Читать книгу Scent Of Danger - Terri Reed - Страница 12

TWO

Parker quickened his pace, anxious to help his co-worker before anything bad happened.

“Tell me what you know about Daniel,” Melody insisted. “Why was his grave desecrated? What was he into before he died?”

This didn’t sound like a drug deal. Parker rounded the corner. A rough-looking character brandishing a knife had Melody backed up against the brick wall.

His stomach muscles tightened. Concern spread through his chest.

Two other equally seedy-looking thugs stood nearby leering at her. Melody’s hands were up in a placating way, but she seemed far from cowed. In fact, she looked downright impressive in her tailored pantsuit, crisp white blouse and black boots. Her dark hair was gathered up at the nape of her neck by a gold clip. Truth was, he’d never seen her appear more collected.

She stared at her assailant with hard blue eyes and pressed her questions. “Was Daniel dealing drugs? You were his friend back then, so you have to know something. What was he doing in the woods the night he died?”

“I’m not telling you nothing,” the knife-wielding guy said. To emphasize his point, he stepped closer and pressed the knife to her throat. Melody didn’t flinch.

Either the woman was incredibly brave or had a death wish. Parker wasn’t going to wait to find out which. He put his hand on the Glock at his side and stepped inside the fence. “Sagebrush PD. Drop your weapon. Back away from the officer.”

The two thugs immediately bolted as if their feet had been lit on fire. They ran past Parker and disappeared around the corner of the building. Sherlock barked and pulled at his leash, wanting to give chase. The hoodlum with the knife backed up a step but didn’t lower his weapon.

Now that Parker got a better look at him, he realized he knew the young man—Zane Peabody. He’d locked him up a couple of times on drug-possession charges.

Sherlock continued to bark and strain at his leash. He pawed the ground, showing signs of aggression reserved for when he was on the scent of drugs. Parker didn’t doubt Sherlock smelled some cocaine or weed or something else illicit on the younger man. Zane was a user. Parker had come here to bust a junkie and his dealer. But that wasn’t the situation here. Right now Parker’s concern was to ensure his fellow officer’s safety.

“Don’t be stupid, man,” Parker said. “Drop the knife.”

Melody scowled at Parker. Then turned back to her assailant. “Zane, come on, talk to me. You guys were friends. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Zane wiped at his nose with his free hand. “He’s gone. You can’t help him now.”

“I can find out who killed him,” she said.

Parker inched closer, keeping Sherlock at his heels.

Zane backed up more. His gaze darted back and forth between Melody and Parker and then dropped to Sherlock. “If I talk to you I’m as good as dead. Just like Daniel.”

“I can protect you,” Melody insisted, taking a step forward.

Zane shook his head. “You can’t protect me.” Fear twisted his features. “The Boss owns these streets. He’ll know. He knows everything.” He backed up even more. “You better watch out, lady. Asking questions could get you killed.” Then he ran.

His words hung in the air. A warning. A threat.

Every protective instinct Parker possessed came to life.

But one look at Melody’s determined face made Parker’s stomach drop to the heels of his black steel-toed leather uniform boots. The cold-case detective wasn’t going to back down, even if that meant putting her life in the crosshairs of the mysterious and brutal crime syndicate.

* * *

“Thanks a lot,” Melody groused as they watched Zane disappear around the corner. “You scared him off.”

Figures she’d go on the attack. He’d heard that she was a tough lady. She’d have to be to deal with teens as much as she did.

“I saved your life,” Parker said, falling into step with her as she marched toward a flight of stairs leading to the basement door of the youth center. Sherlock trotted alongside of him, his black nose close to the ground.

“I had it handled.”

And he could sing like Sinatra. Not. “That situation could have turned bad in a heartbeat.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs and faced him. Her bright blue eyes flashed with indignation. “I wasn’t in trouble. And I don’t need a white knight to save me. Zane wouldn’t have hurt me. He’d been a friend of my nephew’s.”

Sherlock lay down on the cement, with his head on his paws. Clearly the dog didn’t smell anything worth tracking.

“Familiarity breeds compliancy,” Parker commented.

She grimaced. “Cute.”

“What do you mean ‘had been a friend?’”

Sorrow darkened her expression. “My nephew was Daniel Jones.”

A sad case. A cold case. Or was it? Parker had seen the damage done to Daniel Jones’s casket last month when it had been forced open and searched. “I hadn’t realized you two were related.” Empathy wove its way through him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She nodded, acknowledging his sentiment. “Was there a reason you showed up?”

“I received a tip a drug deal was going down.” He braced himself for her reaction.

Her mouth pressed in a firm line as annoyance darkened her eyes. For a long moment she stared at him. “What will it take to convince you the center is legit?” she finally asked.

Good question. One he didn’t have an answer for. There was no reason not to believe the pretty detective was all she seemed. Hardworking, dedicated and professional.

Maybe he was letting his own issues cloud his judgment. But that didn’t explain why she had a known drug user on the youth center’s property. “What was Zane doing here? And why were you asking him about your nephew?”

Melody sighed and struggled to put her thought process into words. “I reached out to him. I admit it was a long shot, but it occurred to me since Daniel’s grave had been defiled last month that maybe the break-in had something to do with his case. Since I have the files and evidence from that night in my office, it made sense.”

She sighed and leaned against the railing. “I was hoping Zane would have remembered something or would say something to help me figure out what happened and why Daniel’s grave had been tampered with after all this time.” Instead she was left with more unanswered questions.

“I’m sure it must be hard not knowing who killed your nephew.” Sympathy tinged Parker’s voice.

“It is.” Stinging sadness swept through her like a cold wind. “It shouldn’t have happened. If only something like the youth center had been around when Daniel had been alive, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten mixed up in drugs. Maybe he wouldn’t have been in the Lost Woods that night.”

“I was there the night Daniel Jones was killed,” Parker confessed quietly.

She sucked in a sharp breath. She knew that from the reports, but his statement hadn’t been any different than the other officers’. A burst of hope shot through her. Maybe he remembered something he hadn’t put in his report. Would he have the answers she sought? “Tell me what you remember. What did you see?”

“Sherlock was on the trail of a scent, leading us through the woods.” Hearing his name, the dog rose to his feet, tail wagging, his big brown eyes on Melody. Parker adjusted his grip on the leash. “We found Daniel amped up on drugs and waving a gun around.”

Melody tried to picture her nephew out of his mind and out of control, but the only images that came to her were of the quiet kid who always seemed slightly sad. Her heart ached for him.

“Daniel shot at the captain.”

She winced. “I’d read that in the reports.”

“Captain McNeal put a bullet in the kid’s thigh as a means to stop him.”

It had been the right move, considering he was firing on the police. What had he been thinking?

“I know the reports said no one saw the shooter. But can you remember anything that might ID him?” Hope swelled, anticipation surged. She wanted to find and arrest the man who’d pulled the trigger.

“No. I never saw him.”

Disappointment flooded her veins.

“It happened so fast. Whoever fired was good. We scoured the woods for shell casings. The sniper left nothing behind except the bullet that killed Daniel.”

“And there were no prints on the .308 caliber bullet,” Melody stated flatly, adding to Parker’s assessment that the gunman had been careful.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately not.”

Melody’s fingers curled. Whoever had done the deed thought they’d gotten away with it, but she wouldn’t give up looking for the shooter, or finding out why Daniel was in those woods that night. “I’ve been working his case since I came on board. I wasn’t in Sagebrush at the time. I was a detective for the Austin P.D. But after that night...” She swallowed.

Parker touched her hand. The warmth of his skin spread through her, chasing the cold away.

“Your sister, Sierra Jones, died that night, as well,” he recalled gently.

Sierra. A wrenching pain gripped Melody as it did every time she thought about her older sister. “The ME ruled Sierra’s death a suicide. She’d purposely overdosed on sleeping pills.”

It was still so hard to accept. Her sister had been so full of life, so fiery.

“What about Daniel’s father?”

Melody shook her head. “Sierra would never say who he was.”

“She didn’t know or just didn’t want to tell you?”

“I think she knew.” It still hurt that her sister wouldn’t confide in her. Melody consoled herself with the fact that they were nine years apart in age.

Compassion darkened his brown eyes. “I can’t imagine losing both of them in the same night.”

“It was devastating. For both my mother and me.” As far as Melody was concerned, whoever killed Daniel was just as responsible for driving Sierra to end her life.

His gaze took on a faraway look. “When my brother died I remember thinking how cruel life could be sometimes. How senseless.”

Empathy twirled in her chest. He’d lost someone, too. “How did he die?”

His gaze sharpened. “Drugs.”

Her heart sank. “Oh, no. Was he an addict?”

“No. He was fourteen and experimenting. The kids he was hanging with were on the edgy side, not overly bad kids but...it only took one time.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “One time?”

“Yes.” Bitterness laced his tone. “He’d taken a hit of ecstasy that was bulked up with a lethal dose of MCPP, a pesticide.”

She reached out to take his hand, the warm contact comforting. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know what else to say. His comment about the senselessness of life echoed in her head. She wanted to refute his words, tell him that with God, everything made sense, everything had a purpose, but how could she say that in the face of his brother’s pointless and painful death?

Deep inside her, restless doubts stirred.

Lord, increase my faith, her heart whispered as it did every time uncertainty reared its ugly head.

Parker’s hand slid over hers, the pressure firm as if he needed to hold on. “So you can see why even the mere hint of drugs sets me off.”

“I do understand. I feel the same way. I started the center to honor Daniel’s memory. But my hope is to give kids a chance to find happiness without getting high,” Melody explained. She had to make him see the importance of the youth center. “We’ve done good work here. My vision has always been to keep these kids off the street and out of trouble.”

“I’m sure your sister would be proud of you,” Parker said.

She appreciated his saying so. Now if only he stopped thinking the worst of the center... Maybe if he became more familiar with the center and the teens, he’d see that the rumors about drugs here were unfounded. That they were making a difference. “Why don’t you and Sherlock come in? The teens are starting to arrive, now that school has let out for the day. Take a look around. Meet the teens. See for yourself that the rumors are untrue.”

He seemed to consider her offer and then nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

She led them inside the basement entrance. “When we took over the building, we renovated and turned the basement into a gym. There’s a full-size basketball court in here,” she said, pushing open the double metal doors to the gym on the right. Several teenage boys were shooting hoops. “Real hardwood floors and regulation-height baskets.”

“That must have cost a pretty penny,” Parker said as he pressed close to look through the open doorway.

The scent of his aftershave teased her senses. Spicy and tangy, like cinnamon and clove. She breathed in deep, liking the smell. Liking him.

Despite saying earlier she could handle Zane, there’d been a moment or two where she’d experienced qualms about the wisdom of questioning him alone. Even though she hadn’t obtained the answers she was looking for, she was grateful Parker had arrived when he did. She’d known the minute Zane had opened his mouth, he was high on some drug. Who knows what he would have done.

Contrition churned in her tummy. “I owe you an apology and a thank-you.”

Amusement danced in his dark eyes. “Okay, I’m listening.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. Served her right.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier,” she said. “I know you were only doing your job. I appreciate that you came to my aid.”

“You’re welcome. And forgiven.”

She gave him a grateful smile. She led them out of the gym and down the hall. The beagle’s nose was to the ground as he walked a crooked path at the end of his leash.

“The center used to be an office building,” she explained. She stopped in front of a set of gender-marked doors. “We have two full locker rooms down here as well, complete with showers.”

Sherlock pawed at the door to the boy’s locker room. “Mind if we go in?” Parker asked.

“Sure.”

They disappeared through the door. A few moments later they re-emerged. Parker’s expression had turned pensive. The dog sniffed her boot.

She stepped away. “Everything okay?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Sherlock lost whatever had him going.”

Melody’s stomach muscles squeezed. She had a strict policy against any and all contraband. Any violators would be arrested. If one of the teens had brought drugs into the center, it would only provide more fuel to the rumors circulating about the center. And give Parker more reason to be suspicious of her and the work they did.

“How did you come up with the funds for the center?” he asked.

She started them walking again. “Several patrons gave the center’s initial start-up money. The Athertons, Dante Frears, Mayor Hobbs and several other business owners. We hold an annual fund-raiser in the fall for the community and usually raise our operating expenses for most of the year. There are two paid staff members and the rest volunteer their time, so the overhead is manageable.”

They took the stairs to the main level. Her office was at the far end near the front door. “This floor has all the classrooms. Jim...you know Officer Jim Wheaton, right?”

Parker nodded. “Yes. I know Jim.”

“He teaches woodworking classes. There are also cooking classes and craft classes. We have a game and TV room with all the latest electronic gaming systems. The local high school basketball coach holds clinics on the weekend as well as supervising open gym time.” She took a breath. “A local nurse gives a free basic health-care class and a couple of women from the Sagebrush Christian Church lead a teen Bible study twice a week. On Sunday evenings, the youth pastor holds a teen worship night.”

“Impressive.”

Sherlock started pulling at his leash. Melody raised an eyebrow.

“What is it, boy?” Parker asked and let the leash drop. Sherlock took off with his nose to the ground. He headed straight for the bank of lockers situated against the wall between two classrooms. He started pawing and jumping at the last locker on the left.

Parker’s expression darkened. “Can you open this locker?”

She grimaced and gestured to the combination lock hanging from the lock mechanism. “The key to the lock has been missing for...oh, at least six months. And no one seems to know the combination. I keep meaning to have the locksmith come out to rekey it, but haven’t. There’s nothing in there.”

She hoped. But watching the way Sherlock was attacking the locker, a lump of dread dropped to the pit of her tummy. It occurred to her Sherlock hadn’t smelled anything in the locker this morning so whatever had him agitated now had been placed in it recently. Not good. Not good at all.

The door next to the lockers pushed open and Jim Wheaton walked out. The heavyset officer’s gray eyes narrowed on the dog. “What’s going on?”

Beside her, Melody felt Parker stiffen. “Sherlock smells something,” Parker said in a neutral tone that belied his physical posture.

“We need to get in this locker,” she said, her voice tight with anger.

Jim frowned. “Why? Nobody uses it. Hasn’t for months.”

Several teens crowded around Jim in the doorway.

Melody’s fingers curled with anxiety. “Can you break it open, please?”

Jim sighed heavily. “Yeah. Let me get something.” He turned and groused, “Out of my way.”

The teens scattered, some stepping into the hall, others moving back into the class.

Jim disappeared back inside the room and reappeared a moment later with a pair of bolt cutters, which he used to cut the lock. The locker door swung open.

Melody gasped. “Oh, no.”

She stared at the pile of baggies filled with white powder and recoiled as if a rattlesnake was about to strike.

Someone had a stash of cocaine in the locker. Shock punched her in the gut. Drugs in the youth center. This was her worst nightmare.

She met Parker’s gaze. The accusation in his eyes stung worse than a snake’s bite ever could. Did he actually think she had something to do with this?

“I’m shutting you down,” he said, his eyes cold, his voice hard. “As of today, this place is off-limits.”