Man's Best Alibi

by Tara Meyers

  MAN’S BEST ALIBI

  A Secrets of Sanctuary Cozy Mystery

  Book #2

  TARA MEYERS

  Man’s Best Alibi

  Copyright © 2018 Tara Meyers

  Forest Grove Books

  Editor Christina Schrunk

  Cover art design Copyright © Dreams2media

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Books by Tara Meyers

  Find these titles on her AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

  The Chris Echo Files

  A Distant Echo (a short story)

  Echo of Fear

  Secrets of Sanctuary Cozy Mysteries

  You Can Lead a Horse to Murder

  Man’s Best Alibi

  Cat’s Got Your Arsenic (TBA)

  If you have enjoyed these books, you might want to check out her other titles written as Amazon bestselling author, Tara Ellis. These include a fun middle grade mystery series, a young adult science fiction trilogy, and a true stories of survival series!

  Find these books on her AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Books by Tara Meyers

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ONE

  The last of the sunlight retreated from the sky as night won the battle and filled the edges of the room with shadows. Ember Burns squinted to read the small print on the papers strewn out in front of her on the kitchen table. Frustrated and on edge, she shoved her chair back. The harsh motion sent her farther than intended, and the wooden legs caught on an area rug, nearly toppling her to the floor.

  Arms flailing, Ember grabbed at the table and prevented the spill. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take a deep breath. “She’ll come home,” she muttered to the empty house. “She’s okay.”

  The twenty-eight-year-old veterinarian stood abruptly and walked a familiar route, turning on lights as she went. She grew up in the old ranch-style farmhouse, and the practiced routine helped to calm her. Daenerys, a cinnamon-colored labradoodle she adopted three months before, had been gone overnight for the first time. Ember got her the week after moving back home, and already she couldn’t imagine her life without the affectionate dog.

  Stopping in front of a large family portrait positioned prominently in the entryway hall, Ember reached out a hand and ran a finger fleetingly over her mother’s image. It was taken the summer before her senior year in high school. It was just Ember and her mom. Her father passed away from an illness when she was very young. Her mother’s dark hair contrasted strikingly against her own crimson-red locks. At that age, Ember still loathed her unique appearance, made all the worse by her name. Kids were relentless in their teasing.

  Her dad had been a full-blooded Scotsman, while her mom was a quarter Lakota, which at least saved Ember from the fair skin and freckles most redheads suffered. She now embraced her unusual features and had almost forgiven her parents for her name.

  The thought caused a small smile to chase the worry lines from Ember’s face. Though she’d tackled many of the same challenges teenage girls do growing up, her mom had always been there for her. How she wished she could give her a hug now. Just once more. She raised a hand again toward the portrait but hesitated. Shaking her head, she turned away abruptly.

  No sense living in the past.

  Ember thought she was over the suffocating emotions that began with her mother’s sudden passing four months ago. It was what brought her back to her hometown of Sanctuary after ten years of absence. During that time, she’d acquired her veterinarian’s license and completed over two years of internship with a prestigious large animal practice on the other side of Washington State. But after arranging the funeral and settling her mother’s finances, Ember found herself buying a recently closed animal practice.

  The beginning had been rocky, but with the help of her Aunt Becky and her new friend and co-worker, Mel, things were going well. The residents of the small community were warming up to her and entrusting her with their pets. Although she grew up there, ten years brought a lot of change, and she’d had to re-establish herself as a “local.”

  Stepping out onto the large covered porch, Ember wrapped her arms around her chest for warmth as she leaned against the wooden railing. It was mid-October, and winter was doing its best to blanket the mountains. While it wasn’t even quite 5:00 p.m. and more than an hour until sunset, the steep mountains to the west, on the far side of Sanctuary, blocked out the descending sun.

  “Daenerys!” Ember’s voice echoed across Crystal Lake, which stretched out into the distance to the east. Her house sat at the end of a gravel road on twenty acres. It was bordered by the glacier-fed lake on one side and national forest on the other.

  Sanctuary was nestled in a picturesque valley deep in the Cascade Mountains. The town had its roots buried in the logging industry, which was also responsible for the neighboring cities of Refuge to the north and Parker to the south. Parker was named after the family that owned the original logging mill, but it was shut down decades ago. Haven County now thrived on farming and tourism, the latter centered around the national parks and the campers and hikers they attracted.

  Raising her fingers to her mouth, Ember whistled shrilly, and it was answered by a horse neighing rather than a bark. Jumping down from the porch, the average-sized woman jogged across the front lawn to where a handsome brown quarter horse stood in a corral, tossing its head.

  “Sorry, Butterscotch,” Ember cooed, petting the horse’s muscled neck. “Your pal is determined to stress us both out!” The dog and horse had a very unusual friendship. Daenerys proved to have a severe reaction to most horses, causing several issues for Ember the first week she’d taken the dog in. But for some reason, Butterscotch had a calming effect on the labradoodle, and the two were now normally inseparable.

  Raising her gaze to the jagged mountain terrain that rose up behind her property, Ember again felt a sense of danger. She often found solace in the woods, but tonight they loomed dark and ominous. A coyote yapped from nearby, and another soon took up the chorus, confirming one of the perils her dog could have encountered. It would be the second night she’d been gone. In the past three months, she’d never stayed away for more than a few hours at a time.

  Ember had planned to leave the clinic early that afternoon so she could go looking for Daenerys, but she’d had a very sick cat brought in at lunchtime. It was a complicated case, and she’d only had a couple of hours of daylight left by the time she got home. She’d searched the property and along the perimeter before retreating to the warmth of the house, her voice hoarse from yelling. An early snowfall the night before made the task more difficult and added to the mounting concern for her dog.

  A pang of guilt prompted Ember to return to the kitchen and the two case files left on the table. The cat was now boarded at the clinic, receiving IV fl
uids and medication. Mel lived across the street in an apartment under the town’s only coffee shop and would check in on their patient a couple of times during the night. She was a certified veterinarian assistant, in addition to Ember’s new and closest friend in Sanctuary. She had worked for the previous now-retired vet and was an invaluable employee.

  As she traipsed quickly across the cold hardwood floors in her stockinged feet, Ember nudged the thermostat up a few degrees before sitting back down to her work. A large river-rock fireplace lined the wall in the adjoining family room, but she hadn’t taken the time to stoke a fire out of the cooling ashes.

  The cat wasn’t the first animal to present with troubling symptoms. Three days earlier, a dog was brought in with an altered gait and other neurological problems. Ember wanted to run a full workup on him, but the owner was adamant that the lab had just gotten into her pain medicine and didn’t want to spend a bunch of money. Following the owner’s wishes, she’d only taken supportive measures with IV fluids and other light interventions. He was back home in a day with most of the symptoms almost fully resolved. Problem solved. However, now the cat. Her loss of coordination was even more severe, and she was also suffering from tremors and loose bowels.

  “But no fever,” Ember said out loud, tapping a pen against her chin. Flipping the initial blood test result to the top of the pile, she circled the white blood cell count, blood sugar, and neutrophils. All normal. Unlike the dog’s owner, the cat’s owner didn’t care about cost and gave Ember free reign to do whatever she felt necessary to treat the calico.

  Rolling her shoulders, she then pushed the paper away. She’d already gone over the numbers several times. It didn’t reveal any telltale clues. There were three other tests pending; although, with the cat already recovering, it wasn’t likely to be anything too concerning.

  The only similarity between the two animals was where they lived. Both came from the far northern outskirts of town, within a quarter mile of each other. They were also given free reign. While a viral pathogen from a wild animal was Ember’s greatest fear, it didn’t line up with the test results or the rate of recovery.

  A loud ringtone broke through Ember’s focus, and she jumped, startled by the sudden noise. Laughing at herself, she rummaged through her leather doctor’s bag hanging on the back of the chair next to her. Pulling out her buzzing cell phone, her smile widened when she saw it was her Aunt Becky calling.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Becky rushed to say without waiting for Ember to greet her. “Any sign of Daenerys?”

  Becky ran the local animal shelter and had given Ember the labradoodle after failing to find her owners. She’d been discovered in a field near town, dirty, hungry, and obviously lost. Having fostered Daenerys for nearly two weeks prior to Ember’s arrival, Becky was close to her.

  “No,” Ember replied, her voice heavy. “I didn’t have much time to look for her, Beck, because we got busy at the clinic. I don’t know what to do! I keep thinking of her all alone out there in the dark and cold.” Fighting back tears, Ember busied herself with putting on a kettle of water.

  “She’ll be okay.”

  Becky spoke with a sureness that Ember envied. But that was typical of her aunt. She was several years younger than Ember’s father, so when she began spending more time at their farmhouse after her dad’s passing, Becky had taken on a big-sister role. One she still happily maintained.

  “She’ll be okay, Ember,” she repeated when Ember failed to respond. “Daenerys isn’t a stranger to the mountains. Remember that. She’d been wandering those woods alone for several days when she was found this summer. And she’s a big dog. Bigger than a coyote and much smarter.”

  “Right,” Ember answered, trying hard to believe her aunt. To hold on to her words of reassurance.

  “Tomorrow’s Wednesday. I don’t have anything big on the schedule. Why don’t we both close early, and I’ll come help you look for her? I’ll pull the kids out of school early, too, and we can divide and conquer!”

  Becky Stratton and her husband, Paul, had twin ten-year-old boys and a thirteen-year-old daughter. They all adored Daenerys.

  Feeling better after having a plan in place, Ember pulled out a ceramic cup and dropped a tea bag into it. “Thank you, Becky. Really. I’ll talk to Mel, but I’m sure we can pull it off. Should we plan on meeting out here by one?”

  “Absolutely! I’ll bring some extra dog biscuits. Her favorite peanut butter flavored ones.”

  After hanging up, Ember mulled over the conversation. She knew it wasn’t unusual for dogs to venture off, especially when you lived on property that was surrounded by mountains and endless woods. Maybe Daenerys was always a roamer but had been sticking close to home until she was used to her new surroundings. Perhaps it was even a good sign and meant she was truly feeling at home.

  Shaking her head, Ember sat back down with her brewing cup of tea. No matter how good of a pep talk she gave herself, there was no getting rid of the ball of anxiety sitting in her stomach.

  Abandoning the steaming cup, she walked with purpose to the hall closet. Picking out the warmest winter jacket she owned, Ember pulled it on and then selected some fur-lined snow boots and matching gloves. Stretching up onto her toes, she grabbed a large flashlight off the top shelf. There was no way she could just sit around and wait when her companion and friend might be in trouble.

  Already starting to sweat under all of the layers, Ember yanked open the front door—and cried out in surprise. Sitting in the center of the entryway was Daenerys! Covered in mud, she looked up sheepishly at Ember, an odd object between her teeth in what looked to be a peace offering.

  Relief flooded Ember, and she dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around the dirty dog. “Daenerys!” she cried, finally letting the tears flow. “Where have you been? What happened to you?” Crinkling her nose at the rancid smell emanating from the dog, she leaned back just as quickly. “You need a bath!”

  Ember yanked her gloves off and ran her hands over Daenerys, checking for any obvious signs of injury. She appeared to be okay. A new emotion, anger, flickered briefly but was extinguished when her eyes met with Daenerys’s. She had such a forlorn expression that Ember wasn’t sure how to react. Where had she been?

  Shaking her head, Daenerys made no attempt to go inside the house.

  She was acting peculiar. Leaning back more, Ember again noticed the item still clutched in the dog’s mouth. It appeared to be an old leather work glove. How strange.

  “Here, girl,” Ember spoke soothingly while taking hold of it. “Let’s see what you have here.”

  Daenerys resisted at first and then let go, smacking her chops loudly as if she’d been holding it for a very long time. Confused by the weight and shape of the material, Ember stood with it to get a better look in the hall light. Turning the object over in her hand, it took a full five seconds for what she was seeing to register correctly with her brain.

  Gasping in shock, Ember threw the glove across the alcove. It came to rest against her hiking boots, a shard of white bone sticking out prominently from the wrist hole.

  TWO

  Sheriff Ben Walker held the clear plastic evidence bag up to the rustic wagon-wheel chandelier that hung over the kitchen table. It was the brightest light in the room.

  “Well, I’ll be,” he mumbled. “What do you think possessed that dog to bring this to you?” Lowering the severed limb, Walker raised his dark eyebrows at Ember. “Is that normal for a dog to do when they find a body?”

  Ember spread her hands out in front of her in an “I don’t know” gesture. “Sorry, Sheriff, that wasn’t something we covered in school.”

  When the large man frowned at the weak attempt at a joke, she rushed to continue. “However, I googled it while I was waiting for you to get here. I don’t think she would have been…eating it. While dogs will consume people when in a situation where they’re trapped and starving, I think it’s more likely Daenerys was confused by what she found, so she brought it
to me. How long do you think it’s been out there? It looks pretty decomposed to me.”

  Nodding in agreement, the sheriff set the bag down on the table and hooked his fingers over his gun belt. It was a gesture Ember had come to recognize. It meant Walker was thinking. He was a smart man, and although they hadn’t agreed on some things that had transpired recently, she respected him and his judgment. He was a childhood sweetheart of her Aunt Becky’s. After a failed attempt at post-college football, the formidable black man returned to Sanctuary and was now in charge of the law enforcement for Haven County.

  “I’m no expert, but I’d say it’s been out there for at least a couple of months. Maybe longer.” Walker poked at the bag and then picked it up again. “Yeah. Probably longer.”

  “I just got off the phone with Shane.”

  Ember turned to face Ranger Nathan Sparks as he stepped into the kitchen. He’d been starting a fire in the other room. He was the first person she’d called after recovering from the shock.

  She and Nathan first met in July, soon after she’d moved back to Sanctuary. They were close in age and shared their Lakota heritage, but Nathan was a full-blooded Dakota Sioux Native American, with striking features and even temperament. Ember was immediately attracted to him, but while they’d spent some time hiking together that past summer, their relationship hadn’t moved beyond a comfortable friendship.

  “Ranger Shane Cooper?” Walker questioned. “Is that the guy with the connection to someone with a cadaver dog?”

  Nodding, Nathan slipped his cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans. He was off duty and not in uniform. He had insisted Ember call Sheriff Walker, since while she suspected the hand came from the national forest behind her property, they were currently in Haven County, meaning that Walker had jurisdiction.