Scent of Danger (Texas K-9 Unit)

by Terri Reed

  She remembered Jim’s supposed shock at seeing the drugs in the center. His feigned suspicion of the kids and volunteers. His constant barrage of complaints. All of it was to cover his real activities. Part of her wanted to still give him the benefit of the doubt, to say there had to be a reasonable explanation. But the evidence staring at her in the face taunted that idea like a school-yard bully.

  Jim was dirty. No two ways about it.

  She let out a bitter sigh of resignation. Jim was another man to let her down.

  She lifted her head, her gaze meeting Parker’s. The concern in his eyes drew her up short.

  Show no weakness.

  Stepping away from him, she regained control and ruthlessly cut off her emotions. “We have to call in CSU.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  She spun away from him while he made the call. She studied the room they were standing in. An old, cheaply made desk butted up against one wall. A file cabinet stood in the corner, stuffed so full, the drawers didn’t completely close. On one wall was a white board. Puzzled, she stared at the board trying to make sense of what was written there.

  “That looks like some sort of schedule,” she said, walking closer to scrutinize the times and dates. With each set of numbers was a set of letters.

  Parker came to stand beside her. “It does look like some sort of timetable. And the initials? Recognize them?”

  “I don’t know. If I thought about it hard enough, I’m sure I could come up with several people with the same initials.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Parker moved to the desk. “Let’s see what we have here.” Systemically, he went through the contents, first the top, then the drawers.

  For a moment, Melody watched him. Watched the way his powerful hands handled papers and files with gentle care, keeping his contact with each to a minimum so not to smudge any prints. She studied the lines of concentration on his face, memorized the slope of his nose, the angle of his strong jaw. She’d rather keep her focus on him than the fact she was now investigating her partner.

  With a sharp shake of her head, she turned her attention to the filing cabinet. She started at the bottom rather than the top. She knew Jim well enough to know he’d think the bottom drawer safer than the one on top. Most people would begin a search at the top and work their way down, maybe even giving up before reaching the last drawer.

  Melody tugged the bottom drawer out. Papers crunched against the sides. She removed two handfuls of files from the front and set them aside. When she could slide the remaining files forward, she searched the contents, starting with the last file and working her way to the front. She had no idea what she was looking for.

  When she reached the last of the second batch of files, a folder caught her attention. Her sister’s name jumped out at her from the label. With her heart in her throat, she removed the folder and opened the file. An autopsy report. She frowned. Why would Jim have a copy of the ME’s report from Sierra’s suicide?

  As she scanned the report, the reality of what she was reading crashed in on her. Bile churned in her gut, and she choked back a sob.

  “Melody?”

  Parker’s voice sounded so far away. The file trembled in her hands. She fought to control her reaction but the shock was too great. The awful truth overwhelming. She lifted her eyes and stared into his worried brown gaze.

  “My sister didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered.”

  * * *

  Parker rushed to Melody’s side. She looked like she might faint. He wouldn’t have blamed her. The revelation was staggering. He took the report from her shaking hand and scanned the contents. His gaze slid past the particulars straight to the important part of the matter.

  Probable cause of death: asphyxiation

  Though a large dose of the drug zolpidem was found in her system, along with enough alcohol that alone would have been over the legal limit, there was evidence of suffocation.

  Under the heading of Marks and Wounds the ME had written: Petechial hemorrhaging in both eyes. Faint bruises over the mouth and nose.

  Parker’s gut flinched at the image those words provoked. Someone had held their hand over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air supply. The lethal combination of drugs and alcohol plus lack of oxygen had killed her.

  Official ruling: Homicide.

  There was no mistaking it. The box was checked.

  The medical examiner who’d signed the report in Parker’s hand was the retired ME, John Bale.

  Parker needed to compare this signature with the one on the report that was filed with the county to know which report had been forged. If the signatures matched, then someone had paid off the ME to falsify a new report ruling Sierra’s death a suicide.

  “Did Jim know your sister?” he asked, wondering what the connection was between Wheaton and Sierra.

  Melody shook her head. “Not that I know of.” She gave a dry, humorless laugh. “But apparently there’s a lot I don’t know.”

  He tucked the folder under one arm and wrapped the other around her waist. “Come on. We’ll wait for Rose and Clay outside. We’ll let them do their job.”

  He guided her out of the office, down the hall and out the front door.

  Within a few minutes the place was crawling with uniformed law personnel. Rose and Clay climbed out of the CSU van and with curt nods headed inside. Captain Drexel arrived in a brown sedan.

  Melody explained the situation. Her voice was robotic; her tone detached. She was doing a good job of hiding how horrific the situation was for her. And Parker admired her strength. He hoped she didn’t let the hardness settle too deep. It was one thing to compartmentalize in order to function, and another to internalize. She’d been dealt a devastating blow by learning of her partner’s betrayal. And knowing her background, Parker worried she’d let this incident heighten her distrust of relationships.

  Parker’s own captain arrived, as well. Parker drew Slade aside and gave him a verbal report.

  Captain McNeal shook his head. Sadness filtered the blue of his eyes. “Hard to believe Jim Wheaton was a dirty cop.”

  Glancing over at Melody, Parker’s heart twisted in his chest. “Yes. But we knew there was someone within the department who was working for The Boss. At least now we can plug the leak.”

  “We have to find Wheaton,” Slade said, his voice fierce, his expression determined. “Get him to flip. I want this supposed boss.”

  As did Parker. “I’d like permission to follow up on the medical examiner.”

  Slade nodded. “Whatever you need to do.”

  They turned as Captain Drexel and Melody approached. Resolve set her features into grim lines. Her bright blue eyes were hard like gemstones set against her pale complexion. Parker resisted the urge to take her hand, to offer support. Better to keep up a professional front while their bosses were present. Better to keep a distance for his sake, as well.

  “Detective Zachary tells me there’s a hit put out on her by Wheaton,” Drexel said.

  “Yes, sir. I had credible intel which led us here,” Parker confirmed.

  “Glad you followed the lead.” Drexel leveled him with a pointed look. “Next time I’d like to know if one of my officers is in danger.”

  Feeling the reprimand deserved, Parker nodded. “I take full responsibility for not reporting in right away.”

  “Hardly,” Melody interjected as her gaze locked with Parker’s. “It was my idea to come here first. My wish was to give Jim the benefit of the doubt. I owed him that.” She met her captain’s stare. “My fault. If there’s to be any consequences, I should pay them.”

  She was trying to protect him. Deeply moved, Parker stepped closer to her.

  “I think you both were blessed this time not to have this situation turn deadly. Next time it might not go as well. Keep that in mind,” Drexel said.

  “Yes, Captain,” Melody replied.

  “Yes, sir,” Parker concurred.

  “Parker has asked to follow up on
the medical examiner,” Slade informed Drexel.

  “So has Detective Zachary,” Drexel commented. “They can work that angle together.”

  Slade inclined his head in approval.

  Glad that they would be allowed to continue working the case, and together no less, Parker glanced at Melody to see how she’d take the news. Her expression was shuttered, closing off her thoughts. And it hurt way more than it should to be shut out.

  Yes, he was definitely wading in too far with Melody. If he weren’t cautious, he would find himself in the deep end without a life preserver. Good thing he could swim. But he had a feeling he’d drown beneath the weight of his feelings for Melody. Best to start paddling now and keep a professional and emotional distance between them as best he could.

  With their mandate in place, the two captains left the scene. Parker waited a moment for Melody to say something. She seemed lost in her thoughts, her gaze on the house. Likely trying to digest all that had happened. Her partner was dealing drugs and she’d found out her sister had been murdered. He curled his fingers to keep from reaching for her hand.

  “Let’s head to the county coroner’s office,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

  Glad to see her ready to work, he nodded. The central clearinghouse for the county medical reports was housed in the Sagebrush coroner’s office on the other side of town. When they arrived, they signed in at the front desk and then made their way to the records room in the basement. The place was warm from the day’s heat and smelled musty. Parker explained their request to the attendant, an older man with a wide girth and a lined face that seemed to hold a perpetual frown.

  “Sorry, all requests must be made in writing and go through the brass upstairs,” the older man stated flatly, not deigning to rise from his chair.

  More like the guy didn’t want to be bothered. “We don’t have time for reports. This is urgent.”

  The man shrugged. “Them the rules.”

  “I’m sure Mayor Hobbs would not agree,” Melody said, her voice cold. “Let’s call him and find out.”

  Frowning, the man held up his hand. “Hold on there, missy. I don’t think we need to get the mayor involved.” He hefted his considerable bulk up from the chair and lumbered over to a desk with a computer. “What file do you need?”

  Parker repeated what they’d already told him.

  “Five years ago?” He shook his head. “Hmm, that’d be before the city installed the new-fangled computers.” He pointed toward the rows of boxes behind him. “You’ll have to find the file manually since we’ve only scanned in reports for the last three years.”

  Without a word, Melody marched past the attendant and started searching for the box with the right date. Parker joined her. Patience, he realized, was one of Melody’s many virtues; he, on the other hand, grew antsy as time ticked by. Three hours later they located a box with the correct year written on the outside in big bold letters.

  Parker took the box from the shelf and set it on the floor. Melody immediately rifled through the many files inside.

  “Here we go,” she said, taking a file from the box.

  “Let’s take it to the station,” he said. “We’ll have Clay compare the signatures.”

  Taking their find with them, they hurried down the block to the Sagebrush Police Station. The one-story brick building was thankfully air-conditioned. They found Clay in the crime lab. He was bent over a microscope when they walked in.

  “Hey, Clay, we have a favor we need from you,” Parker said, halting beside the quiet man.

  The CSU technician lifted his head and eyed them warily. “I’m pretty busy.”

  “This shouldn’t take long.” At least Parker hoped not. “We need you to analyze two signatures and tell us if they are the same signer.”

  “Do you have the originals of each document? Because photocopies won’t hold up in court, cuz there’s too much room for error in ink placement, light fractures—”

  “We have them both,” Melody interjected.

  “Okay, good.” Clay led them to a light board. “Place both copies here.”

  Parker opened the large manila envelope and slid the contents out. He placed the two versions of Sierra’s coroner’s report on the board.

  Using a handheld magnifying glass, Clay studied the signatures at the bottom of the two reports.

  “These are the same,” he declared.

  Anger tensed the muscles in Parker’s shoulders.

  Melody pressed closer. “Are you sure?”

  “The J in the name John loops slightly at the bottom of the downward stroke. They’re identical. And in the last name you can see how the signer double backs over the letter A before moving on to the L.”

  Melody stepped back. “Thank you, Clay. You’re a gem.”

  The man moved away from the light board with a shy smile. Parker took the two reports and replaced them in the manila envelope.

  Stalking out of the lab, Melody said, “We have to find John Bale.”

  “Back to the coroner’s office. They should have an address for Bale.”

  This time they talked directly to the current medical examiner, Nolan Rader. The thirty-something coroner had the information they sought.

  “It’s so odd that you’d be asking about Dr. Bale,” Nolan said as he handed over the address for the retired ME.

  “How so?” Parker asked, glancing at the sheet of paper where Nolan had written out the address. Bale had retired to Corpus Christi. An hour’s drive.

  “Dr. Bale called last month. I hadn’t heard from him since the day he left, then out of the blue...”

  “What did he want?” Melody asked.

  “He’d heard about the desecration of a grave. I guess it made headlines all over the state. Anyway, he wanted to know the identity of the person in the grave.”

  Parker and Melody exchanged a charged look. That would be odd if they hadn’t already discovered the man had falsified Sierra Jones’s autopsy report. Clearly, Melody’s cold-case instincts were on high alert also.

  “And you told him the person’s identity?” Melody asked.

  Nolan shrugged. “I didn’t see any reason not to. He was the coroner of record for the boy’s death.”

  Anger darkened her eyes. “He was probably relieved to know it wasn’t Sierra’s grave.”

  Confusion crossed Nolan’s face. “Come again?”

  Shooting her a warning glance, Parker cupped Melody’s elbow and steered her toward the door. He didn’t want to divulge what they knew. He wasn’t sure who to trust. “Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been most helpful,” he called over his shoulder.

  When they were back in the station house, Parker handed Melody the address for John Bale. “You up for a road trip?”

  Purpose lit her expression. “Let’s do it. Let’s nail this creep to the wall and find out who killed my sister.”

  THIRTEEN

  John Bale lived in a retirement community in a posh neighborhood near Corpus Christi Bay. A place that looked too costly even for a retired medical examiner. It was more in the realm of celebrities and former big-time business moguls. But then again, Melody thought bitterly, he’d most likely been paid handsomely for his duplicity. Enough to keep him in style through his golden years. Well, she wondered how he’d like prison life.

  She marched up the walkway toward the front door with Parker and Sherlock at her side. Parker wore his Sagebrush uniform, making him appear intimidating and more handsome than a man had a right to be. Even Sherlock looked smart in his chest vest with the SPD emblem. They worked well together. Both professionally and personally. A team. On so many levels.

  They entered the three-story facility, leaving the May heat behind. The almost frigid air-conditioned temperature made goose bumps break out on Melody’s arms.

  She felt like she’d walked into a library rather than a senior citizens’ center. The bottom floor opened to a central space with balconies overlooking the ground floor, making the center more cav
ernous than the outside suggested. The entryway was lined with bookcases filled with all sorts of books, some old and leather bound and some paperbacks. Inviting cushy chairs were placed in several small groupings allowing for intimate conversations.

  An oak desk sat in the middle, manned by a pretty woman in her forties. And behind her was a game room, complete with a Ping-Pong table, a television with an electronic gaming system being used by two white-haired gentlemen. Chess tables were set up near the windows, as well.

  To the right, Melody could see a dining hall with red linen tablecloths covering various-size tables for groups of two to six. It was all very appealing in a way that she found disconcerting.

  When the time came would she opt for a community like this where she’d be with others her own age? Or would she grow old alone and lonely?

  The question left her feeling a bit melancholy.

  And realization had her heart thumping. She’d always figured she’d be on her own like she’d been most of her life. But a solitary future didn’t appeal the way it once had. She should make more of an effort to form connections. Healthy connections.

  She slid a glance Parker’s way.

  One thing the last few days had made clear to her was she’d isolated herself too much.

  The receptionist’s eyes widened when they walked up. “Can I help you?”

  Melody glanced at Parker. He gave a slight nod, letting her take the lead. She liked that because it made her feel respected. She would thank him later. He, at least, was dependable. Unlike the other men in her life.

  But for how long? a cynical voice in her head asked.

  She shut down the thought and focused on what she needed to do.

  “I’m Detective Zachary and this is Detective Adams.” Melody held out her badge for the woman’s inspection. “We’d like to see one of your residents. John Bale?”

  “Doctor Bale, you mean?” the woman said, her gaze raking over them warily. “You’ll need to sign in.” She gestured to a white binder on the counter.

  Melody printed and signed her name. Parker did likewise.