K-9 Ranch Protection
Author
Darlene L. Turner
Reads
17.3K
Chapters
20
A killer on the loose. A K-9 keeping watch. Police constable Izzy Tremblay knows her father's death was no accident, so when she finally discovers a lead and is immediately attacked, her suspicions are confirmed. The ambush leaves her in the hospital with three hours of crucial memory missing, which she knows holds the key to finding her father's murderer. For protection, she takes refuge with her ex-partner, Austin Murray, on his K-9 ranch while she races to uncover the truth. But with danger still lurking, can they stay alive long enough to take down a killer?
ONE
The computer screen flashed white and turned black. Constable Isabelle Tremblay’s hand flew away from the keyboard and the hairs on her nape prickled. She glanced around the Harturn River Police Department’s bullpen. All the monitors had gone dark. Not good. She shoved her office chair back and spun to her coworker. “What’s happening?”
Before he could respond, menacing laughter exploded through their system, and a skull appeared on all screens. A message in bold red letters displayed beneath the frightening image.
IZZY, BACK OFF OR DIE.
A collective gasp filled the room.
Izzy bolted to her feet. She caught the meaning behind the message, and it confirmed her suspicions. Chief Constable Justin Tremblay’s death wasn’t from a heart attack.
Her father was murdered.
As quickly as the screens had flickered, they returned to normal. How had someone infiltrated HRPD’s secure computer system? Their IT department was the best of the best. Plus she completed a double check recently of their firewalls. Her cyber knowledge verified they were impenetrable.
Or, at least, she thought so.
“Tremblay, my office. Now!” The voice of newly appointed Chief Constable Eric Halt boomed from the hallway.
“You’re in trouble now,” Constable Fisher said. “Did you click on something?”
She raised her hands. “No, I was just about to shut down for the day.”
The older male constable clucked his tongue. “Well, I’m guessing from that message you’re still secretly investigating your dad’s death. You need to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“I can’t.” Izzy shuffled through the hallway as her cell phone buzzed in her vest pocket. She ignored it and knocked on Chief Constable Halt’s door.
“Enter.”
Izzy inhaled and stepped into the office. “You wanted to see me?”
The chief lifted his index finger. “Thanks for the update. Make sure we’re locked down. We can’t let this happen again.” He slammed the receiver back into the cradle and gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”
Definitely not good. She obeyed.
Halt peeked over his reading glasses, eyes glaring. “Didn’t I tell you to drop your investigation? This message tells me you didn’t listen.”
“Sir, I haven’t used our department resources and have only investigated on my own time.” She leaned forward. “Plus this message tells me I’m on the right track. Dad was murdered.”
The man’s eyes softened. “Listen, I’m really sorry about your father’s death, but nothing suspicious materialized. He had a heart attack while driving and crashed. End of story.”
Izzy was tired of hearing that lie. Even her own mother told her to back off, but Izzy couldn’t. “He just had his annual physical and was in perfect health.”
Halt drummed his fingers on his desktop. “Well, he was under a lot of stress the past couple of months. That may have triggered the attack.”
Izzy shook her head. “It didn’t. I figured out from his journal notes he was investigating some sort of drug cartel. Do you know anything about that?”
The chief constable stopped drumming his fingers. “No. What else did you find?”
“The rest of his notes are in code. That’s what I’m trying to ascertain.”
“Odd.” He pointed to his phone. “Well, IT informed me that someone clicked on a link included in a fake company email sent to all of us. Whoever sent it is good. The bogus link unleashed a virus. Did you?”
What? “No. That email came in just as I was shutting down to leave for the day.”
He crossed his arms. “Well, IT narrowed it down to your computer. Are you absolutely sure? Don’t lie to me.”
She popped to her feet. “I. Did. Not. You know I have—”
“I know. I know. Your partner told me about your memory. Must be nice to never forget anything.” He tapped his thumb on the desk. “I’ll get IT to investigate further. We need to determine where the virus came from and if it has compromised our system.” He placed his hand on the phone. “Dismissed.”
Izzy left the office, his words lingering in her mind.
Must be nice to never forget anything.
Some days Izzy wanted to forget. However, her hyperthymesia prevented her wish from becoming a reality. Having a perfect memory had certainly given her an edge when solving cases in her hometown of Harturn River, British Columbia, but it had also been the brunt of continuous jokes throughout her life. To where she tried to keep her condition a secret. Until her ex-partner, Austin Murray, convinced her to use her detailed memories to their advantage.
Her cell phone buzzed again, thrusting her out of thoughts of the past—and Austin—the man she had tried hard to forget. Unsuccessfully.
She fished out her device and swiped the screen.
Sims. Her father’s confidential informant.
Figured out the cipher.
Izzy sucked in a breath. Sims came through. Now she’d be able to read her father’s final encoded entries in his journal. Perhaps his notes would lead her to his killer.
Good. Off shift. Where can we meet?
Three dots bounced on her screen as she waited for his answer.
1 hour behind Chuckie’s Bar and Grill. Bring the journal.
Izzy tapped in her last message.
See you soon.
She hurried back to her desk, gathered her belongings and snatched her winter coat from the back of the chair before leaving the police station.
A brisk wind slapped her in the face, chilling her instantly. She wiggled into her coat and zipped it all the way to her neck before putting on her gloves. She underestimated the expected change in weather. The temperature fell, meeting the meteorologist’s forecast of a cold snap in February in British Columbia.
She jogged to her vehicle and pressed her key fob to unlock the door. A piece of paper stuck under her windshield wiper caught her attention. A wind gust flipped the top half over, revealing a message.
We’re watching.
She bristled and peered around the lit parking lot. Nothing suspicious materialized. Izzy lifted the wiper and removed the note. Only the simple two-word message appeared on the paper.
However, the underlying threat seeped off the page. Whoever hacked into their police system wanted to ensure she understood their order to stay away.
But they underestimated the Tremblay determination flowing through her veins. The threat only escalated her resolve to find her father’s killer. Izzy suppressed the trepidation threatening to overpower her thoughts, shoved the note in her purse and climbed into her SUV. I’ll find your murderer, Dad, if it’s the last thing I do.
Forty minutes later at her house, Izzy finished scanning the last pages of her father’s journal. She would not risk losing any valuable information if something happened to the book. Especially now that she was close to deciphering its contents. Her father must have suspected the threat on his life as he’d mailed the journal to her condo’s address the day before his death. Because of this, she was positive it contained valuable information that would uncover his killer and what he’d been working on. Izzy yanked the thumb drive from her laptop as her eyes shifted to the brown journal sitting on her desk. A thought tumbled into her mind.
Keep the two separate.
But where should she hide the drive?
She spotted her father’s box of items from the police station, and an idea formed. Izzy took out his favorite coin from its pouch and dropped in the drive. She wouldn’t hide it inside her condo because that’s the first place anyone would search. Izzy put on her jacket and placed the journal in her purse. She stuffed the thumb drive in one coat pocket and her bear spray in the other. Being off duty meant she had to leave her weapon behind, but the repellant would at least give her some type of protection. Izzy snatched her key fob and raced outside to hide the drive in her favorite spot in her backyard. Somewhere no one would think to look.
She turned into the darkened alleyway and parked her SUV beside a dumpster fifteen minutes later. Before exiting to meet Sims, she punched in her partner’s personal cell phone number and waited.
“Hey, Izzy, what’s up?” Constable Douglas Carver asked.
The man’s experience had impressed her throughout the past few years, and she needed his advice. Plus his fatherly demeanor comforted her after her own father’s death. “Doug, I have a lead on the cipher to decode Dad’s notes. I’m about to meet with Sims but wanted to see if you could come too. I need your help.”
“I’m in a meeting with Austin Murray going through pictures of his dogs. Halt tasked me with buying one for the K-9 unit. Where are you?” The concern in his voice filtered through the phone.
Izzy stiffened at the mention of her ex-partner’s name. Austin Murray’s failure to act at a crime scene had robbed their police station of Sergeant Clara Jenkins—Izzy’s best friend and mentor. Clara died that night from a gunshot wound to the chest. Ten years had passed since Austin quit the force, and Izzy had stayed away from the man, even with Harturn River’s small population of thirty-five thousand. Izzy had secretly fallen for her partner, but the pain of losing Clara caused Izzy to suppress her true feelings for the man.
She was aware of his K-9 ranch which also included horses, cattle, and other farm animals, but had purposely avoided going there. She bit her lip. “I’m behind Chuckie’s Bar and Grill about to talk to Sims. How much longer will you be?”
“Izzy, what’s going on? I can hear the concern in your voice.”
She explained the events of the past hour, including the note on her windshield. “Sorry I didn’t contact you earlier. There wasn’t time. I could use your years of expertise. And backup, of course.”
“Are you calling me old?” His teasing tone made her smile.
“Never.”
“On my way. Don’t do anything stupid.” He clicked off.
A door slammed nearby, startling Izzy. She turned and spied Sims lighting a cigarette beside the bar’s back entrance. She studied the surroundings before hustling to his side.
The informant puffed out a cloud of smoke. “’Bout time you got here. You bring the journal?”
She patted her purse. “Yup. Where’s the cipher?”
He tapped his temple. “In here.”
Izzy gritted her teeth. How had her father put up with this man? His cocky attitude had annoyed her over the last week. She found Sims’s number hidden under the inside tab of the journal’s cover. Her father had spoken of the man often and how he’d helped him put away many criminals, so she called Sims. Right away, he agreed with her suspicions of foul play in her father’s death. “Sims, please tell me what you discovered.”
He took one more drag of his cigarette before dropping the butt to the ground and stepping on any remaining embers. “It’s really quite simple. Your dad always loved his books. He used the book cipher. Show me the journal.”
Izzy withdrew the book and opened to a page containing her father’s cryptic notes of numbers. “There’s a number at the top that doesn’t seem to follow the same sequence as the others.”
“Interesting.” Sims pointed. “I believe these numbers mean the page, line and word needed to decipher the message. You just have to figure out which book and edition he used.”
Izzy palm-slapped her forehead. “Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that? How did you figure it out?”
“I remembered something he said to me the day before he died. He said he loved the way Sherlock used a book cipher in one of his novels.”
“Right. The Valley of Fear. It was Dad’s favorite.” She latched on to Sims’s arm. “Wait, do you think he used that book for the cipher?”
He shook his head. “Doubtful. Too easy. Since he sent the journal to you, it’s a book only you would guess.”
“Right.” Izzy’s memory pictured every book on her shelves, but nothing stood out.
“Don’t limit it to your current bookshelf. Go way back, it could—”
A shot pierced the frosty night.
Sims dropped.
“No!” Izzy fell to her knees and placed two fingers on his neck. No pulse. She hung her head. The man was gone.
Movement rustled behind her.
She jumped upright and pulled out her bear spray, still clutching the journal.
“Don’t even think about it,” a sinister voice said. “I have a Glock pointed at you. Drop the can and turn around slowly.”
Bear spray couldn’t outrun a bullet. Izzy obeyed and turned to face her attacker.
The man stood away from the bar’s back entrance light, concealing his identity. However, something about his voice triggered a memory. A meeting at HRPD’s station behind closed doors six months ago. She had caught a portion of the conversation as she left the building. The angry words surfaced in her memory. Even though the speaker had lowered his tone, she didn’t miss the whispered words.
He can’t find out.
The sentence returned, but she couldn’t assign the voice to a name. Had the person lowered their pitch tonight to disguise themselves?
“Toss the journal on the ground and kick it to me.”
A phrase her father used to say came to mind.
Izzy always give an assailant what they ask for. Your life isn’t worth it.
Besides, she had scanned the contents. She did as the attacker commanded.
“Now the drive.”
She chewed on the inside of her mouth, contemplating how they acquired that information. “What drive?” She had to stall for time. Doug, where are you?
“Don’t play coy. You’re your father’s daughter. Of course you made a copy.”
“Did you kill my father?” She held her breath in anticipation of the man’s answer.
“Give us the drive. Now!”
“Who’s us?” she asked.
Rough hands grabbed her from behind and spun her around. “Me.” He punched her in the face. “Tell us, or you’ll get a worse beating.”
She stumbled backward, her hand flying to her nose to ward off the sting. Blood oozed between her fingers. “I—I—don’t know—”
Her father’s words returned, but she ignored them. She couldn’t lose the drive too.
The man raised his cell phone, showing her a picture of the texts Izzy and Sims had exchanged earlier. “We know you did as we’ve been watching.” He raised his opposite fist to give her another blow.
This time, she blocked the punch.
His phone fell to the snowy pavement, but he stood his ground.
She stared into his face. A face her perfect memory would remember if she lived through the attack.
Pounding footsteps echoed in the alley.
She pivoted.
A blunt object came down hard on her head from behind. She spun and caught a reflection in the window of someone witnessing the exchange. Someone she didn’t expect to see. No! Spots exploded and her knees buckled.
Her attackers fled into the shadows.
“Izzy!”
Her name registered, and she turned toward the voice as her vision faded.
A face passed under the light.
Austin?
Pain splintered in her head moments before her world went dark.
Austin Murray fell to his knees in front of his ex-partner, checking for a pulse. Please, God. Help her be okay. Steady. Thank You. “Doug, her vitals are strong.”
Doug squatted in front of the man and drew in an audible breath. “This is Sims, her father’s CI.” He placed his fingers on the man’s neck. “He’s gone. Gunshot wound to the forehead.” Doug withdrew his cell phone and stood. “I’ll call it in.” He stepped toward the bar’s back door, requesting emergency services.
Austin examined Izzy’s face. Blood dripped from her swollen nose, but a punch probably wouldn’t have knocked her out. He gently turned her head and ran his fingers along her neck in search of a second wound. His fingers stopped at a bump forming at the back of her head. Austin fisted his hands, heat flushing his cheeks. Someone had beaten her up, but why?
You didn’t make it here in time. He had failed her.
Again.
His mistake ten years ago had not only caused her to pull away, but was the reason he left the force to work on his father’s ranch. He couldn’t face the harm he’d inflicted. He’d frozen during a call that cost the life of Sergeant Clara Jenkins—Izzy’s best friend.
An object to the right caught his attention, bringing him out of the past. He pushed himself upright and leaned down for a better look.
A cell phone lay face up with the cracked screen illuminated, revealing a conversation between Izzy and what Austin guessed was the CI named Sims.
Doug returned. “Paramedics and officers are on the way.”
Austin pointed. “This must be Izzy’s phone.”
The older constable shook his head. “Nope. Hers has a bright pink cover on it.”
Pink. Her favorite color.
“Sims, perhaps?” Austin asked.
Doug adjusted his winter gloves and moved to the CI’s body. He patted the man’s pocket, then took out a phone. “Nope. His is here.”
“Odd. Maybe one of the attackers?” Austin reached for the cell phone, but snapped his hand back. Don’t contaminate the scene. “Do you have an evidence bag on you?”
Doug extracted one from his winter jacket. “Of course. A cop’s habit.” He squatted in front of the phone, leaning closer. “Wait, these texts are between Izzy and Sims. How did the attacker get them?”
“Didn’t you say someone hacked into HRPD’s system earlier? Perhaps they got into Izzy’s phone too.”
Sirens blared nearby.
“Yes, and she also mentioned someone left her a note on her SUV’s windshield stating they were watching.” Doug read the screen before snapping a picture. He dropped the phone into a bag and placed it back on the ground. “Don’t want it to get wet with the snow. The crime scene unit will want to see everything where it was. They’ll then take it to our digital forensics team.” He circled the area where Izzy had fallen, studying around her body.
“What are you looking for?” Austin asked.
“Did you see her father’s journal? That’s what Sims is referring to in the text. He was helping her with a cipher.”
“I didn’t see it when I arrived.” Austin’s gaze flicked back at Izzy, emotions bubbling inside. They had been partners for two years and had bonded to the point where he had strong feelings for her. Feelings he’d never acted upon since they worked together. Seeing her unconscious with a bloody nose heightened his desire to protect her. “Who could have done this? Who’s watching her? Maybe her attackers took it. I realize I’m not a cop any longer, but can you give me a hint of what she was investigating?”
Doug placed his hands on his hips. “Can’t you guess? Against Chief Constable Halt’s advice, she’s been looking into her father’s death on her own time.”
Austin had attended Chief Constable Justin Tremblay’s funeral, but kept his distance as much as possible. He only offered Izzy and her family brief condolences before leaving the church. “But didn’t he die in a crash caused by a heart attack?”
Doug nodded. “His wife, Rebecca, was in the car. She said he cried out before clutching his chest. The car veered toward the ditch and she failed to stop the crash. Fortunately, she only had minor injuries.”
“So why was Izzy investigating his death?” Austin trusted Izzy’s instincts and perfect memory, so she must have had a reason to doubt the findings.
Doug knelt beside his partner and shook her. “Come on, Izzy, wake up.” He turned back to Austin. “She claims her father just received a perfect bill of health after his annual physical. She spieled off everything her father had told her about his doctor’s visit. You know her memory.”
Austin didn’t miss the concern in the older man’s eyes. “You’re close to her, aren’t you?”
Sirens intensified, and the flashing lights lit up the dark alley.
“Yes.” Doug brushed a lock of Izzy’s brown hair from her forehead. “I took her under my wing after—”
“After I screwed up.”
The ambulance pulled into the alleyway, followed by a police cruiser and forensics van.
Doug stood. “I wouldn’t put it like that. We all make mistakes, son.”
“Well, mine cost Izzy’s friend her life.” Austin would never forget the look on Izzy’s face from that night. Her pained expression revealed a mixture of anger and surprise, speaking volumes.
She had blamed him.
Doug grazed Austin’s arm. “She eventually forgave you.”
Austin highly doubted it. How could she when he still struggled with the guilt?
Voices jarred him from the past.
Two paramedics and multiple officers filled the area.
The bar’s back door opened and screeching loud music filtered into the alleyway. A man emerged. “What’s going on here?”
Doug approached. “Sir, stay back. Police need to cordon off the crime scene.”
The burly man’s eyes widened in the bar’s back light. “Crime scene?”
“Didn’t you hear the shot?” Austin asked.
He gestured through the open door. “With all the loud music? I saw the flashing lights from the front entrance.”
One paramedic squatted in front of Izzy. The other checked Sims’s pulse and shook his head.
“Get back inside, but don’t leave the premises.” Doug turned to an approaching officer. “Constable Fisher, can you escort this man back into the bar and question him?”
The constable eyed Izzy. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“Paramedics are checking her now,” Doug said. “Go inside.”
Austin relocated to Izzy’s side. “She took a blow to the back of her head. I felt a goose egg.”
The paramedic nodded. “Good to know. Doctors will check her for a concussion.” He turned to his partner. “Vitals are strong. Let’s get her to Harturn General.”
“Can I come with you?” Austin suddenly felt the need to be by her side. Whoever had attacked her could still be watching.
“Are you related?”
Austin suppressed a sigh. “No, but—”
“I can vouch for him.” Doug removed his cell phone. “I’ll get her mother to meet you at the hospital. I have to finish up here. Let Austin go with her. I want someone she knows by her side in case she wakes up in the ambulance. I’ll get Halt to send a constable to protect Izzy. Someone has obviously targeted her.”
Thirty minutes later Austin paced outside the emergency room’s doors. Since he wasn’t family, they wouldn’t let him inside, but her mother and sister arrived fifteen minutes ago. He had asked one of them to update him, but Rebecca Tremblay’s curt greeting didn’t give him much hope of that happening.
But he couldn’t leave without knowing Izzy was okay.
Austin plunked himself into a chair, leaning forward on his knees. Lord, please help Izzy be okay and protect her from whoever is after her. I want to help. No, I need to help. I believe You’ve brought her back into my life for a reason. Show me what that is.
Austin’s cell phone buzzed. He dug it out from his pocket and checked the screen. His ranch foreman. Austin was supposed to call him an hour ago. “Sawyer, I’m so sorry I didn’t call. I’m at the hospital.”
“What? Are you okay?” he asked.
“It’s not me. It’s Izzy. She’s been hurt, and I was with her partner when she called him.” Austin recounted to his ranch foreman and best friend, Sawyer King, what happened. “I’m waiting to get an update on her condition. I’m worried, bud. Someone is targeting her. She needs protection.”
“The police will help her. You’re not part of the force any longer, bro.”
A young boy and a woman shuffled into the packed emergency waiting room. The boy held a washcloth over his nose.
Austin stood and pointed to his chair. “You can sit here.”
The woman nodded and smiled. “Thanks.”
The emergency room doors opened and Izzy’s sister, Blaire, gestured for Austin to come.
“Sawyer, I gotta run. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Can you feed the dogs?” Austin hated when he had to miss their feeding frenzy. It always made him smile.
“Of course. I’ll pray for Izzy.” He clicked off.
Austin shoved the phone back into his pocket and followed Blaire. “What’s going on? Is your mother aware you’re bringing me in?”
Izzy’s younger sister turned. “Doesn’t matter what she thinks. Izzy is awake and is asking for you.”
Austin’s jaw dropped. “She is?”
“Yes. She said she saw your face in a dream.”
What? “A dream?”
“The constable outside the door said you were at the crime scene, so perhaps she saw you before she passed out?” Blaire stopped and turned. “Mom is quite upset, of course, with Dad just passing. Please be sensitive. She’s in a foul mood.”
“I understand.”
She continued down the hallway.
A hooded man talking on a cell phone with his head down whisked by Austin, knocking into his shoulder. He glanced up. “Watch where you’re going, man.”
Austin raised his hands. “Perhaps you should listen to your own advice.”
“Whatever.” He cussed and continued down the hall. “Quit worrying. I took care of him. She’s here and I’ll get it out of her. I promise.”
Austin didn’t care for the man’s menacing tone. Coincidence?
“You coming?” Blaire asked.
He shook off the thought and followed. You’re too jumpy.
They walked into Izzy’s room.
Blaire gestured toward him. “I found Austin.”
Izzy’s eyes widened. “Hey, you.”
Austin hurried to her side and took her hand in his. “You okay? I was so worried when I found you unconscious in the alley.”
“The alley?”
“You don’t remember?” Odd. She never forgot anything.
“I. Don’t. Know.” Izzy rubbed her temples. “Something’s wrong with me. This has never happened before.”
“What was the last thing you remember?” he asked.
She looked around the room. “A virus got into our system before my shift ended.”
Austin checked his watch. He knew their shift times. “Izzy, that was three hours ago. You’re telling me you don’t remember going to meet Sims at the back of Chuckie’s Bar and Grill?”
She bit her lip as tears trickled down her cheeks. “No.”
Rebecca Tremblay caught hold of Austin’s arm. “Please tell us what’s going on. The constable wouldn’t divulge anything, and now I can’t find him.”
“Wait, Doug said they would send someone to protect her.” Austin rushed back through the doorway, glancing left, then right.
The corridor was empty.
I took care of him.
Was the man referring to the constable?
Izzy was still in danger.
And it was up to Austin to protect her.
