Finding Justice

by Kathi Daley

  “Whatever you think is best. Just give me a wave if you need me.”

  I waited a few minutes, then made my way over to Teresa’s table. I greeted both women, then asked if they’d be willing to answer a couple of questions. Greta noticed Harley and started to make noise about an autograph. I didn’t want to call all that much attention to Harley and me, so I assured her he’d be spending some time in town and would most likely stop by her store at some point. She could ask him for an autograph when he came in.

  Teresa told me what she knew and I went back to Harley.

  “So? Did she tell you anything?” he asked.

  “Yes and no. She didn’t know who the man in the photo was, but she did say Tim had taken a job as a courier that required him to be out of town several times a month. He was vague about where he went and declined to say what he was transporting, but he’d pick up an item from one location and deliver it to another. Given the fact he only worked a few days a month, she thought he was making a lot of money. That concerned her, because she could only imagine he’d gotten involved in something illegal, but Tim assured her what he was doing was on the up and up.”

  Harley furrowed his brow. “He told me he had a job as a courier, but he didn’t say he only worked a few days a month. If he was paid well for just a few days’ work, he probably was transporting something illegal.”

  “Maybe he didn’t realize that at first. Maybe once he figured it out, he was too far in to get out. Maybe that’s why he’s dead.”

  “Makes sense. Did Teresa have any other information? A name, or maybe a clue as to where Tim went when he was away?”

  “She said he was very careful not to give away any specifics. She did say that in the weeks before his death he seemed nervous. She asked him what was going on, but he wouldn’t tell her anything. He left for one of his jobs several days before he was found dead.”

  Harley’s face grew hard. “He must have been working for the man in the photo. Tim must have had second thoughts, so he killed him. We have to find him and make him pay for what he did to Tim.”

  I placed my hand over Harley’s. “We will.”

  Chapter 7

  Friday, December 15

  “So, are you guys ready to head back?” I asked the handful of dogs I’d taken for a snowshoe a week after my dinner with Harley. He’d left the following morning for Italy and I’d continued to ask around about the man in the photo and Tim’s last weeks on earth. Most everyone agreed Tim had been doing well and there’d been no sign he’d fallen off the wagon. They also agreed he’d seemed to have something on his mind, but no one knew who the man in the photo was. I’d spoken to a lot of people, yet I felt I didn’t know anything more now than I did from the start.

  Shia ran over to me and I turned to look back at Lucky. He tended to have a hard time in the deep snow, so I pulled a sled he didn’t mind riding on. The others lumbered along at their own pace, some walking behind me in my tracks, others running ahead and returning again and again. I’d left Honey at home because she was about to drop her pups at any minute and I didn’t want it to happen a mile or more from home.

  I had the night off and planned to head home, heat up a can of soup, and maybe read one of the books I’d been meaning to get to. It wasn’t often I found myself with absolutely nothing I had to do and I found I rather liked it. Of course, what I should do was wrap the small stack of presents I’d purchased for Jake and the gang, and I still hadn’t gotten around to cutting a tree for the living room. I considered doing that, but it was getting cold and the sun was already low in the sky, so the tree would have to wait for another day.

  I also needed to spend some time at the shelter on Saturday. As he’d said he would before he left for Italy, Harley had drawn up papers deeding the warehouse to the town for use as an animal shelter, and the remodel of the interior had begun. The addition of outdoor runs and play areas would need to wait until the snow melted next summer, but with any luck the entire project would be complete and we’d be open for business well before the following winter’s snows arrived.

  When I returned to the house I found a man with long blond hair, big brown eyes, a deep golden tan, and a body only a true athlete could hone, sitting on my sofa with a Border collie sitting next to him and Honey half on his lap.

  “Who are you?” I asked as I leaned my rifle against the wall so I could slip out of my backpack, all the while trying to figure out if I’d met the man at some point.

  “Are you Harmony Carson?”

  “I might be.”

  He looked at me with a lopsided grin. “Might be? You aren’t sure whether you’re Harmony Carson?”

  “Who are you exactly?”

  The dogs had followed me into the house, but not one of them seemed to feel threatened by the man. Even Denali, who was a wolf hybrid and didn’t take kindly to strangers, trotted right over and sat at his feet as if he was a long-lost friend.

  “My name’s Shredder,” he answered after a pause. “And this,” he glanced at the Border collie, “is Riptide.”

  “Shredder? Who names their kid Shredder?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. What I really want to know is what you’re doing in my living room.”

  He pulled a photo out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I understand you’ve been looking for this man.”

  “I have,” I confirmed as I recognized the man from the photo Tim had sent to Harley. “Do you know him?”

  “I do. Why have you been looking for him?”

  I narrowed my gaze. I didn’t know this man from Adam and wasn’t sure I should tell him anything. “Why do you want to know?” I countered.

  “It’s classified.”

  I rolled my eyes. Oh please. Was this displaced beach boy actually trying to convince me he was some sort of a government agent? “Look, I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, and I certainly don’t know why a grown man would pretend to be some sort of spy, but I do know you’ve broken into my house and I think you should leave.” I reached my hand toward the rifle leaning against the wall, picked it up, and put it up against my shoulder to prove the seriousness of my statement.

  Shredder chuckled. “I see you’re prepared.”

  “I live in Alaska. You never know when you’ll need to defend yourself from a predator. Human or otherwise.”

  “Have you ever killed anything with that gun?”

  “That’s none of your business. I don’t know why you think it’s okay to break into someone’s house and make yourself comfortable without the benefit of an invitation, but it’s been a long day and I have dinner to tend to, so this conversation is over.”

  “Actually, we’ve only just begun.”

  I pointed the gun at him. “I think we’re finished.”

  He stood up but otherwise held his ground. “We may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

  “You think?”

  “I agree I probably should have waited until you got home instead of letting myself in, but I’m not used to the bracing cold you all enjoy, so I decided to wait inside. The man in the photo is someone I’ve been looking for, for a very long time. He’s a slippery one and the trail had gone cold until I was alerted that someone had run a facial recognition program against a photo of the weasel. When I realized that photo had been taken recently, I tracked the trace to a man named Landon Stanford. He explained to me that you’re looking for the man on behalf of a friend. It’s imperative I find this man, so I need you to tell me everything you know.”

  “Tell you everything I know? Are you nuts? I don’t know you and you certainly don’t look like a fed. Are you some sort of bounty hunter?”

  “I’m not a bounty hunter, and who I work for isn’t important. What is important is that the man in the photo is very dangerous. If he isn’t found, innocent people will die.”

  I dropped the angle of the gun just a bit so it was pointing at the floor and not this Shredder’s chest. “'Innocent people will die’? Don’t you think you’
re being just a bit melodramatic?”

  “You believe the man is responsible for the death of your friend.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I’m simply saying there are others who’ll die as well if he isn’t found and detained.”

  I supposed the gorgeous beach boy had a point. “You need my help in locating this man.”

  “I do.”

  “And finding him is important to you.”

  “It is.”

  “Then it seems to me that I hold all the cards, so I’m asking you again, who are you and who do you work for?”

  Shredder groaned.

  I stood my ground and didn’t say another word.

  “Do you have a phone?” he asked.

  “Of course I have a phone.”

  Shredder held out his hand. I handed it to him and he dialed. Then he handed it back to me.

  “This is the information line for the Central Intelligence Agency. How can I help you?” a female voice said on the other end.

  I glanced at Shredder. He held out his hand and I handed him the phone.

  “Hey, love, it’s Shredder. Can you please vouch for me?”

  Shredder handed the phone back to me. I listened as the woman instructed me to cooperate with Shredder in any way he required.

  I hung up and looked at him again. “You dialed the phone. How do I know that was really the CIA? It could have been your sister or your girlfriend pretending to be the CIA. Now, if you’ll kindly leave so I can get on with my evening, that would be greatly appreciated.”

  Shredder chucked. “You’re a tough one. Google the number for general information for the CIA and compare it to the number I called.”

  I looked at him with suspicion but did as he suggested. The numbers matched. If this was a scam, he was good at what he did. I was trying to make up my mind what to do next when I glanced at Denali. I wasn’t sure if I could trust Shredder, but Denali seemed to, and he was generally a good judge of character. The silly dog, who tended to be protective and aggressive, was leaning against Shredder like he was some sort of long-lost relative. I frowned as I noticed the empty spot on the sofa. “Did you see where Honey went?”

  “Honey?”

  “The dog who was sitting with you when I got here. She’s due to deliver any minute and I want to be sure she’s okay.” I headed down the hallway without giving the strange man in my living room another thought. “Honey,” I called as I entered my bedroom. I didn’t see her, but I heard whining coming from the closet. The door had only been open a crack, but I opened it a little farther so I could get a look at what was happening inside. “Are you okay, sweetie?” I knelt down and placed my hand on Honey’s stomach. She let out a yelp as I worked my way down toward the birth canal.

  “Is she okay?” Shredder said from behind me. I was startled to find him standing there and realized I’d tossed the gun on the unmade bed, right next to a pile of clean laundry, when I’d heard Honey’s whine.

  “I think she’s having her pups. I just found her a week ago, malnourished and weak. She’s grown stronger, but I still suspect she’ll need help with the delivery.”

  “What can I do?”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out in an effort to calm my nerves. “I want to stay with her. Take the other dogs out of the room, then boil some water and get some rags out of the closet at the end of the hallway. I’ll need scissors, forceps, and antiseptic. I already sterilized the items I’d need; they’re in plastic bags in the bathroom. Oh, and grab my cell in case I need to call the veterinarian.”

  Honey let out another yelp as soon as Shredder left the room. Then she started to pant, so I began to pant along with her. I wasn’t sure it was necessary, but I’d seen birth coaches panting with mothers on television and decided to give it a try.

  “It’s okay,” I encouraged. “Everything’s going to be fine. I know it hurts right now, but I’m here with you and we’ll get through this. In a couple of hours, you’ll have four adorable puppies.”

  Honey lay her head on the soft blanket I’d placed under it, but she continued to keep her eyes on me, so I kept talking in a soothing tone of voice. “Have you picked out names?” I asked as I ran my hand softly over her belly. “I guess we don’t know how many boys and girls you’re going to have. I should have asked Kelly. She’s the one who did the ultrasound. I bet she knows.”

  “Here’s the stuff you asked for,” Shredder said as he knelt beside me. “I’m not a dog doctor, but should she be panting that heavily?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve rescued a lot of dogs, but I’ve never assisted at any births. Sit with her. I’m going to call the vet.”

  Shredder took over the role of calming Honey while I spoke to Justine. Kelly was out on a large animal call, but Justine assured me that most dogs managed to deliver their pups on their own. She asked me to check a few things, which I did.

  “How long has she been in labor?” Justine asked.

  “I don’t know. She just went into the closet about twenty minutes ago, but she already seems exhausted.”

  “Okay, you might want to check her to see if there’s a pup in the birth canal.”

  I glanced at Shredder, who must have noticed my slightly pale complexion because he took the phone from me and asked what to do. I held Honey’s head while Shredder followed Justine’s instructions. Before I even knew what was happening, a blond Lab puppy slid into his hands. Shredder grabbed one of the towels I’d sterilized and lay the pup on it. He removed the sack from its body and cut the cord, then wrapped the pup in the towel and told me to gently rub it dry while he went in for pup number two. By the time Kelly arrived an hour later, Honey was resting comfortably with her four tiny, but seemingly healthy, puppies.

  “You did good.” Kelly hugged me.

  I glanced at Shredder. “I had help. Are they going to be okay?”

  “I hope so. They’re small, so I’ll need you to supplement the milk they get from Honey with the formula I gave you when you first came in. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on them.”

  “Okay.” I smiled. “Thanks.”

  After Kelly finished her exam, I walked her out, then returned to the living room, where Shredder was waiting.

  “Thank you,” I said to the man who looked as exhausted as I felt.

  Shredder shrugged.

  “I’m kind of hungry. I was going to heat up some soup. Would you like some?”

  “Sure, I could eat,” Shredder answered. “You have yourself quite the houseful.”

  “At this point, Rescue doesn’t have an animal shelter. I do what I can, but someone just donated a warehouse for us to convert into one, so by this time next year, we’ll have a place to take the strays that end up on the streets.”

  “Something tells me you’ll still have a full house.” Shredder made grilled cheese sandwiches while I heated a couple of cans of cream of tomato soup.

  I laughed. “Yeah, probably. I’m a sucker for anything on four legs.”

  When the food was ready, Shredder and I sat down at my small kitchen table while all the dogs, including Riptide, chowed down on their own meal. My dogs were used to having strange dogs come and go, so they weren’t bothered by our canine visitor, and apparently, Riptide had been well socialized as well.

  “So, are you going to tell me what you know about the man in the photo?” Shredder asked.

  “First, why don’t you tell me who he is?”

  “He goes by many aliases, but his most recent seems to be Pickard.”

  “That’s it? Just Pickard?”

  “That’s it.”

  “And why exactly have you been tracking him?”

  “He deals in black market information, which basically means he steals information from one source and sells it to another.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “All kinds. He’s probably the world’s best hacker. Given enough time, he can probably get into any system regardless of the security. He doesn’
t seem to have an allegiance to any person or country. He appears to be in it strictly for the money. If you want information and can pay for it, he can get it for you.”

  I cringed at the possibilities.

  “The man’s a ghost,” Shredder continued. “We have eyes on practically every border, airport, and shipping yard in the world, but we’ve never been able to spot him. He somehow manages to get into the most secure databases in the world, get the information he wants, and then get out without leaving a trail. The photo your friend’s been circulating is the first real lead we’ve had in a very long time. I need to know where you got it and why you’re looking for him.”

  I decided any man who would stick around to help deliver puppies was most likely trustworthy, so I decided to share part of what I knew. “It all started when Tim Maverick sent a letter to Harley Medford.”

  “Harley Medford the actor?”

  I nodded. “He grew up here and was friends with Tim when they were younger. They stayed in touch. Anyway, Tim sent Harley a photo of your information dealer and a short note saying that if he died suddenly, the man in the photo was the one responsible. When Tim died of a heroin overdose a couple of weeks later, Harley came to Rescue to look in to it. He asked me to help him and I agreed.”

  “And where’s Harley now?”

  “In Italy. There was a miscommunication with his agent, who signed Harley up to do a small part in an independent film. Harley had planned to be in Rescue through the first of the year, but he had to follow through on the commitment his agent made on his behalf, so he left last week. He said he’d worked it out to be back before Christmas.”

  “Okay. So, what have you discovered so far?”

  “Harley and I asked around, and most everyone who knew Tim agreed he’d been clean in the days leading up to his death. We searched his cabin and didn’t find any drug paraphernalia. It’s our theory that the man in the photo knew Tim had a prior drug habit and used that fact to fake an accidental overdose. We believe the man was somehow linked to a job Tim had recently taken as a courier, and that something went wrong and he killed Tim. Harley and I began searching for the man, which is where you came in. Do you think Tim was somehow involved in the theft of sensitive information?”