by L A Dobbs
Killing Dreams
A Sam Mason Mystery Book 5
L. A. Dobbs
This is a work of fiction.
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None of it is real. All names, places, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real names, places, or events are purely coincidental, and should not be construed as being real.
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KILLING DREAMS
Copyright © 2018
Leighann Dobbs Publishing
http://www.ladobbs.com
All Rights Reserved.
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No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner, except as allowable under “fair use,” without the express written permission of the author.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Also by L. A. Dobbs
About the Author
Summary
"This novel combines the intense drama of a thriller with the gentle, down-home touches of a cozy. I'm eager for the next installment." Virge B., Proofreader, Red Adept Editing
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A grim discovery in the woods of a small northern New Hampshire town uncovers a disturbing truth that might finally be what Chief of Police Sam Mason needs to put elusive drug dealer Lucas Thorne away for good.
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But for Sam’s second in command, Jody Harris, the discovery dredges up disturbing secrets from the past. Secrets that could damage her friendship with Sam.
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Thorne is one step ahead of them until a surprising ally comes through with one final piece of evidence that will solve an old mystery and nail Thorne. Is the evidence too good to be true? Sam doesn’t dare question it and kill his dreams of ridding the town of Thorne.
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Meanwhile, Lucy the K9 has her own battle to fight as it seems the unwanted feline guest at the police station may become a permanent fixture.
Chapter One
Sam Mason’s phone pinged for the third time as he pulled the White Rock Police Department Tahoe into the dirt driveway that led to the ramshackle farmhouse where Frank Buckner had lived for most of his eighty-five years.
He glanced down at the phone display as he slowed at the beginning of the long driveway, a knot forming between his shoulder blades as he read the texts. Two were from Harry Woolston, who wanted to stop by the station. The third was from his dispatcher, Reese Hordon, informing him that the brother of one of his officers was coming to drop off some things he’d found that might belong to the police.
At least Reese had used the phone instead of that dispatch system she’d talked him into installing in the car. Sam glanced down at the mic hanging under the dash. Most police departments had used these for years, but in a town as small as White Rock a computerized dispatch system was hardly necessary. Still, Reese had somehow gotten funding for one, and she claimed it would be easier and more efficient because he could answer while driving instead of having to pull his phone out. Sam hated the thing. All it did was squawk static. Plus, it was a change from their normal routine, and Sam was finding that the older he got, the less he liked change.
Sam coasted to a stop and picked up the phone to reply to both. Harry Woolston had once been chief of police of their small northern New Hampshire town, the same position Sam now held. Though Harry’s tenure had ended decades ago, that didn’t stop him from popping into the station and trying to insinuate himself into Sam’s cases.
Sam understood that Harry was bored with retirement and wanted to reminisce about his glory days. That part Sam didn’t mind, but Harry’s insistence at getting involved was getting out of hand. In fact, one could argue that Harry’s involvement and not listening to Sam’s orders was what had caused officer Kevin Deckard’s near-fatal shooting.
Harry was in a bad place right now. He blamed himself for the shooting that had resulted in Kevin’s coma. Unfortunately, that meant Harry felt compelled to come to the station even more often in an attempt to assuage his guilt. Sam knew he should tell Harry to stay away, but he didn’t have the heart.
It had been two weeks since the incident, and Kevin’s prognosis was uncertain. The doctors said time would tell. Kevin’s brother had flown in from California, and Sam wanted to make sure they gave that the importance it was due. Kevin was a good cop, and he wanted his family to have some peace while they were hoping for him to recover.
So many things to do already and it was only ten past eight in the morning. Sam should have passed this quirky call off to a junior officer, but Frank Buckner had been a friend of his grandfather’s and he felt duty-bound to take care of this personally—even if Frank’s claim of his dog finding a dinosaur bone was a bit preposterous.
A whine from the back seat caught his attention, and Sam turned to see his German shepherd mix police K9, Lucy, lying down, her chin on her paws as if she felt the same way Sam did.
“I know, girl, it’s crazy right?”
Lucy’s brows lifted over golden-brown eyes as if in agreement.
“We’ll just go see what Frank has. Let him down easy.” Sam took his foot off the brake and drove the rest of the way down the driveway.
The late summer nights were starting to get cooler, but the mornings were still glorious, with sunshine warming the air and sparkling off the dew on the grass. Birds flew between tree branches, and squirrels were busy gathering acorns to store for winter.
Frank sat in a wooden rocking chair on his porch, wearing a blue flannel shirt. Steam rose from a mug cupped in his weathered hands. Sam’s heart squeezed with a pang of loneliness for his grandfather. They’d been close, and Gramps had been gone only a few years. He missed him still. All the more reason to treat Frank with personal attention and respect.
Frank’s face cracked into a welcome smile as he recognized the Tahoe. He put the mug down and slowly rose from the chair. Sam could practically hear his bones creaking.
They met halfway between the car and the porch and shook hands. Frank’s grip was as strong as a 25-year-old’s. His blue eyes danced with excitement.
“It’s the darnedest thing, Sam. I never seen nothing like it.” Frank ran a hand through his thick white hair. “I think it might be from some kind of dinosaur. Maybe it will even get in the museum.”
“Maybe.” Sam hated to dash the old guy’s hopes, but he didn’t want to encourage him either. As far as he knew, no dinosaur bones had been found this far north. Most likely it was a bone from a moose.
Frank’s knees popped as he crouched down to pet Lucy. “Nothing like that’s been found up here before, right?”
“I don’t recall any dinosaur bones being found here, but let’s not get too excited until we figure out what it really is.” Sam looked over Frank’s shoulder toward the porch. “So where is it?”
Frank stood, some of his excitement fa
ding. “Well now, that’s the thing. I haven’t been able to get it away from Ranger. He must realize it’s a rare find and doesn’t want to part with it.” Frank jerked his head toward the side of the house. “He’s out back guarding it like it’s a brick of gold.”
Lucy glanced toward the side of the house and whined, then looked up at Sam.
“So, you haven’t really seen all of this bone yet?” Sam asked.
“Well, not the whole thing, but it’s got a big knobby end.” Frank held his hands about a foot apart, then moved them a little closer, his expression now uncertain. “At least it seems big. I mean, it’s bigger than the bones Ranger usually finds. Looks long, too. Much bigger than the meat bones I get from the butcher.”
Sam nodded. “Okay, let’s go take a look.”
Frank led the way to the backyard, Lucy trotting at his heels and glancing up at Sam to make sure he followed. As they rounded the corner of the house, Sam scanned the yard. He spotted Ranger, Frank’s oversized Rottweiler, lying next to the back steps, the unmistakable ivory color of a bone cradled in his paws. Most of the bone was hidden because his chin rested on it. The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck tingled. It didn’t look like a dinosaur bone, but it didn’t look like a moose bone, either.
Lucy stopped a few feet from Ranger, her ears straight up, her gaze riveted on the other dog. Ranger looked at Lucy warily. His lip curled, and he let out a low growl. Lucy looked at Sam, and Sam shook his head. No sense in getting into a dogfight over a bone.
Frank sidled over to Ranger, who glanced up at him with an apologetic look, as if he knew he was doing something wrong but wasn’t about to give up the bone. “You’re a good boy, Ranger. Now show your treasure to the nice policeman here.”
Ranger’s eyes flicked to Sam, and he nuzzled the bone deeper under his chest.
Lucy moved closer, getting between Sam and the dog and earning another growl from Ranger.
Frank cast Sam a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, Sam. He’s usually very obedient.” More knee popping as Frank squatted next to his dog. “Come on, buddy, we want to get a look at this bone. Could make us famous, you know.”
Ranger looked as if he was considering his options. Frank extended his hand, and the Rottweiler eyed it dubiously.
Frank pushed further. “Come on, boy, you know you can trust me.”
Ranger sighed, cast Lucy a suspicious look, and then turned loving, trustful eyes on Frank as he lifted his head off the bone.
“Good boy.” Frank scratched Ranger’s chest, then reached in and pulled the bone from between his paws.
He stood holding the bone out to Sam. “See, what did I tell you? That ain’t no deer bone. Too big and not shaped right.” His gaze narrowed with uncertainty. “It’s a lot smaller than I thought it was. Maybe a small dinosaur? What do you think, Sam? Maybe there’re some tar pits up there or something. We should look for the rest of the bones.”
Sam stared at the bone. Frank was right about one thing; it wasn’t an animal bone. Frank was probably too invested in his earlier hopes that he’d made a rare discovery to realize the bone was a femur. From a human. And Frank was right about another thing, too. The rest of the bones were out there somewhere, and now Sam had the unenviable task of not only finding them but also figuring out who they’d belonged to and how they’d ended up here.
Chapter Two
“I’ve already checked all the files. A hiker was reported missing a few years back up on Dixon Notch.” Wyatt Davis rattled off the details of the missing hiker as he followed Sam through the old-fashioned lobby of the police station into his office.
Sam had called back to the station as soon as he’d gotten back in the Tahoe with news of the bone, and his small team had sprung into action. Wyatt was fairly new to the department, but Sam liked the way he took initiative. He was going to be a good addition to the team and much needed, especially because they were down one officer with Kevin still in the hospital.
Sam put the bone, which he’d wrapped in a towel, on his desk. He’d have to call John Dudley, the county medical examiner, and have him take it to the morgue. But right now he had a search to organize.
Wyatt eyed the towel. “The hiker was reported missing two years ago. How long do you think that bone has been out there?”
“Hard to tell. If animals got at it, they would have picked it clean and left the bone to the elements…” Sam let his voice trail off at the gruesome thought. He’d seen some chew marks on the bone. There’d been no meat left on the bone, and he wasn’t exactly an expert on dating old bones.
Lucy, who had lingered at the reception desk to score a treat from Reese, padded in and scanned the office warily. Probably looking for the stray cat that had shown up at the back door a few weeks ago. Sam suspected the cat had belonged to their latest offender, a cold-blooded murderer who had been killed when he’d pulled a gun on them during his arrest. If the cat was his, then it was now homeless, and Sam didn’t have the heart to kick it out even though the cat and Lucy seemed to be at odds.
“Don’t worry, she’s not in here,” Wyatt assured Lucy.
Lucy cast one look at the towel on Sam’s desk, then flopped down in a patch of sunlight beneath the tall arched windows that overlooked Main Street.
Stately oaks and maples lined Main Street, and the morning sun beamed through their thick leaves, causing dapples of sunlight to dance on the sidewalks. People strolled the street where the shops were just starting to open. Kids tossed a Frisbee on the grass in the commons. Just like any other day in a peaceful New England town, people went about their business not knowing that the remains of a body long lost lay hidden in the woods. Somewhere a family was waiting for this person to come home. It was Sam’s job to do that, a job he took very seriously.
“Any runaways or other missing persons in the area?” Sam asked.
“I only searched a few years back and in this county. I’ll expand the search. Would help if we could narrow down a timeline.”
“Hopefully John can help with that. In the meantime we need to get out there and start searching. I can call in the Staties. Maybe Bev Hatch has some people she can lend, but I don’t want to wait. Where’s Jo?” Sam glanced back through the door into the bullpen of the police station for his second in command, Jody Harris.
“She went up to Nettie Deardorff’s. Apparently Bitsy ate her petunias.”
Sam smiled. There had been an ongoing feud between Nettie Deardorff and Rita Hoelscher. Most of the complaints came from Nettie, who claimed Rita’s goat, Bitsy, was damaging her property. Recently Nettie had adopted a chicken, and Sam thought it was mostly to get back at Rita. The two elderly women had been feuding as far back as Sam could remember, and he suspected their differences went much deeper than the goat.
Even though their calls usually amounted to nothing, it was important in a small town like White Rock to go out and smooth things over. He wondered how long Jo would be out there. Jo was his most trusted officer, and the two had forged a bond that went beyond working together as cops. Jo knew Sam’s secrets. He knew she had his back. And he had hers, though sometimes he wondered if she was as forthcoming with her secrets as he had been with his. But today they had an important search to conduct, and while he wanted Jo’s input on organizing it, he wasn’t going to wait.
“She can join us later. I want to get out to the woods as soon as possible. Frank said he’d take Ranger out. Thinks the dog can lead us to the spot.” Sam opened the paneled oak door to the small closet in his office.
The police station occupied the old post office and hadn’t been updated since the 1930s. Not that Sam minded. He much preferred the honey-golden oak doors and scarred wide pine flooring to the newer building’s indoor-outdoor carpet, beige walls, and steel desks. This place had character from the floor-to-ceiling windows with their intricately carved moldings to the antique brass post office boxes with their beveled glass panels and eagle motif that now served as a divider between the reception area and the squad room.
He grabbed a lime-green police vest and tossed it to Wyatt, then pulled one out for himself.
“Harry’s on his way here.” Sam turned to see Reese standing in the doorway. Her brows were raised over wide blue eyes as if questioning whether or not she should let Harry in. “And Kevin’s brother will be here in thirty minutes.”
Damn! Sam had been so focused on the bone recovery he’d forgotten all about Harry and Kevin’s brother. He didn’t want to put Kevin’s brother off. He knew how important it was for the family members to get answers when an officer had been shot in the line of duty. But the responsibility of finding the rest of the bones and discovering the identity of the person weighed on him. He’d have to leave word for Jo to meet with Kevin’s brother. Jo had worked closely with Kevin and knew him as well as Sam.
“Thanks. I want to get on this search as quickly as possible. When Jo comes back can you have her wait for Kevin’s brother and then join us at the search site as soon as she’s done?”
“No problem.”
Sam bent down and grabbed a pair of hiking boots from the closet, speaking over his shoulder to Reese. “And tell Harry that…”
“Tell Harry what?” Harry Woolston appeared in the doorway beside Reese, looking at them curiously with intelligent blue eyes. He was thin and spry, his white cotton puff of hair contrasting with Reese’s jet black locks as the two of them stood side by side. “Is something going on?”