K9 Unit.
Shane wished he could say the trip had been productive. On the department payroll as a private investigator/informant rather than a police officer, he had a little more leeway with how he collected information for a case. Everyone in local law enforcement had noticed an increase in criminal activity and nearly everyone suspected two brothers, lifelong residents of Red Ridge, were at the heart of the trouble.
Noel and Evan Larson, identical twins, had been a year ahead of him in school and had been raised by their grandmother, Mae Rose, after their parents were tragically killed in a car accident. No matter what the RRPD did, they couldn’t connect the recent criminal activity with the Larson twins. Despite suspicions, no one they’d arrested so far would name the twins and no one in law enforcement dared to embarrass Mae Rose. The softhearted and generous widow was a beloved and respected fixture in town.
Despite their best effort, neither he nor Stumps had found any indication that the Larson brothers had been present at the site where the guns had been delivered. Though Shane had never cared much for the twins, he refused to express a public opinion on a case based on suspicion alone. There was either solid evidence to bring in a suspect or there was more work to do. That black-and-white philosophy had served him well since day one of his career as an investigator.
Shane handled his own investigations in addition to working cases for the RRPD that could take them anywhere in the region if he and Stumps were called to search or support. When he was on a police assignment, he considered it a top priority to make sure evidence was gathered properly and no corners were cut in the quest to close cases.
Off duty now, Stumps led the way at the end of his lead, his white backside waving like a flag as he trotted along, taking in every scent. When he was working, the short and stocky red-and-white corgi was a genius at pinpointing evidence. The finds he and his dog made frequently helped identify the right culprit in their various cases.
From the rear pocket of his jeans, Shane’s cell phone chimed and vibrated with an incoming text message. The display showed the number as unknown, but it was the text message itself that froze Shane in his tracks.
I’m innocent. D
At the other end of the lead, Stumps glanced back, his ears cocked as he waited for a signal from Shane. Shane was floored. The message had to be from his half sister, Demi. It was the first he’d heard of her making contact with anyone since she’d disappeared under the shadow of a murder charge earlier in the year.
He quickly sent a text message back. I know. You okay?
No reply. He waited, willing her to answer. As nothing came through, he sent another text, hoping to prod her into a response. The baby okay?
Still nothing. What was he supposed to do now? More than likely, Demi was texting from a burner phone that couldn’t even be traced. She was tough and capable and if anyone could survive her current ordeal as a pregnant murder suspect on the run, she could. Still, he worried.
Growing up, Shane hadn’t been particularly close to Demi or his other half siblings. Rusty Colton wasn’t an exemplary father, and his four children had four different mothers who didn’t always get along. Lately, though, it seemed as if the four of them were looking to redefine family ties. Shane hadn’t quite decided how he felt about that yet.
So, in the good news category, Demi was well enough to text, but the bad news was that the Groom Killer case was spiraling out of control. To date, four would-be grooms had been shot through the heart right before saying their vows. Demi was the prime suspect after being dumped by the first victim, Bo Gage, who’d been killed in the parking lot of the bar where his bachelor party was about to take place. He was set to be married to Hayley Patton, his new fiancée, when it happened. Based on the scene, it appeared he had died in the act of spelling out her name with his blood. A piece of her jewelry had been found near the crime scene. A witness claimed to see her running in the shadows of the parking lot soon after the murder. Worse—another witness claimed to see her shoot another Groom Killer victim, same MO: groom-to-be, shot in the chest, black cummerbund stuffed in his mouth. The FBI had sightings of Demi far away from Red Ridge at the time of the last murder. But no one knew what to think.
It didn’t help to have the media hyping up every assault and accidental gun discharge as a potentially linked crime. Media aside, public opinion remained divided between Demi as the prime suspect and someone successfully framing her. Shane couldn’t help clear her name if she wouldn’t communicate.
He glanced at his patiently waiting dog and sighed as he pocketed his phone. “Let’s go.” Clearly delighted, Stumps trotted forward once more.
Shane’s thoughts moved away from the gun deal case to Demi’s situation. He supposed the best first step would be sharing this text with his half brother Brayden. Like Shane, he would be relieved to have some news from her. Brayden was also a K9 officer in the RRPD unit and more importantly, he’d never had a moment’s doubt about Demi’s innocence.
They were on one of Stumps’s favorite routes this evening, following a walking path that wound away from the street and circled the K9 training center, where he’d met and trained with the dog to become an evidence team.
Smart as a whip on the job, Stumps knew how to have fun when he and Shane weren’t working. They were strolling along, Stumps sniffing out every detail of what he’d missed in recent days, while Shane continued to ponder the Groom Killer case. Suddenly, Stumps halted, ears perked. He sat down, his nose pointed at the training center fence.
“I know,” Shane said absently. “We have more classes next month.” He spent working time with Stumps every day, regardless of their caseload. A few times a year, they returned to the training center for various classes to keep them both sharp on the job and current with techniques.
Distracted with two cases playing bumper cars in his head, Shane took another step or two before he realized that Stumps was at alert. Giving the area his full attention, he paused and listened, hearing the unmistakable whine of young puppies on the other side of the fence. Underneath the whimpers, he heard an occasional spate of barking from the kennels. That didn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t be able to hear those sounds so clearly unless a door was open. Something had the dogs riled up. How had puppies wound up in this part of the yard alone?
The training center staff didn’t make mistakes like this with their dogs. Concerned, Shane put a hand on his gun and signaled Stumps to lead the way. Casual walk or not, with a killer roaming around Red Ridge, he didn’t go out unarmed anymore.
Silently, they approached the fence, the sounds of the distressed puppies growing louder. Stumps abruptly sat again, back straight, and nose aimed at the gate as if he could see right through it. Something out of place had grabbed his attention again. Shane peered over the fence and swore.
Sprawled on the ground, her head lolled to one side and one leg bent awkwardly beneath her, was Danica Gage. Two fuzzy puppies, obviously training center newbies, were doing their best to rouse her. The shadows of the woods behind him swallowed the light, and the glow of the security light over the open back door wasn’t enough for him to tell if she was alive or dead.
“Danica?” he called in a hoarse whisper.
Why did it have to be her? Since his return to Red Ridge nearly ten years ago, he did his best to avoid anyone named Gage. Not an easy task in a town originally founded by the Colton and Gage families. Although the dark bitterness lurking inside him urged him to believe the worst of her, that she’d landed in that pose due to her own errors, he knew better.
Danica was a top-notch professional. She’d
