Chapter 5
Dale backed the sedan out of the garage, wishing he could rewind this case and start over. What had looked simple at first was now complicated and convoluted. With each approaching intersection, he debated leaving Heather behind, but she was too stubborn to accept that graciously.
Barring extreme measures involving restraints and trumped-up charges, her resourcefulness and loyalty would get her to Haleswood with or without him.
Unless Anthony Lester got to her first.
She was unpredictable and possibly so focused on justice as to be borderline unstable—it was better to keep Heather close.
As they took the exit ramp off the interstate, he glanced at her. Her face was blank as she twisted the engagement ring round and round on her finger. “When we get there, what do you expect to do?”
“Help.”
He gave her points for monumental confidence. “It will be a crime scene and you’re not with law enforcement.”
“The dogs don’t care about my credentials. Only my heart.”
“Seriously? We’re risking the cover story I created to help the dogs?”
“We’re going to help Terry too,” she replied, hands fisted in her lap. “He shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”
“I’m sure there are other people at the shelter to assist him.”
“He isn’t there,” she said, her voice low and tight. “Something is wrong.”
“Your brother can figure it out.” He didn’t want to take her any closer to Lester’s operation. This attack, assuming it was related to Lester, felt like a diversion, but she wasn’t ready to hear that yet. “You aren’t the only possible solution, Heather.”
“The shelter isn’t like the FBI,” she snapped. “We don’t have teams standing by for every situation. Volunteers make the whole system possible.”
That wasn’t what he meant, but it wasn’t worth the argument. He’d started to believe he’d never understand her thought process. Not that it mattered. They’d only be together for the next couple of days. He didn’t need to understand her any more than he needed her to understand him.
“It isn’t safe for you to stay too long.” Better if she accepted the facts and limits of both their time and his patience. “It might not even be related to—”
“Do not insult either of us by finishing that sentence.”
Fair enough. He returned to a safer argument. “We’re supposed to be going away for the weekend. To celebrate.”
“You might have noticed that Haleswood is away from Columbia. And the people responsible for whatever happened at the shelter struck when they knew I was out of town.”
“I noticed.” On both counts. The timing of the attack bothered him immensely. What was Lester trying to prove?
“Was last night some attempt to goad them into action?”
“No.” The goal had been to protect her. “I wanted people in Columbia to see us together so they’d assume my mistake was based on a conversation we might have had rather than hard intel.”
“A conversation we had as a couple?”
“Yes.” He made the last turn, the intermittent canopy of live oak trees blotting out the lightening sky. “As I’ve said, keeping you with me is the best way I know to keep you safe.”
“I know how to take care of myself.”
“What a relief.”
“You’re a jerk.”
It didn’t usually take people more than a few minutes to realize that. “I am trying to rectify a mistake. This isn’t about being friends or—”
“No, it isn’t. According to you and your master plan, this is about pretending we’re in love while you catch the bad guy.”
“Love?” His throat went dry at the idea. He knew the word. Had a grasp of the general concept. Neither the word nor concept had a place in his life now or his view of the future.
“Yeah.” She stretched out the word and he felt her staring at him as if he were stupid. “Typically, in our culture, the primary cause for getting engaged,” she flashed the ring, “is love.”
“Uh-huh.” He understood it, even if he didn’t believe in it.
“You asked me to play this part,” she continued. “So don’t blame me if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Because it’s the most viable option. Everyone at the office thinks I’m away for the weekend celebrating.”
“With me,” she said. “A woman you’ve never mentioned and they’ve never met.”
“Yes. My personal life isn’t a cause for conversation at the office.” His patience snapped. How many times would they take this ride? “Look, I’m sorry if my plan here has inconvenienced you. It was the best excuse for me to get a little latitude for the weekend and not be expected in the office.”
“You couldn’t just ask for some time off?”
Not without raising suspicions. He kept the thought to himself as the animal shelter came into view. Heather leaned forward slightly in her seat as if the movement meant she’d arrive a few seconds sooner.
“Dear God,” she whispered. “Whatever happened got everyone up.”
He had to agree. It looked like every law enforcement agency and first response team in the county was well-represented. The small parking lot in front of the building had overflowed onto the grassy area.
“Off or on?” she asked, keeping her hands low in her lap.
“On. We have to sell the engagement.” He sighed. “We have to make them believe our romantic plans were interrupted.”
“That’s no problem for me.” She batted her eyelashes. “You?”
“I’ll manage.” He cut the engine and gripped the key.
“Can you please manage to look less like you knocked me up and I’m demanding millions in child support?”
He pointed to the rock on her finger. “That isn’t the ring a man gives a woman who’s trapped him.”
“Good point.” She smiled and a strange warmth seemed to fill the space between them.
His gaze locked with hers and he watched, unmoving as she leaned close. She tugged at his jacket, bringing him the rest of the way and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips when they met.
“Hmm,” she murmured, licking her lips. “I think the sex would’ve been amazing.”
That subtle warmth ratcheted up to a fiery blast, searing him in less than a second. What the hell? He didn’t… She wasn’t… Crap, now she was interrupting him without saying a word.
“Curtain up,” she said. “Don’t let J.C. give you a hard time.”
He was managing hard all on his own. She tilted her head a bit toward whatever was outside of the windshield. For a split second, his vision full of her luscious mouth, he thought she was simply making it easier for him to continue what she’d started.
Then he saw her brother glowering at them and understood. That kiss would either perfectly launch their performance or get him killed by brotherly rage. At the moment, he wasn’t sure which he preferred.
She twisted around and opened her door, shooting him a grin that held a woman’s deepest secrets. “Let’s go, Special Agent Fiancé.”
It required more than a little effort to pull himself together. There would be time to review the ground rules about kisses and beds and all the rest when they were alone. Clearly she needed a reminder about the limits.
From his research into her background, Heather didn’t enjoy limits much. Not that she broke laws, more that she just avoided conventional behavior whenever possible.
Rather than a career, the woman had chosen a collection of jobs. What the stats had yet to reveal was why. She had the grades and test scores to do anything she wanted, clearly she had a passion for animals and a strong sense of justice, yet she’d turned down vet school and law enforcement careers. Didn’t she have any ambition?
He knew the answer was yes. He’d been close enough to see the drive and determination in her eyes, no matter what smile she put forward. That didn’t mean he’d figured out what her ambitions and life goals were.
Standing, he paused near the car door for his leg to adjust to the new position before he took a step. During his rehab he’d learned the weakened muscles didn’t always cooperate. A few embarrassing face plants in the physical therapy room had taught him caution, especially when there was an audience.
He pressed the lock button and pocketed his keys while Heather greeted her brother with the standard Morris family bear hug.
Over her head, Deputy Morris glared at him, but Dale wasn’t cowed.
“Just dinner?” the deputy asked, shifting so his arm draped protectively across Heather’s shoulders.
“An important dinner,” Dale replied, his voice even.
“Shut up, J.C.,” Heather scolded, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I’m happy.”
The deputy didn’t look convinced. “What’s so bad that you called us,” better to make that much clear right now, “in the middle of the night?”
Morris looked to his sister, then narrowed his gaze on Dale, clearly unhappy with the new dynamic. Welcome to the party. That made two of them. Dale could only hope to delay the inevitable confrontation about his “intentions” with Heather. Despite the rock on her hand, his only intention was to keep her safe—from herself as well as Lester. Morris might understand that objectively—if the woman at risk was anyone other than his sister.
After his overblown reaction to that kiss, it was obvious his body suddenly had other intentions where Heather was concerned. Those intentions had no purpose during their investigation. She was a free spirit and absolutely the wrong woman for a jaded, wounded, workaholic “suit” like him.
Monday couldn’t come soon enough for Dale.
He took a halting step closer to brother and sister, willing Heather to leave the shelter of her brother’s arm. Why did it matter? This was just an act. An act she’d sold well from the beginning.
It was almost a relief when she turned to the deputy. “Show us what you’ve got,” she said.
Blood was always thicker than water, Dale thought, but her use of “us” counted for something.
“They came in through the back,” Deputy Morris began, leading them around the building. “The security system wasn’t forced and the monitoring company has no record of any alarm.”
“Which leads you to believe Terry let them in,” Heather said. “As I said, that’s just not possible.”
“Well, someone managed to figure out the code.”
She snorted. “A few of us had our own, but the master code wouldn’t have been tough to crack.”
“The monitoring company says the master code was used,” the deputy said.
Nearing the open back door, the sounds of barking dogs and unhappy cats grew louder. Dale cringed. “Anything stolen?” Crossing the threshold into the kennels, the smell of blood was a tangible force. He paused, fighting his dark memories of the night op when that metallic smell had been his blood watering a nameless patch of desert.
“Only animals, if the records are current,” Morris said, regret in his voice, as he looked at his sister. “At least that’s what I hope Heather can verify.”
“Shouldn’t that information come from the owner of the shelter?” Dale studied the inside of the door, locks, and frame. All of the surfaces were shadowed where the tech units had dusted for fingerprints.
“The county owns the shelter and the manager is with Sheriff Cochran,” Deputy Morris replied. “Ask anyone. They’ll all tell you no one knows this place better than Heather.”
“I see.” From Dale’s perspective that was all the more reason to keep her far from here, but Deputy Morris couldn’t know that yet. Heather didn’t want him involved in the bigger picture and Dale would respect that for as long as possible.
“I told you volunteers keep this place operational,” she said, sliding her small hand into his.
“Right.” But he didn’t have to like them taking advantage of her. He smothered the errant thought, blamed it on the personal contact and her outstanding acting skills. Nothing about her life was any of his business beyond the purpose of the case. “Come on, Deputy, walk us through the rest of it.”
“They came in the back, cut through some cage locks and used the keys on others.”
“At least two perps,” Dale said.
Morris agreed.
The noise in the kennels changed as the dogs recognized Heather. She made soothing noises as she looked around and her big brown eyes went wide as she turned in a slow circle. It wasn’t a pretty sight with blood spatter staining the floor. Her perpetual smile had faded with her brother’s matter-of-fact recitation of events, but the sadness stamped on her face twisted something deeper inside Dale.
“Have arrangements been made?” She dropped to her knees in front of one cage where a large mutt cowered near the back wall. “Hey, Sal. You’re okay, baby.”
“Arrangements?” Dale asked.
“To move the animals,” Heather answered absently.
“The closest shelters are full,” Morris said.
Heather nodded. “Of course they are. Come on, Sal.” She reached for the latch on his cage. “Come tell me all about it.”
The cage door swung open with a squeak and the big dog lurched to his feet as Heather murmured encouragement. “Such a handsome boy.”
The mutt pushed his head into Heather’s hands and Dale caught the faint sound of tears in her voice before she hid her face in the thick fur behind the dog’s ears.
The dog rumbled, in pleasure or warning, Dale wasn’t sure.
“Hang on.” Deputy Morris stepped forward, pointing at the ring on Heather’s hand. “What the hell is that?” The big dog reacted with a snarl and deep, threatening growl.
“Get back, Heather,” Dale said with the calm detachment he used with volatile suspects. He reached for his gun and the growling increased.
“Stand down,” Heather said, her voice low, her hands rubbing the dog’s ears. “Both of you back off. Hush, Sal,” Heather said, addressing the dog. “They’re the good guys.”
The growling stopped, but the reaction left Dale wondering. “What do you know about this dog’s history, Heather?”
“Not much more than we know about any of them.” She touched her forehead to Sal’s and nudged him back into his kennel. “It’ll be okay, baby. I promise.”
“Heather,” her brother reached for her. “That dog is dangerous.”
She evaded his touch. “Sal’s been traumatized. They have feelings too, J.C., you know that,” she said, moving down the line of cages. She paused to greet each dog by name and she hesitated at the kennels that were empty. “We’ll have to scrub up and reprogram the security system.”
“The place has to be cleared in order to process the evidence.”
Heather spun around and faced her brother. She was not going to stand by quietly while officials compounded the tragic break-in with more death. “Process around these animals. I won’t let you transport them to an overloaded shelter and have them wind up on a euthanasia list just because you don’t like the smell or the noise.”
“You know I’m not that shallow.”
“Prove it.” Her shoulders hitched. “There isn’t a place to put them, so deal with it. Don’t try and cross me.”
“We should go,” Dale said, drawing her attention. “Your brother has work to do.”
“I don’t think we’re done here,” she said, her eyes on J.C.
“Heather,” Dale persisted.
She ignored him. “Where are the animals that were removed?”
“We found two dogs and a cat dead in here.” J.C.’s gesture encompassed the long hallway. “Based on the open kennels and bloody tracks, I sent a team into the woods to look around.”
“Bloody boot print here.” Dale pointed to a print that seemed to aim toward the office.
“We’ll get it processed,” J.C. said. “It’s probably Terry’s.”
Heather picked her way closer to the spot Dale had noticed. “No, this isn’t Terry. He always wears tennis shoes,” she said, continuing her trek through the kennels, knowing exactly which dogs should have been in each space. Her heart seemed to break a little with each beat. “This is wrong.”
“On many levels,” J.C. muttered behind her. “Here’s a question with an easy answer. What is up with that rock on your hand?”
The question pulled her out of her study of the kennel door. The door was closed now, but they always kept it open. There was fabric caught behind the latch, in the same bright blue as the shelter uniform shirts. She crouched low for a closer look. Yesterday afternoon when she’d left, this kennel had been empty, per protocol. It was the closest to the office door and most of the time it was used to hold new dogs while they processed them into the shelter system.
“Is anyone searching for Terry?”
“Answer my question first,” J.C. insisted.
She sighed. “Your priorities are whacked.” This wasn’t the place for this conversation. The animals were stressed out and Terry was missing. Not that any place would be the right one. She’d never been the kind of girl who dreamed of bringing home a fiancé. Besides, right now her feelings were a jumble between her unwise attraction to Dale, the secrets of the dogfighting ring, and that kiss…
“Family trumps all, remember?”
“Is that the Morris family motto?” Dale asked, stepping up behind her. “She hasn’t mentioned it to me yet.”
She took more comfort than she should from having him at her back. His show of support wasn’t personal, but she appreciated it even if it was all an act for her nosy brother.
“One of them,” she and J.C. answered in unison. “Y’know, the polite response when sighting an engagement ring is to offer congratulations.”
J.C. ignored her, turning his anger on Dale. “A little premature isn’t it, Special Agent Nichols?”
“Was I supposed to ask you for her hand? Whoops. I thought that archaic tradition faded away decades ago.”
Gas meet fire, she thought, her own temper fighting to break free and turn this into a real spectacle. Why were men such idiots?
“Not here.” J.C.’s snarl was right up there with Sal’s.
“Not here is right,” Heather said, deliberately misunderstanding J.C.’s definition of the word. “Dale and I will help you search for the missing dogs.”
“We really shouldn’t,” Dale said. “We’ll miss our flight.”
“What flight?” J.C. glared at her.
She rolled her eyes. She’d known it would be messy when her family caught wind of this “engagement”, but she hadn’t thought it would be like this. “Forget the flight,” she said, addressing both men. “We’ll stay and search.”
“Great. But searching can wait another two minutes until we sort this out.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “There is nothing to sort out. Dale proposed, I said yes. Either congratulate us, or get back to business.” She stuffed her hands back into her pockets, hoping putting the ring out of sight would defuse her brother’s reaction.
Dale remained stoic while the muscle in J.C.’s jaw jumped with obvious tension. She counted to ten, but neither man spoke up. “Great. We need to get everyone accounted for,” she said, getting back to the terrible matter in front of them. “The dogs as well as Terry.” He never would have helped with this kind of thing. Her gaze drifted back to the fabric in the latch. Not willingly.
Dale might have made a mistake and revealed her involvement in his haste to close the case, but wanting to protect her friend, she’d been more careful as she’d pulled the facts together. Her caution had led to several extra layers of file storage, backup, and security. She hoped they held up now.
She hadn’t given Dale anything that could lead back to what Terry had told her. To protect him and honor his confidence in her, she’d taken the time, despite the prolonged pain for the animals, and searched out other ways to evaluate the information. It was like a twisted game of Concentration, having a peek at one clue, only to have it disappear again. She’d spent months working backwards to unravel the patterns and timing of dogfighting events and the key people who had surely been involved with planning them.
“We will talk about this,” J.C. said as they walked through the front office.
“Dale and I would love to have you and Eva over for dinner,” she said, referring to J.C.’s fiancée.
“We’d better go out,” her brother said. “Your apartment is too small.”
“My place is big enough,” Dale interjected. “Don’t you think that would be better, sweetheart?”
His hand brushed her hip and a rush of sensations swamped her. She wanted to simultaneously laugh at the absurdity of them as a couple, lean into the warm touch, and cry on his shoulder to purge her fury over this terrible situation.
Instead, she smiled up at him. “I think that would be perfect, darling.”
“Enough!” J.C.’s shout bounced off the cinder block walls of the office.
She jumped. Her brother rarely lost his temper, but even more startling was the way Dale moved in front of her.
“Dial it down, Deputy.”
“Just tell me what’s really going on. You don’t even know each other.”
“I don’t tell you every detail of my personal life,” she said from behind Dale’s broad shoulder.
“You don’t have a personal life,” J.C. shot back. “After Christmas Eve dinner you said he was—”
“Handsome as sin.” She cut him off with a warning glare. J.C. could not be allowed to ruin this narrow window of opportunity. In the past three months, the dogfighters had only grown bolder and a successful raid like this would only fuel their sick confidence.
“An ass,” J.C. finished defiantly.
“That proves she knows me well enough,” Dale said with a short, rusty laugh. “I am an ass.”
“Not all the time,” Heather said sweetly, rubbing her left hand across his shoulder. “Besides, I like your ass.”
“I’m gonna puke,” J.C. grumbled.
Heather opened the office door that led to the lobby. “Better do it outside before you compromise the crime scene.”
He stomped right out the door, Dale following. Before she joined them, she grabbed a microchip scanner from the desk and pushed it deep into her coat pocket.
The official policy was to have the animals chipped and registered at the time of adoption, but after a dog had been found dead in a nearby park three months ago, she and Terry had started chipping all of the strays when they came in, just in case something like this happened.
They hadn’t had any obviously troubling adoptions over the past year, but they had friends at other shelters in more urban areas that had been put on alert. Between those concerns and reports of stray dogs and dead dogs popping up in the state parks, she’d started looking as deep as she could, carefully gathering information into her own database without tipping off anyone inside the DNR.
Because someone inside the DNR had to be involved with arranging the time and space for the dogfights. No one else had the access or authority. She hadn’t figured out how they were getting in and out of the parks, but she’d been able to identify the circuit, a few names of key players, and most importantly, she’d figured out the timing.
According to the schedule she’d cracked, two more fights would happen this weekend in the state park that spanned the natural hardwood forest between Haleswood and the coast. Whatever mistake Dale had made in revealing her involvement, the organizers were making this personal.
That was fine with her. She was more than ready to expose the operation any way she could. It’s why she’d gone to Dale. If he hadn’t swept her into his own scheme, she’d planned to try and catch the organizers in action this weekend.
Since she’d found dumps after previous fights, she was sure she could track them down during a fight night. She just hadn’t quite decided what to do once she found the fight itself.
Her brother held the door for her and Dale waited just outside, his trademark grim, brooding expression firmly planted on his face. He was handsome anyway, she decided, dipping her chin into her collar to stay warm.
“We checked the records against the kennels occupied and it seems four dogs are still unaccounted for,” J.C. explained. “I called out Animal Control once the area was secure. Before I called you.” He pushed back his sleeve and checked his watch. “They’ve been searching for about an hour.”
“Did you see any tracks?” she asked. Their father had taught them everything about tracking animals, both wild and domestic, in this part of the state.
“Nothing useful. No tire tracks either but there was clearly some sort of altercation over this way.”
Once more Heather and Dale followed J.C., this time around the opposite side of the building where a dog run had been installed last year.
“More fabric,” Dale said, pointing at the chain link fencing. “Looks like it could be the same as that bit caught in the latch inside.”
More. She shouldn’t be surprised he’d also noticed the fabric. His insistence that he’d made a mistake and exposed her involvement in this case didn’t negate his overall ability as an investigator.
“The techs will bag it. We’ve taken pictures,” J.C. assured them.
“Good,” Dale replied. He carefully crouched down, studying the marks in the dirt in front of the fence. “At least two sets of prints here. One sole pattern might be tennis shoes.”
A hard knot of agony landed in Heather’s stomach. Dale’s observations added with the bits of fabric didn’t indicate anything positive for Terry. Emotions wouldn’t find him, only actions.
“J.C., we’ll take a look around if it’s okay?”
“Be my guest,” he said, gesturing toward the trees. “You won’t get far. The trail just disappears about ten yards in. I followed a false trail that looped right back to the shelter while I waited for you.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t care about the odds, she wanted to see for herself.
“You know it’s likely Terry was in on it,” J.C. said. “He has a hard record.”
Heather stopped short, resisting the little-sister urge to kick her brother in the shin. “He was not in on it.”
“I know you were friends, but sometimes—”
“He told me about his mistakes,” she said, cutting him off. “I probably know about a few crimes that didn’t get prosecuted. His past has nothing to do with this. He wouldn’t hurt these animals, or let anyone else hurt them.”
J.C. turned a frustrated look on Dale. “Try to keep an eye on her.”
“Will do.”
“I don’t need eyes on me, I need eyes on the trail,” Heather groused as she walked beside the footprints leading away from the dog run. “Look, they were dragging something.”
“Or someone.”
He was right, but she didn’t want to think about it that way. “You saw the fabric in the kennel by the office.”
“Pretty hard to miss.”
She agreed. “Whoever attacked the shelter probably stuffed him inside that kennel while they culled the dogs.”
“Probably.”
“So they walk in, the dogs raise the alarm, and the perps take down Terry when he comes to check on things.”
“Logical on all counts.”
She paused, examining every broken twig and crushed leaf in an effort to sort out the real trail. J.C. had been at a disadvantage with only his flashlight when he’d arrived in the pre-dawn darkness. She had the benefit of more sunlight and a decent idea of what the perps were really after.
“They made a false trail?”
She answered Dale’s question with a slow nod. “But I think only one. J.C. would’ve logically assumed the perps would head back to the shelter.”
“For vehicles or whatever.”
“Yeah. Which makes me wonder why Terry didn’t call someone when they pulled up.”
“If he was—”
“Just stop.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “He wasn’t in on it.” Each word was squeezed out between her gritted teeth. “Focus on the facts in front of us.”
“I only see nature in front of us.”
She ignored him in favor of sorting out the trail. “Here.” She carefully lifted a fallen pine bough from the dirt. “Tennis shoes,” she said pointing at the tell-tale mark. “Someone did a pretty good job hiding this trail.”
“Or maybe the branch just dropped.”
“No.” Nature rarely accommodated people that way. She crept along until she found the next shoe print. Dale gave her plenty of space to assess and decide on every sign. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, his quiet courtesy surprised her. Knowing he had her back gave her confidence as she tracked Terry’s shoe prints.
“He did have a record,” she said at last. “Did a short stint in juvie at fourteen for aggravated assault.”
“Gangs?”
“Yeah. I know I sound sheltered, but I can’t imagine how bad life must be that gang life is a valid choice. It was a rough start to a rougher life,” she said. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“Dog prints.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? Maybe Terry and the loose dogs made a run for it.”
“No.” She shook her head. “This looks like the dogs were chasing him.”
“How can you tell?”
“Years of practice out here camping and hunting with my dad.”
“He taught you to hunt?”
“You don’t have to sound so shocked, Mr. FBI. Girls hunt too.”
“That’s not—”
“We weren’t forced or anything. Dad gave us the option when it came to hunting, but he wanted us to appreciate the natural world.”
“I get it, I just meant—”
“Sarah never liked hunting, though she’s a really good shot,” Heather added. Talking about her dad settled her as she found more troubling signs along the path. She said a prayer for Terry. “She still goes fishing but she lies to her PTA friends about it most of the time.”
“Really?”
Heather laughed. “Really. I’m not even supposed to know, unless she has her kids with her.”
“How do you know?”
Heather looked up at him. “There’s always fresh fish in the freezer at the hunting lodge.” Standing there in the sunlight filtering through the trees, he looked ruggedly handsome in his olive coat and faded jeans, despite the perpetual formality of his button down shirt. And right now his eyes were alight with curiosity rather than the gloomy cynicism he frequently projected.
She shouldn’t be interested in what caused the change and she definitely shouldn’t be concerned with which was the more natural state for Mr. FBI. And yet she couldn’t stop her mind from happily skipping away from her search for Terry.
For as long as she could remember, she’d had a thing for older men. A shrink might blame it on insecurity and Daddy issues, but Heather blamed it on her drive to keep up with her older siblings.
She’d wanted to be interested in the things they found important so they would include her. It hadn’t been a foolproof or even conscious plan, but it meant she’d polished a few rough edges of her childhood sooner than her peers.
While her sisters’ taste in men varied, a man’s mature, fit frame had always appealed to her more than the narrow builds of the boys her own age during high school and college.
Dale epitomized a temptation she hadn’t experienced in a long time. He only had a few years on her, but there was some serious mileage, judging by the leg he favored. All of that only made him more attractive in her view.
Kissing him in the car had ignited a craving she knew wouldn’t be satisfied anytime soon, if ever. Ridiculous that such a brief, simple contact could leave such a lasting impression. While she’d done it to sell the cover story to her brother, she realized it had been a tactical error on her part. Now, any eye contact, the brush of his hand… just a quiet word made her want things she shouldn’t. Made her want him.
Stupid, but true.
She longed for another, real taste of his lips. She suspected she wouldn’t be satisfied without an in depth exploration of the whole man. Not that he’d allow anything like that to happen.
What if she told him? Turning her attention back to the broken twigs, crushed leaves, and shoe prints of a lengthening stride, she imagined how Dale might react to a more serious physical advance from her.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head, pulling her thoughts away from the sensual detour. “No.” Advancing along the trail, she found the first drops of blood. “He started running fr—”
Her explanation of the tracks was cut off by the sound of a dog barking. The noise was deep and raspy. “That sounds like Daisy!” She called out to the dog, waiting for a reaction.
No response, not even another bark.
Dale shifted closer to her and she heard the soft pop as he snapped open the holster at his shoulder. “Who’s Daisy?”
“You won’t need that. She’s a pit bull who was surrendered two weeks ago. Terry was thinking about taking her home.”
Dale removed his weapon, holding it in two hands, muzzle pointed to the ground. “Just in case,” he said, when she shot him a dark look.
“Whatever.” Heather called out again and this time a dog came into view about twenty yards away. “It is her.” One prayer answered. “Come here, sweet girl.” She knelt, arms wide, and let the dog come to her.
“Daisy,” Dale said from behind her. “What a name. She looks better suited for work as a junk yard patrol dog.”
Heather saw the scrapes and smears of blood on Daisy’s short coat and thought the dog looked better suited for some extended TLC. “What did they do to you?”
The dog wriggled from nose to tail under Heather’s quick examination. “This isn’t her blood.”
“Hail to the winner?”
“Don’t be crass.”
“I thought you’d be happier about recovering one of the lost.”
“I am.” She stood up, still rubbing Daisy’s ear so the dog would stick close to her side.
“But you’re thinking the worst.”
“I am,” she admitted. “Come on.”