I Shall Not Want (17 page)

“That would make sense,” he said.

“What if the vet tech was there not just to chip the puppies, but also to insert the doctored chip last Friday?”

“I’m with you.”

“Maybe he was nervous, afraid his partners were going to double-cross him. He embedded the chip, but not in the dog he was supposed to.”

“And then Derek or someone else killed him. And then Derek was killed, as well,” Jeremiah filled in.

“And Derek’s laptop is missing. So the killer has the ability to read the chip, but has no idea which of the dogs present on Friday is actually carrying the correct chip.”

“He has to go through all of Joseph’s dogs, and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for he starts in with the Humane Society’s dogs.”

“Until he finds the right dog, everyone who adopted is in danger,” Cindy said. “What do you think is on that chip?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s worth killing for.”

Fear rushed through her, and she turned to look at Buff and Clarice. “I’m safe, though, right? Even though I’ve got two dogs here. I’m safe because the killer’s already checked both of them out.”

There was a long silence, and then Jeremiah spoke. “Ordinarily I would say that you were correct, but these are strange times, and I don’t think anyone connected to this thing is safe until the killer is killed.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a police officer,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips and getting up to double check that the front door was locked securely. It was. So were the windows.

“Do you know which one?”

“No. But Harry said whoever attacked him was wearing Old Spice. I have no idea what that smells like so I tried going by the drugstore, but everywhere was already closed for the holiday. You don’t happen to have any Old Spice hanging around, do you?” She realized she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was afraid.

“Sorry, I don’t. I don’t know what it smells like either, but even if I did, I’m too congested to be of much assistance,” Jeremiah admitted.

“It’s okay. I can wait until morning.”

“You don’t have anything else to go on?”

“No, but judging by Buff ’s reaction earlier, I would guess it was one who wears a uniform.”

“Makes sense to me,” he said.

“There have been a lot of different uniformed officers present at the different crime scenes, and I swear that Friday the entire force had to be out there interviewing people.”

“That doesn’t narrow things down much,” he said, breaking into a fit of coughing.

“No,” she said with a sigh. “I wish Mark would answer his phone so I could let him know what we found. I’m just worried that while we’re waiting for the stores to open in the morning someone else is going to die and it could have been prevented.”

“What do you need to do, Cindy?”

The question hung in the air as she pondered its significance. He hadn’t asked her what she wanted to do but what she needed to do. It was a powerful difference. “I need to go down to the police station.”

“Why?”

“To find Mark or Paul.”

“Or the killer.”

“Or the killer,” she affirmed.

“You don’t have to do this, Cindy.”

“No, but I need to.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked, coughing again.

“Yes, but I think it’s a better idea if you stay home and get over the flu. Who knows when I’ll need you to rescue me again,” she said. She’d said it meaning it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. She heard the tremor in her own voice and bit her lip.

“I don’t think you need anyone to rescue you,” Jeremiah said so softly she wasn’t sure she had heard him right.

“Thank you,” she answered.

“Can I do anything for you?”

She glanced at the dogs and briefly considered dropping them off at his place. That would take time, though, and she had the sinking feeling she was running short on it.

“No, I’ve got it covered,” she said. “But I’ll call if I need anything or I get in trouble,” she said.

“Do me a favor and call even if you don’t.”

“I will,” she promised before hanging up.

“Buff, Clarice, I’m going out for a little while. Take care of each other,” she instructed the dogs.

She grabbed her purse and her keys, took a deep, steadying breath, and headed out the door.

When they reached the precinct, Mark hopped out of the car and headed straight to dispatch, Paul trailing behind him. Once there, he waited thirty seconds for the woman manning the line to finish.

“What can I help you with?” she asked finally.

“Did you by any chance send out officers to the Humane Society Monday morning in response to a break-in call?”

“Yes,” she said, looking at him strangely. “It turned out a new volunteer forgot to lock up properly.”

“Where did you hear that?” Mark demanded.

“From the officers on scene.”

“And just who were they?” Mark asked eagerly, leaning forward, ready to find them and tear them apart with his bare hands until they told him where his wife was.

“You.”

“What?”

“You and Paul took that call.”

17

M
ARK TURNED ON
P
AUL
,
WHO STOOD
,
JAW OPEN AND FACE PALE
.

“
We
took the call?” Mark growled, hand on his gun.

“We’re homicide detectives, why would we have taken a robbery call?” Paul asked.

“You radioed it in, said you were close by and that it could be linked to Friday so you’d check it out just in case.”

“It was linked to Friday, but we weren’t the ones who answered,” Paul said, staring Mark dead in the eye. “Someone claimed to be us so that no one would know who actually took the call.”

“She said the tall guy had a New Testament name. Paul is a New Testament name,” Mark whispered.

“And why would I have been stupid enough to use it if it was actually me connected to all of this?”

He wouldn’t have. He knew Paul. The other detective was careful, methodical. He’d been with him when Traci was kidnapped and he had no scar on the back of his neck. There weren’t any other Pauls or Marks on the Pine Springs police force. He had to hand it to the killer, the guy was clever, using Paul’s name. He had probably hoped Mark would react just as he did. But how had he known the woman from the humane
shelter wouldn’t remember what he looked like? Probably because she had told an officer the very same thing when he interviewed her at the charity event.

He moved his hand away from his gun and gave Paul an apologetic grimace. The other shrugged his shoulders.

“Thanks for your help,” Mark told the dispatcher.

“You’re welcome,” she said, eyeing the two of them warily.

Mark headed out of the room with Paul right behind.

“Time to start searching for scars?” Paul asked.

“You bet it is.”

They called a meeting of every officer in the building to update them on the situation. After getting a good look at the officer manning the front desk, they excused him so he could continue to perform his duty. The rest of the thirty men and women present crowded into the large meeting room, sitting in rows of chairs.

Up front Paul began, “We didn’t want a lot of rumors flying around so we figured this was the best way to update everyone at once. As you may or may not have heard by now, our killer has abducted one more dog and this time he’s kidnapped a person as well—Traci Walters. Many of you know her, she’s Detective Walters’s wife.”

Gasps went up around the room. Mark struggled not to connect with them, not to feel the horror that others were feeling. Instead he paced slowly around the room, taking a good look at the back of everyone’s necks as he did so.

At the front Paul kept talking, giving updates, telling them what to look out for, but keeping quiet about the fact that a cop was involved. Finally Mark finished examining everyone in the room. He nodded to Paul, who wrapped things up.

“No questions at this time. Just remember to report anything even remotely suspicious,” Paul said.

The officers filed out of the room, leaving Mark and Paul alone.

“Well?” Paul asked.

“Not a one of them had a scar on the back of their neck. Not unless the scar is a fake or they’re trying to cover it up with makeup. I think that’s pretty unlikely in both cases. On the face, maybe, but the back of the neck?”

“I agree with you. And we know we’ve both seen the scar before.”

“I jotted down the names of all the officers present. I figure we only were able to check about a third of them.”

“It was a long shot that whoever it was would be in the office right now too.”

“Agreed.”

“We still have to interrogate Joseph,” Paul pointed out.

“You’re right. Well, he should be sweating it by now.”

“If he hasn’t already lawyered up.”

“I’ll go take care of that now.”

Paul put a restraining hand on Mark’s chest. “I kind of think that I should handle the interrogation on this one.”

“You don’t trust me to?”

“Frankly, no. And I don’t blame you at all, but we can’t afford to handle this wrong, and I know your head’s not entirely in a right space because of Traci.”

Mark wanted to argue, but he knew Paul was right. He sighed and nodded slowly. “I’ll be at my desk trying to work a few things out.”

“I’ll send for you if I get anything.”

“Thanks.”

Paul headed for the interrogation room, and Mark grabbed himself a cup of coffee and then made his way to his desk. If he could only remember where he had seen that scar, he knew he could save Traci.

When he made it back to his desk, Cindy was waiting for him, sitting in the chair across from his with hands clenched in her lap. He sighed. He had never checked his messages or returned her call. The last thing he wanted was to hear her insist that Joseph had to be innocent and how could he drag him out of her home on Thanksgiving like that.

“Well, well, Miss Preston. What can I do for you this evening?” he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

She narrowed her eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was tense, clipped, “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“You noticed? So your response was to traipse down to the police station and try to find me?”

Anger flashed in her eyes, and for a moment he thought she was going to get up and walk out. Instead she took a deep breath and composed herself. “Did you at least get my message?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been a bit busy. After I visited your house, I had to go home to mine.” His throat tightened up, and he fought to maintain control. “It seems the killer kidnapped my wife.”

Cindy stared at him, eyes wide in shock. “I’m so sorry,” she managed to finally whisper. She tried to put a hand on his arm, but then seemed to think better of it. She bit her lip and tears sparkled in her eyes but did not fall. He was at least grateful for that.

“It happened earlier today apparently. I have my theories as to who did it, but I don’t have proof. And without that, I have nothing.”

“I think a police officer is involved,” Cindy blurted out. The words seemed harsh, judgmental the way she said them, but he knew from the look on her face that she did not mean them to.

“I’ve come to the same conclusion,” Mark said wearily. He had been wrong to jump to conclusions about why she was
calling. He took a sip of coffee to calm himself. “Time to swap info?”

Cindy nodded eagerly. “I don’t feel good being the only one with the knowledge in my head.”

It was funny, but Mark wasn’t in the mood to laugh. “You go first.”

He listened carefully as she explained everything. When she was finished, he filled her in on what he and Paul had learned. She nodded repeatedly through his telling of events until he came to the end.

“It seems we’ve gotten to the same place,” she said.

“It appears so. Intriguing idea about the chip. It would explain a lot.”

“I just can’t figure out what would be on it,” she said.

Mark scratched his head. “Any number of things, I would guess. It could be business related, you know, corporate espionage.”

Cindy shook her head. “Derek was Joseph’s personal assistant. Joseph has very little to do with the daily business of his companies, and he has people at his work who handle those details. Derek handled Joseph’s private affairs.”

“Maybe it was his bank account numbers,” Mark suggested.

Cindy hesitated. “That would make more sense.”

“But?”

“But why wait six months for that when he probably had that information within one or two? And if he wanted to take the information overseas, Joseph and the dogs have been to several shows in that time period. No, unless he was waiting for a particular country or event, that doesn’t click.”

“Okay, so what would have happened recently that would have been worth stealing?”

Cindy slipped a deck of cards out of her purse and began shuffling them one-handed. It was a neat trick, and Mark
watched her as she thought. “Derek worked with Joseph on his personal finances and his day-to-day activities.”

“Which includes dog showing and what else?”

“Charity work.”

She stopped shuffling and looked him in the eye. “The charity event Friday: a lot of people donated money for that. Some were organizations, and some were individuals—a few of them very wealthy.”

“And Derek would have had access to their information,” Mark said. Something the director of the shelter had said earlier came back to him. She had been grateful they didn’t keep financial records on the computer because her sister had been a victim of identity theft.

“Identity theft. They were going to steal the identities of a few ultra-rich people,” Mark realized. “Not only could they access bank and credit accounts, but they could also make millions opening fraudulent credit accounts.”

Cindy’s eyes grew wide. “That would make sense. They could steal more money from a dozen than from Joseph. It would make the diamond collar pale in comparison.”

“And the diamond collar would be hard to sell, whereas they could take their information out of the country, and then hit one after another without getting caught and make a fortune.”

“That has to be it!” Cindy said.

“It would make sense, but the only way we’re going to know for sure is if we find the chip. If he was still stealing dogs today, then he can’t have found it yet.”

“Even if you find the right dog before he does, how will you know without the laptop?”

“I know a couple of tech guys,” Mark said. “I’ll get them on it. Then I’ll track down the rest of the dogs who haven’t been stolen.”

“Do you need any help?”

He blinked and looked at her. Her eyes were bright, her face was flushed, and she was ready to throw herself in harm’s way. It was a far cry from the terrified, mousy little secretary he had met a few months before.

“No, this is a job for the police.” He jumped to his feet. “Miss Preston, thank you. Call me if you think of anything else.”

Even though she was relieved to have been able to speak to Mark, Cindy returned home sick at heart. She prayed for his wife and that she would be found safe and sound. She couldn’t imagine the nightmare he was living, and she was amazed that he was able to function through it. He was an incredible man.

As she finally made it home and parked in her driveway, fear rippled through her. The house was dark, and shadows played around it. She couldn’t help but think of Mark’s wife, kidnapped from her own home, and in broad daylight. Cindy was angry at herself as she sat in the car and the fear played upon her mind. She should have left a light on in the house, or at least on the porch. She never liked coming home to a dark house, but now the shadows on the porch seemed more ominous than ever.

Did one of the shadows just move to the right of the door?
Her heart pounded.
Relax, no one’s on your front porch.
She breathed a momentary sigh of relief until she realized that if someone was waiting for her, they were probably already inside.

But wouldn’t the dogs be barking if someone was inside? N
ot if they’re hiding like Buff did earlier.
Not if they’re hurt or—

She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge the dark thoughts that threatened to render her powerless and too frightened to move. She might be frightened, but she was not
powerless. And she would move even if she were, because she had to, because to give in to fear would mean running for the rest of her life, and she was so tired of being afraid all the time.

The last few months she had been able to lull herself into believing that she was doing better, but it was all a lie. She was jumping at shadows, just as she used to, imagining all kinds of things that just weren’t possible and others that, though possible, were extremely unlikely.

She wanted so badly to call Jeremiah. She knew he would come over and inspect her place, walk inside with her and keep her safe from anything dangerous that lurked within. But she couldn’t. Jeremiah wouldn’t always be there, and then how would Cindy face the dark and the monsters without him if she grew dependent on facing them with him?

She forced herself out of her car and up onto her porch. Shadows seemed to mock her, shifting slightly as though to make way for her passage. She put her key to the lock and heard something move just on the other side of the door.

With a gasp she spun and ran back to her car before remembering that Buff and Clarice were inside, and it was almost certainly them that she had heard. She squared her shoulders and approached the door again.

Once more the shadows seemed to leer and mock her. She slid the key into the lock, turned, pushed through the door as she opened it, and slammed and locked it behind her.

As she reached for the light switch, a wet tongue licked her ankle, and she screamed, even though she knew it was one of the dogs. The lights came on, and Clarice stared at her with a baffled look while Buff ran from the room.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she told the poodle as she reached down to give her head a quick pat.

She flipped on the outside lights, knowing she would have to take both dogs for a walk before she could barricade herself in her house for the rest of the night. She clipped the leash on Clarice’s collar and cautiously eased the door open.