by Terri Reed
It had been five years since Daniel’s death. Five years of searching for answers and coming up empty. What had recently changed to make someone dig into the past? And Daniel’s grave?
The questions intensified the headache pounding at her temples. She didn’t believe in coincidence. Daniel’s grave, now her office. Were the two events connected? Maybe it was time to re-question some of Daniel’s old buddies. Someone had to know something useful.
Her heart squeezed. Five years wasn’t nearly long enough to have healed some wounds, though.
Realizing Parker was waiting for her to respond, she said, “I only did a cursory look, but I didn’t see anything obvious missing. Perp rifled through all my files, drawers and books. Seemed to be searching for something.”
“Interesting.” He seemed to be thinking about something. “I wonder if this was the same guy who searched the station last night.”
“What?” She hadn’t heard about that.
“Someone searched the station house, concentrating mostly on the K-9 unit and Captain McNeal’s office.”
“Do you have any idea why? What were they looking for?”
His expression turned cagey. “We think it has something to do with the crime syndicate plaguing Sagebrush. But the station house wasn’t broken into per se. The culprit came from within.”
Surprised, she widened her eyes. “You think a fellow officer is working for the crime syndicate?”
“That’s one theory. Though I can’t help but wonder if the two incidents somehow connect to Captain McNeal’s missing dog, Rio.”
“Last month, K-9 Officer Jackson Worth spotted a masked man clad in black who was walking a dog matching Rio’s description. We also have a witness who saw someone dressed like you’ve described kill a man in cold blood.”
A shiver of dread worked its way over Melody’s flesh. She was thankful the intruder had decided to just knock her down rather than kill her.
What was he searching for? And would he be back? Maybe this break-in had nothing to do with her nephew’s grave. Or maybe it had everything to do with it.
She intended to find out, regardless of the danger.
* * *
At four that afternoon, Parker’s captain summoned him to his office. He knocked lightly before opening the door.
Captain Slade McNeal sat at his desk. He held the file with Parker’s notes from the day. “So tell me what you think about this break-in at the youth center.”
Only four years older than Parker, Slade had slightly salted dark hair and a square jaw. Lines of stress bracketed his blue eyes.
Stepping fully into Slade’s office, Parker said, “The perp who broke into the youth center matches Nicki Johnson’s description of the man who killed Gunther Lamont last month. The CSU techs didn’t find anything useful.” Not that he expected them to. So far the ski-mask guy had been very careful. No prints, no clear description identifying him.
“Did Detective Zachary find anything missing?”
An image of the pretty dark-haired, blue-eyed woman rose in Parker’s mind. He didn’t know Melody well. She kept pretty much to herself and devoted most of her free time to the Sagebrush Youth Center. A supposed alternative to the drug scene for the teens of Sagebrush.
But Parker was dubious of any place where teens with drug habits gathered. Though he appreciated the intention behind the youth center, he just wasn’t convinced any place was safe from the invading poison.
Rumor had it that too many kids were partying on the center grounds.
Nothing had ever come of the internal investigation their captain had initiated. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening, which was why Parker and Sherlock had headed over to the center when the news came in that there’d been a break-in. The crime syndicate overrunning Sagebrush had their hands in the drug trade and would no doubt see the youth center as a viable outlet for their product.
Painful memories of his younger brother raced unbidden to the forefront of his mind. A deep sadness welled. Followed quickly by the anger that always chased after thoughts of Ethan.
His brother had died from tainted drugs.
Forcing his own personal torment back to the dark recesses of his mind, he answered, “No, nothing missing. Perp ransacked her office. She has no idea what he was looking for.”
Slade narrowed his blue eyes. “The code?”
Parker shrugged, baffled by this turn of events. “Maybe. But why her office? She’s not a part of our unit.”
“Assuming that the masked perpetrator and The Boss are the same person, he must be getting desperate,” Slade said.
Parker’s cell buzzed, and he checked the caller ID. He didn’t recognize the number. “Parker Adams.”
“You better hustle over to the youth center. There’s a drug deal going down.”
Parker recognized his confidential informant’s gruff voice. “What kind of drugs?”
“How should I know?” The man hung up.
Parker blew out a frustrated breath. Sometimes Harry Trenton was a pain in the neck. But his intel was usually worth the stipend Parker regularly doled out to him. Which meant the youth center wasn’t what it seemed. An image of the lovely Melody rose in Parker’s mind. He sure hoped the pretty detective wasn’t involved in dealing drugs. He didn’t like the idea of arresting her. But he would in a heartbeat. Getting drugs off the street was his number-one priority.
Meeting Slade’s questioning gaze, Parker said, “My CI claims there’s a drug deal going down at the youth center.”
Visible tension tightened Slade’s jaw. “You didn’t find any drugs this morning?”
“No. Sherlock followed a couple of false trails. Could have been trace amount brought in on a shoe.” He hoped that were the case.
McNeal stroked his jaw. “Check it out. If you find something concrete, let me know. I’ll have to inform Captain Drexel.”
The captain of the homicide division and Melody’s direct boss.
“Will do.” Parker headed out the back door of the brick one-story building and jogged the short distance to the K-9 Training Center on the adjacent lot. Parker had dropped Sherlock off a little earlier with the training staff because, being a two-year-old beagle, the dog needed some time to run around and burn off his excess energy so he’d be ready to focus when needed.
Callie Peterson, the lead trainer for the Sagebrush Special Operations K-9 Unit, greeted Parker with a smile and a wave as Parker approached the training yard.
“Sherlock’s in kennel one,” she called out as she worked with Justice, a good-looking bloodhound, and his handler, Austin Black.
“Hey, Parker,” Austin called out.
Parker lifted his hand acknowledging his friend and fellow team member.
Continued training for all the dogs of the K-9 unit was mandatory and necessary to keep the dogs and their handlers fresh and working well together. Justice was an integral part of the unit, his specialty search and rescue. Thanks to Austin and Justice, seven-year-old Brady Billows had been found unscathed after two thugs working for The Boss nabbed the boy because he’d been a witness to the assault on Captain McNeal’s father and Rio’s kidnapping.
Now if they could only find the captain’s beloved dog. Even a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward offered by the captain’s good friend, Dante Frears, hadn’t yielded any results. Everyone was working hard to bring Rio home.
Going to the kennel door, Parker grabbed the nylon leash from the nearby hook. Sherlock’s short legs kicked up dirt as he jumped at the door clearly wanting to be set free.
“Settle down, boy,” Parker said softly as he opened the dog-run door.
Instantly, Sherlock sat, his tail thumping the ground, his big brown eyes staring at Parker.
Love for the little beagle filled Parker as he clipped on the leash and led the dog toward his vehicle. “Come on, boy, we’ve got work to do.”
With his lights flashing, Parker drove the few blocks to the youth center with Sherlock inside his speci
al crate mounted in the back passenger area of the SUV. Parker glanced in the rearview mirror at Sherlock. Affection rushed to the surface. The dog was the closest thing to family Parker had in Sagebrush. His parents had moved to San Antonio not long after his kid brother’s death.
The sharp pain of loss stabbed at him. Parker’s life plan had changed that day. He vowed to keep the streets drug free. A tall order for just one person, but Parker figured for every drug dealer he put behind bars, more kids would have a chance to live.
He’d gone on to the local college, but instead of majoring in business as he’d planned, he’d majored in criminal justice. As soon as he’d graduated, he joined the police academy, setting his sights on becoming a narcotics detective. When he’d been offered the job to work with the K-9 unit, he jumped at the chance. Sherlock was the best drug-sniffing beagle in the whole state of Texas.
They both proudly wore the Sagebrush Police Department emblem.
Parker brought the official K-9 unit vehicle to a halt at the curb, climbed out and opened the back door for Sherlock. The beagle jumped out. Immediately, his nose went to the ground, sniffing for a trail to follow. Reining in the leash, Parker walked toward the front of the Sagebrush Youth Center.
A squeaking sound drew Parker’s attention. An old man, dressed in ragged clothing, pushed a shopping cart full of his possessions down the sidewalk. Their gazes met. Surreptitiously, Harry, the confidential informant who’d called Parker, pointed one gnarled finger toward the rear of the building.
Without acknowledging the old man, Parker veered Sherlock away from the front steps and hurried toward the back of the building where a wire fence, erected to keep in stray balls from the basketball hoops, dug into the cement of an old parking lot. Voices echoed off the sides of the center.
“Look, you don’t scare me.”
Parker recognized Melody’s voice. The words were spoken evenly enough but a faint tremor of fear underscored them.
“You should be scared, lady. You’re all alone. We can do whatever we want with you.”
The pretty detective was in trouble.
TWO
Parker quickened his pace, anxious to help his co-worker before anything bad happened.
“Tell me what you know about Daniel,” Melody insisted. “Why was his grave desecrated? What was he into before he died?”
This didn’t sound like a drug deal. Parker rounded the corner. A rough-looking character brandishing a knife had Melody backed up against the brick wall.
His stomach muscles tightened. Concern spread through his chest.
Two other equally seedy-looking thugs stood nearby leering at her. Melody’s hands were up in a placating way, but she seemed far from cowed. In fact, she looked downright impressive in her tailored pantsuit, crisp white blouse and black boots. Her dark hair was gathered up at the nape of her neck by a gold clip. Truth was, he’d never seen her appear more collected.
She stared at her assailant with hard blue eyes and pressed her questions. “Was Daniel dealing drugs? You were his friend back then, so you have to know something. What was he doing in the woods the night he died?”
“I’m not telling you nothing,” the knife-wielding guy said. To emphasize his point, he stepped closer and pressed the knife to her throat. Melody didn’t flinch.
Either the woman was incredibly brave or had a death wish. Parker wasn’t going to wait to find out which. He put his hand on the Glock at his side and stepped inside the fence. “Sagebrush PD. Drop your weapon. Back away from the officer.”
The two thugs immediately bolted as if their feet had been lit on fire. They ran past Parker and disappeared around the corner of the building. Sherlock barked and pulled at his leash, wanting to give chase. The hoodlum with the knife backed up a step but didn’t lower his weapon.
Now that Parker got a better look at him, he realized he knew the young man—Zane Peabody. He’d locked him up a couple of times on drug-possession charges.
Sherlock continued to bark and strain at his leash. He pawed the ground, showing signs of aggression reserved for when he was on the scent of drugs. Parker didn’t doubt Sherlock smelled some cocaine or weed or something else illicit on the younger man. Zane was a user. Parker had come here to bust a junkie and his dealer. But that wasn’t the situation here. Right now Parker’s concern was to ensure his fellow officer’s safety.
“Don’t be stupid, man,” Parker said. “Drop the knife.”
Melody scowled at Parker. Then turned back to her assailant. “Zane, come on, talk to me. You guys were friends. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Zane wiped at his nose with his free hand. “He’s gone. You can’t help him now.”
“I can find out who killed him,” she said.
Parker inched closer, keeping Sherlock at his heels.
Zane backed up more. His gaze darted back and forth between Melody and Parker and then dropped to Sherlock. “If I talk to you I’m as good as dead. Just like Daniel.”
“I can protect you,” Melody insisted, taking a step forward.
Zane shook his head. “You can’t protect me.” Fear twisted his features. “The Boss owns these streets. He’ll know. He knows everything.” He backed up even more. “You better watch out, lady. Asking questions could get you killed.” Then he ran.
His words hung in the air. A warning. A threat.
Every protective instinct Parker possessed came to life.
But one look at Melody’s determined face made Parker’s stomach drop to the heels of his black steel-toed leather uniform boots. The cold-case detective wasn’t going to back down, even if that meant putting her life in the crosshairs of the mysterious and brutal crime syndicate.
* * *
“Thanks a lot,” Melody groused as they watched Zane disappear around the corner. “You scared him off.”
Figures she’d go on the attack. He’d heard that she was a tough lady. She’d have to be to deal with teens as much as she did.
“I saved your life,” Parker said, falling into step with her as she marched toward a flight of stairs leading to the basement door of the youth center. Sherlock trotted alongside of him, his black nose close to the ground.
“I had it handled.”
And he could sing like Sinatra. Not. “That situation could have turned bad in a heartbeat.”
She stopped at the top of the stairs and faced him. Her bright blue eyes flashed with indignation. “I wasn’t in trouble. And I don’t need a white knight to save me. Zane wouldn’t have hurt me. He’d been a friend of my nephew’s.”
Sherlock lay down on the cement, with his head on his paws. Clearly the dog didn’t smell anything worth tracking.
“Familiarity breeds compliancy,” Parker commented.
She grimaced. “Cute.”
“What do you mean ‘had been a friend?’”
Sorrow darkened her expression. “My nephew was Daniel Jones.”
A sad case. A cold case. Or was it? Parker had seen the damage done to Daniel Jones’s casket last month when it had been forced open and searched. “I hadn’t realized you two were related.” Empathy wove its way through him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She nodded, acknowledging his sentiment. “Was there a reason you showed up?”
“I received a tip a drug deal was going down.” He braced himself for her reaction.
Her mouth pressed in a firm line as annoyance darkened her eyes. For a long moment she stared at him. “What will it take to convince you the center is legit?” she finally asked.
Good question. One he didn’t have an answer for. There was no reason not to believe the pretty detective was all she seemed. Hardworking, dedicated and professional.
Maybe he was letting his own issues cloud his judgment. But that didn’t explain why she had a known drug user on the youth center’s property. “What was Zane doing here? And why were you asking him about your nephew?”
Melody sighed and struggled to put her thought process into word
s. “I reached out to him. I admit it was a long shot, but it occurred to me since Daniel’s grave had been defiled last month that maybe the break-in had something to do with his case. Since I have the files and evidence from that night in my office, it made sense.”
She sighed and leaned against the railing. “I was hoping Zane would have remembered something or would say something to help me figure out what happened and why Daniel’s grave had been tampered with after all this time.” Instead she was left with more unanswered questions.
“I’m sure it must be hard not knowing who killed your nephew.” Sympathy tinged Parker’s voice.
“It is.” Stinging sadness swept through her like a cold wind. “It shouldn’t have happened. If only something like the youth center had been around when Daniel had been alive, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten mixed up in drugs. Maybe he wouldn’t have been in the Lost Woods that night.”
“I was there the night Daniel Jones was killed,” Parker confessed quietly.
She sucked in a sharp breath. She knew that from the reports, but his statement hadn’t been any different than the other officers’. A burst of hope shot through her. Maybe he remembered something he hadn’t put in his report. Would he have the answers she sought? “Tell me what you remember. What did you see?”
“Sherlock was on the trail of a scent, leading us through the woods.” Hearing his name, the dog rose to his feet, tail wagging, his big brown eyes on Melody. Parker adjusted his grip on the leash. “We found Daniel amped up on drugs and waving a gun around.”
Melody tried to picture her nephew out of his mind and out of control, but the only images that came to her were of the quiet kid who always seemed slightly sad. Her heart ached for him.
“Daniel shot at the captain.”
She winced. “I’d read that in the reports.”
“Captain McNeal put a bullet in the kid’s thigh as a means to stop him.”