by Terri Reed
From her place at the back of the room behind the sea of teens gathered to watch Sherlock and Parker’s demonstration, Melody heard a couple of teenage girls sigh. A smile tugged at her mouth. The dog was adorable with his floppy ears and short little legs.
But Melody had a feeling, knowing the girls in question, they were most likely sighing and giggling over the dog’s equally adorable handler, Parker Adams.
She didn’t blame them.
For the past two days, he’d become a regular fixture in the center. Great as a deterrent to any illegal activities, which, any way you cut it, was a good thing for the kids. And, boy, Sherlock was a big hit.
But Parker’s presence was wreaking havoc with her concentration.
The man could make even the most jaded of women look twice. With his brown hair swept away from his face, he exuded a warmth and vitality that drew people to him. His kind brown eyes and charming smile melted even the hardest of hearts.
Melody wasn’t immune to the guy’s appeal.
But getting involved with him in any way other than on a professional level wasn’t going to happen.
She wasn’t interested in a relationship with him or anyone else. After the disaster of her marriage, she still wasn’t ready to try again. The last thing she needed was to have her heart trampled on. Once in a lifetime was enough. She had no intention of putting herself in a position where she could end up hurt and lonely and heartbroken again.
And Parker Adams had heartbreak written all over him.
She’d heard other women in the police department talk about him over the years. Parker was considered one of the town’s most sought-after catches. The fact that he didn’t date anyone more than a few times made Melody think he liked to play the field.
Being another name in some hunky guy’s little black book wasn’t one of her ambitions. She had enough on her plate without complicating things by getting emotionally involved.
“Detective Zachary is going to help me with a demonstration.”
Hearing her name, Melody snapped back to attention and wheeled out the cart full of items she’d gathered from around the center. Parker held up his hand, indicating for her to stop a few feet away.
“Somewhere within one of the items in the cart is a towel doused with the scent of cocaine,” Parker said. “Sherlock is going to locate the towel.”
A ripple of unease ran through the teenagers sprawled on the floor watching. Melody’s gaze searched the kids’ faces, wondering if the anxiety she saw in several of their expressions meant they were carrying some type of the drug on them and were afraid the beagle would head their way.
“Detective Zachary, if you’d scatter the items...” Parker said with a smile.
Nodding, Melody pushed the cart around the basketball court and began dropping various different items on the gym floor. A backpack here, a shoe there, a purse over here, a jacket beneath the basketball hoop. She’d hidden the towel and then washed her hands as Parker had instructed. Though honestly, she hadn’t smelled anything on the towel. Parker must have used pure cocaine because usually if cocaine had a scent it was of whatever the drug had been cut with.
When her cart was empty, she moved off to the side.
“Find it,” Parker commanded.
Sherlock immediately turned his nose to the ground and moved toward the closest item, sniffed, then moved on. Holding on to the canvas leash attached to the dog’s harness, Parker followed, allowing the dog a long lead.
Within moments, Sherlock started pawing and digging at the jacket beneath the basketball hoop. Melody chuckled softly. The dog was spot-on. She’d stuffed the towel down the arm of the jacket.
Parker picked up the coat, fished out the white hand towel and immediately allowed Sherlock to latch on to one end. For a moment they jostled over ownership of the towel. The kids laughed at the dog’s obvious enjoyment of the game.
“Drop it,” Parker commanded softly. Sherlock released the towel and sat, his tail thumping gently against the floor. Parker stuffed the towel into the black pack at his waist. He turned his attention to the group of kids. “Questions?”
Melody took that as her cue to pick up the items she’d spread out.
The kids knew, just as the dog had, that playtime was over. “Can he smell other drugs?” one of the teens called out.
Parker nodded. “Yes. He’s been trained to detect cannabis, heroin, crack and crystal meth. Sherlock’s sense of smell is a hundred thousand times stronger than a human’s.”
An appropriate murmur of awe swept through the room.
“How did you get him to detect the smell of dope? Did you drug him?” Tony Roberts asked with a smirk, as if he’d said something funny.
“No, stoned dogs aren’t very helpful,” Parker replied patiently. “Sherlock went through very intense and specialized training to become a narcotics officer. We have a training facility here in Sagebrush with some of the state’s best trainers.”
“Does he bite?” Misty Quinn asked.
The sixteen-year-old smiled coquettishly at Parker. Melody rolled her eyes as she picked up the last item. Misty flirted with every male she came in contact with, no matter his age. Melody was afraid her need for male attention would be the girl’s downfall.
“No. Sherlock’s job is to find drugs. Not hurt people.”
Parker fielded several other questions from the kids, his patience never wavering. Melody liked that about him. Liked his calm demeanor and the way he focused on each kid, giving them his full attention when addressing them. The same way he was with her.
Every time they talked, he seemed to really listen, to really take an interest in her thoughts. It made her feel special. Which was ridiculous. There was nothing special about her. He treated everyone courteously.
Finally, it seemed the teens had run out of things to say. Melody set the full cart aside and came to stand beside Parker. “Okay, kids. Please thank Officer Adams and Sherlock for coming to talk to us today.”
The teens clapped and started to disperse. Ally and Jim stood by the door with handouts inviting the kids to Friday night’s free pizza and movie party.
“Thank you, Parker, that was great. Very informative,” Melody said. “I think the kids really learned something.”
“I’m glad you thought of this,” he said, his gaze direct and friendly. “I should take Sherlock out for a break. Would you like to come with us?”
The thought of getting outside for a bit in the May sunshine sounded wonderful, almost as wonderful as spending more time with Parker. She hesitated. She wasn’t sure spending time with him outside of the center was a good idea.
Her sister had always said sometimes you had to take chances even if they seemed risky. Otherwise, life was too boring.
“I’d like that,” she finally answered, deciding there was no risk in going for a walk. “Would you mind if we found a latte to go while we’re out?”
“Sounds good to me. We can stop at the Sagebrush Diner.”
“Let me grab my purse from my office.” She sure could use the fresh air. After all, she’d been cooped up in her office at the station for the majority of the day, going over the case file for Captain McNeal’s missing dog, Rio. A new set of eyes, he’d said when he’d handed her the box full of information.
Reading through the notes and witness statements made one thing clear to Melody. Her nephew’s death and the kidnapping of the captain’s dog had to be connected. A dog matching Rio’s description had been spotted near the place where Daniel had died. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Parker and Sherlock followed her to the small office she used when working at the center. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Her heel slid on a white sheet of paper lying on the carpet.
A strong hand gripped her elbow. “Steady there,” Parker said.
The light pressure of his hand sent her senses racing. His other hand caught her around the waist. She leaned against him, inhaling his aftershave, a pleasing scent of spice a
nd man.
She caught his gaze, the warmth in those dark depths made her feel light-headed.
Disconcerted by her reaction to him, she eased out of his hold and bent to pick up the paper. The side facing up was blank. But the other side had writing on it.
As the block letters registered, she released her hold on the sheet of paper as if she’d been zapped with electricity.
The roar of her heartbeat sounded like rapid-fire gunshots in her ears.
“Melody, what’s wrong?”
The concern in Parker’s voice wrapped around her, taking the edge off the fear spiraling through her system. She pointed to the paper now laying faceup on the floor and managed to read the words aloud.
“Stop snooping where you don’t belong or you’ll end up in a grave next to your nephew.”
* * *
A chill chased down Melody’s spine. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Standing in the doorway of her office, she watched as the crime-scene-unit tech, Rose, bagged the offending note.
Parker stood silent beside Melody with his hawklike eyes focused on her. Weighing her reaction.
She wrapped her arms around her middle to keep from trembling. She didn’t want him to know how upset the note made her.
The ominous message kept flashing through her mind. Someone didn’t like her digging into Daniel’s murder. After five years of no leads, what had changed to make his murderer nervous now? And why unearth Daniel’s grave? Did this have anything to do with the break-in to her office three days ago? To the drugs they’d discovered in the locker? So many questions with no ready answers. Her head felt like it might spin right off.
Rose finished up and left.
“You okay?” Parker asked.
The concern in his voice acted like a poker, making her straighten. She lowered her arms. She would not allow herself to show any weakness. Since she was a woman in a man’s world, she had to be as tough, if not tougher, than her male counterparts. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”
He frowned. His warm brown eyes searched her face as if trying to put together a puzzle. He’d find out a piece, maybe two, were missing. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but under his intense regard, found herself faltering, wanting to confide in him that, no, she wasn’t okay. Hadn’t been okay for many years.
It all harkened back to when her father walked out, leaving his two daughters to care for their distraught mother. Melody had lived in a constant state of hyperalertness since that fateful day. Always waiting for the next shoe to drop. And it had, many times over.
Each time leaving her with a gaping wound that took longer and longer to heal.
She dropped her gaze to the beagle at her feet. Sherlock sat at attention, his head up, his ears alert. Leave it to a dog to be the one to sense her anxiety. People, at least most of them, only saw what they wanted to see. If you said you were okay, they believed it.
“Let’s go get that cup of coffee,” Parker said, placing his hand at her elbow and sending an entirely different sort of shiver racing along her limbs.
Grateful to have a direction, she allowed him to lead her from the office. Beside them, Sherlock’s nails clicked on the linoleum as they headed for the exit. Teens filled the classrooms along the corridor.
The smell of a baking confection drifted from the cooking class to her left. A group of teens learning to knit could be seen through the door of the class to her right. The muted whine of a jigsaw blade clearing cedar blocks came from the woodworking room.
Jim and his students regularly made birdhouses and other wood pieces to sell at the Saturday market.
Everyone was going about their business, unaware that Melody’s life had been threatened. She sent up a silent prayer that this danger hanging over her head wouldn’t touch any of the innocent kids or volunteers who came to the center. The last thing she wanted was for someone to get hurt because of her.
Outside, Melody blinked in the bright May sun. She shrugged off her backpack-style purse, pulled open the sides and rummaged around for her sunglasses. Her hand momentarily closed around the chunky watch at the bottom. Her reminder of the nephew and sister she’d lost.
Grief stabbed at her heart.
She blew out a breath. This happened every time she allowed herself to remember. She released the cheap trinket and snagged her glasses. She put the dark shades on and slipped the backpack into place.
Parker took a pair of mirrored glasses out of his pocket and slid them over his eyes. The effect gave him a dangerous edge.
She caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the mirrored lenses. She looked calm, collected. Chin up, shoulders squared. Professional. Just the way she wanted Parker to see her. She ignored the humid heat ratcheting up her body temperature and making her want to strip off her tailored jacket.
They made their way down Sagebrush Boulevard to the heart of the medium-size metropolis. The town was a buzz of activity on this late afternoon. A mixture of cowboy and trendy, up-and-coming affluence made the dress boutiques, businesses and restaurants appear not only quaint, but also appealing.
Melody had liked the town the moment she’d arrived, despite the tragic circumstances that brought her to Sagebrush from Austin. Though Sierra had moved to Sagebrush a few years after giving birth to Daniel, Melody had never visited. Regret that she hadn’t known her older sister better before her suicide lay heavy on Melody’s heart. If they’d been closer, maybe Sierra would have turned to Melody with her anguish instead of taking a lethal dose of sleeping pills.
As they arrived at the Sagebrush Diner, Parker paused near an outside table. “Do you mind if we sit outside?”
“Of course not.” Even though Sherlock was a police dog, he might not be welcome inside.
Parker tied Sherlock to the leg of a chair.
Putting her hand on the glass door handle, Melody said, “What can I get you?”
In two strides, Parker reached her side and put his hand over hers. A tingling warmth shot up her arm and wrapped around her like a light blanket. “I’m buying. You sit. I’ll order.”
Retracting her hand, she shook her head. “Not necessary. This isn’t a date.”
Though the words were true, a small part of her wished this were a date. It had been so long since she’d gone on one, she wasn’t sure she’d even remember how to act.
When he grinned, her heart thudded.
“I know. But humor me, okay? Let me be a gentleman and buy you a cup of joe.”
Appreciating his chivalry, she relented. “All right. Thank you.”
She told him her drink preference and then settled in a chair at the table. It had been an eternity since she’d allowed a man to buy her coffee. Ever since her failed marriage, she hadn’t had the stomach to date. Not even for a cup of joe, as Parker put it.
She hadn’t been enough to make Roger stay. What made her think she’d be enough for anyone else? Certainly not a man like Parker, who could have his pick of women. Going through the painful exercise of loving and losing again wasn’t on her bucket list.
Not that she was thinking, in any way, that she and Parker...
Theirs was a professional relationship. Though it started a bit rocky, it had become more amenable the past few days. She could see why so many of the single females in town thought him a great catch. As long as she wasn’t the one doing the catching.
The slight brush of something cold against her ankle startled her. She scooted her chair back, the metal legs scraping on the concrete sidewalk, creating an irritating noise. She bent slightly to see Sherlock had moved closer. He stared at her and she could almost see a caption over his head saying, “What?”
Parker pushed through the glass door with his hip, carrying a tray with both hands. He set the tray on the table and handed her a white porcelain mug full to the brim with frothy cappuccino. He set an equally foam-laden coffee drink in front of the empty chair across from her and then placed two plates with scones on the table.
He set a full bow
l of water on the ground for Sherlock. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like the lemon poppy seed or the blueberry, so I got both,” he said as he took his seat.
“Thanks. Very thoughtful of you. I like both.”
He handed her a fork. “Good. Me, too. We’ll share, then.”
She blinked. “Okay.”
A little intimate for a professional relationship, but she could go with the flow.
“Who do you think wrote the note?”
Parker’s question settled on her chest like a lead weight. “If I knew, I’d arrest them.”
He nodded and forked a chunk of blueberry scone. “Best guess?”
Frustration tapped at her temple. “I don’t have a guess.”
“Daniel’s murderer?”
“Well, obviously.”
“Why obviously? Couldn’t this be related to something else? Another case you’re working on?”
“Maybe. Captain McNeal asked me to look at Rio’s case file.”
“Okay. That could be it. Though the whole department is searching for Rio, so why single you out?”
A ribbon of unease twisted through Melody. “Why, indeed.”
FIVE
Parker gestured with his fork. “Seems like the threat could be coming from whomever left the drugs in the locker.”
“True.” Using more force than necessary to slice her fork into the scone, Melody tried to contain her frustration. “And like I’ve told you before—I don’t know who the drugs belong to.”
“But you have been asking around, right? You’ve talked to all the teens individually over the past few days.”
She hadn’t realized he’d noticed. She’d started her interviews with John Riviera, the teen seen hanging around the locker. He’d denied any knowledge of the drugs. As did all the kids. Not that she was surprised by their denials. Who in their right mind would confess without a very compelling reason? She sipped from her coffee. “The syntax of the note doesn’t suggest a kid wrote it. It’s too...formal.”
“Good observation.” He sat back, his broad shoulders canted slightly. “So if not a kid, then...there are plenty of adults going in and out of the center.”