Chapter 6
Nearing the place where Daisy had appeared, Heather found a small clearing. A few sturdy pines and reedy saplings surrounded a lifeless body. Terry. His body had come to rest in an awkward sprawl. His open eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky. Blood pooled from open wounds at his throat and belly. By sheer determination she held back the instinctive, horrified wail of dread and sorrow.
“Wait here,” Dale ordered, stepping in front of her.
Daisy leaned into her, clearly happy to obey the order and help Heather do the same. The dog must have lingered nearby all this time. She stroked Daisy’s ears. “That isn’t necessary.” Struggling with overwhelming guilt, it was all she could do to get the simple words past the lump in her throat.
It should have been her on that bloody patch of ground. She knew it. Lester’s bastards should have chased her down and left her to die in the woods. But she’d been with Dale. At dinner. Pretending to be engaged. Leaving her friend out here to pay the ultimate price.
“Why?” She wasn’t sure what kind of answer she expected. Death was part of living, but dying like this… She cleared her throat. “Why him?”
“If the crew was expecting the shelter to be unattended…” Dale’s voice trailed off as he walked carefully to the other side of the body.
He didn’t have to finish the thought. She understood the meaning. “They couldn’t leave witnesses who might identify them,” she managed.
“There are defensive wounds on the hands.”
She’d noticed.
“Looks like he took a beating before they let him try to outrun the dogs.”
So logical. She should follow his example, except it was too easy to imagine how the dogfighters had hunted down her friend. She prayed for Terry even as she vowed to get even for this attack.
“Murder ups the game,” Dale said.
The game was over unless they found evidence that pointed to a suspect. Anything less meant zero consequences for the people involved.
No prosecutor would take her word. Hell, no law enforcement agency had the time for what they saw as a soft-hearted woman worried about a few dogs being abused. No one seemed to care about the scope and reach of this operation. No one but Dale—and even he harbored doubts about her.
“Takes a sick person to let a dog do the dirty work.”
Her temper hit the flash point. “He has a name. Terry. Use it,” she ordered. “He was my friend. Terry is the whole reason I had anything to bring to you.”
“He knew Lester’s system?”
She glared at him.
“Terry knew the system?” Dale corrected.
“Yes.” She slumped to her knees and then sat back on her heels. Utterly defeated. “He’d met a couple of guys who knew about it during his time behind bars.” Terry had often joked about understanding just how the shelter dogs felt, all locked up waiting for food and yard time.
She heard Dale’s footsteps as he approached, but she kept her eyes and hands on Daisy. She didn’t trust herself not to rail at the FBI agent she’d counted on for help.
“We’ll crack this, Heather.”
His confidence was not contagious. Or soothing.
“Based on your information, there should be a fight tonight.”
“I know.” She pulled out her phone and tapped on the icon for her brother.
“Don’t do that just yet.”
She looked up at him then, not bothering to hide her frustration. “I’m not leaving Terry’s body out here a moment longer than necessary.”
“Let’s review a few things first.”
“Review what?” She got to her feet. “Shall we review the body? The tracks?” Off the chain, her anger and heartache ran away with her. Daisy whimpered, but Heather couldn’t stop the rant. “Let’s review—again—all of the information I gave to you so you would protect him.” She flung out a hand toward Terry. “Is that what you need to review?”
“No.”
Her next outburst stalled, unspoken. “No?”
“I don’t have a good answer for you. The attack on the shelter and killing Terry was an unexpected response. It’s something a loose cannon would do. Something completely out of character for Lester. I’m not sure what it means.”
“Fabulous.” She turned her back on Dale and the gruesome scene behind him. Giving the trail a wide berth, she took a few steps away from the clearing. Anger wasn’t helping anyone. Anger would do nothing to bring back her friend or ease the trauma suffered by the animals.
“Heather.”
“Give me ten seconds,” she said through clenched teeth. She could find her self-control. Somewhere. After counting to ten, twice, and giving another comforting rub to Daisy, she turned back to Dale. “Okay. I’m calmer now.”
“You don’t have to be. I just wanted to go over what we’ll say to your brother.”
She nodded. “Good idea.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly wary that she might go ballistic again. It was a reasonable concern. “Let’s keep it to finding the body. I’d rather you didn’t tell him about a possible connection between Terry and Lester.”
“He wasn’t—” She stopped and took a long, slow breath. “Terry had only the narrowest connection to those who acquired dogs for Lester.”
“Got it. Either way, let’s—”
“Not drag J.C. into it,” she finished. “I agree one hundred percent.”
“Make the call,” he said with a terse nod.
She dialed her brother and let him know where and how they’d found Terry’s body. Saying it out loud made it worse and somehow more real than looking at the torn up remains. When J.C. promised to send out the coroner and a crime scene unit, she sat down hard against the trunk of a tree, gasping for air.
Daisy flopped down next to her, resting her chin on Heather’s thigh.
Hands planted on his hips, Dale stared down at them. “What do we do with her?”
“You could adopt her,” she said, trying to smile.
“Not until she has a bath.” He rushed on before she could take that as a verbal commitment, “I’m not home enough to keep up with a dog.”
“I get it.” Her shoulders slumped. “She’ll be at the shelter a long time. Pitties always are.”
“She likes you. Why don’t you take her?”
“Daisy likes everyone, but she loved Terry.” She ran her hands over the blocky head. “I bet she kept watch over him until we showed up.”
Dale didn’t offer any opinion on that.
“Think about it. The body wasn’t mauled beyond the lethal attack. These past hours must have been horrible for her.”
“I’m not adopting the dog.”
She shrugged. “I’m not asking you to.”
“When the others arrive,” he said, “we should head out immediately.”
“Why?” His restlessness was contagious, but she didn’t have the energy to do more than watch him.
Dale’s eyes roamed the trees beyond them. “I don’t like this. We need to take some time and regroup.”
“I’d rather stay and help put the shelter back together.”
“I know.”
“You’re telling me it’s not an option.” That much was clear from his grim expression.
“It’s not.”
She could tell he wanted to say more and she couldn’t understand why he didn’t. Out of words, spent from her fury, the adrenaline crash was coming on fast. She contented herself with petting Daisy. “Can we at least get Daisy cleaned up and into a safe situation?”
“I suppose. We’ve already missed our flight.”
Ah, back to the cover story, she realized. She didn’t want to know why he’d employed it now rather than earlier, but she went along with it. His body language conveyed a fresh urgency. It seemed he thought they were being watched. For all she knew he was right. “Guess we’ll have to find another way to celebrate.”
“Any ideas?”
She assumed the tilt of his mouth was a half-assed attempt at a smile. “We could adopt a dog,” she teased, wishing her stab at levity had a little more power behind it.
“Wouldn’t that just remind you forever of this terrible day?”
“On the contrary.” She smiled, stroking Daisy’s soft ear. “It would turn this tragedy inside out.”
“Inside out?”
Did the man understand nothing about people or life? Maybe she was just that different from the rest of the population. “No matter what happens, I’m never going to forget today. It will take years, if ever, for the images to fade. Making a positive association with the same day will ease the pain.” His brow furrowed and she could tell he wasn’t getting it. “Call it the ‘Happy Thought’ theory.” She sighed when he gave her a blank look. “Losing my friend will always be the day after you proposed,” she said, playing along with the cover story. “Adopting a dog, expanding our family sooner rather than later, sandwiches the bad memories between two solid layers of good memories.”
“Our family,” he echoed.
He looked like someone had just bashed him over the head, yet this was how he’d wanted to play out the situation. This fake engagement was supposedly designed to keep her safe. “That’s what they call it when two people get married.”
“Your happy thought theory sounds like a very… youthful outlook.”
“Are you calling me childish?”
“No. Idealistic is a better word.”
That wasn’t much better in her opinion, but she didn’t want to argue semantics now. She held out her hands as she heard people approaching. Hopefully it was J.C. with the right officials in tow. “Help me up.” And if they were lucky, she would know if Daisy had any aversion to someone in a sheriff’s uniform. While Dale might not appreciate a dog’s reaction as viable evidence in the case, Daisy’s response could help point them in the right direction.
When he took her hands in his, she shivered with a new awareness. Adrenaline, she reminded herself. A sweet kiss for an audience was one thing—a manageable thing. Or it should have been.
Her attraction for Dale couldn’t go any further than this weekend. If the man didn’t have time for a dog, he’d never make time for a girlfriend.
And she had enough self-respect that she didn’t need to cling or beg for anyone’s attention. Besides, the man seemed to have a tendency for brooding. The trait would likely lose its appeal quickly in a relationship.
J.C. came into view and Daisy wriggled from head to tail. He knelt down and held out his hand for her to sniff and she greeted him, rolling over for a belly rub.
Obviously, she had not been traumatized by a man in a deputy’s uniform. Heather felt more than a small measure of relief at being able to rule out a deputy’s involvement in the dogfighting scheme.
Her brother introduced the coroner and the process of dealing with the body effectively prevented further discussion. After they each gave a brief statement, Heather and Dale were allowed to go back to the shelter, Daisy tagging along in their wake.
Dale was quiet and she was lost in her own thoughts, turning over ideas of how to help the dog.
“What did you do when your dad died?”
She stopped short, trying to put the question into some familiar context. “Pardon me?”
“Your happy thought theory. Is that another Morris family tradition? How did your family apply it when you lost your dad?”
“Oh. It’s not tradition per se, though we have plenty of those.” It seemed like a positive sign that he recognized the ongoing and significant influence of her super-sized family. “Basically, the happy thought idea is my grandmother’s core philosophy.”
“Okay.” He rolled his hand, urging her to continue. “So what did you do?”
Personally, she’d wandered. Deep inside her head, embracing solitude and quiet in every moment. She might still be wandering in that strange fog if J.C. and her grandmother hadn’t found ways to keep her engaged with life in the present. “If Grandma’s philosophy was holding happy thoughts dear, Dad’s core philosophy was all about smiles. He claimed they were contagious.”
“Like yawns.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You need a mental tune up.”
“Not today. Go on.”
“When Dad’s cancer hit stage four, he helped us plan a trip to Walt Disney World and made us promise we would go after his memorial services so we would always have something to smile about.”
“What?”
“It sounds bizarre, I know.” She reached down and picked up a sturdy stick, breaking off the twigs and showing it to Daisy.
“Why didn’t all of you go when he was alive?”
“We did,” she said, smiling at the memories. “Ready?” she asked the dog.
Daisy’s backside wriggled, and then she was off like a shot when Heather threw the stick out in front of them.
“When I was seven. My oldest sister tried to get out of it, but even she had a good time once we were there.”
He scowled as Daisy came tearing back, the stick firmly in her mouth.
“I know it must sound like a waste, but it really was the best thing for all of us.” Heather bent and praised Daisy and threw the stick again. “It gave us time to grieve away from the malaise of home care and hospice. It gave us a chance to relax and remember all the good times we had as a family.”
“I guess that makes a little sense.”
“Haven’t you ever lost anyone close to you?”
This time Daisy returned at a gallop, skidding to a stop in front of Dale and offering the stick.
“She likes you.”
“You said she likes everyone.”
“Well, yeah. But she clearly trusts you. She’s doing what she can to stay close to you.”
“Then she’s destined to be disappointed.”
With a valiant effort, Heather kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t find Dale disappointing in the slightest. He held himself to a stern and aloof standard, but he had a mile-wide streak of compassion hidden under all that stoicism. The right dog would be more than content at Dale’s house, but she knew better than to nag a person into adopting. If the bond was weak, the dog would be returned just as soon as circumstances changed.
As an FBI Special Agent with an undercover fiancée, Dale Nichols’s circumstances were guaranteed to change.
They’d reached the shelter and Daisy sat down at Dale’s heel.
“Can we at least get her cleaned up before we go?” She wasn’t ready to plop Daisy back in a kennel and hope for the best.
“Heather…”
“It won’t take me long, I promise. And she needs some attention.” A plan was taking shape and she only needed a few more minutes to make it happen.
“All right.”
“It will give you more time to evaluate our situation.”
His dark eyebrows arched in skeptic assessment. She grinned. “Too much?”
“Just a bit.” He checked his phone and when his hazel eyes met hers again, she knew she’d won a minor victory. “Be quick, okay?”
“You got it.”
“And don’t even think about getting me wet.”
She made an ‘X’ over her heart. “Promise.” When he’d checked out the back room where they handled clean up, treatment, and so many other things, Dale blocked the door while she bathed Daisy.
The sweet dog stood still, letting Heather wash away the blood and mud from her ordeal. When she was clean and her minor scratches tended, Heather turned to Dale. “Hand me a lead, please?”
He frowned at her.
“I told you I’m not taking her home.”
“I’m not telling you to take her home.” Unfortunately. “We just need to get her into a kennel.”
“Oh.”
“Really,” she scolded. “Do you think I browbeat people into adopting pets they don’t want?”
“I think you could smile them into it.”
She stopped, frozen by the odd compliment while she was leashing Daisy. Uncertain what kind of response he expected, she chose to ignore it. Talking nonsense to the dog, she led Daisy out of the room, but when Heather turned for the door to the kennels Daisy flopped to her belly and cried.
Heather’s heart cracked at the misery in Daisy’s eyes. “She doesn’t want to go back.”
“I’m not taking her to my house,” he said, his tone unyielding.
“For the last time,” she said, her sweet voice in direct opposition to her hard words, “I’m not asking you to adopt this dog.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“Fear.” Heather knelt by Daisy and stroked her ears, hoping the panic would pass quickly. But the dog wasn’t convinced. “Whatever she saw has her terrified of the kennels. Hold the leash for a second.”
With an impatient huff, Dale complied.
“Easier to text with two hands,” she explained as her fingers flew over her phone screen.
“What are you up to?”
“Do you really think someone is watching me? Or us?”
“Yes.”
“You thought someone was in the woods too, near the body. Lester’s crew.”
“I thought it was possible.”
More than possible based on how diligently he stuck to the cover story when they were alone. “Daisy will be a target if you’re right.”
“They want to silence you. The dog can’t testify.”
“True. But based on all of this, it seems like they want to hurt me first.”
His lack of a response was enough confirmation. Her pulse kicked and more adrenaline flooded her over-taxed system. “If J.C. agrees, we can drop Daisy at the courthouse on our way out of town. Then he can foster her until this is over. His dog would welcome the company.”
“I thought you didn’t want your brother anywhere near this.”
“Lester brought the sheriff’s department into it by attacking the shelter in their jurisdiction.”
“True.” Dale rocked back on his heels, his eyes on Daisy. “We’ll do it your way and hope for the best.”
One hurdle down, Heather thought. As they walked out to Dale’s car, she made a silent promise to Daisy that when all this was over, she would have a forever home.