Scent of Danger (Texas K-9 Unit)

by Terri Reed

  She shook her head. “Only that the man lives here in Sagebrush.”

  Maybe he didn’t want to acknowledge the similarities between Daniel and Dante but he saw it, Melody was sure. “Don’t worry, Jim, I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize our funding.”

  He nodded stiffly. “I hope not. It’s hard enough keeping the doors on the place open with all the rumors of drug trafficking.”

  Melody frowned. “We’ve put those rumors to rest.”

  He shrugged. “People have long memories.”

  Parker and Sherlock appeared in the doorway of the office. “Is this a private party or can we join in?”

  Melody’s heart did a little flip at the sight of him. He looked so good in his uniform. Though he’d been spectacular in his tux, as well. “Come in. We were discussing the rumors that the center is being used for drug trafficking.”

  “Sherlock and I haven’t found any more, not even traces.”

  Satisfaction arched through Melody. “See, nothing to worry about.”

  Jim’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Just don’t go starting any other rumors.” With that he stalked out of the office, brushing past Parker and Sherlock without acknowledging them.

  Parker shook his head. “Is he always so grouchy?”

  “Yes!” Ally nodded in an exaggerated way.

  Feeling the need to defend her partner, Melody said, “He’s not a bad person. I don’t think he ever really got over the death of his wife. And the center has become his whole world. He’s protective of it.”

  “What rumors are you going to start?” Parker asked, alluding to Jim’s parting shot.

  She turned her computer monitor toward him and held up Daniel’s photo so the two images were side by side. “You tell me.”

  Parker studied the images. His gaze then zeroed on her. “You’re not going to give this a rest, are you?”

  She shook her head.

  He glanced back at the photos. “There are similarities but...”

  “But you still don’t think it’s enough to require checking Dante’s DNA?”

  “We don’t have the authority to do that. Even if he is Daniel’s father, that isn’t a police matter. Besides, what point would there be to bringing it to light now? It would only embarrass Dante.”

  “But it could shed some light on why Daniel was so out of control that night.” She couldn’t keep the pleading tone out of her voice.

  “You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that.”

  Hadn’t Jim said that, as well? “It’s what makes me a good cold-case detective.”

  “True.” He let out a resigned breath. “I’ll talk to McNeal. But don’t get your hopes up.”

  Pleased, she beamed. Not only were some of her questions on the brink of being answered, but also Parker believed in her enough to put himself out there by taking her suspicions to his boss. Affection flooded her heart. She could easily find herself falling for the handsome detective if she weren’t careful. But letting her guard down wasn’t something she wanted to do again. No matter how much she cared about Parker Adams.

  * * *

  At dinner last night, Melody had agreed to accompany Parker to church again. So this morning Parker headed downtown to the Sagebrush Hotel to pick her up. As he drove, he realized how happy it made him that she’d let her faith show.

  Her story about her grandfather had touched him, and he was thankful she’d had such a strong and positive influence in her life. Especially given that her father and her husband had both abandoned her.

  He couldn’t imagine what her ex-husband had been thinking. Melody was such a tremendous lady. Kind, smart, fun. Tough, yet vulnerable. Parker had to admit, to himself at least, that she was working her way into his heart. But caring for her was as far as he could allow himself to go. Anything more would only be a disaster. He’d end up disappointing her or hurting her. Neither of which he was willing to do.

  He parked in the garage of the hotel. His phone rang before he climbed out of the car. An unfamiliar number displayed on the screen. “Parker Adams.”

  “There’s been a hit put out on a cop.”

  The words sent a chill down Parker’s spine. He knew that voice and trusted the caller. “Harry, you better have details.”

  His confidential informant cleared his throat. “I’m not 411, you know. I just pass on what I got.”

  “Who’s the hit on?”

  “A detective named Zachary.”

  Air swooshed from Parker’s lungs. Melody. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. “Who put out the hit?”

  “Hey, man, if I tell you that I’m as good as dead. You do your thing and protect the cop and it’ll be good.”

  Rage built in Parker’s chest. No one was going to harm Melody. “I need to know who ordered the hit.”

  A moment of silence met his demand. “Get me a ticket out of this town and I’ll tell you.”

  “Done.”

  “Meet me at the bus station in an hour.”

  Parker checked his watch. “An hour.” He hung up and dialed Melody’s suite, his fingers clumsy on the phone.

  “Hello?”

  Hearing her voice did funny things to his insides. Things he chose at the moment to put on the back burner. Her safety was the priority. And he’d do anything in his power to protect her. “It’s me. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, fine. Are you here? I’ll be right down.”

  The happiness in her voice tugged at him in a way nothing else could. “No. Stay in the suite and away from the windows.”

  “Why?” Her voice sharpened. “What’s happened?”

  He swallowed past a lump of dread to say, “Someone’s put a hit out on you.”

  Her soft gasp echoed in his head.

  “I’m on my way to meet with an informant. I’ll get the details. Until I return, stay safe. Fill Officer Truman in.”

  There was a slight pause before she said, “I will. You be careful, too.”

  “Count on it.” He had to come back to protect her.

  But first he needed to find out who wanted her dead.

  * * *

  The bus station at the edge of Sagebrush’s main drag was busier than Parker would have guessed on a Sunday morning. People must want to start their journeys early. He spotted Harry huddled near the ticket booth. Parker casually made his way through the milling passengers waiting for the bus to open its door.

  The attendant smiled a greeting when he stepped up to the ticket window.

  “Where’s that bus going?” Parker asked.

  “Los Angeles,” the attendant replied.

  Parker glanced at Harry and received a subtle thumbs-up from the older man. Parker bought a one-way ticket, then walked into the restroom. He made a quick sweep, making sure there was no one inside. A moment later Harry shuffled in.

  “It’s clear,” Parker assured him. “Who put the hit on Detective Zachary? Was it The Boss?”

  Harry shook his head. “Naw. But he works for The Boss, so it’s almost the same thing.”

  “A name,” Parker ground out.

  Harry held out his hand. “My ticket.”

  “Not until you give me what I want.”

  “Another cop. Jim Wheaton.”

  The name punched Parker under the ribs like an upper cut. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure. That cop has rousted me a couple times from sleeping in the youth center parking lot. So yeah, I recognized him when he came into the neighborhood last night.”

  “Did you hear him say the words? Actually say he wanted Detective Zachary dead?” Parker couldn’t accuse Jim of hiring an assassin to take out Melody without being absolutely sure.

  “With my own ears. I saw him down on Lost Woods Road. I knew he was up to no good. I followed him. Saw him meet with a couple of thugs. Real nasty dudes. Heard him say he wanted Detective Zachary off the streets by tomorrow. He paid them a bundle of cash. Told them they’d get more when the deed was done.”

  Parker’s
fist clenched around the ticket, crumpling the paper.

  “Hey, don’t ruin it. You’ll have to buy another,” Harry snapped.

  Parker handed over the ticket. “Thank you, Harry. Take care of yourself.”

  Harry snatched the ticket. “I always do. See you later. Or not.”

  He shuffled out of the restroom. Parker gripped the sides of the sink. Fury like he’d never experienced detonated in his chest. Jim Wheaton. Melody’s partner and friend had put a hit out on her. She would be crushed when Parker told her. His gut clenched.

  Not a task he was looking forward to, no matter how necessary. He hated the thought of causing her more anguish, but it couldn’t be helped. She had to know the truth. As did their bosses. But he owed it to Melody to tell her first.

  He hightailed it back to the Sagebrush Hotel and prayed with each passing second for God to give him the words to tell the bad news.

  * * *

  “I don’t believe you.” Melody stalked away from Parker while his words echoed in her head. “There’s no way Jim would do anything to harm me.”

  Parker spread his hands. “What can I say? I’m telling you what my informant told me.”

  “And you trust this informant over me?”

  He frowned. “What? No! But I do trust my informant over Jim Wheaton.”

  “Why? Why would he want me dead?” It didn’t make sense. But then nothing had made sense for a long time now. From Rio’s disappearance to her nephew’s grave being dug up to the drugs being found in the locker at the youth center. Not to mention the break-ins and the threatening note. What was she missing?

  How was Jim involved? If he was involved. She thought about his nervousness yesterday. She’d thought it was due to his concern for the center. What else was going on?

  “Have you reported this?” she asked.

  “Not yet. I wanted you to know first. I hated the thought of you hearing this from someone else.”

  On some level his words pleased her, but she was so upset by his news that she couldn’t take the time right now to analyze what she was feeling. “Look, I’ve known Jim for a long time. Worked with him closely. Can we give him the benefit of the doubt until we talk to him?”

  A scowl deepened the lines between his brows. His eyes grew hard and implacable.

  “Please,” she implored before he could refuse her. “Let me talk to him. I’m sure there’s some explanation. And if it comes to it, I’ll arrest him myself.” Though she couldn’t fathom what that explanation could be. Her stomach roiled. For a moment she thought she might lose the breakfast she’d eaten an hour ago.

  Parker’s expression softened ever so slightly. “For you...we’ll go to his house and talk to him. But we have to inform our captains and we’re not taking any chances with your safety. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’re taking a couple of uniforms with us and getting a search warrant, just in case.”

  Sudden tears pricked her eyes. She wasn’t even sure why. Maybe because for the first time in a very long time, someone cared about her, really cared. “Thank you.”

  An hour later after arranging backup and securing the warrant they were on their way to Jim Wheaton’s residence. He lived in a suburb on the east side of town in a single-level ranch on a quiet street. Parker pulled the Mustang to the curb. Sherlock had his paws up on the back of her seat. His hot breath ruffled the fine hairs at her nape, but she found she didn’t mind. Having the canine with them made her feel even more protected.

  A blue-and-white cruiser stopped behind them.

  Trepidation churned through Melody. She walked next to Parker and Sherlock to the front door, and each step felt like a nail was being driven into her chest. Parker rapped his knuckles against the white painted door. Sherlock sniffed the crack of the door.

  No one answered the knock.

  Melody moved to the window and peered through the open blinds. The living room looked like a tornado had touched down. Tension tightened the muscles in her shoulders. Was this chaos a sign of a struggle or was this indicative of his housekeeping skills? The mess seemed out of character with the man who kept his woodworking tools neat and orderly. “I don’t see him. But the place is a wreck.”

  “We’ll have to come back,” Parker stated.

  “Let’s check the back,” Melody said, not willing to give up so easily. The man’s reputation was on the line, not to mention her life. And the odds of him waiting inside to blow her head off were how high?

  Using caution, she stepped off the porch and across the brown grass toward the rear of the house.

  The back patio had weathered furniture beneath a faded awning. The glass slider was locked. Melody cupped her hands to the glass and peered inside. The kitchen and dining rooms weren’t any better than the living room.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs.

  “Parker!”

  “Here,” he whispered from right behind her. Sherlock nudged her foot.

  “Something is wrong.” Was Jim a victim of violence? Had the same person who’d ransacked Melody’s office and apartment now targeted Jim?

  Sherlock’s sudden barking shattered the silence following Melody’s announcement. The dog pawed frantically at the slider, his nails scraping on the glass, at the wooden frame.

  Dismayed, she lifted her gaze to meet Parker’s. She’d seen the small beagle behave like this once before. At the youth center. When he’d found the stash of drugs in the locker.

  “Only one thing does this for him,” Parker confirmed. “Contraband.”

  TWELVE

  The grim tone to Parker’s voice slid through Melody, and she shuddered with dread. “Oh, Jim, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  And what did it have to do with her? Why did he want her dead?

  Parker turned to the uniformed officer who’d followed them around the house. “We need that search warrant.”

  A lump of apprehension stuck in her throat. Swallowing around it, she shook her head. She didn’t want to believe this was happening. How had Jim become the bad guy? Worry chomped through her. “He could be inside hurt or possibly even...” A deep grief impaled her. “Dead.”

  Sympathy pooled in Parker’s gaze. Her chest heaved as alarm reared. She’d say this qualified for exigent circumstances, which superseded a warrant. “We need to find a way in.”

  “Agreed.” He tugged Sherlock from the door so he could work on the lock. “Not sure I can jimmy this open.”

  “How about a window?” She stepped off the patio and onto the soft dirt beneath what she assumed was a bedroom window.

  She could just reach the edge of the screen. Using her fingernails, she pried the screen loose and popped it out, setting it to the side. Leveraging her hands against the glass pane, she pushed sideways and it slid soundlessly open. Triumph flared.

  “Jim!”

  Only silence met her call. She sent up an anxious prayer. Please, God, don’t let him be dead.

  She gripped the windowsill with both hands. “Give me a boost, please.”

  Parker’s hand gripped her elbow and tugged at her. “I’m going in,” he stated with a determined note to his voice.

  “I can do it,” she protested, unwilling to release her hold on the sill.

  “You don’t know what you’ll face inside there.”

  “I can handle it,” she said.

  “This is someone you know and care about.”

  The truth of his words sliced into her. Horrible images came to mind. Images of Jim broken and bleeding. Whatever he’d done, she didn’t want him to be hurt or worse. “I—”

  “Do you really want to stand here and argue?” Parker pressed. “We’re wasting time. If Jim is inside and hurt, we need to get to him now.”

  The unmovable expression on his face grated across her nerves. He was right of course; they needed to get in there. She released her hold on the sill and moved back.

  He placed Sherlock’s leash in her hand. “Hang on to him.” Her hand closed over
the nylon cord in a tight hold. To the remaining officer, he said, “Keep them safe.”

  The young cop nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Melody couldn’t work up any resentment at the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself and Sherlock. Her only focus was on what Parker would find when he went inside.

  Parker gripped the edge of the window and he easily lifted himself up, swung a leg over and disappeared into the house.

  Sherlock strained at the leash, tugging her back toward the sliding glass door.

  A few seconds later, Parker unlatched the door and stepped back. “He’s not here.”

  A mixture of relief and concern raced over her. Where was Jim?

  Sherlock lunged forward, ripping his leash from Melody’s hands. The dog disappeared down the hall. Parker and Melody quickly followed. They found the beagle in a home office, scratching at a closed closet door. Melody’s stomach clenched. Maybe Parker spoke too soon. Would they open that door and find Jim’s body?

  Parker took out two sets of latex gloves from the pack at his waist. He handed a set to Melody. Grimly, she accepted them. After they’d both donned the gloves, he reached for the handle. Melody braced herself. The door swung open. Sherlock darted forward. His loud triumphant barks echoed inside Melody’s head. She stared at the shelves stacked with plastic-wrapped bricks of cocaine.

  “Good dog,” Parker said, reeling Sherlock away from the offending substance.

  Her face flooded with shock and disappointment. The implications of this find couldn’t be denied. A deep, welling anger expanded through her, chasing away the horror of realizing the man she’d been working with for the past four plus years wasn’t what he’d seemed. She’d been duped. Her trust once again abused.

  The house hadn’t been tossed like she’d first assumed, otherwise the drugs would have been found and taken. These drugs belonged to Jim. And he must have been the one to stash the baggies of the white powder they’d found in the locker at the youth center. And no doubt with the intent to sell.

  Stomach roiling, Melody stumbled back.

  Parker’s strong arms steadied her, drawing her into his tight embrace. She turned in his arms and dropped her forehead to his chest. Tears pricked her eyes but wouldn’t fall.