Читать книгу Capitol K-9 Unit Christmas: Protecting Virginia - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 14

FIVE

John called Gavin on the way down the stairs and asked him to call Officer Morris. He didn’t want to make the call himself. He knew what the DC officer would say—stay clear of the scene. Let the local police handle things.

Wasn’t going to happen.

If someone was in the house, John planned to find him. Virginia had been through enough. He wasn’t going to stand by and watch her be tormented. So far, that was what seemed to be happening. No overt threats of danger, no physical attacks, the guy seemed more interested in terrifying her than in hurting her.

That could change, though, and John wasn’t willing to wait for it to happen.

The upstairs lights were on when John arrived at the house. He could see them gleaming through the windows. That didn’t mean they hadn’t been off when Virginia woke. He kept that in mind as he eased around the building, Samson sniffing the air, his ears alert, his tail high. Focused, but not cautious. So far, the dog didn’t sense any danger.

They moved around to the front of the house, and Samson headed straight across the yard, sniffing at a soggy cigarette butt that lay on the sidewalk. It seemed odd that Virginia had been able to smell the smoke.

He left the butt where it was and walked to the porch, Samson on-heel. The dog nosed the floorboards, sniffed the air, growled.

“Find,” John commanded, and the dog raced off the porch and around the side of the house, sniffing the ground, then the air. He nosed a bush that butted up against the edge of the house, alerting there before he ran to a window that was cracked open. No way had Virginia left it that way. Someone who’d been through what she had didn’t leave windows open and doors unlocked.

Samson scratched at the window, barking twice. He smelled his quarry, and he wanted to get into the house and follow the scent to the prize.

“Hold,” John said, and the dog subsided, sitting on his haunches, his eyes still trained on the window.

John eased it open. The screen had been cut, and that made his blood run cold. Virginia’s instincts had been spot-on. Someone had been in the house with her.

A loud bang broke the silence, and Samson jumped up, barking frantically, pulling at the lead. John let him have his lead following him to the back of the house. A dark shadow sprinted across the yard. Tall. Thin. Fair skin.

“Freeze!” he called, but the guy kept going.

“Stop or I’ll release my dog,” he shouted the warning, and the guy hesitated, turning a little in their direction, something flashing in his hand.

A gun!

John dove for cover, landing on his stomach as the first bullet slammed into the upper story of the house. He pulled his weapon, but the perp had already darted behind the neighbor’s house. No way was John taking a blind shot. It was too dangerous for the neighbors, for anyone who happened to wander outside to see what all the commotion was about.

He unhooked Samson’s lead, releasing the dog, allowing him to do what he did best.

Samson moved across the yard, his muscular body eating up the ground. No hesitation. No slowing down. He had unerring accuracy when it came to finding suspects, and the guy they were seeking was close. No amount of running would get him out of range, because Samson would never give up the hunt.

John sprinted across the yard, knowing Samson would alert when he had the perp cornered. Ice crackled under his feet as he rounded the neighbor’s house, racing into the front yard. Samson was just ahead, bounding across the street and into a small park lined with trees. The perp had plenty of cover there, plenty of places to hide and take aim.

“Release,” he called, and Samson slowed, stopped, sending John a look that said why are you ending the game?

“Let’s be careful, pal,” John said, hooking the lead back on. “The guy has a gun.” And he’d already discharged it.

They moved through the trees and farther into the park, Samson’s muscles taut as he searched for the scent. When he found it, he barked once and took off running. The darkness pressed in on all sides. No light from the street here. Just the ice falling from the sky and the muted sound of cars driving through the neighborhood.

Behind them, branches snapped and feet pounded on the ground. A dog barked, and John knew that backup had arrived. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Dylan Ralsey and his dog Tico heading toward him.

“Gavin called. I was closer than he was, and he thought you could use some backup,” Dylan said as he scanned the darkness. “His ETA is ten minutes.”

“Thanks,” John replied. He didn’t stop. They didn’t have time to discuss what had happened, go over the details, come up with a plan.

“Tico was bored anyway. It’s been a slow night.” Dylan moved in beside him, flanking his right, Tico on his lead a little ahead.

The park opened out into another quiet street. Both dogs stopped at the curb, nosed the ground, whined.

“He had a car,” John said, disgusted with himself for letting the guy escape.

“Wonder if any of the neighbors have security cameras? Seems like that kind of neighborhood, don’t you think?” Dylan asked.

It did.

The houses were large, well maintained and expensive. Lights shone from porches and highlighted security signs posted in several yards.

“That would almost be too easy, wouldn’t it? Look at some security footage, get a license plate number, find our guy?” he murmured more to himself than to Dylan.

“We can’t assume the guy was driving his own car, but if we could get a tag number on whatever he was driving?” Dylan smiled through the darkness. “We’ll have something to go on.”

“Did Gavin mention whether or not Morris sent the clothes we found this afternoon to the evidence lab?”

“Not to me, but if they were sent, it might be weeks before you hear anything. If they can find some DNA, there might be a match in the system.”

“Finding one will take even more time that Virginia might not have. The perp is bold. He entered the house while she was sleeping, and he had a gun.”

“Did he fire it?”

“Hit the side of the house. The bullet should be lodged in the siding.”

“We might get some ballistic evidence from it.”

“You mean Morris might,” John said. “He’s the local PD who’s handling the case.”

“I know who he is. Gavin told me to steer clear of the guy.”

“Guess Morris isn’t all that happy with my involvement.”

“From what Gavin said, he’s on his way, and he’s not happy. Said you needed to stop stepping on his toes or things could get ugly.”

“Should I sit back and watch a woman be terrorized?” John asked, allowing Samson to nose the ground, follow whatever scent he could to the east.

“As a fellow member of the Capitol K-9 Unit, I’m going to have to say yes. Because that’s the official protocol.”

“What would you say as my friend?”

“You know what I’d say, John. Do what you have to do to keep Virginia safe.”

“I guess you know which way I’m going to go,” John responded, because he couldn’t sit back and watch crimes be committed, he couldn’t back off and wait for help to arrive when he could be the one doing the helping. It was the way he’d been raised. His father, grandfather, brother, had all been police officers. They’d all given their lives for their jobs, sacrificing everything to see justice done.

“I guess I do.”

Samson stopped at a crossroad, circled twice, then sat on his haunches. He’d lost the trail. Not surprising. He was trained in apprehension and guard duty. Scent trail wasn’t his forte, though he’d done some training in that, as well.

“Good try, champ,” John said, scratching the dog behind the ears and offering the praise he deserved.

“The perp is heading toward downtown,” Dylan said, his gaze focused on the road that led out of the community. “If we had a description of the vehicle, I could call it in, get some officers looking for it.”

“Anyone who confronts the guy is going to have to be careful. He isn’t afraid to use his weapon.”

Dylan scowled. “That’s not news that fills me with warm fuzzy feelings.”

“I wasn’t too thrilled, either.”

“You’d be even less thrilled if you were lying in a hospital bed.”

“True, but I don’t think the guy was aiming for me. I think he was just trying to get me to back off.”

“So, he’s playing games?”

That was the feeling John had, so he nodded. “That’s the impression that I’m getting.”

He’d dealt with plenty of criminals. He’d had a few occasions when he’d been certain he was looking evil in the face. He was trained to understand the way felons would respond in a variety of situations, and he had a reputation for being good at staying a step ahead of the bad guys.

Sometimes, though, crimes weren’t about what could be gained. They weren’t about revenge or jealousy or passion. Sometimes they were a fantasy being played out, a game whose rules only the perpetrator knew.

He thought this was one of those times.

If he was right, the perp’s next move couldn’t be predicted. How he’d act or react couldn’t be ascertained.

The best thing they could do was find him quickly and get him off the street; because until he was locked away, Virginia wouldn’t be safe.

* * *

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Virginia mentally counted houses with Christmas lights while she waited for Officer Morris to finish typing whatever it was he was typing into his tablet.

Six. Seven. Eight.

She hadn’t learned much about what had happened at Laurel’s place, but she could say for sure that John had a good view of the neighborhood from his kitchen window—houses, streets, the city beyond, all of it covered with a layer of ice that sparkled with reflected light.

It would be a mess for the commute in the morning, but right then, it was lovely. So were the Christmas lights hung from eaves and wound around columns and pillars. Several trees were decorated for the holiday. Most of them with soft blue or white lights. Very elegant and lovely, but that was the type of community they were in.

Nine. Ten. Eleven.

Officer Morris continued to type, and Virginia continued to count, because it was easier to do that than think about the gunshot she’d heard. No one had been injured. That’s what Officer Morris had told her, but she hadn’t heard from John, and she was worried.

Because worrying was something she excelled at. Apparently so was counting.

Dealing with emergencies? Not so much.

She almost hadn’t opened the door when Officer Morris knocked. She’d been too afraid of who might be on the other side.

“Okay,” Officer Morris said. “The report is filled out. We’re good to go. How about we walk you back to your place, take a look around? Aside from a cut screen and busted window lock, I didn’t see anything that looked out of place, but it would be best for you to take a look before I leave.”

Her place.

Right.

She kept thinking of it as Laurel’s or Kevin’s or the Johnsons’, but it belonged to her, and she had to go home to it. At least for the next few days.

“I should probably wait for John to return.”

“He’ll meet us at the house. I need to speak with him.” There was no question in Officer Morris’s voice. He had a plan, and he expected that everyone was going to follow it.

She didn’t mind that. She didn’t mind him. He seemed like a good guy, a nice cop. The fact that he knew what had happened to her...that was a little awkward, but he wasn’t treating her with kid gloves, and she appreciated that.

She still didn’t want to go back to the house.

Not after he’d been in it again. The guy who looked like Kevin. She hadn’t seen him, but she was certain that was who it had been. Two different intruders in less than twenty-four hours seemed like too much of a stretch.

Yeah. It had been him. He’d broken the lock, cut the screen, entered the house. All while she’d been sleeping.

She shuddered, pulling the blanket John had given her closer.

Officer Morris’s expression softened, and he touched her shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, Virginia. He’s gone. I promise you that.”

She wasn’t sure who he was talking about. The guy who looked like Kevin? Kevin?

Either way, he meant well, the words soothing and kind.

“Right. I know.” She plastered a smile on her face. One that felt brittle and hard.

“I’ve been doing a little research,” he said. Maybe he was hoping to distract her from the panic that was building. “Laurel Johnson was involved in a lot of charitable organizations.”

“Yes,” she responded, her mouth so dry it was all she could manage.

“One of them was the state prison ministry. She used to go there twice a week.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I doubt anyone did. She spent some time with one of the prisoners, helped him get his college degree. Name was Luke Miller. Ever heard of him?”

“No.”

“He was released two months ago.”

She wasn’t sure what he was saying, what he was trying to get at. She was still thinking about going back to the house, walking into the place that had brought every nightmare she’d ever lived through.

“You look a little shaky. How about some water before we head over?” he suggested.

She nodded, mute with fear.

He walked into the kitchen, found a cup and filled it. “It really is going to be okay,” he said, holding out the cup.

She took a step forward, felt the earth shake, the entire world rumble. For a moment, she thought she’d lost it, that it had finally happened, panic making her completely lose touch with reality. She was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, smoke billowing all around her.

Officer Morris shouted something, and she rolled to her side, saw him lying under the partially caved-in wall, ice falling on his dark hair.

“Get out of here!” he shouted.

She struggled to her knees, her feet, grabbed the wood that was pinning him.

“Go!” he said again, and she shook her head, tugged harder, praying that somehow her strength would be enough to free him.