by Laura Scott
“Of course. The same drugs are used in animals and people, although obviously the human doses are higher than what we normally use for pets,” Dr. Grover said helpfully. “Because they’re weight based.”
“Would the gunman be smart enough to figure that out?” Julianne asked.
The vet blanched. “If not, Clark certainly would. Oh, dear, maybe that’s why he’s missing! Maybe the gunman forced Clark to go along with him to treat his injury?”
Julianne nodded slowly. The vet’s theory made sense. As much as she hated to admit it, it looked as if another innocent life was in jeopardy.
How many more, she wondered. How many more innocent people would suffer before they brought Nate Otwell and the gunman to justice?
SIX
The idea of Clark Davenport being held hostage by their mystery gunman and Nate Otwell made Brody feel sick to his stomach.
It hadn’t been that long ago that Brody had been forced to tell Clark that his younger sister, Renee Davenport, had been one of the young women he’d found in Otwell’s cabin. Renee, along with the other four young captives, had broken down sobbing when he’d rescued them. Renee had been emotionally traumatized by her horrible experience. In fact, Clark’s sister had immediately left town to live with her aunt and uncle in Houston.
Now Clark was undoubtedly suffering at Otwell’s hands, too.
He couldn’t help feeling resentful at the unfairness of it all. Why should one family face so much adversity? The faith, which he’d returned to since being with Julianne again, wavered.
Then he remembered hearing their church pastor reminding them not to question God’s plan. It wasn’t easy, but he did his best to set his emotions aside to focus on finding the gunman and Nate in time to rescue Clark.
“We need to find some usable fingerprints,” he gritted out. “I need to know who this scumbag is.”
“The crime scene techs from Houston will be here in thirty minutes,” Julianne informed him. “I want Thunder to search for Nate’s scent, too.”
“Good idea.” Raking a frustrated hand through his hair, he watched as Julianne took Thunder back outside. It was a good fifteen minutes later when she and Thunder returned, the dog sniffing around the clinic from one side to the other.
Nothing. Julianne sighed. “Nate wasn’t here. But we know for sure the gunman was. And there’s still a chance your deputies will find something at the Broke Spoke.”
Brody glanced around the veterinary clinic. “The bloody towels in the motel room were nothing more than a trap. I don’t think they’re going to find anything useful there. But this,” he said, exhaling roughly and sweeping a hand over the area, “looks like the work of someone feeling desperate. I can’t help but think this is where we’ll find the clues we need to pinpoint this guy’s identity.”
“You may be right,” Julianne conceded. Thunder sat at attention by her side, and she rested her hand on his head. “We should probably head over to Clark’s place.”
“You think Clark was taken from his home?” Brody asked.
“I’m not sure, but I’m not ready to rule out any possibility, are you?”
Maybe not. Brody glanced around the area again. “Based on the back door being kicked open, I believe the gunman gained access to get the supplies and medications he needed, only to be interrupted by Clark when he returned to feed the animals. Because Clark found him, and because he’s trained as a vet assistant, the gunman decided to take him hostage. If Clark had already been here feeding the animals, there wouldn’t be a need for the gunman to bust in. Same logic if the gunman kidnapped Clark from his house to bring him here.”
“Unless Clark refused to cooperate by using a key, requiring the gunman to use force to enter the building,” Julianne argued. “But either way, that isn’t the main reason I want to go to Clark’s house. I need something with his scent in order for Thunder to track him.”
“Okay.” Brody glanced at his watch. “Unfortunately, I can’t leave here until the crime scene techs arrive.”
Julianne turned toward Dr. Grover. “Do you know how to get to Clark’s?”
Brody didn’t like the idea of Julianne heading over to Clark’s without him, but managed to hold his tongue. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d chastised him for being overprotective to the point he wouldn’t let her do her job.
“I can take you there as soon as I feed the animals.” Dr. Grover went over to the cages, talking to her patients in a low reassuring tone as she gave them food and water. After a few moments, the vet returned to where they waited. “I don’t have any antibiotics to give Sassy, the poodle who I just operated on, yesterday,” she said with a deep frown. “I need to call around to some local vets to see if anyone can sell me some supplies to hold me over until I can order more.”
“If you’d rather stay here to do that, just give me the directions,” Julianne said. “I’ll borrow Brody’s SUV and drive there myself.”
“Here, I’ll write them,” Brody said, pulling a notebook and stubby pencil from his uniform pocket. It went against the grain to let Julianne out of his sight, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate his hovering over her. “I can’t let Dr. Grover disturb anything on the desk area until the techs arrive.”
Dr. Grover wrinkled her nose, but nodded her understanding. After jotting down the directions for Julianne, he handed them to her. “Call if you see anything that indicates Clark was taken by force from his home. And please be careful.” His gaze clung to hers for a long moment.
“I will.” Julianne flashed a wan smile and took the slip of paper. “Come, Thunder.”
Brody watched them leave, glad to know that Julianne wouldn’t be alone. Since he’d first heard the dog’s musical howl, he’d been impressed by how well trained Thunder was and how well he protected her. And vice versa.
Leaving Julianne in Thunder’s care wasn’t easy. Their strained personal relationship aside, he wanted to be there with her. He forced himself to concentrate on the scene of the crime. Dr. Grover was outside making calls, so he studied the surface of the desk, unable to say for sure if anything was disturbed. Then he crossed over to examine the broken cabinet door.
There were scratches along the surface of the silver lock, as if someone had, rather clumsily, tried to jimmy it open with a sharp object. In his opinion, this gave credence to his theory that the gunman had broken in before Clark had arrived. He crouched down to look at the partially open drawer, but couldn’t see any smudges that might be fingerprints on the glossy surface.
An open box of plastic gloves caught his eye, and he quickly walked over. The box looked to be brand-new; the small slit in the plastic opening along the top where gloves could be removed was narrow and had clear indentations where someone had pressed down in order to remove the gloves.
This, he thought with a surge of satisfaction. This was a good place to check for fingerprints.
“I’m so thankful for Dr. Hendrickson,” Dr. Grover said as she returned. “He’s sending one of his techs over with both antibiotics and pain medications.”
“Great news,” Brody agreed.
“How long before I can reopen my clinic?” she asked.
Now the bad news. “Not until the techs dust for prints and see if they can find any other trace evidence, I’m afraid,” Brody said regretfully. “Come over to the desk here. Does everything look the way you left it?”
She shrugged. “From what I can tell, yes.” Then she frowned and leaned closer. “Wait a minute, what is that?”
“Don’t touch anything,” Brody warned. “Show me what caught your attention.”
“There’s a piece of paper shoved at an angle beneath the stack of invoices,” she said, showing him the spot she meant. “I know that I went through those invoices yesterday, and I don’t remember anything being underneath them.”
Brody could see what she meant. The slip of paper was probably nothing, but he’d need to make sure. Using the eraser part of the pencil, he gently tugged the paper free.
Help me!
A chill snaked down his back. He glanced at Dr. Grover. “Is this Clark’s handwriting?”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Poor Clark.”
Brody silently echoed her sentiment. There was no denying the veterinary assistant was in grave danger.
Too bad he had no idea where the gunman had taken his hostage.
* * *
Finding Clark’s small house wasn’t too difficult. The area had changed in the years she’d been gone, but some of the landmarks were still the same. Like the three white birch trees that formed a small triangle at the corner of the property belonging to Mr. Wilder’s auto-body service center. They were taller now, slender silvery leaves seeming to reach all the way to the sky as they fluttered in the gentle breeze.
It was strange how quickly she’d become accustomed to living in Montana, the mountainous terrain so different from the sprawling landscape of Texas. The FBI K-9 headquarters building was a six-story brick building in the heart of downtown Billings. A retired FBI K-9 agent had donated a large parcel of land specifically for a K-9 training center. Being so far away from Quantico helped them keep a low profile, their missions highly confidential. She liked living there, even though much of her time was spent in other places, but being back in Clover, it suddenly hit her how much she’d missed hearing Brody’s low, husky drawl.
How much she missed being home. Her parents were gone now, had died in a horrible train crash while she was at the academy, but the town still held many happy memories.
Sad and hurtful ones, too, she reminded herself. Losing Brody had been excruciating. Especially discovering he hadn’t cared about her as much as she’d thought.
The deputy that had responded to look for Clark was already gone by the time she arrived, hopefully taking Clark’s dog, Banjo, back to the veterinarian. Once again, she realized how short Brody was on resources. She and Thunder approached Clark’s small, rather run-down home and was surprised to find the door wasn’t locked.
Had Clark left it open, or had the deputy?
She pulled her 9 mm from its holster, and then carefully drew the front door open. Moving slowly, she and Thunder entered the premises.
The place was empty, without any sign of a struggle or Clark’s dog for that matter. If something bad happened to Clark, who would take care of Banjo? She’d offer to adopt him, but K-9 training had to be started when the dogs were young. Deciding to worry about that later, she opened the evidence bag with the scrap of clothing belonging to the gunman.
“Find, Thunder. Find!”
The dog sniffed around the front of the house, trotting back down to the driveway. Moments later, he returned to Julianne’s side, without alerting. She let Thunder sniff around the inside of the house, too. Despite the weathered look on the outside, the interior was cozy and remarkably tidy. Julianne made her way to what she assumed was Clark’s bedroom, to find a shirt or some item of clothing that hadn’t been laundered. When she opened the closet door, she found a laundry basket with a white T-shirt lying inside.
She turned the evidence bag inside out so that her hand was covered, then grabbed the shirt, pulling the edges of the bag around so that it was safely tucked inside.
Thunder was still sniffing around, but she knew that Brody was right about his theory that Clark had surprised the gunman inside the veterinary clinic.
Outside, she remembered the evidence bag containing Nate’s shirt. She played with Thunder, using his favorite toy, enjoying his oddly musical howl. After a few minutes she told him it was time to go back to work. She used Nate’s scent, making sure that Thunder truly carried the correct scent in his nose, before issuing her command.
“Find, Thunder. Find!”
As before, Thunder put his nose to the ground, making a zigzag along the edge of the driveway before making his way up to the house. Inside, he immediately alerted in the kitchen, and again in the living room. But nowhere else.
She stood for a moment, considering the possibilities. Could be that Nate and Clark were once friends. Nate could have been here a long time ago, maybe even before he was arrested. But that didn’t seem likely, especially considering the neatness of the place. Surely the scent would have been washed away by now.
Another theory could be that Nate had come here to get Clark, forcing him to go to the clinic at gunpoint, meeting up with the gunman. But Thunder hadn’t found Nate’s scent anywhere around or inside the clinic.
She shook her head, frustrated that the pieces of the puzzle refused to mesh together to make a clear picture.
Sweeping one last glance around the inside of Clark’s house, she turned to leave. Maybe the Houston crime scene techs could find something that would help fill the holes of their case.
By the time she returned to the veterinary clinic, the crime scene techs had begun to dust for prints. Brody and Dr. Grover stood outside, under the shade of a tall tree, Brody’s frame towering over the vet. Even after all these years, she still found him incredibly attractive.
“Find anything?” Brody called out as she and Thunder approached.
She willed her heart rate to settle down, trying to hide her innate reaction to his presence. “I have one of Clark’s shirts, and I had Thunder check the house for both the gunman and Nate.” She held his gaze for a moment. “Thunder alerted on Nate’s scent in the kitchen and living room, but gave me no indication the gunman had been there.”
“Nate?” Brody repeated with a frown. “That’s odd considering Thunder didn’t find Nate’s scent, here.”
“Were they friends?”
Brody’s expression turned grim. “No, in fact Clark hated Nate.”
“Why?”
“Nate had lured Clark’s younger sister, Renee, by getting her hooked on drugs. She was one of the victims I caught him with when I finally arrested him. He’d been in the process of selling her into a life of prostitution.”
Julianne couldn’t hide her gasp of outrage. “That’s terrible. Still, Nate and the gunman must have split up last night. Maybe Nate went to Clark’s house while he and the gunman were busy in the clinic. Although I can’t say why Nate would do that.”
“Money? Food?” Brody suggested.
Julianne shrugged. “Who knows? Oh, and there was no sign of Clark’s dog, either. I’m assuming the deputy who’d gone over there took the dog home with him.”
“I’d like to help care for Clark’s dog while he’s missing,” Dr. Grover spoke up.
“Thank you. I’ll let my deputy know,” Brody assured her.
“Did you come up with anything here?” Julianne asked.
“Clark wrote two words on a scrap of paper. Help me.”
She winced, feeling terrible about the veterinary tech. “He must not have known where the gunman was taking him, or he would have let us know,” Julianne mused. “They could be anywhere.”
“I know.” Brody did not look happy, and she couldn’t blame him. It had been almost twenty-four hours since Nate Otwell’s jailbreak, and they were no closer to finding him.
Instead, they’d been attacked twice.
She walked over to Brody’s SUV, filled Thunder’s water dish and set it on the ground. Her partner lapped at the bowl until it was empty.
“Good boy,” she murmured, giving him an affectionate rub. She was grateful that Thunder had helped provide information to their investigation that they otherwise wouldn’t have known. They made a great team.
She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for wisdom and the strength to find Clark before he was hurt, or worse.
Her phone rang, and she quickly answered when she recognized Max’s n
umber. “Martinez.”
“I left your replacement vehicle at the sheriff’s department,” Max informed her. “We dropped off all the evidence, including what Kenner’s deputies found at the Broke Spoke. It’s all being processed, ASAP.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“No, but we have a lead on additional properties in the area belonging to one of Dupree’s guards. In fact one of them has a younger brother. Zeke and I are heading over there to check it out.”
“Keep me posted if you find anything,” Julianne said.
“I will. We’ve checked out of the motel, and I put your suitcase in the back of your replacement vehicle. Based on the recent attack on you and Kenner, I think we should split up, keep a low profile. Too many feds in one place will only raise unwanted attention. Our mission is supposed to be classified. Bad enough that we had to bring the sheriff into our case. I don’t want too many others to know the details of what we’re dealing with.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Talk to you later.” She disconnected the line, not at all thrilled to be forced into close proximity to Brody, but she was a professional.
She’d handle it. Ignoring her tumultuous feelings for him.
It was several hours later before they received any good news.
“Agent Martinez?”
She glanced expectantly at the tech who’d called her name. “Yes?”
“We found a few nice prints on the glove box, and a partial on the edge of the broken cabinet. And we also have a partial on the boot print on the outside of the door. Looks to be a size-eleven cowboy boot with a worn tread.”
“Thanks. We’d like an ID on those fingerprints as soon as possible. Please call my mobile number.” Julianne gave him the numbers as he plugged them into his phone.
“Will do.”
“Does this mean I’ll be able to reopen my clinic?” Dr. Grover asked hopefully. “Although not sure why I’m bothering, since the day is almost over. Oh, and don’t forget to let your deputy know to drop off Clark’s dog.”