Scent of Murder (Sullivan K9 Search and Rescue #9)

Prologue

Helen Gingrass took her dying patient’s hand in hers. Stuart Ramsey was about the same age as her son, which made his imminent demise from stage four cancer difficult to bear.

“I need the chaplain.” Stuart’s voice was raspy. He stared up at her with eyes that weren’t quite focused. “I need to confess my sins.”

“The chaplain is on his way.” Helen offered a reassuring smile. As a nurse for forty years, she’d heard a few confessions in her time. Mostly about infidelity.

“He needs to hurry.” Stuart’s eyes slid closed, then popped open again. “I don’t have much time. I can’t die with this crime on my conscience.”

Crime? Helen frowned. That was a first. “He’s with another patient. He’ll be here as soon as he can get away.”

“I need to confess!” Stuart’s voice held urgency. His fingers tightened on hers, and he let out a hacking cough. “I sabotaged a plane six years ago. I caused the deaths of three people. Only I didn’t know there would be three people.”

She was having trouble following his confession. “You didn’t intend to kill anyone, right?”

He grimaced. “I was paid to kill the pilot. That’s all. I took care of the plane, I used to be a mechanic, and I took care of the plane.” He swallowed hard. “But I didn’t know there would be two other people on board.” His breathing grew agitated. “I didn’t know!”

“Easy, Stuart, try to relax.” Helen did her best to reassure him, despite the shocking statement he’d just made. He’d purposefully sabotaged a plane to kill the pilot! She needed to call the police. Maybe even the FBI.

“I didn’t know the pilot had a son. Dominic Lakeland.

I ruined so many lives.” He lifted his tortured gaze to hers.

“I need . . . God to forgive me . . .” His voice trailed off.

Then he let out another wet cough as his eyes closed.

Helen frowned. She wasn’t a chaplain, so she wasn’t sure that simply confessing his sins was good enough.

“Do you regret what you did? Do you repent your sins?” She wished the chaplain would hurry up and get there.

Despite working hospice for the past few years, she wasn’t accustomed to taking deathbed confessions of this magnitude.

And she had no idea how to guide this man spiritually.

In her mind, murder was a pretty big sin.

“Yes. I needed the money . . . but I know that’s not an excuse.

” He abruptly pulled away to rummage in the pocket of his hoodie.

In hospice, patients could wear whatever made them comfortable.

He pulled out something that was small and round.

“Take this.” He pushed it into her hand.

“I don’t have any family, and it’s all I have left. Take it.”

“Oh, I can’t.” Nurses weren’t allowed to take money or gifts from their patients. That was against their code of ethics.

“Please, take it. Worth . . .” His voice trailed off as his breath rattled in his throat. His eyes closed.

Then he stopped breathing altogether. His hand went limp, and his head lolled to the side.

Helen pulled free, staring down at the coin he’d given her.

It didn’t look real; it certainly wasn’t any currency she recognized.

It was gold in color and had the picture of a man’s face on the front.

Rearranging her bifocals on her nose, she could make out the words South Africa along the side.

Was this a South African rand? Maybe Stuart had meant to say it was worthless.

If it was worthless, it wouldn’t be against the rules to take it.

Still, Helen felt uneasy as she pocketed the coin. She’d have to take it somewhere to be appraised. If it was worth money, she could take the funds and donate them to the hospice center. Satisfied with that approach, she stepped back from the bedside and made a note of the time of death.

With that task finished, she decided to call the police. And this Dominic Lakeland whose father was killed. Stuart had confessed to a crime.

Everyone, especially the man’s son, needed to know the truth.