl Andrews? If we have an idea who his associates are, or where we might find him, we’ll be closer to bringing him in.”

  While they talked, Jennie scrolled through the mug shots to try to find the second man. There might be a way for her to look at Andrews’s known associates in the police database, if the sheriff had them connected in this system.

  She didn’t know if that function was even part of this computer program, but it was possible. She’d put together her own database of customers she sold to directly through her website, as well as stores she sold to on consignment. So how hard could it be to find a box to click in this program?

  Her thoughts drifted back to her brother. Why? She’d meant what she’d said about this having nothing to do with him. Was that because she didn’t want to believe Martin would do something like that to her? Maybe he was angry that she’d inherited everything.

  But it wasn’t like that was her fault. When the will had been read, she’d found out that the house and all the property, which had been in her mother’s name, had been left to her. She hadn’t believed it, either. All their father’s death had done was pass ownership of everything officially to Jennie. She hadn’t even known that her father had withheld that information from her. The land had belonged to her grandfather—her mom’s dad. Her father hadn’t owned any of it.

  Because he hadn’t wanted
the authorities to be able to seize anything?

  Jennie had made it her own. Her father was deceased. There was no point in being angry with him for keeping her home for himself. If he hadn’t died from that heart attack, would she ever have discovered the truth?

  Jennie studied the photo on the screen. Not him. She clicked to the next one and shook off the thoughts that had crowded in her mind.

  “Rick.” She realized what she’d said and turned. “Patrick.” Of course, that was what she’d meant.

  He broke off his conversation with the sheriff about BOLOs, whatever those were. “Yes?”

  “I found the second man.” She got up just for the sake of moving, paced a few steps and turned.

  Patrick and the sheriff both stared at the screen. Patrick said, “Michael Danes.” He clicked the mouse. “He and Andrews have priors for assault and illegal weapons possession.”

  Jennie was ready to be done with this whole ordeal. Sheriff Johns and Patrick were both cops. They could take care of Carl Andrews and Michael Danes while she went back to her son and her work. Life would return to normal, but now her son had a father in his life and Jennie had gained the added peace of mind of a cop hanging around the house.

  And given what had happened during the past twenty-four hours, he could stay for as long as he wanted. She was ready to feel safe again.

  So long as her heart stayed safe, also.

  Johns turned to her. “Do you remember either of these guys?”

  “Of course. They were the ones who held us in that house.” She swung an arm in Patrick’s direction. “And they shot at all of us.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Johns said. “Did they work for your father?”

  She blinked. Not the question she thought he would have asked her. “How would I know that? It isn’t like I was part of his business.”

  “Maybe you could think back. I know he’s been dead a while, but these men might be his associates.”

  “What would it matter if they were? Like you said, he’s been dead a while. Which means that has nothing to do with this—” she pointed at the floor “—what’s happening right now, that’s putting my son in danger. And you need to do something about it.”

  “If you were worried about putting your son in danger, then perhaps you shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place,” the sheriff shot back.

  Patrick started to butt in.

  Jennie didn’t let him. “I didn’t invite them over for dinner. These men dragged me from my house. It’s your job to arrest them.”

  “I’m just glad your actions didn’t get your boy killed.” Johns shook his head and huffed. “Calling in the DEA. I don’t know what you hoped to achieve with that.”

  * * *

  Patrick turned to the sheriff. The move put him shoulder to shoulder with Jennie. It occurred to him that it was the two of them now facing off against the sheriff. Not two cops and a civilian. Just Patrick and Jennie, together, as though the rest of the world was on the opposite side.

  He had no time to think about how often they’d done that before. Mostly against her father, or teachers who came down on her for being a criminal’s daughter, as though her parentage was her fault.

  Patrick said, “Now that we’ve identified the two men, it’s time for us to go back to the hospital. I need to check in with my partner, and Jennie wants to see her son.”

  He left out the part about Nate also being his son. It was still none of the sheriff’s business.

  Johns held up his hands. “I still need statements from both of you, full written accounts of what happened out there tonight. At the house where you were held, and at your house, Ms. Wilson. So why don’t you both take seats and I’ll get you some coffee while you write it all down.”

  Patrick glanced at Tucker, lying in the corner with his chin on his paws. Eyes open, trained on him. He looked about as ready to get out of there as Patrick was.

  He checked his phone. “I suppose we can get the paperwork done real quick before we go.” When Jennie turned to him, he said, “I’m sure Nate won’t wake up until early morning. Isn’t that what the doctor said?”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. About as happy to be there as the dog.

  “But we won’t be having any more cracks about the Feds, okay?” He stared down the sheriff. “What’s done was done, and Ms. Wilson did what she thought was best after the sheriff’s department failed to aid her. Everyone has the right to feel safe in their own home.”

  “I’ve been out on her land,” Johns said. “All I saw was tire tracks.”

  “Yes. Because there were vehicles on my land.” She lifted her chin. “Ones that didn’t belong to me and did not have my permission to be there. Whether you found anything or not, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t anyone out there.”

  “I never said you were making it up.”

  “No, but it seems to me you were supposed to take care of it. You didn’t, and my son had a gun waved at him. Because he was kidnapped.”

  She strode to the water cooler and stood staring at the wall for a minute, breathing hard.

  “This may need to be a federal case.” Patrick folded his arms. “Or, at the least, that it’s now an investigation that will be undertaken by the state police.”

  The sheriff started to object. Probably more bluster.

  Patrick said, “After all, you have a huge county to patrol and I’d guess not nearly the staff to keep everyone who lives in it safe at all times.”

  “You try doing my job.”

  To his credit, the sheriff did have the decency to look guilty that Jennie and Nate had been hurt. Still, as far as Patrick was concerned, if he was going to continue doing things “his way,” he’d have to accept the fact that Patrick would find it suspicious they hadn’t been able to leave yet. And that Jennie had essentially been blown off.

  Whether that was because the sheriff hadn’t had time to look more deeply into her concerns—and hadn’t known they would escalate to kidnapping—or for nefarious reasons, Patrick didn’t know.

  He needed to make the guy think everything was fine. Patrick grinned. “I don’t know if I’d like it. Would I be able to bring Tucker?” He waved at the dog, who lifted his head after hearing his name.

  The sheriff glanced at him, then back at Patrick. “Depends. Can he flush out those guys?”

  “Yes. If you know where they’re holed up.”

  Johns’s eyes widened.

  “It’s part of his training.”

  “I thought he just found missing people, like he did with Nate.”

  Patrick shrugged. “He’s had a lot of different training. You’d be surprised what he can do.” He was intensely proud of his dog and the fact that Tucker had proved himself over and over again. Yes, that was mostly because he’d been forced to do so. Not many had believed an Airedale could do this job, despite the fact other police departments used them and had since World War I.

  Some people didn’t like change.

  Patrick studied the sheriff as he situated Jennie with a piece of paper and a pen to write out her statement.

  Patrick probably would’ve said he himself was one of those people set in their ways. At least until his entire life had been upended. He would say the sheriff was likely one of those people, too. There were a lot of cops who’d been doing the job for years and did that job even better with twenty or thirty years under their belt. Then there were the ones who’d be doing the department a favor if they put in for retirement.

  He knew which one he’d prefer the sheriff here was. Especially considering how he’d likely get in the way as they worked to locate the two men Jennie had identified. The sheriff could cause them a whole host of problems.

  Perhaps the man would be content to stick in his office and not mind that it was Patrick and his partner who found Carl Andrews and Mi
chael Danes. Perhaps not.

  Patrick’s phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. The screen showed his partner’s last name: Fields. He swiped and put the phone to his ear. “Sanders.”

  Jennie looked over. He mouthed partner and she went back to writing. Fast. Maybe as fast as she could so they could get out of there.

  “You there, bro?” Eric asked.

  Patrick turned away from her. “Yeah, I’m here. Everything good?”

  “This middle-of-nowhere desert is really where you grew up? I mean, there are some seriously beautiful ladies out here.” He cleared his throat.

  “That’s Jennie’s friend.”

  “Yeah, her, too,” Eric said. “Can’t believe you grew up here.”

  “Keep your focus, okay? This isn’t something I need you distracted on.”

  “Hundred percent, bro. I’m paying attention to the kid. You know, the one with your nose, who I still cannot believe is your son. She really kept it from you? She seemed so nice, and you tell me she’s this...what? A bold-faced liar?”

  Patrick moved out of earshot, but where he could still see Jennie. “She’s not a liar. And yes, I told you he’s my son.”

  “Does Tucker like him?”

  Patrick thought back to the dog’s reaction to his son. “Yes.”

  “Good enough for me. He’s a way better judge of character than you.”

  Patrick frowned. “Will you focus?”

  “Bro—”

  “Pay attention. They were kidnapped yesterday, so you need to be vigilant. Whoever wanted to talk to Nate might come back and try to get to him again.”

  “I know that. I also...”

  “Eric. What is it?”

  “Yeah, Mom. I know that.” Eric paused. “I am taking all my vitamins, Mom. I promise.”

  “Is someone there?” Not just a person his partner didn’t want overhearing his side of a police conversation. Someone else. Someone who would present a threat to Nate.

  A bad guy.

  Eric said, “Yes. You are always right.” The tone was the same, but his meaning was clear.

  “Are they on approach to Nate’s bed?”