Killing Trail: A Timber Creek K-9 Mystery

by Margaret Mizushima

  Once inside, Mattie gave Robo one of the small Milk-Bones she kept handy in a bowl on the counter. Though he took it, he gave her a look that said he knew she’d taken him away from something better.

  “You can chew your bone later. But now you’re going to wait here while I go out for a little while.”

  Mattie checked his water bowl and, finding it full, grabbed the keys to her patrol car.

  “You be good while I’m gone. I’ll be back soon.”

  As she left, Robo watched with a hangdog expression that made her want to take him with her.

  After turning onto the highway, she headed out of town. About a mile outside the city limits, she turned down the lane that led to the vet clinic.

  As she drove past the log home that belonged to the vet, Mattie noticed that lights were on inside. She wondered about his family. She’d seen his wife around town, one of those gorgeous women who always looked perfect. She knew they had kids—she’d seen two girls with their mother—and she’d noticed the doctor before, too. With his walnut-colored hair and eyes and rugged good looks, he was hard to miss.

  She’d also heard that the vet’s wife had left him. It was amazing the things you picked up when you were having dinner at Clucken House.

  She pulled up in front of the clinic, exited the patrol car, and went to the front door. Finding it unlocked, she let herself into the lobby.

  “Come on in here,” the vet called from the other room.

  Going through the swinging door, Mattie saw Walker bending over Belle, who was prostrate upon the stainless steel exam table. Mattie’s heart sank. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s had severe diarrhea, and she’s dehydrated. I need to get her started on some fluids.” Walker handed Mattie a green lab coat. “Wear this to protect your clothing. Could you help hold her while I put in an IV?”

  “Sure.” Mattie put on the lab coat and then reached to pick up Belle’s foreleg. The dog’s fur was matted and dirty . . . and she reeked. Seeing the beautiful animal in such a condition brought an ache to Mattie’s chest. She stroked the white blaze on Belle’s head with her free hand.

  They worked together in silence while Walker shaved a patch of hair off the inside of Belle’s leg. To Mattie, it was obvious the man was dead on his feet. His face was ashen, and circles of fatigue darkened the skin beneath his eyes as if drawn there with charcoal.

  Walker circled his fingers around Belle’s foreleg near the elbow joint and squeezed. “Hold it tightly,” he said to Mattie. “Like this.”

  Taking a firm grip on Belle’s leg with both hands, Mattie tried to hold it exactly like he’d shown her. When the vet poked the IV needle through Belle’s skin, Mattie looked away, but her eyes drifted back in spite of herself. Blood dripped from the open end of the needle when he found the vein, and Walker quickly attached tubing and a bag of fluid.

  “You can release now,” he said as he taped the IV in place with long strips of white tape.

  He moved over to the countertop behind him and picked up a plastic bag. Turning, he held it out for Mattie to see. “I found these in her kennel. She passed them through her bowel. They’re evidently what made her so sick.”

  Inside the plastic bag were several items that Mattie recognized instantly. Balloons. And they were filled with something. Dope.

  Feeling her jaw drop, Mattie raised her eyes to the doctor’s face. “But how did someone get her to swallow it?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. A big, docile Bernese mountain dog like this? Someone probably choked it down her, past her tongue. Then they followed it with something good, meat or something, to make her swallow.”

  Mattie placed a hand on Belle’s head, gazing down at the sweet dog. “Someone used you as a mule,” she said, thinking aloud. The heartache she felt for Belle’s plight turned quickly to anger. “Who could have done this to her?”

  “Maybe the same person who shot her.”

  Mattie’s mind raced. Taking these dope-filled balloons into consideration, the person who killed Grace had to be involved with transporting drugs. Mike Chadron? Did that explain why he and his dogs were missing?

  Walker threw away the wrappers that had come off his supplies. “Thanks for helping me get the IV started. It’ll take a while to drip. You’re free to go if you want.”

  Mattie decided now was as good a time as any to give him the bad news about Grace, even though he looked too tired to handle it. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”

  “What?”

  “We found Grace Hartman’s body this morning. In the same place we found Belle.”

  He looked dumbfounded, shook his head in denial. “That can’t be. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, her parents have identified her body.”

  His breath expelled as if he’d been punched. He looked around, found an exam stool, and sat down on it. “She just got her driver’s license. Was it a car accident?”

  Mattie shook her head and made a quick decision to share the manner of death. He and his daughter would need to know that much in order to set up an interview. “No, she was shot and then buried in the forest. Belle had uncovered her, and my patrol dog found them. We don’t know yet if the shooting was accidental.”

  Walker’s face blanched, and he sagged forward to place his head in his hands. “Good God,” he murmured.

  Mattie gave him a moment, thinking how she would phrase her next questions.

  After a minute or two, he sat up and stared at her with red-rimmed eyes. “How are you going to find who killed her?”

  “Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?”

  “Of course not. She’s just a kid.”

  Mattie gestured toward the bag of dope. “Someone put these balloons inside Belle. Could it have been Grace?”

  “No way! This dog was her baby. There’s no way she would’ve force-fed Belle.”

  “Could Grace have been involved with the drug traffic we’ve been having through the national forests?”

  Walker stood, his hand clenched. “No. Don’t even go that way. Grace was a good kid, a smart kid. She’s an honors student, for Pete’s sake.”

  Mattie tried not to let her skepticism show. There were plenty of honors students across the nation who intellectualized themselves into trouble with the police every day.

  “We’ll need to talk with your daughter. The one you said was friends with Grace.”

  He looked startled. “But she doesn’t even know yet.”

  “I know you’ll need to tell her first, prepare her. But we still need to talk to her sometime in the morning. Maybe late morning?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Your daughter could have information about Grace that we need to know. It’s important.”

  He looked down at the floor, and she could see he was thinking it through. She hoped he’d get past his knee-jerk, protective response. Finally, he nodded. “We’ll set something up. Call me in the morning.”

  “Do you happen to know if Belle came out of Mike Chadron’s kennel?”

  “Yes, she did. Garrett bought the dog as a pup from Mike and gave her to Grace last summer.”

  “What do you know about Mike? Does he take good care of his dogs?”

  “Mike seems like a responsible guy. Keeps health records on his dogs, takes them to dog shows. Appears affectionate toward his animals.” Walker paused. “Why do you ask? I don’t think Mike has anything to do with Belle, other than being the one who sold her to the Hartmans.”

  The information matched what Mattie knew about Mike. Because of the dog kennel, she knew more about him than most of the guys in town. He was in his early twenties, grew up in Timber Creek, and worked as a cook at Clucken House.

  Thinking aloud, she said, “I wonder if he makes much money off the dog kennel.”

  Walker frowned. “Mike wants to make a living off his kennel and quit his job at the restaurant. Usually, he asks me to bill him and set up monthly payments for his do
gs’ care. But the last couple times he’s been in, he’s paid his bill in cash.”

  One thing related to the drug trade was cash, and lots of it. “Do you think Mike would use his dogs as mules?”

  Walker shook his head. “I can’t imagine it, but I guess anything’s possible. Maybe to help pay his kennel expenses? I don’t know. But what does this have to do with Grace?”

  Mattie didn’t feel she could tell him her reasoning yet. She looked back down at the sick dog. “What do we do for Belle now?”

  “I need to x-ray her belly, see if there are any other foreign objects in it. I might as well x-ray her leg while I’m at it.”

  “I can stay for a few minutes and help. I know you have a lot to do here.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a hand with the x-rays. Can you stay for a half hour?”

  “Sure. Then I’d better take this evidence over to the office and get it locked away for the night.”

  Walker fell silent and looked grim as he set up his x-ray machine. His eyes burned as he handed Mattie a lead apron and mitts. “If someone shot one of my girls, I’d kill him.”

  She shared similar feelings. “We’ll track this person down. It’s just a matter of time.”

  He nodded, breathed a sigh, and focused his attention on positioning the x-ray machine above Belle. Mattie watched him, a dedicated father who wanted to protect his children from harm. So different from her own upbringing.

  She decided she liked this person, a feeling that, when it came to men, she rarely allowed.

  Chapter 7

  Cole slipped the x-rays into the clip at the top of the light box, turned on the light switch, and stepped back to view the films. Deputy Cobb stood beside him, apparently as anxious as he to see what they would show.

  The view of Belle’s abdomen looked clean.

  “See this?” Cole said, pointing out various anatomical landmarks. “Here’s her stomach, intestines, and bowel. There’s nothing more inside her.”

  “Good.”

  He turned his attention to the x-ray of Belle’s leg. He pointed out a white spot adjacent to her femur. “There’s the bullet, right there. It looks like it’s lodged against her thigh bone, toward the inside.”

  “Will that be a problem to take out?”

  “It could be. Lots of blood vessels and nerves there. The bone doesn’t appear fractured. We’re lucky about that. We’ll have to see how she is in the morning. I’m guessing she may not be well enough for surgery. It may have to wait until the next day.”

  “Would that be hard on her?”

  “She’d suffer less than she would if I used anesthesia on her in this condition. Besides, we don’t know yet if she’ll recover.”

  Concern filled the deputy’s face, and Cole realized he’d been too blunt. “I bet she’ll pull through. She’s strong and healthy. Let’s move her to the floor, and you can go if you want.”

  Together they lifted the heavy dog off the exam table.

  “Will you be staying with her tonight?” the deputy asked.

  “Yes, at least until I get this bag of fluid into her. Then I’ll see how she looks.”

  “I can take a shift watching her tonight. I couldn’t help but notice that you look pretty beat.”

  Cole drew a hand over his face. “You’re right. I’m going on forty-eight hours without sleep. But you go. You’ve got your own work to do.”

  “After I run this dope over to the department, I could come back for a few hours. You could go to your house and get some rest.”

  Cole looked at Belle, still stretched out on the linoleum. It would take several hours to drip this IV bag of Ringer’s. After that, there’d be nothing more he could do tonight. His body craved sleep, and his eyes were starting to blur. If he could lie down for a few hours, it would make a big difference.

  “I’ll take you up on it,” he said. “Come back when you can, but wash up real well before you go. I don’t want you taking anything to your own dog if this happens to be contagious. I think the diarrhea was caused by the foreign objects in her gut, but you need to take precautions just in case.”

  “Sure.”

  When she removed her lab coat, Cole noticed the angry bruise on her knee. “Did you put some ice on that knee?”

  She glanced down at it as she went to the sink to wash. “No, but it’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

  “Suit yourself,” Cole said, annoyed. He left to go spray down the floor in Belle’s run. What is it with women? They never seem to listen to good advice.

  The deputy appeared in the doorway. “I’ll be back in a half hour or so.”

  “The door will be open.”

  Cole finished up and returned to check on Belle. She raised her head to look at him when he entered the room. Though she didn’t try to get up, he thought she looked better. Sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor beside her, he took out his stethoscope to listen to her lungs. Her breath sounds were good. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

  The next thing he knew, someone was nudging his shoulder. Liv?

  “Dr. Walker.”

  Cole forced open his eyes to find Deputy Cobb bending over him. Remembering that Grace was dead hit him hard in the chest. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes to clear away the mist that filled them. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”

  “Sheriff McCoy came to the station, so I was gone for about an hour. You can go home now and get some rest.”

  Cole cleared a lump from his throat. Picking up his stethoscope, he hauled himself up off the floor. When he knelt beside Belle, she raised her head and licked her lips as if to greet him. Placing a hand on her side, he listened to her heart, steady and even. Her lungs remained clear.

  “I think she’s going to make it,” he told the deputy, watching relief cross her face. He patted Belle. “You’re going to get a bath first thing when you’re better.”

  Belle’s tail beat once against the floor.

  Cole glanced at the deputy. She was watching him, and his eyes held hers for a moment. Again, he had the sense that she observed people and her surroundings carefully with those dark eyes of hers, wary, as if unwilling to be taken by surprise. Grateful for her help, he offered her a smile that he knew would be tinged with his sorrow.

  “I’ll be back in a couple hours. You can call my cell phone if you have any concerns.” He wrote the number on a pad held by a magnet on the refrigerator.

  Deputy Cobb had already put on her lab coat and was settling down on the floor next to Belle.

  “Call if you need me,” he said on his way out.

  Keeping firm control of his emotions and trying not to think too much, Cole went to the utility, stripped off his clothes, and stuffed them into the washing machine. He scrubbed his hands and arms and then put on a set of clean surgical greens. Walking out to the truck, his legs felt like lead. He was almost too tired to drive the few hundred yards to the house.

  At home, lights were blazing from the great room windows. With dread, he realized that Jessie, and maybe even the kids, had waited up for him. He pressed the garage door opener and parked the truck inside. Then he let himself into the kitchen.

  The overhead light snapped on, pinning him against the door.

  “Cole!” Jessie snapped. “It’s about time.”

  “Good Lord, Jess. Cut me some slack here. It’s been a hard night.”

  Jessie looked at Cole hard and apparently tried to swallow her temper. “I’ve been waiting for you, and I’m getting tired.”

  “You’re getting tired?”

  Jessie’s voice softened. “I know. You are, too.” She glanced around the kitchen, apparently looking for a peace offering. “Want something to eat?”

  “No. What I want is to lie down and sleep for an hour or so. There’s a deputy sheriff up there watching that dog. I have to relieve her later, so she can go home sometime tonight.”

  As he spoke, Cole moved through the kitchen and into the great room, Jessie tra
iling behind. He crashed onto the brown leather sofa, slid down into the cushions, and leaned his head back. He stretched his legs out in front of him.

  “What’s going on, Cole? I can tell something’s happened.”

  Cole drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly. His world seemed to be slipping away. And now his original concern about the divorce paled in comparison to the loss of Grace, a girl who’d been like a part of his family. A girl who would never have the opportunity to grow up. How could he tell Angela?

  “Well, Jessie, I’ve had some bad news.”

  Jessie slid down in the chair across the coffee table from him. “What?”

  “First off, I got my divorce papers yesterday.”

  A look of sympathy crossed her face. “That’s hard. But you knew it was coming, Cole. And now you need to move on. You’ve got to find someone to come in and help with the girls. You shouldn’t keep putting it off like you’ve been doing all summer.”

  “And I just learned that Angela’s friend, Grace Hartman, died this morning.”

  A look of profound shock took over his sister’s face. “My God, Cole! What happened?”

  He shrugged. “She was shot.”

  “Someone shot her? On purpose?”

  “I don’t know yet. I suppose it could’ve been an accident, up in the mountains, some poacher. But whoever did it tried to cover it up.”

  Jessie sat in stunned silence.

  “And now I’ve got to get some sleep, so I can think well enough to figure out how I’m going to tell Angie in the morning. Right now, I can’t even imagine it.”

  “Okay. But you also have to decide what you’re going to do about the kids, Cole. You can’t keep going on in this limbo. Now that school’s starting up, they won’t be able to stay with me in Denver for weeks at a time.”

  Cole searched his sluggish mind for a plan. “How long can you stay?”

  “I have to leave Sunday. I need to be in the office on Monday.”

  “Is this still Friday?”

  “Just barely.”

  “I’ll ask Mom to look after the girls this week. Then I’ll start looking for someone to help out.”