Race Against Time: A Novel

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  Zoya’s eyes darted around the woods.

  Sean whispered back. “Good idea.” He wrapped an arm around Zoya’s shoulder. “How’s my Sunshine doing? Looking a bit peaked today, I’d say.”

  She gave him a weak half grin in return. “A little. Maybe.”

  “Not sleeping well?”

  “Not really.”

  “Does it help to know they’ve caught the murderer?”

  She shrugged and stared out beyond the fence.

  “You know, maybe talking about it will help.” He sat on one of the logs they used in the kennel as benches, patting the space beside him. “Andie and I are here to help. We’re both great listeners.” He winked at Andie.

  Andie immediately caught the hint and sat on his other side. She leaned her head toward Sean’s and smiled. “See? We’re all ears.”

  He watched Zoya’s shoulders slump. Like the weight of the world began to bear down upon her. She paced in front of them, tapping out a rhythm on her leg with her gloved hands. “I don’t think you can understand.”

  “Try us.”

  She opened her mouth then shut it. Opened it again. And just when Sean thought for sure she was about to spill her guts, she shut it again. Frowned. And he could almost feel the walls come up again.

  Lord, help!

  That’s when it hit him. This was the reason he’d struggled so long and hard with anger. It wasn’t about him. It was about this. This moment. This place. And this sweet, young girl. Lord . . . You’re amazing.

  He turned to Andie. “Hey, did you know the Bible says it’s okay to be angry?”

  Andie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yep. But it says in your anger don’t sin.”

  “Oh, yeah, like righteous anger, huh? I’ve heard Pastor say something like that.”

  Sean nodded. Zoya fiddled with a stick in the snow but stayed close, eyes on the ground. Lord, please help her hear.

  “So . . . don’t sin.”

  He turned back to Andie. “Right.”

  “Does that mean we shouldn’t let the anger make us hurt someone?”

  “Or make us hurt ourselves. Because if we let anger go on too long, dig in too deep, pretty soon that voice is so loud inside us that we can’t hear God’s still small voice. He’s still there, talking to us, speaking truth to our hearts, but we can’t hear Him.”

  “Wow. That’d be awful!”

  “It is. I know that because I’ve been there. I let my anger at my father grow so strong it got between me and God. And God’s not going to force His way in where He’s not welcome. That’s not how He works. But He’s always there. Always. Waiting for us to welcome Him in. Gently prodding. Quietly speaking to us.”

  Andie leaned back, her serious gaze fixed on him. “I hadn’t ever thought of it like that. But you’re right. Whenever I’m mad, all I can hear is the negative thoughts screaming in my head.”

  Insightful girl. “Screaming is right. Every time I allow that rage to boil up, it’s like screaming, sometimes almost shrieking in my head. How on earth can we hear anything else once we’ve allowed the angry voice to reign?”

  He risked a look to Zoya. She stood still, eyes trained on him. She opened her mouth—

  Dasha and Sasha started barking up a storm.

  Zoya’s attention snapped to the fence around the kennel.

  So much for her opening up. Maybe she at least heard his words.

  Andie hopped up and went over to the dogs. “It’s okay, Zoya. They’re not worried about a human. Remember, the shooter’s gone.” She pointed to their beautiful huskies. “Look. They’re sniffing around Morphine’s neck and barking.”

  The fear on Zoya’s face disappeared and she turned her attention to Andie and the dogs. “What is it, girl?” She petted Sasha’s neck.

  Sasha barked and yipped and yapped at Zoya like she was carrying on a conversation.

  Sean had never seen anything quite like it. “She’s very intelligent, isn’t she?”

  Andie tried to calm Dasha. “Yeah, and hyper. And protective.”

  “So why are they barking?”

  Andie shook her head. “I’m not quite sure . . .”

  They all turned to watch Zoya. She listened to Sasha and watched her movements. Sasha continued to bark and kept pushing her nose onto Morphine’s neck.

  Zoya talked low and soothing to both dogs as they jumped around. Morphine appeared uncomfortable. Sasha perturbed.

  “What is it, Sasha? Show me, girl. What’s got you all upset?” Zoya continued her soft words and petted both dogs.

  Sasha shoved her snout into Morphine’s neck again, pushing Zoya’s hand closer.

  Zoya probed the spot, leaning in closer. “Sean, come here.”

  He approached.

  “Look. There’s something on Morphine’s neck. It’s really small, but the place looks infected.”

  As he gazed over Zoya’s shoulder, he saw what Sasha had found. “Let me get the first aid kit.” He ran over to the shed, grabbed it, and headed back to the dogs. Opening it up, he searched the contents. Then he pulled out a magnifying glass and tweezers.

  “Let me take a closer look. Andie, will you hold Dasha and Sasha? Zoya, I need you to hold Morphine still.” The girls obeyed and together they worked over the leader of the Painkiller Litter.

  The girls’ curiosity kept them pressed close as he examined the wound. Sure enough, below the dog’s winter coat was a tiny red welt. Fiery red and swollen.

  “I’m going to grab an alcohol swab, keep him steady.”

  “Okay.” Zoya tightened her hold.

  After wiping down the area, Morphine jerked in his grasp, shaking his head as fast as he could. Sean and Zoya worked to steady him. Clearly the dog was bothered by the tiny area on his neck.

  “It’s okay, boy. Let me clean this up and we’ll be all done.” Sean tried to wipe the spot again, when Morphine barked and snapped. The wound popped open and blood and pus oozed out.

  “Steady, Morphine.” He turned to Andie. “Would you go get Anesia, please?”

  “Yes, sir.” She dashed away.

  “Zoya, I’ll straddle his back end, and you hold his head. Looks like something might’ve gotten under the skin and it’s infected.”

  His young helper nodded.

  Maybe he should wait for Anesia, but he couldn’t leave the poor dog like this. He might not be all that experienced, but he could at least try. Holding the magnifying glass up to the spot, he wiped down the tiny spot again and applied pressure. When he lifted the gauze, a tiny corner of something poked out of the wound.

  Sean leaned in closer with the magnifying glass. It didn’t appear to be glass or a splinter. He used the tweezers to pinch the edge. With a gentle tug, he pulled the obstruction loose.

  Zoya gasped.

  Morphine wiggled out of their grasp and shook his head. He sat on his rear and barked at Zoya seeming content with his circumstances.

  Sean turned the tiny piece of plastic back and forth under the magnifying glass. All the puzzle pieces scrambled in his head. It didn’t make sense.

  But one thing was sure. They’d found another macrochip.

  Implanted in one of Anesia’s prize dogs.

  * * *

  ZOYA

  1:23 p.m.

  Cole bent over Mint Chocolate Chip and stroked her head. “Good girl. Stay calm.” She wiggled and squirmed within his grasp. Her whimpers made me feel like my heart jammed into my throat.

  Poor thing. I hoped she was okay. None of the other dogs we’d checked so far had gotten seriously infected in the incision area, but Mint Chocolate Chip looked like she might have.

  Who had done this to the poor little things?

  I shook my head. People. Nobody had a hear
t anymore.

  I petted Sasha, who stood beside me like a body guard. “Good girl.” I couldn’t believe it when they had found the chips. Those two were smart.

  Anguish twirled in the pit of my stomach.

  Go away. Run. Or you’ll never see your mom again.

  I closed my eyes. A habit now.

  Stop thinking about it!

  Anger churned in my gut. They had gotten that close. In our barn. To my dogs. How far would they go? Was I putting my family, the dogs, Sean in danger?

  The note haunted me. Haunted my thoughts. Haunted my heart. What would they do to Mom if I did stay? Could Sean or Cole save her? Could the FBI save her? No. If they had gotten this close without us even suspecting . . .

  But I couldn’t tell anyone about the notes . . .

  I sighed. Too many “ifs.” Too many “maybes.” Not enough assurance.

  I grabbed onto Sasha’s collar.

  I had to leave. But when? How could I without anyone finding me? I didn’t want to be alone. I could bring the dogs. But someone would hear me. Or see me leaving.

  At night?

  No. I didn’t want to be out in the dark. By myself. With murderers spying on me.

  That realization hurt.

  I was going to die. No matter what. Those men watched me. Probably all the time. How could I run away without Mom or those men finding out?

  I couldn’t.

  My eyes closed. No. I wouldn’t think about it. Just leave and get it over with.

  Leave tonight.

  Cole smiled as he got the macrochip out from Mint’s neck. “Good girl. It’s okay.”

  He passed the chip to Auntie Jenna.

  I hoped night would come soon.

  If I got murdered, I got murdered.

  But I had to save Mom. And I had to do it soon.

  * * *

  ANESIA

  2:58 p.m.

  The kennel was in an uproar. Cole had pulled more than thirty chips out of her dogs already.

  Anesia soothed and petted each of her dogs as they waited for the vet. Who on earth had done this? And why? More than that, why’d they choose her dogs?

  Since the chip they already found on her property held part of the AMI programming, she could guess what was on the other chips. Would they accuse her of being involved? Was she in danger of being arrested?

  What would happen to Zoya?

  The stress over the murder and shooting hadn’t left her system yet, even though they’d caught the shooter. And now this. What happened to her quiet little world?

  Sean jogged over to her. “Cole wanted you to know that the FBI are on their way over.”

  “Great.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. I’m sorry, Sean. I’m just a little sick of all this. Who implants sprint racing dogs with chips that have top secret military programming?” She shook her head and walked toward another litter.

  Sean followed. “It’s ingenious, really.”

  “What?” She shot a look over her shoulder. Whose side was he on anyway?

  “Implanting the chips.”

  “Sean Connolly”—she thrust her hands onto her hips—“what on earth are you talking about?”

  “Whoever did this. I’m not saying what they did was right, but think about it. Placing invaluable information that they don’t want anyone else to find on macrochips, encasing them in plastic, and implanting them in your dogs.”

  She threw another heated look his way.

  “They did their research. They knew how well you took care of your dogs. Knew how much they meant to you. What lengths you would go to making sure nothing happened to them.”

  She whirled on him then. “So you’re saying I should take it as a compliment that they chose my kennel of dogs? Is that what you’re saying?” She knew she was being ridiculous, but the whole thing burned her up. She had to take out her temper on someone. Sean happened to be the unlucky recipient.

  His eyes grew wide. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  Her rage evaporated. “No, Sean. I’m sorry.” She glanced at his eyes before moving toward another dog. “I just don’t get it. First the murder. Then the shooting here. Now this! Has everyone gone insane?”

  “Anesia!” Cole’s voice came from across the kennel, halting Sean’s response.

  He followed her over to Cole and the FBI agent who’d arrived. Her friend’s calm, quiet presence soothed the edge of her nerves, even though she still wanted to throttle someone.

  The agent studied her. “Ms. Naltsiine. Sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances.” The man didn’t even shake her hand, just started writing on his notepad. “I need to know who has access to your dogs.”

  “Well, other than Zoya, Jenna, and Andie? No one except my employees. Sean”—she pointed beside her—“Joe, he’s over there by Jenna, and Derek. It’s his day off today.”

  “Ever had any trouble from any of them?”

  “No. I trust my employees.”

  “But who else would know the code to your gate?”

  “No one, but—”

  “Then this is where we’ll start—”

  “Excuse me”—Anesia tugged on the agent’s arm—“are you saying that my employees are all suspects?”

  The agent lowered his notepad. Looked through her. “Not suspect, but certainly persons of interest. As is anyone who has contact with these dogs.”

  She glared back.

  “Would you happen to have any veterinary equipment around here, Ms. Naltsiine?” His eyes bore into hers.

  “Well, of course, it’s a dog ken—”

  “Any handheld scanners?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The kind that trace those pet-finder chips.”

  She crossed her arms. Planted her feet for battle. “Exactly what are you implying?”

  “Just answer the question, please.”

  Fine. He wanted to play that way. “No.”

  He scribbled something on his infernal pad and slapped it closed. “That’s all for right now.” As he turned and walked away, his message was clear.

  She was as much a suspect as anyone.

  * * *

  SLIM

  February 2

  5:00 p.m.

  The drop-off was set.

  In three day’s time, he’d be a rich man.

  Money. Control. Power. Everything he’d ever dreamed of.

  In three short days.

  He hopped up from his computer. Lots to do. He’d need a new suit. He’d need to purchase his ticket.

  And he’d need to get all the chips.

  He rubbed his hands together. Excitement built up inside him. Ma would be proud.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ZOYA

  February 3

  Naltsiine Kennels

  2:00 a.m.

  Darkness surrounded me as I made my way down the stairs. My hand slid across the wall and my feet felt the shape of each step.

  It’d been such a long day. The FBI and police all left, except for one officer posted out in the driveway. Auntie Jenna, Cole, and Andie all went home after the vet left. Andie didn’t want to go. She stuck to my side like glue since I gave her the note in the restaurant, but she had a neurologist appointment in the morning.

  Good thing, or she might have stayed.

  I shivered. This is the right thing to do . . .

  Mom would sleep like a rock. At least that was in my favor.

  I took another step. I couldn’t turn on a light. It might wake her. But if I fell down the steps . . .

  Thoughts swirled and twirled inside me. What if I was doing the wrong thing? What if those men came after Mom anyway?

>   I shook my head.

  Stop it, Zoya. Just go. Don’t even think about Mom, she’ll be fine. Sean will take care of her. Cole will take care of her. The dogs will take care of her.

  I made it to the kitchen. The moon shone through the open curtains. At least I wasn’t in total darkness.

  Sasha jumped up and ran over to me, tail wagging.

  I patted her head and some of my fear melted away. This is the right thing to do . . .

  She nudged my leg as if she understood. But how could she? She didn’t have to worry about murderers. She didn’t have to worry about secret, threatening notes.

  My throat closed. Was I sure I wanted to do this?

  Yes. Besides, what choice do I have?

  I pushed the voice away and slid my backpack off. Then filled it with the things I’d gathered: Water bottles. Food. An extra pair of gloves. Four layers already covered my body, but even with a heavy coat, I knew, in such cold temperatures, it might not be enough. Would we make it?

  “Come on, Sasha.” I slipped my arms through the backpack straps, then crept over to the back door. I disabled the alarm. Hopefully Mom wouldn’t wake up from the beeping. “Hurry . . . Hurry . . .”

  The voice was getting irritating.

  The door creaked as I eased it open. Sasha whined. Would someone try to break in while I was gone? The alarm wouldn’t sound . . . would Mom be safe?

  Yes. I would be gone, and the men probably knew that. I don’t think they’ll try to get inside. Will they? “Sasha, we have to do this.”

  She obeyed. But worry flashed in her eyes. Again.

  Who cared what happened? Just so long as Mom was safe. And Sasha could take of herself, she wouldn’t get hurt.

  I nodded. Then we slipped out the back door.

  More darkness.

  Few stars shone in the sky. Very yanlaey. Was it going to storm?

  My stomach knotted.

  This is the right thing to do . . .

  A strong breeze swirled among the trees. Snow fell. I shivered and rubbed my arms. Lowering my goggles and raising my neck and face warmer, I prepared for the long night ahead.