by Beverly Long
She gave the command to sit, something dogs were expected to do whenever a trainer came to their kennel. Both puppies hesitated, but were too excited to completely comply. At this point, seeing them hesitate at the command was a sign of progress. They wriggled through the first available space as the gate opened and she let them rush out at her. After slipping a lead over each fuzzy head, she ushered them past the row of other dogs in various states of curiosity and out into the backyard.
Outside, she let the puppies off their leads and gave the command to relieve themselves. Not a difficult command for them to obey and she praised them repeatedly. The positive reinforcement paved the way for successful training. She let them romp and wrestle, burning off a little energy so they’d sleep well until morning. Once the puppies were tucked in after this outing, Danica had a mystery novel waiting for her in the office that she was eager to dive into.
The night was clear and cool, and stars dotted the midnight-velvet sky above the dense trees that backed the training center. Born and raised in Red Ridge, she never tired of the quiet, removed atmosphere. The modest city had every convenience and Danica felt safe here, and apart from the troubles of more populated areas.
More than a few of her friends had raced out of Red Ridge almost as soon as high school graduation was over. She didn’t understand it. Danica’s roots were inexorably tied to this northwestern corner of the state. She’d known at an early age that her affection for and loyalty to the area would weather any storm, be it a flood of the typical minutiae of life in a small city, a winter blizzard or the current drama of a murder spree that had started with her brother.
Grief wasn’t anything new to Danica or her family. As Grandpa Gage often said, the key to living was being courageous enough to find and pursue the joyful moments. In the case of losing her brother, she found joy in the memories and by moving forward in the K9 work they both enjoyed. Finding her life’s work right here at the training center, a source of city pride, had given her a new dream when her first goal to join the police force had been crushed. As a Gage working on the periphery of law enforcement, she had more freedom and less of an uphill battle against the lingering skeletons rattling around in her family’s closet.
She softly called the puppies back to her. For the next year, she would train these two on the basic tasks every dog should know and all working dogs were required to master. Additional training would follow, according to the type of service or task the dog would provide. Danica knew many of the Malinois wound up as security and protection dogs like Nico, capitalizing on their natural strengths and instincts.
Despite the late hour, the puppies were making the most of the outing. At this age, they could be indulged a bit. She had to smother her laughter at their antics. After slipping the leads back on them, she urged them toward the kennel door and heard the snap of a twig somewhere close. Turning toward the woods that backed up to the training center, she called out. “Hello?”
A heavy silence from the deep shadows answered her, interrupted by a sudden flurry of barking from the puppies. They tugged at the ends of the leads, trying to get to the fence. Someone was out there, though it wasn’t the right time of day or the right season for a hunter. Probably kids on a dare, she thought, willing herself to remain calm. “Who’s there?”
She was safe in the yard, behind the five-foot privacy fence and the locked gate. Trying to get the puppies to the kennels became more of a challenge as they were convinced there was something to see. Her nerves getting the better of her, Danica reined in the puppies and hurried toward the open door of the kennel.
She’d taken only a step or two when someone grabbed her from behind. One heavy hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled, pushing and pulling up on the forearm, ducking her chin so she could shout for help or even bite. It was no use. A moment later, she felt a sting at her neck and her legs went limp immediately. She fell to the ground in a boneless puddle and watched the stars overhead wink out as blackness swamped her vision. She heard the whimper of the puppies, felt them head-butting her arms, but she couldn’t move.
* * *
Shane Colton and his K9 partner Stumps, a talented Pembroke Welsh corgi, were taking a long late-night walk. Shane needed the clear night air to think, and walking worked out the kinks after the long drive. They’d just returned to Red Ridge after spending several days on the road, running down a potential lead in an ongoing illegal firearms case for his cousin Finn Colton, chief of the Red Ridge Police Department K9 Unit.
Shane wished he could say the trip had been productive. On the department payroll as a private investigator/informant rather than a police officer, he had a little more leeway with how he collected information for a case. Everyone in local law enforcement had noticed an increase in criminal activity and nearly everyone suspected two brothers, lifelong residents of Red Ridge, were at the heart of the trouble.
Noel and Evan Larson, identical twins, had been a year ahead of him in school and had been raised by their grandmother, Mae Rose, after their parents were tragically killed in a car accident. No matter what the RRPD did, they couldn’t connect the recent criminal activity with the Larson twins. Despite suspicions, no one they’d arrested so far would name the twins and no one in law enforcement dared to embarrass Mae Rose. The softhearted and generous widow was a beloved and respected fixture in town.
Despite their best effort, neither he nor Stumps had found any indication that the Larson brothers had been present at the site where the guns had been delivered. Though Shane had never cared much for the twins, he refused to express a public opinion on a case based on suspicion alone. There was either solid evidence to bring in a suspect or there was more work to do. That black-and-white philosophy had served him well since day one of his career as an investigator.
Shane handled his own investigations in addition to working cases for the RRPD that could take them anywhere in the region if he and Stumps were called to search or support. When he was on a police assignment, he considered it a top priority to make sure evidence was gathered properly and no corners were cut in the quest to close cases.
Off duty now, Stumps led the way at the end of his lead, his white backside waving like a flag as he trotted along, taking in every scent. When he was working, the short and stocky red-and-white corgi was a genius at pinpointing evidence. The finds he and his dog made frequently helped identify the right culprit in their various cases.
From the rear pocket of his jeans, Shane’s cell phone chimed and vibrated with an incoming text message. The display showed the number as unknown, but it was the text message itself that froze Shane in his tracks.
I’m innocent. D
At the other end of the lead, Stumps glanced back, his ears cocked as he waited for a signal from Shane. Shane was floored. The message had to be from his half sister, Demi. It was the first he’d heard of her making contact with anyone since she’d disappeared under the shadow of a murder charge earlier in the year.
He quickly sent a text message back. I know. You okay?
No reply. He waited, willing her to answer. As nothing came through, he sent another text, hoping to prod her into a response. The baby okay?
Still nothing. What was he supposed to do now? More than likely, Demi was texting from a burner phone that couldn’t even be traced. She was tough and capable and if anyone could survive her current ordeal as a pregnant murder suspect on the run, she could. Still, he worried.
Growing up, Shane hadn’t been particularly close to Demi or his other half siblings. Rusty Colton wasn’t an exemplary father, and his four children had four different mothers who didn’t always get along. Lately, though, it seemed as if the four of them were looking to redefine family ties. Shane hadn’t quite decided how he felt about that yet.
So, in the good news category, Demi was well enough to text, but the bad news was that the Groom Killer case was spiraling out of control. To date, four wou
ld-be grooms had been shot through the heart right before saying their vows. Demi was the prime suspect after being dumped by the first victim, Bo Gage, who’d been killed in the parking lot of the bar where his bachelor party was about to take place. He was set to be married to Hayley Patton, his new fiancée, when it happened. Based on the scene, it appeared he had died in the act of spelling out her name with his blood. A piece of her jewelry had been found near the crime scene. A witness claimed to see her running in the shadows of the parking lot soon after the murder. Worse—another witness claimed to see her shoot another Groom Killer victim, same MO: groom-to-be, shot in the chest, black cummerbund stuffed in his mouth. The FBI had sightings of Demi far away from Red Ridge at the time of the last murder. But no one knew what to think.
It didn’t help to have the media hyping up every assault and accidental gun discharge as a potentially linked crime. Media aside, public opinion remained divided between Demi as the prime suspect and someone successfully framing her. Shane couldn’t help clear her name if she wouldn’t communicate.
He glanced at his patiently waiting dog and sighed as he pocketed his phone. “Let’s go.” Clearly delighted, Stumps trotted forward once more.
Shane’s thoughts moved away from the gun deal case to Demi’s situation. He supposed the best first step would be sharing this text with his half brother Brayden. Like Shane, he would be relieved to have some news from her. Brayden was also a K9 officer in the RRPD unit and more importantly, he’d never had a moment’s doubt about Demi’s innocence.
They were on one of Stumps’s favorite routes this evening, following a walking path that wound away from the street and circled the K9 training center, where he’d met and trained with the dog to become an evidence team.
Smart as a whip on the job, Stumps knew how to have fun when he and Shane weren’t working. They were strolling along, Stumps sniffing out every detail of what he’d missed in recent days, while Shane continued to ponder the Groom Killer case. Suddenly, Stumps halted, ears perked. He sat down, his nose pointed at the training center fence.
“I know,” Shane said absently. “We have more classes next month.” He spent working time with Stumps every day, regardless of their caseload. A few times a year, they returned to the training center for various classes to keep them both sharp on the job and current with techniques.
Distracted with two cases playing bumper cars in his head, Shane took another step or two before he realized that Stumps was at alert. Giving the area his full attention, he paused and listened, hearing the unmistakable whine of young puppies on the other side of the fence. Underneath the whimpers, he heard an occasional spate of barking from the kennels. That didn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t be able to hear those sounds so clearly unless a door was open. Something had the dogs riled up. How had puppies wound up in this part of the yard alone?
The training center staff didn’t make mistakes like this with their dogs. Concerned, Shane put a hand on his gun and signaled Stumps to lead the way. Casual walk or not, with a killer roaming around Red Ridge, he didn’t go out unarmed anymore.
Silently, they approached the fence, the sounds of the distressed puppies growing louder. Stumps abruptly sat again, back straight, and nose aimed at the gate as if he could see right through it. Something out of place had grabbed his attention again. Shane peered over the fence and swore.
Sprawled on the ground, her head lolled to one side and one leg bent awkwardly beneath her, was Danica Gage. Two fuzzy puppies, obviously training center newbies, were doing their best to rouse her. The shadows of the woods behind him swallowed the light, and the glow of the security light over the open back door wasn’t enough for him to tell if she was alive or dead.
“Danica?” he called in a hoarse whisper.
Why did it have to be her? Since his return to Red Ridge nearly ten years ago, he did his best to avoid anyone named Gage. Not an easy task in a town originally founded by the Colton and Gage families. Although the dark bitterness lurking inside him urged him to believe the worst of her, that she’d landed in that pose due to her own errors, he knew better.
Danica was a top-notch professional. She’d been their lead trainer when he and Stumps first began working together three years ago. With enough fiery energy packed into her petite body to power the sun, she was dedicated to her career and the dogs entrusted to her. And though he hated to dwell on it, by pairing him with Stumps she’d breathed new hope into his life when he’d been on the verge of giving up.
He glanced at Stumps. “Good boy.” Gage or not, they couldn’t just call this in and walk away. In a perfect world, he’d give his dog a treat and let the police take over. This scene had too many unknowns to wait.
“Danica?” he tried again. The lack of any sounds other than the dogs made him nervous. If her attacker was still lurking around he—or she—was being damn quiet about it.
He thought she was breathing, but it was hard to tell in the lousy light, with the puppies crying and climbing all over her, leads trailing in their wake. They were stepping on her hair and hands, tripping over her legs, and she gave no visible reaction. “Please don’t be dead,” he muttered as he pulled out his phone and dialed the police station for backup.
With the promise of assistance on the way, Shane pocketed his phone again and let Stumps know they were back in working mode as they moved toward the back gate. He was pleased the gate was closed, but it was unlocked. Shane had spent enough time at the training center to know the policy was to keep the gate locked for the protection of the dogs, the staff and the community.
Drawing his gun, he flicked off the safety and let Stumps take the lead as they walked into the yard. One of the hinges squeaked as he closed the gate behind them for the safety of the puppies that were loose. He knew he was potentially contaminating the scene, but he wasn’t about to leave her there until it could be cleared.
Stumps didn’t alert Shane to any further trouble as they crossed the yard and approached Danica’s unmoving form. The worried puppies cranked it up another octave, bracing at the sight of Stumps, while staying close to her.
Shane hoped their behavior meant she was alive, but he didn’t lower his guard. “Stay,” he said to Stumps, before he released the lead. His dog sat, ears perked, eyes on Shane.
Curious, the puppies lurched forward and then tumbled back to Danica, over and over. “Easy now,” Shane crooned to the puppies as he knelt down. Malinois, he saw now, recognizing the distinct black faces, fawn coats, huge ears and long tails. “Have you been keeping an eye on her?” They were so obviously untrained that he didn’t think the puppies posed any threat, but he wasn’t in the mood to wrestle or deal with needle-sharp puppy teeth.
“All right, you two. Move over and let me have a look.”
Shane pressed his fingers to the pale skin of her throat, relieved to find a pulse. Slow and steady, it seemed much stronger than her shallow breathing. Fortunately, an ambulance would be here soon. “Danica?” He smoothed her red-gold hair back from her face, trying to ignore the silky texture against his fingertips. “Can you hear me?”
One of the puppies whined, his tail sweeping across Danica’s face as he strived for Shane’s attention, and the other shoved his head under Shane’s elbow, seeking comfort. “She’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince the puppies or himself.
Glancing back, he saw Stumps watching as if such raucous displays were beneath him. When his corgi was working, that was true enough, yet Shane made sure he got plenty of time each day just to be a dog and give his innate silliness an outlet.
Drawing the puppies aside, he continued to look Danica over. She was slightly built, but her confidence in the training classes gave her such a big presence he always forgot that she was short. Lying at such an awkward angle, her hair tangled, she looked almost breakable. His temper flared at the idea of anyone assaulting her.
There was n
o sign of blood and he struggled against the urge to straighten out that bent leg. He wouldn’t risk moving her, in case there were injuries from the fall that he couldn’t see. Nearby, a siren wailed and flashing lights darted into the night sky. The police department was nearby but an ambulance dispatched from the hospital on the other side of town might take a bit longer.
“She’ll be fine,” he said again, gathering the leads on the puppies. He should take them back into a kennel, yet he didn’t want to leave her out here alone.
Needing a distraction, Shane picked up the puppies. “Stumps, come.” The corgi hustled into action, stopping at Shane’s foot. “Seek.”
He didn’t have any better direction to give the dog. If there was something that didn’t belong in the area, Stumps would find it. The stocky legs carried him all around Danica, and he snuffled where the puppies had rubbed against Shane’s running shoes and jeans.
As he systematically explored the rest of the yard, Shane soothed the puppies and tried to sort out what had happened that Danica landed just like this.
She moaned, her limbs shifting slowly as if she was moving through thick sand. The puppies squirmed in his arms, eager to reach her. Shane was surprised how much he shared the sentiment. He kept a firm hold on the puppies as her eyelids fluttered open. Eyes he knew to be the pale green of springtime stared up at the sky before darting about, finally landing on him.
“Relax, Danica,” he said. “You’re safe now.”
Copyright © 2018 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781488093036
Snowbound Security
Copyright © 2018 by Beverly R. Long
