Trail of Danger

by Valerie Hansen

  He could tell these kids sure thought Dominic Walenski was in trouble. And since they did, that was good enough for him.

  TWELVE

  Abigail clicked off her seat belt and yanked the handle of the door before Reed had come to a complete stop. He checked in with the officers on scene while Abigail scanned the milling throng. Rides and concession stands were still open and the place was packed with New Yorkers and tourists eager to get in a last hurrah before the season ended.

  Kiera ran forward waving a blue satin windbreaker. “I have Dom’s jacket,” the teen told Abigail. “He never leaves it. Never. His mom gave it to him right before...before she left.”

  “All right. That’s good.” Abigail gestured toward the approaching K-9 officer. “Kiera, this is Officer Branson and his bloodhound, Jessie. She’s a tracker. Give the jacket to him and let him get to work.”

  The girl complied, eyeing Reed and Abigail suspiciously. “If you say so but I’m going too. We all are.”

  Hearing her own demand echoing back at her and realizing how off base she, too, had been, Abigail stopped. “We will. But in order for Jessie to work we all have to hang behind. Otherwise we can confuse her. Okay?” She slipped an arm around Kiera’s shoulders to lightly restrain her. “The best way to find Dom is to follow the rules, even if we don’t like them.” A sidelong glance at Reed showed her his raised eyebrows. If the situation had not been so serious she might have smiled at the irony.

  “I’ll stay behind with these guys,” Abigail told him, seeing his satisfaction with her choice.

  He stepped forward, jacket in hand, and addressed the crowd. “Who was the last one to see Dominic?”

  A dozen hands shot up.

  Reed rephrased, eyeing a nearby patrolman. “You talked to that officer, right? Did he work out a timeline?”

  Kiera pressed forward. “Yeah. It was me. Dom was supposed to meet us at our special place.” She blushed. “We like to sit on a fave bench, eat hot dogs and watch the sunset.”

  “It’s not dark yet. What makes you so sure something bad has happened to him?” Reed asked.

  Abigail noted the way he was scanning the youthful faces and did the same. A couple of the boys were looking away as if they were hiding something, so she left Kiera and worked her way to them.

  Keeping her body language relaxed, she slipped an arm around the slim shoulders of each boy and leaned in closer. “Okay, guys. Give. What do you know about all this?”

  The taller of the two twisted away and ducked into the crowd of curious onlookers. The younger child was trapped, quivering. She kept a tight hold. “This police officer is my friend,” she said. “He just wants to help us. Tell me whatever you know about Dom.”

  “He—he said he was gonna score. Be rich.”

  Abigail’s thoughts immediately went to crime. “Drugs?”

  “No! He’d never do that.”

  “Then what? What was he up to?”

  “I don’t know. Honest.”

  “Did you actually see him taken?” Reed asked.

  The teen shook his head.

  “Okay,” Abigail announced. “Everybody listen up. Kiera is going to show Officer Branson where she saw Dominic last and then we’ll back off so his dog can sniff and follow the scent. All of us. Got that?”

  There were enough muttered assents to allay her fears that the kids would stampede through Jessie’s scent trail. Grasping Kiera’s shoulders, she turned her toward Reed and gestured to him. “Lead on.”

  * * *

  Accompanying the teen, Reed guided Jessie toward the boardwalk. They weren’t far from where he’d come upon Abigail that first time and he wondered what was going through her mind. Hopefully, having all those familiar young people clustering around her would be good for her taut nerves. And her lost memory. This was not the method he would have chosen to minister to her, but who was he to argue with God? After all, if he believed divine providence had led him to Abigail before, he almost had to credit the same source this time.

  That was the trouble with faith, Reed mused. Sometimes it was easy to imagine the Lord’s beneficial influence in a person’s life while other times the choices seemed so impossible. It often boiled down to total acceptance or none. Too bad that degree of commitment wasn’t as simple as it sounded.

  Walking ahead, Kiera stopped just short of the boardwalk and waited for him. Yellow crime scene tape was draped across one side of the path while several patrol officers directed regular beachgoers out and around the cordoned-off area.

  “Like I told the other cops, we were right here,” she said. “Dominic promised to be back in ten minutes. It’s been almost a whole day.” Her voice broke.

  Reed stopped short. “You reported that he was kidnapped so that we’d respond right away,” he said. “Why? What’s the rest of the story?”

  She dropped her gaze to her sandals, suddenly fascinated with her toes. “I didn’t say...” Her words faded.

  “Speak up.”

  “I didn’t say he was kidnapped,” she admitted, making a face. “Not exactly.”

  “But you did mention it?”

  The girl shook her head, pink-streaked hair fluttering. “Maybe. I just wanted you guys to find him, okay?”

  “Making a false police report is a crime,” Reed said gruffly. “We can’t afford to run all over the city for no reason.”

  “I had a reason.”

  “So, nobody saw him actually being abducted?”

  “Uh-uh. I just had a really bad feeling when he didn’t come back. He always comes back when he says he will. Always.” Kiera brightened and met his gaze. “Maybe he left to look for the dog again.”

  Reed tensed. “Dog? What dog?”

  “The one he got when he was in foster care. Those parents said he couldn’t keep it so he ran away and ended up here, with us. Dom said a man gave him that dog and told him it was okay, but the dog won’t stay. He runs away a lot.”

  “Why would he worry about one stray dog? New York is full of them.”

  “Not like this one.” Kiera began to sound enthusiastic. “He was like a super dog, you know? Big and smart and all. Dom said we should keep him for protection but he wouldn’t eat good. I mean, we got hot dogs and nachos and stuff out of the trash, like always. He’d just look at the food like there was something wrong with it unless he dug it out himself—or Dom put it in a real dish for him.”

  Reed’s pulse leaped into overdrive. His voice rose. “Was the dog a German shepherd? Was he wearing a collar?”

  “Yeah. He had a metal name tag thingy fastened to it, too.”

  “Snapper,” Reed breathed.

  Kiera startled. “How did you know?”

  “Because he’s one of our specially trained K-9s. He’s been missing since spring.” He presented the jacket to Jessie and encouraged her to sniff it thoroughly as he spoke to the girl. “You go back and find Ms. Jones.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.” Reed was nearly shouting. “Tell her what you just told me about Dom, then stay with the others. Those officers will be the first to know when my K-9 tracks down your friend.”

  And, God willing, Jordan Jameson’s canine partner, Reed added to himself. He was beginning to see where this was going and the possibility of solving Jordy’s murder loomed large. Finding Snapper, locating the missing boy and getting a lead on a ruthless killer all at once might seem impossible to most people, but it didn’t to Reed. Not now.

  * * *

  Kiera dashed at the tears streaking her cheeks as she rejoined Abigail. “I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t mean to make the cops mad.”

  “Mad? What makes you think anyone’s mad at you?”

  “Your cop buddy was yelling.”

  Abigail folded her arms across her chest and stood firm. “Then you must have said something to set him off. I’v
e seen Officer Branson in action and he’s not short-tempered. He’s always acted polite and professional, even when he’s not on duty.”

  The fact that the teen had averted her gaze and was fidgeting told Abigail she was on the right track. “Tell me exactly what he said to you.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Yes, you do. Give.”

  “He was mad ’cause I lied so they’d come look for Dom, okay?” Her voice was shrill, reedy. “I knew they wouldn’t care if one of us kids was lost or in trouble. Not unless I told them a good story. So I said he was kidnapped.” She sniffled. “I don’t know why your cop friend had to make a federal case out of it. I mean, it was just a little fib.”

  Sighing and shaking her head, Abigail got the picture. Many teens didn’t consider the consequences of an act before carrying it out. Their brains weren’t fully developed yet and although they might look mature and try to behave like adults, their inherent immaturity regularly shot them down.

  “Suppose someone else needed Officer Branson and his K-9 while he was here at the beach? What if a little kid got lost or something? Or suppose a murderer escaped because that tracking dog was too busy to chase him?”

  “They’ve got a million dogs. I see ’em all the time.”

  “Not quite that many. That’s not the point. Not all police dogs do the same jobs.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I looked it up.” Abigail gently touched the girl’s thin shoulder. “Look, honey. I know your heart was in the right place. You guys feel responsible for each other. I think of all of you as family, too. But I’d never make a false police report. That sets a terrible precedent. What do you suppose will happen if you need to call for help again? Will they believe you? Huh?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Well, I do. Come on. We’ll start with the officers that came in patrol cars and then ask permission for you to speak to dispatch.”

  “What for?” The teen hesitated.

  Losing patience, Abigail grasped her wrist. “So you can apologize.”

  “No way. Uh-uh. Not happening. Kids get snatched all the time down here and nobody cares. Nobody reports them missing. What’s to say that Dom didn’t really get kidnapped?”

  Abigail froze. Kidnapped. At the beach by the boardwalk. The smaller figure struggling between the two shadowy thugs. Was that what I saw?

  Wide-eyed, she stared at the girl beside her. Could Kiera have witnessed that same event? Was that why she’d sought Abigail out, had been so interested in what she might be able to recall?

  Kiera cringed under the scrutiny. “Hey, why are you looking at me like that? It’s creepy.”

  “You were there,” Abigail said, hoping a forceful tone would carry her through. “You saw me get attacked.”

  Crimson infused Kiera’s pale cheeks and clashed with the pink in her hair. “No way.”

  “Yes way,” Abigail insisted. “That’s why you insisted on meeting with me face-to-face. Somebody must have told you my memory was bad. You wanted to see if I remembered why I’d gone out that night and what I’d seen before I was attacked. Why, Kiera? Who are you protecting?”

  “No-nobody.” Twisting, she tried to free her wrist. “Let me go. That hurts!”

  Realizing she had inadvertently restrained the teen, Abigail backed off, hands open and raised. “Sorry. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Unshed tears of frustration filled her eyes. “Please. If you know anything about what happened to me, or to anyone else, you need to tell the police. At least give them a chance. Give me a chance.”

  “Snitch?” Rubbing her wrist, the wary teen gave a snort of derision. “No way, lady. You can keep your sodas and your food vouchers and your stupid clothes. We’ll do okay without any help.”

  There was nothing more Abigail could say. One moment’s lapse in judgment had probably undone most of the good she’d managed to accomplish all summer. Honesty had cost her the trust of this teen and probably would affect many more by the time Kiera finished retelling the tale and giving it her own slant.

  At that moment, Abigail yearned to rejoin Reed, to tell him her suspicions and ask his advice on what to do next. Looking past Kiera, she scanned the nearly deserted beach. The tide was coming in. A cadre of police officers were sweeping the shoreline with flashlights, following the path Jessie had taken before the waves rose and washed away all traces.

  Abigail shivered. Folded her arms across her chest and hugged herself. One mistake. One little mistake. What had gotten into her? She wasn’t a violent person, yet the grip of her fingers on the teen’s thin wrist had left a temporary red mark.

  She began to mindlessly chafe her own wrist. Sense the unwelcome touch of rough, masculine fingers. She closed her eyes and let the vision develop. Her pulse began to pound in her temples, her breathing the exhausted rasp of weakening prey.

  Abigail could smell the sea and the concessions as usual, but beyond that was an odor of filth and sweat and unnamed revulsion. Her gorge rose. The remembered shadows took tenuous shape with noses and squinty eyes and ugly, ugly grins.

  She gasped. Her eyes snapped open. The image vanished. But she had seen more this time. Much more. Those men had grabbed her, held her arms, kept her prisoner. Her fractured memory was healing. Returning. Piece by piece.

  Inside the fences of Luna Park stood the antique carousel where Reed had found her cowering. She stared at it, hoping for more details. Trepidation now mingled with elation. Unnamed fear was being displaced by the joy of anticipated relief.

  That segment of her escape might still be a mystery, but she was positive it wouldn’t remain one for much longer.

  THIRTEEN

  Jessie led Reed down the shore toward Brighton Beach, then doubled back until they were nearly to the spot where he’d left Abigail and the others. To his right, a line of uniformed officers, augmented by official cleanup crew members in their neon vests, held onlookers at bay.

  To his surprise, Jessie paused, sniffed the air, then plowed straight into the gaggle of teens.

  Reed noted Abigail standing prominently at the edge of the group. Where was Kiera? Had his impromptu lecture helped the teenager understand the seriousness of falsifying her crime report? He sincerely hoped so.

  Instead of stopping to greet Abigail or anybody else, the trusty bloodhound kept her nose to the ground and shouldered through the human barricade at knee level. Jessie was clearly tracking. As long as she was on the trail he wasn’t about to pull her back.

  The clever K-9 circled a hotdog cart, ducked behind the vendor’s portable sign and stopped at the bare feet of a crouching boy, her tongue lolling.

  The youngster cringed but didn’t try to flee. Reed praised his dog, then met the gaze of the small, dark-haired teen. “Hello, Dominic. Where have you been?”

  “I ain’t...”

  The purposeful scowl on Reed’s face was enough to make the boy pause. “Yes, you are. Don’t even try to lie to a police dog like my Jessie. She’s never wrong.” He held out the satiny jacket Kiera had given him earlier. “Lose this?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Where’s your girlfriend?”

  “I got no girlfriend.”

  “Okay. Then where is Kiera Underhill? The three of us need to have a little chat.”

  Reed paused to radio news of Jessie’s success and saw other officers begin to relax and return to their vehicles.

  “Don’t even think about running,” he warned the fidgeting boy.

  “Okay, okay. But it wasn’t my fault.”

  “What wasn’t? What happened here?”

  “I-I heard somebody was down here asking about Snapper. I figured I’d get blamed for losing him so I split.” He raised a hand as if taking an oath. “I didn’t steal him. And I don’t know where he is. The only reason I came back here is because I saw you and your dog going the other way.”
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  Unconvinced, Reed pressed the question. “Suppose I believe you? How can you prove you’re telling the truth?”

  “Um, I don’t know.” The timbre of the boy’s voice wavered from alto to soprano and back down again.

  “Well, you’d better think of something, and quick,” Reed said flatly. “If it was Snapper, there’s no earthly reason for him to have wandered all the way down here by himself.”

  Dominic’s dark eyes sparked. “Hey, I never said I found him here. Some guy gave him to me, back when I was still living in a foster home.”

  So, at least the kids had their story straight, not that he bought it. “Oh, yeah?” Reed said. “And where were you when this happened?”

  He was fairly certain the boy was lying until he said, “Over by Vanderbilt Parkway. Queens.”

  Heart in his throat, Reed bent to stare into the teen’s face, looking for clues that he’d made up his excuse. Deception might be this kid’s modus operandi, but truth lay in his current expression.

  “I can check your former foster placements, you know.”

  “Go ahead, man. Check. That’s where I was when I got Snapper.”

  “So how did you wind up here?” Reed was hesitant to accept anything at face value. The department and his unit had chased down too many false reports and erroneous sightings for him to be easily satisfied.

  “I ran away, all right? And I’ll do it again if you try to send me back there. Those people hated Snapper. I promised I’d get a job to pay for his food but they wouldn’t listen.”

  Softening his tone, Reed asked, “Did you have trouble getting him to eat?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Your friend Kiera mentioned it. There’s a good reason. Snapper and all our dogs are taught to turn down food that isn’t offered by their handlers or trainers. I’m surprised you got him to eat anything.”

  “Is that why he got so skinny? Man, that’s twisted. He could’ve starved to death.”