by Sharon Sala
“I have to agree,” Tate said. “Inman’s scars might be worse than we imagined, because that type of damage is overkill.”
“Are we done here?” Cameron asked.
“Yes. They’re going to send copies of the crime scene photos to my computer,” Tate said. “And I’m waiting on a callback to get a location on where Inman’s text message came from.”
Jo was listening to them talk, but she was also hearing something else off in the distance. She did a one-eighty, giving the area a thorough look, but saw nothing to explain what she was hearing.
“Hey, guys, do you hear that?” she asked.
They stopped talking.
“Hear what?” Wade asked.
“I hear a little dog barking.”
“Yeah, so do I,” Wade said.
“I hear it, too,” Cameron put in.
She turned away from the scene and started walking through the debris field, past the lot where the house once stood, and then moved slowly down the block, stopping every few yards to listen. The sound was getting louder, and on a hunch, she stopped and called out, “Hey, Mutt! Come here, Mutt. Where are you, little girl?”
The moment she said the name, the dog began to bark again in earnest.
Wade was right behind her. “Where is that barking coming from? There’s so much crap around here, it’s no wonder we can’t see the dog.”
She pointed. “Somewhere over there, I think,” she said, and kept moving.
She stopped at a pile of debris nearly five feet high, a combination of broken lumber, chunks of insulation and Sheetrock, someone’s rocking chair and part of a kitchen table. There were soggy sofa cushions ripped to shreds, a drapery panel as well as books and broken dishes strewn around it.
She could still hear the small dog whining.
“Hey, Mutt! Hey, little girl! Are you in there?”
The dog yipped once, then whined again.
“Wade, I think the dog is in that pile somewhere,” she said, and grabbed a sofa cushion and tossed it aside.
Wade lifted the rocking chair from the stack, and she reached in and pulled back a slab of Sheetrock. Within seconds, the barking resumed, only louder.
Jo pulled back some more debris and then leaned in so she could see down into the hole. She saw a fuzzy little face and shiny black eyes looking back at her.
“Look, Wade! It’s Bryce Lewis’s dog.”
“How can you be sure?” he asked.
“He showed me a picture. Help me get her out.”
They began moving debris faster now, and finally Wade leaned in and picked up the dog.
The little dog was whining and licking Wade’s fingers as he pulled her out.
Wade grinned. “I’ve got you, girl. Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he said as she kept on licking him.
But Jo was in assessment mode. She’d noticed dried blood on Mutt’s fur and was looking for the source.
“Oh, no, bless her heart! Look, Wade, her paw is cut, and there’s a big gash on her side.” She picked up the torn drapery panel and wrapped it around the dog’s body; then Wade put the dog in her arms. “Poor little girl. Poor little baby. Did you think you were lost forever? Bryce came looking for you, yes he did. I think he loves his little Mutt.”
The moment she said the name Bryce, the little dog yipped again.
Jo laughed. “Yeah, you know who that is, don’t you?” Then she looked up and caught an expression of such longing on Wade’s face that it made her weak. “Wade?”
He blinked, trying to focus on anything but what he was thinking. “Uh…yeah? What?”
“Someone needs to call Bryce and tell him we found his dog.”
“You have his contact information.”
“It’s on my iPad,” she said, and shifted so he could get it out of her shoulder bag. Then she began walking back to the crime scene with the dog, leaving Wade behind searching for the information.
As soon as he found it, he gave the boy a call.
“Hello?”
“Is this Bryce Lewis?” Wade asked.
“Yes.”
“Hey, Bryce, this is Agent Luckett. We just spoke, remember?”
“Yes, sir, I remember.”
“Would you like some good news?” Wade asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“The agent who took your information just found your little dog.”
The elation in the kid’s voice was immediate.
“Aw, man, are you serious? That is so great! Is she okay? Is Mutt okay?”
“She’s got a few cuts, but it doesn’t look like anything life-threatening.”
“This is great! So great! My brother just got home. He’ll bring me right over. Will you wait?”
Wade smiled. “Yeah sure, Bryce. We’ll be waiting,” he said, and then hurried to catch up with Jo, who was already the center of attention back at the crime scene.
Tate was patting the dog’s head, and Cameron had already checked out the cuts. A crime scene tech walked up to take a look and saw the dog’s little pink tongue hanging out.
“Hey, I’ll bet she’s thirsty,” he said, and immediately poured some water from his bottle into a paper cup from his work kit, then set it down on the ground.
Still holding the dog, Jo knelt so Mutt could drink.
“I’ll bet she’s hungry, too,” Jo said. “She’s been trapped in there since night before last.”
“Hey, I have a piece of a sausage biscuit in my cruiser,” an officer said, and headed for his patrol car. He ran back with what was left of his breakfast-on-the-go and handed it to Jolene.
Mutt’s little black nose was twitching as Jo broke the bread and meat into small pieces and fed them to her one bite at a time.
“Poor girl,” she kept saying. “Poor baby… Did you think the world forgot about you? I know how that feels. Scary, huh?”
Wade couldn’t take any more. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away.
Tate started to say something, then let it go. Whatever was happening between them was theirs to deal with on their own.
By now the media that had already been there covering the discovery of the latest body was fully invested in the rescue. They’d been filming Wade and Jo from the moment they walked away on their own, zooming in and catching the entire event from start to finish.
The news crews wouldn’t have been surprised if the agents had found another body, so they weren’t expecting a little dog, and a live one at that. Now they were thrilled to have a feel-good story in the midst of sadness and disaster. They couldn’t have asked for anything better.
And when Bryce Lewis and his brother came driving up in a Jeep less than ten minutes later, and the reporters caught the boy in tears and calling Mutt’s name, they knew this was going to be the perfect footage to end the piece.
The moment Mutt heard Bryce’s voice, she began wiggling and yipping. Bryce dropped to his knees beside Jo and picked Mutt up in his arms. She was licking his face, and Bryce couldn’t quit laughing and crying.
Jo stood and brushed the dirt off her knees and hands, trying not to cry with him.
“This is turning into a good day after all,” she said.
Tate put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Yes, it is. Good job, Agent Luckett.”
She glanced up at him and then looked around for Wade. He was at their SUV. She walked down to where he was standing and pointed at a container of wet wipes sitting on the dash.
“I could use a couple of those,” she said.
He hadn’t heard her approach, and jumped at the sound of her voice.
“Oh! Yeah, sure thing,” he mumbled, and gave her the container.
“That felt good, didn’t it?” sh
e said.
“Yes, it did. Good ears, Jo.”
She smiled absently, still wiping at the grime on her hands, then pulled one more wipe from the canister to finish the job.
“So what happens now?”
He was pretty sure she didn’t mean what was going to happen between them, and shrugged.
“It’s Tate’s call, but unless we get a lead on Inman’s tag, or get a good location off a cell tower to tell us where he was when he sent the text, we’re back in a holding pattern.”
“This is crazy,” she said.
“Well, it’s for damn sure he’s crazy,” Wade said, then took another wipe and gently swiped it down the side of her face. “Puppy kisses.”
The pain in her chest was surely emotional. If it wasn’t, then she was dying from a heart attack. She felt like Mutt, only the debris beneath which she was lost was emotional. She needed Wade to rescue her, just like he’d rescued the little dog.
He’d offered help. She’d held up her hand to let him know she was drowning. Now it was up to him to throw out the lifeline.
“What do we do now?” she whispered.
“You mean about us?” he asked.
She nodded.
His eyes narrowed against the sunlight as a bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck. The erratic pounding of her pulse was visible in the vein at the base of her neck.
He knew she was scared, but so was he.
“I think we take this one day at a time. I’ll do counseling with you, if that would make you feel easier.”
She sighed. “I haven’t had one easy day since I was shot.”
He frowned. “That’s mostly your fault. I tried to be there for you.”
She wanted to be insulted, but if this was going to work, honesty had to come first. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Wade frowned at himself. “That sounded petty and defensive. I shouldn’t have said it. Sorry.”
“Truth only, Wade, or this doesn’t work.”
He hesitated and then held out his hand. “Want to shake on it?”
She smiled. “Yes, I think I do.”
His grip was firm.
Her fingers curled around his palm.
It was as pure a bargain as the day they’d said “I do.”
Tate walked up just as they moved apart and couldn’t resist the urge to tease them. “Got that introduction out of the way, did you?”
Jo blushed.
Wade frowned. “We just made a deal, that’s all. Where are we going from here?”
Tate began ticking off his plan. “I’ll drop Jo off at the hotel so she can resume her investigation into Inman’s finances. I’m going to the morgue. The M.E. has agreed to rush this autopsy for us. Cameron is going to ride with a police officer to the impound yard. I was just informed that the police located an abandoned vehicle with Inman’s tag number and had it towed in to the crime lab. Problem is, the vehicle is a car, which means he’s swapped tags.”
“What do you want me to do?” Wade asked.
“The Missouri State Bureau of Investigation is loaning us an SUV. I’ll drop you off to pick it up. Working on the assumption that our latest victim was homeless, I want you to head down into the area with the heaviest concentration of homeless. Show Inman’s picture around and see if you get any hits. The Stormchaser’s M.O. has morphed. There has to be a reason why he chose a victim who wasn’t a disaster survivor, disfiguring the face and dumping the body in the storm’s debris.”
“Will do,” Wade said.
* * *
One of the perks of Hershel’s chosen motel was the free breakfasts. He’d picked up some doughnuts and coffee from the dining area early on, and was back in his room eating at his leisure.
He was watching live coverage of the Stormchaser’s latest crime scene, riding the high from once more being the media darling. It was interesting watching how the addition of a fourth team member changed their dynamic. The cameras followed Wade and his ex-wife as they walked across the street, and Hershel could tell by the way they were together but not looking at each other that they were both uncomfortable. He knew exactly how he could work this to his advantage.
He finished his second doughnut and was starting on the third when he saw the woman suddenly turn and walk away from where the body had been found. The media followed her exit as if she was some Hollywood starlet walking the red carpet. It pissed him off.
“This isn’t about some agent’s ex-wife! This is about me and my wife!” he yelled, and threw a pillow at the television screen.
He watched as the two agents began digging through a pile of debris, wondering what the hell they were doing in there when it should be all about the body he’d given them, when all of a sudden they were pulling out some muddy ball of fur.
“A dog? Are you kidding me? You saw the face on that body! You saw what I did to him, and all you care about is the rescue of some stray?”
When the camera followed the female agent all the way back, homing in on the way she was cradling the dog in her arms, he felt just as helpless as the day Nola Landry escaped. Hershel could feel his power slipping away.
“By God, I’m putting a stop to this shit before it goes any further. I’m the one in control!”
He stuffed the last of the doughnut in his mouth and then headed for the bathroom to clean up. He knew where they were staying and needed to stake out the place, find their weaknesses and then make his move. He stopped in front of the mirror, staring at his face and trying to judge his best options. If he bandaged himself back up, no one could tell who he was, but it would call attention to his presence. On the other hand, if he left his face uncovered and tried to move around in public, he might as well put a target on his back.
After doctoring the wounds, he opted for the bandages again, took another pain pill and went to get dressed. It was hot as blazes outside, so he settled on blue jeans and a cotton T-shirt, put on the brown mullet wig, packed his Taser and rope, and headed for his truck. He didn’t know how long it would take for them to show up back at the hotel, but he would be waiting when they did.
* * *
Tate talked on his Bluetooth with the Director all the way to the hotel, so Jo didn’t have to worry about conversation. Her energy level had spiked, as if she’d been asleep for three years and was just now coming out of an emotional cocoon. She hadn’t felt optimistic about anything for so long she was afraid it wouldn’t last. But she trusted Wade, and if he said he wanted to work on their relationship, then she knew he would give it his all. She had to be ready to meet him halfway. Before she knew it, Tate was off the phone and they were at the hotel.
“There’s a camera crew,” Tate said.
“Crap,” she muttered.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll drive into the parking garage and let you out inside. You can go into the hotel from there, okay?”
“Perfect,” she said, and began gathering up her things.
“Got everything?” he asked.
Jo put her jacket over her arm, slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and patted her hip to make sure her weapon was secure. “I’m good to go.”
“I don’t know when any of us will be back, so if you get hungry later on and we’re not there, don’t wait on us.”
“Okay.”
“If anything comes up, just give me a call,” he said. He signaled as he took the turn up into the hotel drive, then proceeded into the parking garage.
“See you later,” he said, and braked.
“Good hunting,” she said as she got out and then stepped back as he drove away.
* * *
When Hershel saw Agent Benton’s SUV pull into the parking garage where he was waiting, he smiled, and when he recognized the passenger, his smile widened. Jolene Luckett! When
Benton slowed down to let her out and he realized the woman he was after was suddenly on foot and only yards from where he was parked, he took it as a sign. He grabbed the Taser and a length of rope, and when Benton left the parking garage, he slipped out of his truck and started after her.
The Luckett woman was taller than he’d expected and looked very fit. He couldn’t delay or she would be inside the hotel and out of reach.
He began walking faster. Between the traffic sounds coming in from outside and the soft soles on his tennis shoes, his steps were virtually soundless. He was within spitting distance when she suddenly turned, and when he saw the gun in her hand, he panicked.
* * *
Jolene had shifted the purse strap on her shoulder to a more comfortable position and started walking, keeping her head up, taking mental note of everything around her.
She was passing a big car with tinted windows when she caught the reflection of movement behind her. At the same moment she caught the slight sound of shuffling feet and labored breathing, and that was when her instinct for survival kicked in.
All of a sudden she was three years in the past, walking beside her partner up to an apartment to interview a witness when they heard footsteps running up behind them. She was the first to turn around, but he was the first one shot. The bullet hit him in the back of the head, and he was dead before he hit the ground. She was returning fire even as the bullet hit her. She’d been shocked by how fast a life could end, and now it was happening to her all over again.
She pivoted quickly, her weapon already drawn, and was taking aim at the man coming at her on the run. She saw what she took to be a weapon in his hand, and when he aimed it at her, she fired.
* * *
Hershel fired the Taser only a fraction of a second before she pulled the trigger, and when the electrodes hit her in the chest, it was enough to throw off her shot.
He ducked as the shot went over his head and watched as she went down on her side. Her muscles were seizing, and there was a guttural moan coming from between her clenched lips, but she was looking at him with such hatred that it startled him. He hadn’t scared her. He’d made her mad, and he couldn’t finish her off, because the gunshot would have been heard.
