Page 22 of Lock ’N’ Load

As the light turned green, he stepped on the gas. He’d noticed she stammered when talking to him but not other guys. What the hell is that about? But when she’d been chewing his ass out in the fitness center, she hadn’t stammered once. She’d given him a piece of her mind and then some. Never again would he be taken in by her shy, demure exterior, not when he’d had a run-in with the fiery hellcat hiding within.

He shot past the Moose, hazarding a glance at the wooded area behind the restaurant’s parking lot. Jake had assured him uniforms had scoured the area for evidence both that night and in the morning when it was light out. But they didn’t have Sheba.

Yawning, he noticed a few heavy raindrops hitting the windshield. The forecast was for a heavy downpour within the hour. He took his foot off the gas pedal.

Was it worth a second look?

It was a long shot, but after tonight’s rain, there’d be no chance at all of picking up a scent.

Checking ahead and behind for traffic, he hung a 180 and pulled into the restaurant’s lot, parking adjacent to the curb edging the woods where Trista had been attacked. He wanted Sheba to try to find a scent in the same location. Shutting off the engine, he got out and popped the side door button. Normally, he’d keep Sheba on the leash, but rain was coming down harder by the second.

“Hledej oznac.” Her ears twitched, then she leaped out and bounded onto the pavement. Without him needing to point, the dog immediately put her nose to the area where Matt had tackled the POS to the ground. He pointed into the woods, and they both took off running, Sheba leading the way.

Breathing hard, Matt could barely keep Sheba in sight. The dog was a highly trained, highly motivated animal, and when she got on a hot track, there was no holding her back.

About a hundred yards ahead, he caught sight of her tan-and-black tail bounding in and out of the trees. Overhead, rain on the tree canopies got louder, and even beneath all that leaf cover, large droplets spattered onto his forehead.

Finally, Sheba lay down, panting, alerting him to something she’d found.

Slowing to a jog so he wouldn’t mash any evidence into the ground, he eased up next to Sheba, placing his hand gently on her wet back. Beneath his fingers, the dog’s muscles quivered with excitement. “Whatdya got there, girl?”

Between Sheba’s paws, and half obscured by leaves and pine needles, was a jagged piece of cloth stained with something dark. Possibly blood from Trista’s attacker.

Working quickly, Matt pulled a small plastic evidence bag from his thigh pocket and carefully scooped up the cloth without touching it. After sealing it, he stuffed the bag back in his pocket. Lightning lit the sky through the tree cover, followed by a crack of thunder.

“Let’s get outta here.”

Back at the truck, Sheba shook, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. Rain pounded on their heads, but Matt took the time to give his dog her reward for a job well done: an orange ball secured to the end of a rope. She clamped her jaws around the ball, and he held the rope taught for a few minutes while she tugged and pulled, twisting her head from side to side, growling in delight. By the time they were back in the truck, they were both soaked to the skin.

Matt wiped dripping water from his forehead and guided the Explorer out of the lot toward the police station.

Twenty minutes later, he was handing over the bagged evidence to Jake. “This was in the woods near where Trista Gold was attacked. Sheba found it, and I know she got a piece of that guy last night. Can you do me a favor and have your lab run it through CODIS?”

“Could be blood.” Jake held the bag up to the light, examining the cloth. “All right. I’ll send it in, but it could take a while. Weeks, maybe.”

Matt handed Jake the CIA chain of custody form he’d already filled out. “Could you do me another favor and put a rush on it?”

Jake barked out a laugh. “Dream on. The lab’s booked up solid. I’ve been waiting on a simple fingerprint ID for over a month now.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this guy. Maybe this was nothing more than a random attack, but if it wasn’t…Trista’s attacker is still out there. And the kind of guy who would do this probably isn’t exactly a stellar citizen.”

“Tell me about it.” Jake nodded. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Matt stood to leave, turning. “Find anything on the video cams?”

“Negative.” Jake shook his head. “Still offline. And before you ask, our boys talked to everyone inside the restaurant after you left. There were no witnesses.”

Shit. He’d really hoped Jake would have turned up something else by now. “You’ve got my cell,” he said on the way out the door. “Call me as soon as you get the results. I owe you a beer.”

“That you do.” Jake nodded.

When Matt opened the door to the truck, Sheba stuck her head through the opening. Again, her body quivered at the prospect of getting out there and doing her thing. That was just one of many outstanding aspects of being paired with a K-9. Most of his human partners over the years hadn’t exhibited half that excitement about their jobs. Sheba, on the other hand, was eager to go on patrol every day, rain or shine. Unlike a human, the dog almost never had a bad day. Speaking of bad days, Trista’s past twenty-four hours definitely qualified as shitty.

Shaking his head in disbelief that he was doing it, Matt turned the Explorer in the direction of her house.

Chapter Seven

“You yelled at him?” Bonnie set the glass of Dalwhinnie on the kitchen table, her eyes wide. “You actually yelled at Sgt. Connors?”