by Terri Reed
Carter trusted the dog’s training to know the difference between the aggressor and the victim in this situation. Plus, Frosty knew and loved Rachelle.
Frosty raced to launch himself at the closest kidnapper. The dog’s powerful jaw snapped closed and his teeth sank into the man’s forearm through his black long-sleeved windbreaker. The guy screamed with pain behind his black ski mask, releasing his hold on Rachelle as he tried to shake off Frosty.
With her free hand, she landed a well-placed punch to the second man’s face. Blood spurted through the nose hole of his mask after she made contact. He dropped her arm to grab his face. She pivoted and ran toward Carter.
The two men, one still struggling with Frosty, jumped back into the panel van as the driver hit the gas. Frosty ran alongside, still clamped onto the man’s arm as he screamed, punching and kicking in a useless effort to force Frosty to let go.
Fearing for his partner’s safety as the van picked up speed, practically dragging Frosty, Carter yelled, “Out!”
Immediately, Frosty released his hold on the man and veered in an arc back to Carter’s side as the van’s panel door closed and the vehicle sped away. Carter had no way to follow, but he noted the plates were missing, like the sedan. These guys were making it hard.
Wrapping his arms around Rachelle, Carter took deep breaths, willing his heart to slow down. Within his embrace, her body shook. Frosty leaned against Rachelle’s legs as if offering his support.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you.” He couldn’t believe his voice sounded so calm, because inside he was quaking. Witnessing another assault on Rachelle nearly stripped him to the very core. He couldn’t let anything happen to this woman.
Ellie would never forgive him.
He would never forgive himself.
She lifted her frightened gaze to his and curled her fingers around his flak vest. “How did they know I’d be here?”
“I can only guess the break-in was also a way to flush you out,” he told her.
Keeping an arm wrapped securely around her, he radioed in the incident, telling Dispatch to put the van’s description out to all units and to call the area hospitals alerting them to watch for a man with a dog bite on his left arm and another man with a broken nose.
Picking up the leash with his free hand, Carter hustled them toward her office building. Caution tape barred the entrance. He nodded at the officer standing guard, who lifted the tape for them, allowing them access. Once inside the building, Rachelle led him to her cubicle. The drawers of her desk were upended, and her computer hard drive gone.
Carter’s stomach sank. He leaned in close to her ear. “Please tell me you didn’t back up all your work onto your office computer.”
She shook her head. “No. I told you, I’ve been working on this at home. Never here.”
For that he was grateful.
“Rachelle,” a deep voice called.
She pushed past Carter and Frosty and hurried to where a man with salt-and-pepper hair stood in an open doorway. The placard next to the door read Editor in Chief.
“Are you okay?” the man said. “I just heard two men tried to kidnap you.”
“I’m fine, Quinn, thank you. Is everyone here okay?”
“Yes. The break-in happened overnight.”
“I don’t know what to say. I’m so, so sorry this happened.”
“This isn’t your fault,” he said.
“Yes, actually it is,” she replied. “I’ve been working on a side project looking into Chief Jordan Jameson’s murder.”
Carter was proud of her for taking ownership.
Quinn’s bushy eyebrows rose. “You don’t say.” He shook his head. “I told you to let it go. But since you didn’t, you can fill me in on what you have.”
Carter stepped forward. “Sir, this is a police matter. And confidential. I will be taking Miss Clark with me.”
The man sized Carter up. “Is she in trouble?”
Before Carter could respond, Rachelle said, “This is Officer Carter Jameson. Jordan Jameson’s brother.”
Carter wouldn’t have thought it possible but the older man’s eyebrows rose even higher, nearly disappearing into his hairline.
“Indeed.”
Rachelle turned to Carter. “This is my boss, Quinn Seidel.”
Carter stuck out his hand. “Mr. Seidel.”
“Officer. My condolences on your brother.”
Extracting his hand, Carter turned to Rachelle. “We need to get going.”
She nodded but turned back to her boss. “I’m still going to cover the K-9 trials and the celebrity ball. Please, don’t take these assignments away from me.”
Carter stared at her. Really? That’s what she was worried about? Her assignments? Figured. Her ambition went before anything else. He would be wise to remember that.
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “I—”
“Carter is helping me with the K-9 article,” Rachelle quickly interjected. She gave Carter a pleading look. “Right?”
Jaw tightening, Carter nodded. He still needed her help to decipher her notes. “Yes.”
She swung back to Quinn. “See? And he’s going to escort me to the ball.”
Carter choked on a laugh. “What?”
Her brown gaze implored him to agree. “As my bodyguard.” She mouthed the word please.
His mouth dried. Every instinct inside of him screamed for him to decline her request but he thought of Ellie and how disappointed she would be if he refused to help Rachelle.
“Is that correct, Officer Jameson? You’ll be in attendance at the ball?” Quinn asked. His piercing blue eyes assessed Carter. “It would be good to have a police presence there considering all the mayhem going on these days.”
Rachelle gave him an impish smile that did funny things to his insides.
“Yes. Fine. I’ll be escorting Rachelle to the ball.”
Putting her hands in a prayer position, Rachelle mouthed, thank you. She turned back to her boss. “I’d like to work remotely for a while if that’s okay.”
Quinn narrowed his gaze for a moment, then relented. “That’s probably for the best.”
Carter wasn’t sure whom it would be best for.
With another officer in tow, Carter ushered Rachelle and Frosty into the veterinarian clinic, where the vet, Dr. Ynez Dubios, gave him a thorough once-over and determined he’d suffered no injuries while protecting Rachelle.
Grateful for his partner’s clean bill of health, Carter felt the tightness in his chest ease as they walked the short distance to the station. When they reached the lobby, he paused. “You should talk to the psychologist the department uses,” he said to Rachelle. “Dr. Benchley is really good at helping victims process their feelings.”
“You’re very thoughtful to think of it,” she said, her gaze tender. “I wouldn’t mind talking to someone.”
Glad he’d had the idea, he ushered her to the desk sergeant and got the phone number for Dr. Brenda Benchley.
She tucked the number in her purse. “I’ll give her a call later to set up an appointment.”
His stomach rumbled with hunger, reminding him they’d missed lunch. “Let’s grab food from the commissary and then head to the training center, where Frosty can get some water. We can eat down there, too, and you can make the call.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I’m not sure I can eat right now.”
“You need to at least try,” he told her. “Keep up your strength.”
Securing the strap of her purse higher over her shoulder, she said, “I could go for another of your father’s hamburgers. He does barbecue right.”
Carter laughed, glad for the lighter topic. “He’s a master at it.”
“Has he taught you how to grill?”
“All of us had to learn. Not only how to barbecue but to mow the l
awn and fix what needed repair. ‘No slackers in my house,’ Dad would say.”
“I’ll bet he made it fun, though,” she said with a wistful tone. “You all bonded over projects.”
He gave her a sideways glance as they took the stairs down to the basement level. Frosty’s nails clicked on the cement steps. “Yes, we did bond. He was really good about making sure we each got one-on-one time with him throughout the years.”
“That’s really special.”
Love for his father infused his voice. “Yes. He’s been a good dad. A good role model both personally and professionally. He and my grandfather were both NYPD.”
“The family business.”
“There were also times when Dad made the four of us kids cooperate and work together.” Remembering those times brought an ache to his chest. Now there were only the three of them left. “Teamwork, was another of his big phrases. Of course, Mom used teamwork to mean housework.”
“You were blessed to have such involved parents.”
In the commissary, they grabbed salads and bottles of water and took their bounty to the training center, where he dropped Frosty off with Olivia for some water.
“We’ll be back shortly,” Carter told Frosty.
“Do you always talk to him like a human?” Rachelle asked as she followed Carter to the break room.
He shrugged as he settled into a chair. “Dogs understand way more than we can know. I read a study once that claimed dogs processed words with the left side of their brains just like humans and they use the right side of their brains to understand tone and pitch.”
“That’s fascinating,” she said, taking a seat next to him. “I had no idea. I never had a pet growing up.”
Carter couldn’t imagine not having an animal to care for. Dogs had been such an integral part of his life.
“Tell me about your family,” he said as he unwrapped his salad. He hoped to keep her talking while the rush of adrenaline from earlier ebbed away. “Why are you not speaking?”
She made a face. “It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
“Dad was a prominent lawyer in town until he retired last year. Mom...” She hesitated, pushing her lettuce around with her fork. “She likes to be involved.” There was an edge to her voice. “She volunteers for any committee she can. She likes to keep busy.”
“Your dad retired young,” he commented.
“They were older when I—” She seemed lost in thought.
“Was born?” he prompted.
She let out a humorous laugh. “Yes. My parents are actually my aunt and uncle.”
“Okay.”
She set down her fork. “I didn’t know I was adopted until college. I was doing a paper on my family genealogy and discovered my birth was a scandal. Lily Clark, my father’s youngest sister, was unmarried when she had me.”
He covered her hand with his. “You must have been shocked and hurt.”
“Yes.” Her lips twisted. “Once I knew, so many things made sense. Like why I could never measure up to my mother’s standards.”
“What happened to your birth mother?”
A sad light entered her gaze. “She perished in a car accident while I was still an infant. My dad took me in, but my mother hadn’t wanted children.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled. “It is what it is.”
He realized her smile was her default mode when she wanted to keep an emotional distance. His heart ached for her.
“I had a string of nannies, none of which stayed long, because, well, I didn’t make life easy for them.”
“You liked to climb giant trees and fall out,” he said, remembering her story about the oak tree.
“Little girls were not supposed to do things like that. But I did everything I was not supposed to do. Nothing criminal, but certainly nothing deemed proper by my parents. Even my choice of college went against their wishes. I attended the state school instead of a prestigious private one.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t push you to get married and have children,” he said, not liking the picture she was painting of her parents.
She glanced at him sharply. “Oh, they tried. They even picked out someone for me. Wallace Thompson.” She set her fork down, leaving her salad untouched. “I dated him, trying to be the good daughter, hoping for Mom’s and Dad’s approval.” She blew out a breath. “But I realized Wallace just wanted a partnership in my dad’s law firm. He didn’t really care about me, and I certainly didn’t love him. So I broke it off and moved to New York. I decided to focus solely on my career.”
“Good for you. Though I find your choice of career lamentable.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “As do I yours.”
He drew back. “What?”
Her gaze was direct. “You have a daughter. Why would you stay in a career that puts you in harm’s way? Look what happened to your brother. Now Katie’s left to raise their child alone. What if something happened to you? Ellie would lose her father, too.”
Her words sliced through him like a double-edged sword. “That’s not fair. Life and death happen. We can’t control any of it.”
He’d learned the harsh lesson the hard way as he’d watched his wife die in childbirth. And now Jordan was gone, too.
Sorrow burned at the back of his eyes.
He battled back the anger at God for allowing Helen to die that occasionally tried to surface. The grief counselor Carter had seen in the first few years after her death had helped him to see that blaming God instead of turning to Him for comfort only heightened the pain. Believing that God grieved with him was the only way he made it through the dark days.
Rachelle reached across the table and covered his hand. “You’ve lost so much. I’m so sorry.”
He stared at their joined hands. Her hand so much smaller and feminine compared to his large, rough paw. Warmth spread up his arm from the contact. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let anyone close who wasn’t family. He couldn’t let himself become involved with this woman.
She flexed her fingers; the pressure against his wrist made his pulse jump.
“We’re going to find the answers. We’ll solve your brother’s murder. Together. Like a team.”
He swallowed as he fell into her brown-eyed gaze. For five months with no leads, he’d almost given up that they would bring Jordan’s killer to justice. He hated that there were crimes that people got away with, that were never solved. He’d prayed that Jordan’s death would not be one of them. And this woman’s assurance that, together, they could do what a whole department couldn’t, bolstered his flagging hopes and made him want to believe in her, in them, as a team.
But he couldn’t let himself become emotionally attached to this woman. Or any woman. He had no intention of opening himself up again to the kind of loss he’d experienced when Helen died.
He cleared his throat and pulled his hand out from beneath hers. “Temporarily a team. Only until we have answers and find the person who wants you dead.”
The sparkle left her eyes. “Right. Of course.”
Carter noticed Rachelle had barely taken more than a few bites of her salad as they cleaned up the remnants of their lunch. He figured his reminder of the danger she was in had stolen her appetite. He dismissed the idea that she was upset that he’d made it clear they were only a temporary team. She had to know this was a onetime thing. And for the sole purpose of keeping her safe and finding his brother’s killer.
They returned to the conference room but neither of them could concentrate. Rachelle kept reading the same words over and over and it wasn’t until the fourth time he heard the repeated sentence that he realized they weren’t progressing. Finally, he held up his hand. “Rachelle, take a break.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking dejected. �
��I’m struggling.”
She needed a distraction. They both did, because he was having the same problem. He kept reliving the moment the van pulled up and the two men grabbed her. If not for Frosty...
He rose and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
There was a brief hesitation before she slipped her hand into his. It felt natural and right to have their hands clasped together. He was reluctant to let go when he locked up the conference room and pocketed the key. Tucking his thumbs into his utility belt to keep from reaching for her again, he escorted Rachelle to the kennel room, where they picked up Frosty. As soon as the kennel door opened, the dog went to Rachelle, his tail wagging as he leaned against her legs.
“He seems to really like you,” Carter said, a bit flummoxed by the dog’s show of affection.
She rubbed Frosty in the perfect spot behind his ears. His eyes practically rolled in his head with bliss.
Shaking his head, Carter said, “This way. I want to show you something.”
He led the way to the center of the training floor covered in Astroturf. There were several obstacles set up. Not as many as they’d run through during the upcoming K-9 trial but enough to keep them sharp.
“I’ve watched a little agility on TV,” Rachelle said as she took in the training equipment. “These don’t look like normal agility obstacles.”
“They’re not.” He gestured toward the eight-foot-long wooden tunnel. “The crawl obstacle is for when we have tight spaces only the dogs can get through, like under a porch or in a culvert.” He pointed to three large crates with windows cut out at the top on all four sides. “Those three boxes in the middle of the room are for scent work. Meaning, during competition, somebody will hide in a crate and then Frosty will have to find which crate the person is in.”
She dug out her pink flower notebook from her purse. And started scribbling in it as he talked. Frosty lay down at her feet.
Eyeing his partner, Carter continued, “This helps us when we’re doing searches and we have a suspect who thinks he’s going to hide in a garbage can or in the vents of a building. Humans give off more than just body odor. Their scent is released every time they breathe and every time their skin cells drop off their body.”