“Everything OK with the kids?” Matt worried about them—and her. The Taggert family had suffered more than its share of tragedy.
“Not really, but I don’t have time to get into it now,” she said. “I need to ask you for a favor. You and Brody.”
He could hear wind and voices in the background. Someone yelled for the chief deputy. Disappointment poked him. She was at a scene. She wasn’t calling him back for personal reasons. This was business.
“How can we help?” he asked.
“I have an unusual situation.” She explained her current case, a shooting with little evidence other than a single, less-than-ideal witness. “I need to track the shooter. I can’t get a K-9 team until late afternoon, and there’s more snow on the way. I know it’s asking a lot, but is there any way you and Brody could try?”
Matt reached down and rested his hand on Brody’s head. The dog’s ears came forward, as if he could hear Bree’s voice and understood the conversation. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise Matt if he could. Brody was the most intelligent animal he’d ever encountered. Energy vibrated off the big dog, and his tail began to sweep back and forth across the tile. Matt often wondered which one of them missed the work more.
“Brody says he’d love to help,” Matt said. “I have something I’d like to talk to you about anyway.” Considering Bree had been avoiding him, doing her a favor might make her more likely to cooperate with him. “Where are you?”
“Thank you.” Her voice rang with relief as she gave him the location.
“We’ll be there ASAP.” He ended the call.
Brody whined.
“Yeah. We’re going out,” Matt assured him. He sent Greta into her crate and gathered his gear. Brody was waiting at the door when he was ready. They went out to his Suburban. Brody rode shotgun. Matt cracked the window, and the dog pressed his nose to the opening. The dog vibrated with excitement.
As if he knew they had work to do.
Forty minutes after Bree’s call, Matt parked his Suburban in the clearing behind three deputies’ vehicles and the sheriff’s SUV. He climbed out of his driver’s seat and held the door for Brody. After he snapped the leash onto his dog’s collar, the big dog jumped down from the vehicle and stumbled when his front paws hit the ground.
“You OK, buddy?” Matt knelt next to his dog. Normally, Brody was agile and sure-footed. Matt inspected the ground, which glittered with patches of ice.
Damn it.
Brody pulled toward the uniformed men gathered in front of a cabin.
“OK. We’ll get on with it.” Matt stood and brushed snow off his cargo pants.
The wind and dampness hit him square in the face, and the air smelled like snow. The dog was right. They’d better get moving. He opened the cargo hatch, took out his pack, and hefted it over one shoulder. Searches could be unpredictable. Matt liked to be prepared. He tugged on a hat and a pair of warm gloves.
Brody whined, spotting Chief Deputy Todd Harvey standing next to his cruiser twenty feet away. The dog’s tail wagged in big sweeps. Matt let the dog pull him toward the deputy.
“Hey, Brody.” Todd rubbed Brody’s ears. “There’s a good boy. How’ve ya been?”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t rate a greeting?”
Still patting the dog, Todd looked up. “You’re OK, but you’re not Brody.”
“Fair enough.” Matt didn’t mind. He preferred his dog over most people too.
Todd pointed to the cabin that sat in the middle of the clearing. “The sheriff is back there with the witness.”
“Thanks.” Matt turned and called Brody to heel. He led the dog around the side of the cabin. He spotted two women through the trees. Even at a distance, he recognized Bree by the way she moved: with purpose. She didn’t waste energy. Every motion of her body was as focused as her mind. In a way, she reminded him of Brody. Once they locked onto a trail, they wouldn’t stop until they’d reached the end.
Bree and the other woman were standing on the edge of Grey Lake. Matt and the dog made their way through the stark, snowy woods. Bree was dressed for the weather in boots and a winter uniform jacket, but she hunched against the wind gusting across the ice.
Winter felt never-ending this year.
She turned toward him as he approached. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tucked into a hat. She wore no makeup, but a clean face suited her. It was the intelligence in her hazel eyes that grabbed him every time.
Underneath her eyes, deep shadows lurked. She’d caught this case only a few hours ago. It wasn’t responsible for any missed sleep. What was worrying her? Was it the same concern that prevented her from returning his text and had caused her to blow off their dinner a few weeks ago? With two orphaned kids, her own grief, and a hot mess of a new job to juggle, her stress level must be off the charts.
“Thanks for coming, Matt.” Bree extended a hand.
“We’ll do what we can.” Matt shook it. The gesture felt oddly formal, considering all they’d been through together. Then Bree’s gaze held his and her eyes smiled at him for an extra heartbeat before she shifted smoothly back into professional mode.
Matt relaxed, just a little.
“This is Alyssa Vincent.” Bree gestured toward the young woman standing next to her. Alyssa’s brown hair and big eyes peeked out from under a wool ski hat. A parka several sizes too large dwarfed her thin frame. From her sunken cheeks, he suspected she was malnourished and gangly under the coat. Her gaze kept darting away from his, and her posture was traumatized and wary in a way that reminded Matt of stray animals that no longer trusted humans for good reasons.
“Nice to meet you, Alyssa.” Matt didn’t reach out to shake her hand for fear of spooking her.
But Brody had no inhibitions. He whined and wagged at her. The girl crouched and stroked his fur. She perked up as she petted the dog. Unlike Bree, the teenager seemed to be calmed by the dog’s presence.
“Alyssa saw a friend get shot here early this morning,” Bree said.
The girl froze, her hand stopping on Brody’s head for a few seconds. Brody bumped her wrist with his nose, and she resumed petting him.
Bree continued. “The friend and the shooter are now missing. I was hoping Brody might be able to track them. I hope you don’t need a scent article.”
She’d seen Brody track only once. She had no idea what his dog was capable of.
“No,” Matt said. “It’s not necessary. I’ll take Brody to the place they were last seen. He should be able to pick up a scent from their footprints. But we won’t know whose scent he’s following.”
“We’ll take what we can get.” Bree tucked a strand of hair under her knit hat. Her nose and cheeks were red from the cold.
“Sheriff Taggert?” a deputy called from the woods. “We found something.”
“Excuse me for a minute.” Bree strode off toward the deputy. A minute later, she called for Matt and Alyssa. They followed her voice. She was surveying an area of flattened snow. “Looks like someone stood behind that tree for a while.”
“He was watching,” Matt suggested. “Do you want Brody to follow the scent from here?”
“Yes. Let’s try it.” She instructed a deputy to take Alyssa to the sheriff’s station and make her comfortable.
Matt scanned the expanse of ice.
“Is he ready?” She inclined her head toward Brody.
“Hold on.” Matt knelt and removed his pack, setting it in the snow. He opened a side pouch and took out Brody’s boots.
“Your dog has boots?” When Bree worked with K-9s, she kept her distance, but Matt could still see the frustration in her eyes as she fought her phobia. She did a hell of a job faking it. He would not have picked up on her small tells if he didn’t already know she was terrified of dogs.
“Yes,” Matt said. “The rubber bottoms will give him some grip, protect him from any sharp edges in the ice, and keep snow from accumulating between his pads.”
Brody took three paw-shaking steps before h
e settled into the boots. He didn’t love them, but he’d wear them because he wanted to work. Once he focused on the scent, he wouldn’t even remember they were on his feet.
Brody led them across fifteen feet of ice. The thin ice at the edge of the lake cracked under their weight. The sound echoed across the lake. Matt paused, but the ice held. It became thicker a few feet farther onto the water, but late-winter ice always made him nervous. The frozen lake surface wasn’t completely smooth, and their boots found traction on ridges and other surface imperfections, but they moved slowly.
Bree gestured toward the ice at her feet. “Alyssa says the shooter was standing in this area.”
Brody sniffed the ground, and Matt let the dog have some leash.
Brody sniffed in circles. He put his nose to the ground, then lifted his head to test the air. Within a few minutes, he was off, meandering at first. Then he picked up speed as he settled on the scent.
Matt slid as the dog pulled. He righted himself. “Be careful, Bree. It’s slick.”
Bree followed a few steps behind them. Their pace was slowed by the slippery footing. Brody led them in a path parallel to the shoreline, about twenty feet from solid ground.
“The shooter probably walked on the ice so he didn’t leave footprints,” Bree said.
“Brody doesn’t need footprints. People constantly shed skin cells. They’re as good as flags for the dog.”
Matt controlled Brody’s pace. He didn’t want the dog slipping and hurting himself, especially after his stumble out of the SUV. They continued for twenty minutes, only covering about a quarter mile of frozen lake, before Brody stopped and circled again. Nose in the air, he angled toward the shore.
Flurries began to drift through the air.
“Will the snow hurt his ability to track?” Bree asked.
“It depends. Moisture in the air actually helps hold and trap scent close to the ground. That said, colder environments hold less scent in general. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Since there’s less scent confusion, it could help Brody find and stay on the trail.”
“But?”
“But if the snow accumulates on top of the scent, it can obscure it.” Matt glanced at the sky. “These flurries shouldn’t affect Brody one way or the other.”
“We’re supposed to get several inches later today.”
Matt shrugged. “We shouldn’t waste time, but Brody is very good.”
As if he heard the compliment, Brody pulled ahead, following the frozen shoreline. They walked in silence for a half hour, their progress halting as the dog stopped periodically to sniff and circle.
“Did you hear about the missing university student, Eli Whitney?” Matt asked.
“The one they’re looking for on the riverbank?”
“That’s him.”
Bree nodded. “He’s the reason I couldn’t get a K-9 team this morning.”
“How much do you know about the case?”
Bree glanced at him. “Just what I read on the BOLO alert. Why?”
Matt explained about Mrs. Whitney. “I promised her I’d look into it.”
“The BOLO was issued by the Scarlet Falls PD.”
“Do you know who’s running the investigation?”
Bree nodded. “A Detective Dane.”
“Thanks.”
Brody began to limp.
Matt stopped him. “What’s up, buddy?”
He checked the boots to make sure they weren’t rubbing against his paws.
“Is he OK?” Bree stopped next to him and frowned.
“I don’t know.” Matt straightened. They hadn’t gone far.
Brody turned his head and sniffed the air. He pulled forward, still limping.
“He doesn’t want to quit.” Bree sounded confused.
“He won’t ever give up voluntarily.”
Bree shielded her eyes and scanned the lakeshore. “The public park and boat ramp are just ahead.”
In summer, the park was a popular spot for people to launch boats, kayaks, and Jet Skis into the water.
Matt watched the dog take a few more clearly painful steps. “He’s done. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Even from a distance, Bree could see footprints from the ramp to the parking area.
Matt went down on one knee and checked Brody’s leg and foot again. When he palpated the dog’s shoulder, Brody flinched.
Bree frowned. “Can he walk back?”
“I’ll let him rest for a few minutes.” Matt watched his dog. Did Brody hurt himself jumping out of the SUV?
She started to walk ahead, her steps quickening, her stride gaining an excited bounce. “I see tire tracks in the parking area too.”
The dog moved to follow Bree.
“Easy, boy,” Matt said.
But Brody had a different plan. His nose shot into the air, and he lunged into the leash.
“Fuss!” Matt commanded him to heel.
Brody ignored him. Instead, he sniffed the wind and stared ahead. He lurched forward, dragging Matt to the edge of the lake. Instead of resisting, Matt gave up and let Brody have his head. He’d learned early on that he was holding the dumb end of the leash. The dog knew what he was doing.
Limping, Brody stopped next to the boat ramp. The area around the concrete looked like frozen swamp. Empty water bottles and other pieces of litter were piled up against the ramp and embedded in the ice. Clearly, this was a downstream point that collected debris. Brody sat down and barked.
“What is it?” Bree was right behind him.
“I don’t know.” Matt crouched next to the dog. The thin ice at the edge of the lake cracked under his weight. The sound echoed, and Matt’s waterproof boots broke through, sinking into a few inches of water. He brushed some drifted snow off the ice. Something thin and dark was suspended beneath it. A branch?
“What did he find?” Bree leaned over Matt’s shoulder.
He moved more snow with his glove. The ice cracked further, breaking apart and shifting on the water. The thing underneath was no branch.
Exhaling, he straightened and caught Bree’s eye.
Bree drew in a sharp intake of breath. Something bobbed to the surface between long, jagged sheets of ice.
A human hand.
CHAPTER SIX
Bree lunged forward. At the very edge of the lake, her boots crunched through the ice, and water sloshed over her ankles. The hand looked male. Was it the shooter? Depending on how long the man had been underwater, there might be a chance he could be revived.
She grasped the body by one of the biceps. Matt gave Brody a command. The dog lay down, then Matt took the man’s other arm. Together, he and Bree dragged the body onto the bank. Definitely male. He was dressed only in boxer shorts.
His skin was bluish-gray. Bree doubted he could be saved. But cold-water drowning victims had been resuscitated after being underwater for up to forty minutes. When she’d been a rookie patrol officer in Philadelphia, she’d pulled a kid out of the Delaware River. He’d been in the water for at least a half hour. It hadn’t seemed possible that he had been alive. Not only had he been resuscitated, he’d survived.
Bree rolled the man onto his back and gasped. His face was destroyed, pulverized into a mess of broken bone and ragged flesh.
She jerked backward, then exhaled. “It takes a lot to surprise me.”
Water soaked through her gloves and chilled her hands for two shallow breaths. There would be no euphoric feeling of saving a life today.
“I’ll bet.” Matt rocked back on his heels. He was an impressive figure. Snow dotted his short, reddish-brown beard. A broad-shouldered six foot three, with a corpse at his feet, he looked like a Viking warrior on a winter battlefield.
Wind whipped across the lake, empty, frozen, and desolate. Bree glanced down at the brutalized body, and a feeling of foreboding passed through her. The case was going to be freaky. She could feel it in her bones. She had two handguns strapped to her person, but she was still glad to
have Matt by her side.
A few yards away, Brody whined.
Bree shook off her initial shock. There was no need to take the victim’s pulse. No one could survive the injuries to his face and head. His brain was visible in several places.
Shivering, she leaned forward to inspect the corpse’s hands. Some aquatic creatures had been nibbling on his fingers. “I shouldn’t have disturbed the body. He’s been in the water too long.”
“No way to know that until we pulled him out and turned him over.”
“True.”
“The body looks young,” Matt said. “Possibly older teen or twentysomething.”
“Yes,” Bree agreed. The corpse was lean in a way that suggested youth. The victim’s hair was shorn close to the scalp but was too wet for her to determine color. Mud smeared the skin. Plant matter and other lake debris clung to the body. “Could it be the university student you’re looking for?”
“I hope not.” But Matt’s jaw was clenched and his eyes grim. He didn’t want this to be Eli.
“I’ll call the lead detective,” Bree said. “And let him know we have a body the approximate age of the missing man.”
Other than the damage to this man’s face, the corpse wasn’t in bad shape. Cold water had delayed decomposition. A body on land for one week resembled one that had been in the water for two.
Bree stared down at the ruined face. The body had been freshly pulled from the lake, and the victim’s wounds were oddly bloodless. “His whole face is bashed in. I can’t imagine any accidental way that could have happened.”
“Me neither. Nor do I see any other obviously fatal injuries.” Matt exhaled hard. “It would take some serious rage to do that to another human being.”
“It would.” Bree stepped back. “I’ll call the medical examiner.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll get you and Brody a ride back to the cabin too.” She and Matt retreated back onto the frozen lake. She reported the death to the ME’s office, then called Todd and gave him the news. “We’ll need a forensics team over at the boat ramp.” Then she glanced at Brody. The dog looked sad. “I also need a car for Matt and Brody. The parking area is part of the crime scene. Don’t let anyone drive over the existing tire tracks.”
See Her Die Page 4
