Explosive Revenge
Author
Maggie K. Black
Reads
18.7K
Chapters
18
ONE
Sergeant Tyson Wilkes stared at the rows of bright red X’s he’d marked on his office wall calendar as if they were a detonation timer counting down the days until the Rocky Mountain K-9 Unit faced its demolition. For almost a year the former army ranger commander had poured every ounce of energy, heart and dedication he had into building a new unit of law enforcement officers, who—along with their fearless four-legged partners—had solved crimes, saved lives and rescued the vulnerable from danger. Now, in just four days’ time, his fledgling K-9 family might have everything they worked for snatched away.
And if they did, Tyson knew it would be all his fault.
Today was Monday. On Friday at noon, FBI Special Agent in Charge Michael Bridges, who worked out of the FBI’s Denver office, would meet with Tyson to give his assessment of whether the RMKU’s year-long trial had been a success or if it would be disbanded due to the relentless stream of sabotage which had put some of their best dogs’ lives in danger for the past six months. The sun was setting in a wash of pink and gold, outside his office windows. Most of his colleagues had gone home for the night, and his Dutch shepherd partner, Echo, dozed in his crate with a wheezy snore. Echo’s head rested peacefully on his paws just outside the crate’s open door. His brown-and-black brindle stripes reminded Tyson of a tiger. It was time to go home and feed Echo. Had to make sure at least one of them got a solid meal and a good night’s sleep before getting up tomorrow to start the day over again. As for Tyson, his stomach gnawed but it was like he’d lost his appetite. And he’d had so many sleepless nights, that morning he’d spotted his first bit of gray sneaking into his jet-black hair.
Tyson closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into his temples, where a dull ache built, which ran down his neck and into his back, as if he’d been physically carrying the entire unit and their dogs on his shoulders.
How can I go home when it feels like everything we’ve built here is in jeopardy? Dear God, please help me right this sinking ship. If he shuts us down, it’ll be all my fault.
A polite but no-nonsense knock sounded on his office door. Echo’s head rose.
“Come in,” Tyson called. The door opened, and Officer Skylar Morgan popped her head in. Skylar was still in her crisp black Denver PD uniform with her long auburn hair swept back in a tight bun. Yeah, he remembered what it was like to wear that uniform. He’d been a Denver PD K-9 officer himself before he’d been handpicked to head the RMKU. Skylar was their main go-between with the local police department. For the past several months, she’d been working with them on the case of Kate Montgomery, who for a while had been in a coma following a terrifying car arson where the baby Kate had been taking care of had been kidnapped. Skylar brought an impressive combination of toughness and compassion to the work. Immediately he stood and scanned his ominous calendar for a meeting he might’ve forgotten. “Skylar, hi. I hope you’re here to tell me that Kate has had a breakthrough about the car fire and who might have abducted baby Chloe. I could use some good news.”
Kate Montgomery had been found unconscious near her car, which someone had caused to catch fire. An empty infant car seat and baby blanket had been found close to the vehicle—but no baby. The child’s mother was found dead in her own car not too far away from the scene. Kate was beginning to get her memory back slowly. She recalled Chloe and her mother but not the circumstances between them. Why had Kate been driving the infant? And to where? Who had wanted to harm them? Who had murdered Chloe’s mother? The investigation had been slow going but Tyson felt they were close to solving the mysteries that would lead to baby Chloe’s whereabouts.
Skylar’s green eyes widened, and he suddenly realized that maybe it was odd for someone to launch straight into a question about a case like that, instead of asking her how she was or trying to make small talk about the lovely fall weather.
But he’d never been one for small talk and couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about anything other than work.
“No, sorry,” Skylar said. “But I’m hopeful that the memory specialist who Kate is working with now is getting her closer to fully remembering what happened.”
Tyson nodded. The need to be patient about that case was also wearing on him.
“And I’m sorry to drop in like this,” she added. “But I’m struggling with a difficult case and as someone who used to be on the Denver beat yourself, I wondered if you had a moment?”
Tyson glanced at Echo. The dog settled his head back on his paws and closed his eyes again. Looked like he was content to put off his walk and dinner a little longer.
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Thank you.” Skylar walked into his office and sat down in a chair as he waved her toward it.
Serious green eyes fixed on his face, and despite the fatigue and stress pressing down upon him he felt himself sit up straighter. “What can I do for you?”
Skylar blew out a long breath and he had the odd impression she’d been rehearsing her words on the drive over. Maybe longer.
“A senior on the local high school football team died early this morning of an accidental drug overdose,” she said. “This kid was as clean as the day is long, Tyson. He had no idea what he was taking, and he only took half the pill. The buddy who passed it to him thought it was just a run-of-the-mill painkiller he’d gotten from his parents’ medicine cabinet and had no idea it was laced with way stronger stuff. Kid didn’t even make it to the hospital.”
Despite the number of tragedies and deaths Tyson had seen both as a military ranger and cop, he still felt the news of the young man’s loss right in the gut.
“How is that even possible?” he asked.
“Counterfeit painkillers are the number one street drug we’re dealing with right now,” the cop said. Urgency permeated her voice. “We’re talking the accidental deaths of construction workers, athletes, injured military vets and people like the dad of the kid who had the pills on him. That man was working a factory job and got a bottle of pills off his supervisor because he couldn’t afford to take time off to go to see the doctor, and now a friend of his son is dead.”
Tyson sucked in a painful breath. His eyes rose to the picture of his old ranger unit up on his wall and the young men he’d served his country alongside of. Some had come home to do incredible things with their lives. Four of them—Nelson Rivers, Ben Sawyer, Lucas Hudson and Gavin Walker—were now K-9 officers and members of his team. But others had really struggled and getting hooked on meds was part of it.
“It’s fraud, Tyson,” Skylar said. She leaned forward and he watched as Echo’s ears perked at attention as if his K-9 partner understood the importance of what Skylar was talking about. “It’s a bait and switch. We’ve got drug cartels in Mexico creating completely unsafe synthesized pain medication, with a hodgepodge of dangerous chemicals and no controls. You end up with a bottle where one pill has no meds in it at all and the next is so strong it kills you. Then they smuggle it into the state and people literally have no idea what they’re taking.”
Echo stretched, eased himself out of his cage and quirked his head at Tyson as if the dog somehow knew they needed to act and was awaiting instruction.
“How can we help?” Tyson asked.
He listened as Skylar outlined the overall scope of the Denver PD’s current investigation into combating illegal prescription drugs including identifying dealers, arresting criminals and supporting victims. Her briefing was precise, thorough and detailed, while also being incredibly sensitive, and he found himself wishing all of the many briefings he attended were that way.
“Smugglers are using the natural ruggedness of the Rocky Mountains like this huge and impressive hideout to stay off the radar and to stash their money and drugs,” Skylar said.
Tyson nodded. “Same thing happens in other parts of the world,” he said.
“The Denver police do an amazing job tackling the issue once it breaches our city,” Skylar said. “You know that as well as I do. My goal is to stop it from ever getting into our communities by finding the smuggler’s next stash while it’s still in the mountains. Our sources indicate a new shipment should be arriving any day now. All of our Denver K-9 drug dogs are already working this case from other angles and none have rugged terrain experience. Over the past few months, I’ve seen the incredible work that your K-9 unit has been doing out in the field. I wondered if you’d consider assigning a K-9 team who understands the Rockies and is experienced in drug detection to help me before it’s too late.”
Tyson exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. There was exactly one team inside the RMKU who fit that bill and Skylar was talking to them right now. Echo’s impressive drug detection skills were singular inside the unit. As for himself, Tyson had experience in working rough, mountainous terrain, as did Echo, since that was exactly where Tyson had found the dog when he’d been overseas in the army. Echo stretched slowly, walked out of his crate and sat beside Skylar. Tyson watched as Skylar’s hand instinctively rose to pat his partner, then hovered in the air while she looked over at Tyson as if silently asking his approval. He nodded and Skylar scratched Echo behind the ears.
Tyson glanced at the calendar on the wall with its ominous row of red X’s and silently prayed for wisdom. Everything inside him wanted to say yes to her request. Both Echo and he had been stuck in the office too long dealing with the important administration work of running the RMKU for months. His own muscles ached to get back out to doing some hands-on police work and his gut told him that Echo was itching to get out in the field as much as he was. But he had just four days left to prepare for his meeting with Bridges and to try to get to the bottom of who had been working to sabotage his unit.
If he helped Skylar with this smuggling case, would there even be an RMKU when he was done?
“Also,” Skylar continued, breaking the silence first, “I’d like to put in an application to train to become a K-9 officer for this unit once this case is resolved.”
He had the impression she’d come prepared to present an impassioned case of why she’d be perfect for his team, but instead her words stopped dead as she met his gaze. Her eyes scanned his face, disappointment flickered momentarily in their beautiful green depths and he realized she must’ve seen in his expression that he was going to turn her down before he’d even opened his mouth.
“I really wish I could help you with your case,” he said, hoping she could read the sincerity in his voice. “But Echo is the only drug detection dog in the unit, and I’ve got something huge on my plate right now. As for you joining our team, I’m not planning on training any new K-9 officers right now.” Not until he knew for certain the unit would be continuing. “But when I do, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you for the consideration and your time,” she said and stood. He and Echo stood too. “And if you do ever have time to grab a quick coffee or meal and go over the case further, I’d love to get your perspective.”
“Sounds good,” he said and nodded noncommittally. Skylar had no idea how much he wished he could take her up on it, and not just because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent meal. From the few interactions they’d had over the past few months, she seemed to be a fascinating person and a terrific cop. He’d enjoy picking her mind about the case and bouncing a few ideas around about it. Even if he and Echo couldn’t get out there into the Rockies and investigate it with her. But instead he kept that to himself and all he said was “Let me walk you out. I’ve got to get Echo home for dinner, not to mention some exercise.”
Echo’s head cocked to the side, with one triangular ear pointing straight up to the ceiling while the other flopped over. Skylar nodded, and Tyson looped the dog’s leash around his hand, without clipping it around Echo’s harness. He grabbed his coat, and they walked out. The open-floor-plan office was empty, as were the smaller offices that ringed the side of the room. All dogs and their human partners had left for the day, leaving only him and Echo behind. Tyson switched off lights as they went. A cold fall breeze nipped at their faces as they stepped outside.
The parking lot was dark and empty except for his SUV and her police cruiser on the opposite side of the lot. They walked toward her vehicle in silence, with Skylar on his one side and Echo on the other. Each empty space he passed reminded him of just how much his team had changed since their early days almost a year ago, when it seemed like every new member would stay late and try to burn the midnight oil. But over the months, his officers had fallen in love, gotten engaged or married and built families.
Normally, he was more than okay with the fact that his work had overtaken his days and life outside the office had been passing him by. When he’d been serving his country overseas he’d practically slept with his boots on. Maybe it was the fact he’d just turned down a case he was really interested in, the advancing row of red X’s on his calendar or something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but for the first time in a long time Tyson found himself wishing for a life beyond just holding the team together and carrying it on his back.
They reached Skylar’s vehicle and he turned to her.
“Thanks for dropping by,” he said. “I wish I could do more to help with your case.”
A deep engine revved unseen to his right like a monster roaring in the evening gloom. Then blinding headlights split the darkness. A vehicle raced across the lot, picking up speed as it aimed directly for them.
Fractions of a second seemed to stretch into minutes as the vehicle raced toward them. Instinctively Skylar turned and dashed across the parking lot, desperately trying to evade its path. Then she felt Tyson at her side, his hand touching her back as he ran alongside her.
“Jump!” he shouted.
Darkness loomed ahead. She had no idea what she was about to jump into.
One strong arm reached around her waist, half pulling and half guiding her. He leaped and she did too. Their bodies soared over a low barrier fence and tumbled down into a ditch on the other side. His arms wrapped around her, sheltering and protecting her as they rolled. They stopped and for a moment she lay there, stunned from the fall, feeling the protection of Tyson’s arms. Then he jumped to his feet and hollered, “Echo! Come!”
She looked up to see the Dutch shepherd leaping majestically through the air as a truck whizzed past, barely missing the tip of the dog’s tail. The truck was old, by the looks of it, with a two-seater cab, and was the color of apple juice.
“I didn’t see a driver or get a license plate,” she said. She climbed shakily to her feet. Only then did she realize that Tyson had reached out his hand to help her up. He pulled it back. “Did you see where he was coming from?”
“No,” Tyson said. “It was like there was no vehicle there and then suddenly one appeared.”
Yeah, it had been that way for her too. Almost like the driver had been parked somewhere nearby, hiding with his lights off, waiting for them to step outside. But that was a far less likely scenario than it just being some drunk driver who cut through the parking lot by mistake. If she floated her suspicion that the truck had actually been lying in wait, without any proof, would Tyson dismiss her out of hand or think she was leaping to fantastical conclusions?
“Not much to go on when it comes to filing a report,” she added. “But I presume you have security cameras?”
If so, that should prove whether the truck had charged down the road or been hiding.
“We do,” Tyson said. “But I’ve got to get to the kennels. Stay close.”
“The kennels?” she asked. “Why?”
That was when she realized that Tyson also had his own theories that he wasn’t sharing with her.
“Hang on,” she said. “What do the K-9 kennels have to do with the near hit-and-run?”
Tyson was already running back up the slope with Echo by his side.
“Long story,” Tyson shouted back, “and one I’m not about to get into without evidence.”
Right. She followed Tyson out of the ditch and across the dark and empty parking lot.
“I’m calling it in!” she shouted, then grabbed her radio and quickly called in the near miss, giving dispatch the limited information she had. If the driver was drunk or on drugs, they might pose a danger to other pedestrians and motorists, especially if this had just been a random encounter. The dispatcher assured her they’d tell patrol officers to be on the lookout for a pickup truck driving erratically. She ended the call, which had lasted mere seconds, hurried after Tyson and reached him at the door.
“Are they sending an officer out here to take our statement?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I told them the driver was long gone and that we’d both make our own reports about the incident. My main concern was warning patrol officers there was a potential threat on the road.”
He nodded. “Good,” he said. “Denver PD is stretched thin enough as is. I don’t want to waste an officer’s time coming all the way out here to ask us what happened when we can look into it ourselves.”
The kennels were housed in a large building beside the RMKU’s offices, with an outside fenced-in training area around the back. Tyson met a uniformed security guard at the door and exchanged a few words with him out of earshot. But there was no mistaking the deep sigh of relief that seemed to roll off Tyson’s shoulders. The guard disappeared back into the building and Tyson waved at Skylar. She and Echo followed him in. They walked through a row of kennels.
“All of our K-9 dogs who’ve finished training go home with their human partners at night,” he said. “We’ve only got two staying here now. Fortunately, they’re both fine.”
Again questions filled her mind. A truck had nearly hit them outside in the parking lot. Why had his instinct been to run inside the unit’s training center?
He stopped in front of a kennel where a young black Labrador retriever was curled up in a ball on a blanket.
“That’s Shiloh,” he said. The relief she’d sensed moments ago filled his voice along with affection for the velvety-eared pup. “Really wonderful dog with a gentle personality. We’re all fond of him, especially my assistant, Jodie Chen. But Shiloh is a bit slow in picking up the more ruthless part of training.”
“Ruthless?” she asked.
“Maybe that’s the wrong word for it,” he said and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “There’s this certain determination they need, that enables them to ignore all the human emotions swirling around in a situation and simply focus on the task at hand. Some dogs get more distracted by wanting to comfort the victim than charging off after the perpetrator. And Shiloh here is a bit of a softie.”
Something in his tone made her wonder if he thought the same was true for human K-9 officers too. Certainly in her experience, too much emotional involvement in someone could cloud a person to what they were really like. Recklessly caring about the wrong person wasn’t just foolish; it could be downright dangerous. A yip dragged their attention to the next kennel over. Tyson chuckled softly as they walked over. A small beagle was spinning around in an excited circle.
“And this is Chase,” he added. “So much energy but smart as a whip.”
Footsteps sounded to their right and they turned to see the security guard had returned.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Tyson said. “I’m going to see what we’ve got on the security cameras.” He turned to his K-9 partner. “Echo, stay with Skylar. Protect Skylar.”
Protect her? From what? She was a cop, and they were alone inside the kennels. Before she could ask anything more, Tyson turned and followed the guard down a hallway. She couldn’t help but notice that the kennels, which had been built to house at least two dozen dogs, were practically empty. They clearly weren’t overflowing with new recruits. So why had he told her he was putting a hold on new applications? The beagle sniffed around for another moment, then went back inside the crate and started trampling the blankets around in a circle.
Echo looked up at her, tilted his head to one side and whimpered slightly as if needing something.
“What can I do for you?” Skylar asked the shepherd.
Echo’s paws danced, clattering on the hard floor. Skylar didn’t know any of the K-9 commands, but she’d been around enough dogs to know when one was in a hurry to go somewhere.
“Outside?” she asked.
The dog woofed, ran a few steps toward the rear of the kennels then back to her. There were too many unknowns swirling around this whole situation to let her guard down fully. She slid her hand onto the handle of her service weapon, ready to unholster it at a second’s notice, and slowly pushed the door open to see what looked like a training area, surrounded by a ten-foot chain-link fence. A veritable obstacle course of pylons, hurdles, plastic tunnels and balance beams lay to her left. Another, smaller roped-off area lay to her right. There wasn’t another person in sight. The dog trotted outside and started sniffing the ground. Skylar stood there a long moment in the doorway breathing in the night air. It was only then she realized that her heart was racing.
Tyson would never know just how hard it had been for her to come to him for help. Let alone to risk telling him her dreams of joining the K-9 unit. She had no doubt that he was the best, most qualified person she could’ve asked for help on the drug case.
Growing up in a house that was full of constant screaming and yelling, she’d thought there were two types of people in the world—the bullies and the weak. As much as she’d loved both her parents, she’d hated the way her father used to drink and rage and how her mother was so hopelessly devoted to his approval and attention she never stood up to him. It was only when it got so bad that neighbors had called the police that she’d realized there was a third type of person too—those who didn’t let their emotions take over and instead who protected others. So that’s what she’d vowed to be. The three blue words emblazoned on the side of her squad car, Serve and Protect, meant everything to her. When she put on her uniform every day, she was proud to be a protector.
But now, the person she’d come to for help hadn’t just turned her down; he’d poured cold water on her hopes of joining his unit. Then after they’d both nearly been run over by someone who for all they knew might’ve been connected to her drug case, he’d gone to look at the surveillance footage without her and told his dog to protect her. Without explanation. He’d reacted in a way that hadn’t made sense to her. She didn’t even know why she was as bothered by any of that as she was. Her eyes closed as she prayed that God would help her get past whatever it was that was stirred up inside her. Then she asked for help on stopping the drug smugglers.
Echo barked, prompting her to open her eyes again. It was a short and urgent sound, as if there was something the dog needed immediately. Still standing in the doorway, she glanced back inside the kennels. Tyson was nowhere in sight. She unholstered her weapon and stepped outside, leaving the door open behind her. Floodlights sprang to life behind her, and she wasn’t sure if they were motion sensored or if Tyson had seen her on the security cameras and switched them on. A splash of red in her peripheral vision drew her attention to the wall behind her.
She turned and her hand rose to her lips barely stifling a gasp.
A word had been spray-painted on the wall of the RMKU kennels in huge red letters:
RUN.
