Scent Of Danger. Terri Reed
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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