you sure you’re all right?” Max asked, reaching out to put a hand on Julianne’s arm.
She shook off his grip. “I’m fine, but Brody is right. I witnessed the prison break. The perp who shot at me killed the van driver. I managed to hit him in the arm so all the hospitals in a hundred-mile radius need to be put on alert.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Brody assured her. Using his radio, he notified his dispatcher to put all the deputies on notice. He also ordered roadblocks on every major highway and for his deputies to follow up with the law enforcement agencies and hospitals located nearby. From the way the gunman had been bleeding, he felt sure the guy wouldn’t last too long without medical care. Lastly, he requested several of his deputies to report to this location in order to attend to the crime scene.
When he finished he overheard Julianne and Max speaking in low tones.
“Y’all still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” Brody stepped up, making it clear he wasn’t going to be ignored.
“Following up a lead,” Max said, resting his hand on his boxer’s head.
Brody bit back a flash of impatience. Why the secrecy? “What kind of lead? Who are you looking for?”
Once again, Julianne and Max exchanged a long look, as if debating how much to tell him.
He scowled, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
“The information I’m about to tell you is classified, understand?” Max said. Brody nodded his agreement, so he continued, “We’re part of the FBI Tactical K-9 Unit, working a case related to one of our agents, Jake Morrow, who went missing several weeks ago.”
“Missing?” He frowned. How often did FBI agents, especially those in some sort of secret elite team, go missing? “That’s strange.”
“I don’t disagree. We’re here because we received an anonymous tip via a disposable cell phone, one that we were unable to trace, that Jake is being held in a secluded cabin in the area,” Julianne explained. “We’re not sure who our informant is, but we’re determined to check out each clue no matter how improbable, so if you don’t mind, we need to get back to work.”
“I’m afraid I do mind,” Brody drawled.
She ignored him, looking at her superior. “What did you find at your cabin?”
“Opal didn’t alert on anything. It’s deserted and looks as if it’s been that way for a long time.”
“Okay, then that leaves the cabin here as the primary search zone.” Julianne pulled some sort of computer-engineered map out of her pocket.
“What’s that?” Brody asked, stepping closer to get a better look.
“A map put together by Dylan O’Leary, our team’s technical expert. He’s located back at headquarters, helping to coordinate our activities. Here.” She tapped the map, glancing up at Max. “This is where I veered off track. We need to head due north.”
“Maybe you didn’t understand what I meant,” Brody interjected. “I’m going with you.”
She frowned. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary. We can take it from here.”
“This may be your jurisdiction, Agent Martinez.” He emphasized her formal title with a hint of sarcasm. “But this is my county, and I’m going with you. Whether y’all like it or not.”
She stared at him for several long moments. “What about the crime scene here?”
“My deputies will be here any moment—they’ll take care of things.”
He wasn’t going to let anything change his mind. Whatever Julianne and Max were doing was just as important as searching for Nate Otwell.
Now that Julianne had reappeared in his life, there was no way she was going anywhere without him.
* * *
“I see you’re just as stubborn as ever, Brody.” There was no time to waste, so Julianne didn’t bother trying to talk him out of joining them.
She hadn’t been able to convince him to believe in her, to come with her to join the FBI academy six years ago, either. The man could teach stubborn to an ox.
“Are you sure you want to keep going?” Max asked for the third time. “I can take over.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Stop asking already.” She was annoyed at the way her boss was treating her, as if she were some helpless damsel in distress who couldn’t hold her own.
She was a trained FBI agent. Getting shot at came with the territory.
And if she were honest, she’d admit that seeing Brody again, hearing her name spoken in his familiar southern drawl, had shaken her up more than any gunman. Especially since it looked as if her ex wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
Ignoring the four deputies who’d just arrived at the crime scene, she retraced her steps, looking for the evidence bag she’d dropped in her mad rush to stop the prison break. Fifty yards back, she found the sack containing an old shirt belonging to Jake Morrow. Kneeling on the ground, she opened the bag and encouraged Thunder to take a deep sniff.
Thunder buried his nose in the bag for several long seconds.
“Find, Thunder.” She pointed north in the direction where the cabin was located. “Find Jake.”
Thunder’s tail wagged, then his nose went to the ground. He walked in a few circles, then trotted north. Julianne followed, trying to ignore Brody dogging her heels.
As they made their way through the woods, the brush grew more and more dense. Twice Thunder made a few circles, as if he’d caught a whiff of something important, but he never alerted.
The trees offered significant shade from the hot May sun, but that didn’t mean it was cool. Sweat beaded along Julianne’s scalp, rolling down her temples.
“Do you know the people responsible for Agent Morrow’s disappearance?” Brody asked.
Julianne glanced at him. If in fact Angus Dupree had a cabin in the area, Brody deserved to know. “We have reason to believe that Jake was captured by a highly organized crime family headed up by Reginald Dupree. We raided a warehouse owned by the Duprees, capturing the head of the family, Reginald, but his second-in-command, Angus, got away. Angus is running the show now. Upon further investigation we found evidence that Jake had been there. Unfortunately he’s been missing ever since.”
“How long ago?”
“Too long.” Julianne’s voice was curt. “But I’m convinced that with Thunder’s help, we’ll find him.”
“Are you sure your dog knows where he’s going?” Brody asked as they wedged their way through a particularly dense thicket. “I can’t believe there’s a cabin anywhere in this mess.”
“He knows,” she said in a terse tone. “Besides, I have a map.”
“I’d
