Scent Of Danger. Terri Reed
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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.”
THREE
“You don’t have the authority to do that,” Melody protested.
“I’ll get it.” Tension tightened Parker’s jaw as he stared at the drugs sitting on the shelf in the locker. It figured the youth center would be too good to be true. Guess the rumor mill was correct.
Was Melody dealing drugs out of the center? Disappointment flooded his system, yet he had a hard time reconciling those thoughts with the woman standing next to him. The shock in her eyes, the distress on her face couldn’t be an act. Could it?
If she were guilty of dealing drugs through the center, she’d have thought up some excuse to refuse opening the locker. But there’d been no excuses, no hesitation.
He’d give her the benefit of the doubt. For now.
Sherlock jumped up, the nails of his paws scratching the metal locker, then the beagle let out a series of loud barks.
“Good job, boy,” Parker said, absently withdrawing a small white towel from the leather pack around his waist. The towel had been scented with various drugs, which helped train the beagle to sniff out a wide variety of illegal substances and was the dog’s reward for finding the correct stashes.
Distracted by the toy, Sherlock clamped his teeth around the end and tugged. Holding on to the other end, Parker played tug-of-war as a reward for a job well done.
“Who put this here?” Jim exclaimed, staring into the locker.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Parker said, his gaze searching each person in the vicinity. “I want the locker and the bags printed.”
Melody nodded her agreement. “Jim, would you call the station and have them send over Rose and Clay?”
Jim grunted his assent and disappeared back inside the classroom.
Pleased with her take-charge attitude, Parker shifted his attention to the kids huddled in a group watching the action unfold with wary expressions. “We’ll need to get a court order to have the techs print everyone who’s had access to the center.”
Frowning, Melody followed his gaze. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? See what prints the CSU team finds on the baggies and the locker and run them through IAFIS to see if any of the prints pop.”
IAFIS—the FBI’s Integrated Automatic Fingerprint Identification System—would only show those already in the system.
One way or another Parker would find whoever was using the center as a clearinghouse for their drugs. He wasn’t going to let what happened to his brother happen to someone else.
He didn’t think Melody was involved. At least he hoped she wasn’t because he really liked her. Liked her determination and seeming dedication. She appeared sincere and genuine in her earnest attempt to effect some change in the lives of the kids in Sagebrush. His gaze skipped over her lush dark hair and her beautiful face. In all honesty, he liked a few other things about the detective, too. Sherlock jerked on the towel, bringing him back to his senses. The woman had a locker full of drugs. Now was not the time to be noticing her appeal. He shifted his focus to Sherlock. “Drop it.”
The beagle let go of the towel and sat, his tail thumping softly against the floor. Parker put the toy back into his pack, glad for something to do so he could regain control of his emotions.
A young woman with long blond hair came down the hall. When she saw the locker and its contents, her face paled. “Oh, wow. Is that what I think it is?”
Melody took the woman’s hand. “It is.” To Parker, Melody said, “This is Ally Jensen, my assistant.” She turned back to the young woman. “Do you have any idea how that got there or who’s been using this locker?”
Ally shook her head. Her gaze darted to the group of kids and back to the locker. “No. No, I don’t.”
Parker narrowed his gaze on the girl. Could the drugs be hers? “Are you sure?”
Her green eyes shimmered with anxiety. “I’m sure.”
The doors at the end of the long corridor opened and the crime-scene techs walked in.
“Called to the youth center twice in one day,” Rose Bigsby said as she approached. She pushed up her wire-rimmed glasses with her free hand. “Did you have another break-in?”
Melody grimaced and looked as if she might be sick. “Not a break-in this time.” She gestured to the drugs.
Clay whistled through his teeth.
Rose held up a staying hand. “Hold your horses, everyone. With all due respect to Sherlock’s awesome track record for sniffing out the real stuff, we need to test it first, especially considering the whos and wherefores around here...” Her gaze slid to Melody. Parker could hear the unspoken thoughts about respecting coworkers. Rose set the duffel bag she carried on the ground and pulled on rubber gloves. “Everyone back up and give me room to work.”
She opened her bag and withdrew a vial, then carefully opened a baggie, taking a tiny sample and putting it into the vial. The color the substance turned when mixed with the chemical agent in the vial would determine the type of drug.
“Cocaine,” Rose announced, holding up the vial to reveal the purple-colored bottom.
Parker had figured as much. Rose and Clay set to work on fingerprinting the baggies and the locker.
Melody went to the group of kids and talked to them in a low voice. Frowning, Parker walked over.
“If any of you know anything about