Page 3 of Chasing a Kidnapper

“I don’t like it, either, but it’s dark and they could be meeting up with others.” His voice was a low rumble near her ear. “We don’t know how far away the suspected meeting point is. I think we should head back.”

“Suspected meeting point?” She wasn’t following.

“I’ll fill you in. But trust me when I say there may be more bad guys out there.”

She hated the idea of giving up, but he made a good point about the fact there could be additional perps waiting in the wings. The darkness of the woods certainly didn’t help. If she and West used their flashlights, they’d be easy targets for the gunmen.

That wasn’t an option.

Suppressing a sigh, she nodded. “Okay. We’ll go back.”

As she turned on her hands and knees, a wet nose touched her cheek, startling her. Peanut, the brown and white beagle that used to belong to Kenyon Graves but was now assigned to West. She let out a soundless sigh. She should have known he’d have brought his K-9 partner with him.

She and West stayed low moving across the cold earth until the dark gray truck and her damaged squad car were in view. Then they both rose and ran the rest of the way.

“What were you thinking?” West snapped as he abruptly turned to face her.

“What are you talking about?” She glared at him. “I had to follow. Why would I let them get away?”

“Not that. Pulling the truck over in the first place!” He sounded exasperated. “I tailed that truck from the pizzeria. I wanted to see where the delivery was heading. Then you fly out of the brush with your red and blue lights flashing to pull them over.” He was working himself up as he spoke. “And nearly got killed for the effort!”

“How was I supposed to know you were tailing them? Did you put out a BOLO on the truck? Ask for backup?” She had her radio on and knew he had not.

“I was going to, but didn’t have time,” he shot back.

“Yeah, well, that truck was missing a right head lamp so I had little choice but to pull it over.” Fed up with his attitude, she stabbed her index finger into his chest. “I did my job,Detective. Maybe if you would have communicated better, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Me?” His voice rose incredulously. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Yeah, well I didn’t know you were here, either.” She forced herself to step back, drawing in a deep breath. Obviously, she’d ruined his intent to get key intel on whatever illegal cargo was being transported in the truck. Which had not been her plan. But he was also being unreasonable. What cop wouldn’t pull over a truck without a headlight?

Deep down, Trisha knew she was being overly sensitive, having spent the past year trying to prove she could balance the needs of her six-month-old son, Gabriel, with the demands of her job. She was doing fine since her divorce.

Or so she’d thought.

Lately, she’d been assailed by doubts. The night before, she’d had the weird sense that someone had been inside her house. No proof, just a faint hint of cigarette smoke. Her babysitter, Laurel, didn’t smoke, but maybe Laurel had invited a friend over?

Whatever. This wasn’t the time to let her imagination get the better of her. She needed her job to raise her son.

“Okay, you’re right.” West abruptly threw his hands up in the air. “I get that you had to pull the truck over. I was behind it the entire time. I had no idea one headlight was out.”

She nodded, somewhat mollified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interfere.”

“You didn’t. Well, you did, but what’s done is done.” His expression was resigned. “Let’s go see what’s inside.”

If that was his idea of an apology, it was sorely lacking. But she didn’t argue because she was curious about what was being transported in the truck, too.

The one he’d been smart enough to disable, as much as she hated giving him credit for that.

West walked over and opened the back doors. She glanced down to see Peanut sitting near the rear of the vehicle, in her alert stance. Trisha knew the K-9 was trained to search for both gunpowder and gun oil.

She moved closer as West examined the outside of the boxes. She saw the white printing on each of the boxes. “What does SD and ND refer to?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’m guessing South Dakota and North Dakota.” He used the tip of his knife to pry open the box closest to them.

Then he let out a low whistle. “Peanut was right. Guns.”

She peered inside, sucking in a harsh breath at the long guns stacked carefully into the crate. Her blood ran cold. “Those are Sterling MK6 semi-automatic weapons.”

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