by Terri Reed
It had been the right move, considering he was firing on the police. What had he been thinking?
“I know the reports said no one saw the shooter. But can you remember anything that might ID him?” Hope swelled, anticipation surged. She wanted to find and arrest the man who’d pulled the trigger.
“No. I never saw him.”
Disappointment flooded her veins.
“It happened so fast. Whoever fired was good. We scoured the woods for shell casings. The sniper left nothing behind except the bullet that killed Daniel.”
“And there were no prints on the .308 caliber bullet,” Melody stated flatly, adding to Parker’s assessment that the gunman had been careful.
He shook his head. “Unfortunately not.”
Melody’s fingers curled. Whoever had done the deed thought they’d gotten away with it, but she wouldn’t give up looking for the shooter, or finding out why Daniel was in those woods that night. “I’ve been working his case since I came on board. I wasn’t in Sagebrush at the time. I was a detective for the Austin P.D. But after that night...” She swallowed.
Parker touched her hand. The warmth of his skin spread through her, chasing the cold away.
“Your sister, Sierra Jones, died that night, as well,” he recalled gently.
Sierra. A wrenching pain gripped Melody as it did every time she thought about her older sister. “The ME ruled Sierra’s death a suicide. She’d purposely overdosed on sleeping pills.”
It was still so hard to accept. Her sister had been so full of life, so fiery.
“What about Daniel’s father?”
Melody shook her head. “Sierra would never say who he was.”
“She didn’t know or just didn’t want to tell you?”
“I think she knew.” It still hurt that her sister wouldn’t confide in her. Melody consoled herself with the fact that they were nine years apart in age.
Compassion darkened his brown eyes. “I can’t imagine losing both of them in the same night.”
“It was devastating. For both my mother and me.” As far as Melody was concerned, whoever killed Daniel was just as responsible for driving Sierra to end her life.
His gaze took on a faraway look. “When my brother died I remember thinking how cruel life could be sometimes. How senseless.”
Empathy twirled in her chest. He’d lost someone, too. “How did he die?”
His gaze sharpened. “Drugs.”
Her heart sank. “Oh, no. Was he an addict?”
“No. He was fourteen and experimenting. The kids he was hanging with were on the edgy side, not overly bad kids but...it only took one time.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “One time?”
“Yes.” Bitterness laced his tone. “He’d taken a hit of ecstasy that was bulked up with a lethal dose of MCPP, a pesticide.”
She reached out to take his hand, the warm contact comforting. “I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t know what else to say. His comment about the senselessness of life echoed in her head. She wanted to refute his words, tell him that with God, everything made sense, everything had a purpose, but how could she say that in the face of his brother’s pointless and painful death?
Deep inside her, restless doubts stirred.
Lord, increase my faith, her heart whispered as it did every time uncertainty reared its ugly head.
Parker’s hand slid over hers, the pressure firm as if he needed to hold on. “So you can see why even the mere hint of drugs sets me off.”
“I do understand. I feel the same way. I started the center to honor Daniel’s memory. But my hope is to give kids a chance to find happiness without getting high,” Melody explained. She had to make him see the importance of the youth center. “We’ve done good work here. My vision has always been to keep these kids off the street and out of trouble.”
“I’m sure your sister would be proud of you,” Parker said.
She appreciated his saying so. Now if only he stopped thinking the worst of the center... Maybe if he became more familiar with the center and the teens, he’d see that the rumors about drugs here were unfounded. That they were making a difference. “Why don’t you and Sherlock come in? The teens are starting to arrive, now that school has let out for the day. Take a look around. Meet the teens. See for yourself that the rumors are untrue.”
He seemed to consider her offer and then nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
She led them inside the basement entrance. “When we took over the building, we renovated and turned the basement into a gym. There’s a full-size basketball court in here,” she said, pushing open the double metal doors to the gym on the right. Several teenage boys were shooting hoops. “Real hardwood floors and regulation-height baskets.”
“That must have cost a pretty penny,” Parker said as he pressed close to look through the open doorway.
The scent of his aftershave teased her senses. Spicy and tangy, like cinnamon and clove. She breathed in deep, liking the smell. Liking him.
Despite saying earlier she could handle Zane, there’d been a moment or two where she’d experienced qualms about the wisdom of questioning him alone. Even though she hadn’t obtained the answers she was looking for, she was grateful Parker had arrived when he did. She’d known the minute Zane had opened his mouth, he was high on some drug. Who knows what he would have done.
Contrition churned in her tummy. “I owe you an apology and a thank-you.”
Amusement danced in his dark eyes. “Okay, I’m listening.”
He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. Served her right.
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier,” she said. “I know you were only doing your job. I appreciate that you came to my aid.”
“You’re welcome. And forgiven.”
She gave him a grateful smile. She led them out of the gym and down the hall. The beagle’s nose was to the ground as he walked a crooked path at the end of his leash.
“The center used to be an office building,” she explained. She stopped in front of a set of gender-marked doors. “We have two full locker rooms down here as well, complete with showers.”
Sherlock pawed at the door to the boy’s locker room. “Mind if we go in?” Parker asked.
“Sure.”
They disappeared through the door. A few moments later they re-emerged. Parker’s expression had turned pensive. The dog sniffed her boot.
She stepped away. “Everything okay?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. Sherlock lost whatever had him going.”
Melody’s stomach muscles squeezed. She had a strict policy against any and all contraband. Any violators would be arrested. If one of the teens had brought drugs into the center, it would only provide more fuel to the rumors circulating about the center. And give Parker more reason to be suspicious of her and the work they did.
“How did you come up with the funds for the center?” he asked.
She started them walking again. “Several patrons gave the center’s initial start-up money. The Athertons, Dante Frears, Mayor Hobbs and several other business owners. We hold an annual fund-raiser in the fall for the community and usually raise our operating expenses for most of the year. There are two paid staff members and the rest volunteer their time, so the overhead is manageable.”
They took the stairs to the main level. Her office was at the far end near the front door. “This floor has all the classrooms. Jim...you know Officer Jim Wheaton, right?”
Parker nodded. “Yes. I know Jim.”
“He teaches woodworking classes. There are also cooking classes and craft classes. We have a game and TV room with all the latest electronic gaming systems. The local high school basketball coach holds clinics on the weekend as well as supervising open gym time.” She took a breath. “A local nurse gives a free basic health-care class and a couple of women from the Sagebrush Christian Church lead a teen Bible study twice a week. On Sunday evenings, the youth pastor holds a teen worship night.”
“Im
pressive.”
Sherlock started pulling at his leash. Melody raised an eyebrow.
“What is it, boy?” Parker asked and let the leash drop. Sherlock took off with his nose to the ground. He headed straight for the bank of lockers situated against the wall between two classrooms. He started pawing and jumping at the last locker on the left.
Parker’s expression darkened. “Can you open this locker?”
She grimaced and gestured to the combination lock hanging from the lock mechanism. “The key to the lock has been missing for...oh, at least six months. And no one seems to know the combination. I keep meaning to have the locksmith come out to rekey it, but haven’t. There’s nothing in there.”
She hoped. But watching the way Sherlock was attacking the locker, a lump of dread dropped to the pit of her tummy. It occurred to her Sherlock hadn’t smelled anything in the locker this morning so whatever had him agitated now had been placed in it recently. Not good. Not good at all.
The door next to the lockers pushed open and Jim Wheaton walked out. The heavyset officer’s gray eyes narrowed on the dog. “What’s going on?”
Beside her, Melody felt Parker stiffen. “Sherlock smells something,” Parker said in a neutral tone that belied his physical posture.
“We need to get in this locker,” she said, her voice tight with anger.
Jim frowned. “Why? Nobody uses it. Hasn’t for months.”
Several teens crowded around Jim in the doorway.
Melody’s fingers curled with anxiety. “Can you break it open, please?”
Jim sighed heavily. “Yeah. Let me get something.” He turned and groused, “Out of my way.”
The teens scattered, some stepping into the hall, others moving back into the class.
Jim disappeared back inside the room and reappeared a moment later with a pair of bolt cutters, which he used to cut the lock. The locker door swung open.
Melody gasped. “Oh, no.”
She stared at the pile of baggies filled with white powder and recoiled as if a rattlesnake was about to strike.
Someone had a stash of cocaine in the locker. Shock punched her in the gut. Drugs in the youth center. This was her worst nightmare.
She met Parker’s gaze. The accusation in his eyes stung worse than a snake’s bite ever could. Did he actually think she had something to do with this?
“I’m shutting you down,” he said, his eyes cold, his voice hard. “As of today, this place is off-limits.”
THREE
“You don’t have the authority to do that,” Melody protested.
“I’ll get it.” Tension tightened Parker’s jaw as he stared at the drugs sitting on the shelf in the locker. It figured the youth center would be too good to be true. Guess the rumor mill was correct.
Was Melody dealing drugs out of the center? Disappointment flooded his system, yet he had a hard time reconciling those thoughts with the woman standing next to him. The shock in her eyes, the distress on her face couldn’t be an act. Could it?
If she were guilty of dealing drugs through the center, she’d have thought up some excuse to refuse opening the locker. But there’d been no excuses, no hesitation.
He’d give her the benefit of the doubt. For now.
Sherlock jumped up, the nails of his paws scratching the metal locker, then the beagle let out a series of loud barks.
“Good job, boy,” Parker said, absently withdrawing a small white towel from the leather pack around his waist. The towel had been scented with various drugs, which helped train the beagle to sniff out a wide variety of illegal substances and was the dog’s reward for finding the correct stashes.
Distracted by the toy, Sherlock clamped his teeth around the end and tugged. Holding on to the other end, Parker played tug-of-war as a reward for a job well done.
“Who put this here?” Jim exclaimed, staring into the locker.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Parker said, his gaze searching each person in the vicinity. “I want the locker and the bags printed.”
Melody nodded her agreement. “Jim, would you call the station and have them send over Rose and Clay?”
Jim grunted his assent and disappeared back inside the classroom.
Pleased with her take-charge attitude, Parker shifted his attention to the kids huddled in a group watching the action unfold with wary expressions. “We’ll need to get a court order to have the techs print everyone who’s had access to the center.”
Frowning, Melody followed his gaze. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? See what prints the CSU team finds on the baggies and the locker and run them through IAFIS to see if any of the prints pop.”
IAFIS—the FBI’s Integrated Automatic Fingerprint Identification System—would only show those already in the system.
One way or another Parker would find whoever was using the center as a clearinghouse for their drugs. He wasn’t going to let what happened to his brother happen to someone else.
He didn’t think Melody was involved. At least he hoped she wasn’t because he really liked her. Liked her determination and seeming dedication. She appeared sincere and genuine in her earnest attempt to effect some change in the lives of the kids in Sagebrush. His gaze skipped over her lush dark hair and her beautiful face. In all honesty, he liked a few other things about the detective, too. Sherlock jerked on the towel, bringing him back to his senses. The woman had a locker full of drugs. Now was not the time to be noticing her appeal. He shifted his focus to Sherlock. “Drop it.”
The beagle let go of the towel and sat, his tail thumping softly against the floor. Parker put the toy back into his pack, glad for something to do so he could regain control of his emotions.
A young woman with long blond hair came down the hall. When she saw the locker and its contents, her face paled. “Oh, wow. Is that what I think it is?”
Melody took the woman’s hand. “It is.” To Parker, Melody said, “This is Ally Jensen, my assistant.” She turned back to the young woman. “Do you have any idea how that got there or who’s been using this locker?”
Ally shook her head. Her gaze darted to the group of kids and back to the locker. “No. No, I don’t.”
Parker narrowed his gaze on the girl. Could the drugs be hers? “Are you sure?”
Her green eyes shimmered with anxiety. “I’m sure.”
The doors at the end of the long corridor opened and the crime-scene techs walked in.
“Called to the youth center twice in one day,” Rose Bigsby said as she approached. She pushed up her wire-rimmed glasses with her free hand. “Did you have another break-in?”
Melody grimaced and looked as if she might be sick. “Not a break-in this time.” She gestured to the drugs.
Clay whistled through his teeth.
Rose held up a staying hand. “Hold your horses, everyone. With all due respect to Sherlock’s awesome track record for sniffing out the real stuff, we need to test it first, especially considering the whos and wherefores around here...” Her gaze slid to Melody. Parker could hear the unspoken thoughts about respecting coworkers. Rose set the duffel bag she carried on the ground and pulled on rubber gloves. “Everyone back up and give me room to work.”
She opened her bag and withdrew a vial, then carefully opened a baggie, taking a tiny sample and putting it into the vial. The color the substance turned when mixed with the chemical agent in the vial would determine the type of drug.
“Cocaine,” Rose announced, holding up the vial to reveal the purple-colored bottom.
Parker had figured as much. Rose and Clay set to work on fingerprinting the baggies and the locker.
Melody went to the group of kids and talked to them in a low voice. Frowning, Parker walked over.
“If any of you know anything about the drugs, I need you to tell me. You won’t get in trouble for telling the truth,” Melody said.
Parker’s eyebrows rose. Was Melody really that naive to think these kids would reveal anything? If one of them
was involved, they certainly wouldn’t confess. And they would get in trouble.
Was she making this show of trying to find the culprit to throw suspicion off herself? His gut clenched.
What did he really know about her? She could very well be on the crime syndicate’s payroll. Or her partner, Jim, could be. Parker needed to have both officers’ finances looked at, see if either of them had money troubles, because that would be the only logical reason why someone like Melody, who was so smart and competent, would ever betray the oath she took to protect and serve.
As much as he hated the directions his thoughts were taking, he needed to report this to his boss.
And her boss.
They were supposed to be on the same team. If Melody had something to hide, then she’d have to pay the price. That thought didn’t settle well with him at all.
* * *
Melody watched Parker step away to make a call. Tension coiled through her. She needed a plan of action. Get the kids to talk, and then track down the culprit. She would get to the bottom of this situation and prove to Parker the center wasn’t being used for drug dealing. This was a one-time incident. It had to be. But the unease in her stomach taunted her.
“I saw John Riviera hanging around that locker,” Joy Haversham said, drawing Melody’s attention back to the question she’d asked the group of teens gathered in a nervous circle around her.
“Joy!” Tony Roberts made a slicing gesture across his throat.
Melody would be talking to John ASAP. If he were the culprit, then he would pay the price for his bad judgment and illegal activity.
“What? I did,” Joy said. The fifteen-year-old girl twirled a brown curl around her finger. “He was standing there, leaning against the lockers last Thursday night.”
“Doesn’t mean those are John’s drugs,” Tony countered. “They could be anybody’s. This place is easy to get into.”
Melody arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
Tony shrugged. At nearly eighteen, the kid was more man than boy. Had he been the one dressed in black this morning?
She eyed the width of his shoulders and decided no, he wasn’t the man who’d rammed into her and knocked her against the wall. That man had had broad shoulders as hard as bricks. “What do you mean this place is easy to get into?”
