Tracing a Killer
Author
Sharon Dunn
Reads
17.3K
Chapters
19
A K-9 team in the crosshairs — and seeking justice. While tasked with protecting Trevor Gage from a serial killer, K-9 officer Hannah Scott inadvertently puts a second cold case murderer on their trail. The man who drowned Hannah's childhood friend is back — and he wants to make Hannah his next victim. Guarding Trevor becomes a survival mission once they both become the target of ruthless criminals. On a remote island with only each other to rely on, there's nowhere to run. And with twice the deadly traps, any misstep could prove fatal.
ONE
From the moment she turned onto the causeway that led to the island where Antelope State Park was, a feeling of unease settled around Utah highway-patrol officer Hannah Scott. As if sensing the drop in mood, her K-9, a male Newfoundland named Captain, groaned from the back seat of the patrol car.
This anxiety wasn’t about the job she’d come here to do as a member of the Mountain Country K-9 team. This was about the past, the tragedy that had happened when she was ten. Her stomach clenched as flat land, straight road and expansive sky stretched before her. Images of the mountains and trees were reflected in the lake on either side of the seven-mile causeway. Such beautiful scenery normally would have created a feeling of serenity in her.
Instead, she was having a hard time shaking the sense of dread.
The sun was low on the horizon. She’d already put in a full day with the highway patrol.
She gripped the steering wheel tighter and spoke out loud. “Come on, Hannah, focus on the assignment that brought you back here.”
Captain let out a muted yip of support.
Saying a silent prayer that God would help her do the job she’d been given with the Mountain Country K-9 unit, she concentrated on her driving. The task force had been formed with members of law enforcement from across the Rocky Mountain states to catch a serial killer, dubbed the Rocky Mountain Killer. Ten years ago, three young men under the age of twenty, all members of the now disbanded Young Rancher’s Club, had been killed in Elk Valley, Wyoming, on Valentine’s Day.
The case had gone cold until recently. Three new victims, all from Elk Valley but now living in other states, had been murdered with the same MO—shot at close range in a barn. The new shootings had started on Valentine’s Day, less than seven months ago. The murder weapon had never been found, but matching 9mm slugs had been located at all the crime scenes. The task force had narrowed down the suspects to two men who had motive. Ryan York’s sister Shelly had committed suicide after being dumped by Seth Jenkins, one of the initial victims. It could be that Ryan saw Seth’s friends as equally culpable. Because of the young men’s reputations for using women and dumping them, Ryan’s desire to right an injustice had spilled over to targeting other members of the club. Ryan owned a Glock 17, which could have been used in the shootings.
The second suspect was Evan Carr. His sister, Naomi, who had recently married one of the K-9 team members, had been the butt of a cruel joke ten years ago. When one of the members of the YRC, Trevor Gage, had asked her to a formal dance the club sponsored, Trevor’s friends had ridiculed her saying she’d been invited as a prank. In interviews, Trevor had sworn that he actually had liked Naomi and hadn’t intended it as a joke.
Hannah had read the transcript of the interviews the team had done with Trevor. She had no idea if he was telling the truth or not. Ten years ago, the members of the club were known for being troublemakers and having a love-’em-and-leave-’em reputation with the young women in Elk Valley. Why should Trevor be any different than the young men he’d run with?
She’d met her share of that type of guy. Her sympathy was with Naomi. In high school, a boy had invited Hannah to a dance, but he’d never shown up. The utter humiliation of having taken the time to get dressed up only to stand alone in a corner of the gym still hurt after all these years. The memory of the group of boys who sneered and pointed at her from across the dance floor was seared into her psyche. She’d been hurt by men in other deeper ways including being cheated on.
Her assignment seemed straightforward—convince Trevor, who now lived in Salt Lake City, to agree to go into a safe house since he was the most likely next victim. As if to confirm the team’s suspicions, the Rocky Mountain Killer—or the RMK—a tall man with blond hair, had been spotted in Salt Lake recently. Most of the team were in Salt Lake, including the task-force leader, Chase Rawlston.
Trevor appeared to be working against his own self-preservation, though. He’d left his home in Salt Lake for a remote campsite on the island, causing him to be even more exposed. Members of the team had tried via phone to talk him into going into a safe house until he stopped answering their calls. Now, it was up to her to try some face-to-face persuasion.
She clenched her teeth. Men could be so obstinate about accepting help sometimes.
She shook her head. Some people were just hard to understand. She had Trevor’s dossier with her. Transcripts of the interviews the team had done, background information and a photograph. Intense green eyes framed by blond hair peeking out from beneath a silver Stetson seemed to look right at her from the picture. Trevor was handsome, she would admit, but the story of his meanness to Naomi lingered in her mind. Knowing how men were, she didn’t believe that he had really liked Naomi, and she doubted he’d changed. Once a scoundrel always a scoundrel. Wasn’t that what her own dating history had taught her? After so much pain, she’d given up on the possibility of finding love. Better to focus on her job and being the best auntie she could be to her nephew and niece.
As the miles clipped by, a new feeling invaded her awareness. The fluttering heart and shallow breathing indicated fear. Glancing off to the side where the Great Salt Lake was, she found herself struggling to take a deep breath. There was a reason she’d not come back to the island for eighteen years, though she lived less than an hour away. Only work and wanting to prove herself to the rest of the team had compelled her to overcome the mental barriers that had kept her away. The island was where her best friend, Jodie, had been murdered, drowned in the lake, when Hannah was ten years old.
Her mind fogged, and her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. As if she was wearing headphones, all outside sound was muffled. She felt lightheaded as the sensation of floating overtook her.
She passed through the park entrance showing her badge to the woman in the kiosk.
Almost involuntarily, she found herself taking the turnoff that led to the remote stretch of beach where the murder had occurred. As the tires rolled over gravel, unclear images flashed at the corners of her mind. The memory of the sound of waves lapping on the shore made her breath catch. She was back at the place that had marked her life in a way that she could not overcome even after all these years. Only her sense of professionalism had eclipsed her fear about the past and the memories she’d locked into a dark closet. Maybe this was God telling her she needed to confront the event that had defined her life for so long.
Hannah pushed open the door and then let Captain out. He looked up at her with his teddy-bear face. She reached out to stroke his squarish, furry head. As always, it was a comfort to have her partner close. She was sure she saw empathy in his brown eyes. There was a reason the dogs in this breed were called gentle giants.
A chill September wind whipped around her when she made her way past a rocky outcropping and onto the white sand beach. As always, the lake had a faint rotten-egg smell. While she stood on the shore, she heard a boat in the distance.
For years she hadn’t wanted to think about what had happened here. Only fragments of memory punctuated by black spots came into her mind. She wondered, too, if she had just adopted the newspaper accounts as her own memories because guilt and trauma made it impossible to recall the tragedy in any detail.
Jodie had gone out for a swim while Hannah had chosen to stay on shore to look for pretty rocks. Though she could remember the moments before the murder, she could not quite bring anything else into focus. The police told her that she must have seen the man who had drowned her friend. Yes, she had noticed a man approaching the beach, but she could not remember his face or what he was wearing. Had she turned away before he’d gotten close or was her mind blocking it out?
She shuddered as she walked closer to the water, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. Wind rippled her uniform. The boat that she’d heard earlier came into view, a small motorized craft with only one man in it.
Turning her attention back to the shore, she thought about the years of therapy to try to get past the tragedy and yet, it still held her prisoner. She’d even chosen to have a K-9 whose specialty was water rescue, thinking that she could prevent another child from suffering Jodie’s fate.
Captain licked her hand, bringing her back to reality.
Time to get back to work. Convincing Trevor Gage he needed to accept the unit’s offer of protection would be a challenge.
The man in the boat pulled it up on the beach and got out. He was far enough away that she could not see his face, but she recognized the park service uniform. He pulled a trash bag and poker stick from the boat and stabbed at a wrapper as he worked his way up the shore toward her.
Hannah turned sideways and watched the man when he leaned over to pick up a soda can. His baseball hat with the park logo on it partially shielded his face from view.
Why was her heart beating so fast?
The man kept working his way up the shore while she remained frozen in place. As he drew closer, he lifted his head and made eye contact.
A wave of terror engulfed her. She knew this man. The curly brown hair and close-set eyes. No, it couldn’t be. Was this the man who had killed her friend? Her heart pounded when the long-buried image of a face escaped the cage she’d locked it in.
She took a step back. Maybe she was mistaken. It had been eighteen years. What were the chances he would come back to this spot? She shook her head as her heart raged against her rib cage.
The man continued to work his way up the shore. She couldn’t look away. Was her mind playing tricks on her?
He must have sensed her staring. Now only fifteen feet from her, he looked right at her. His eyes grew wide.
As if to confirm her suspicions, a sort of brightness, like a light switch being thrown, came across the man’s features.
Her stomach twisted.
He recognized her.
Even after all these years, Hannah’s distinctive red hair would make her memorable.
The man tossed his bag and stick and darted toward her. With Captain close at her heels, Hannah turned to sprint back to her car, where she’d left her gun belt. The man closed in on her. She stumbled on the rocks, scraping her arm. Pain shot through her.
He grabbed the back of her jacket and yanked hard. The collar of her uniform dug into her neck.
Captain barked and leaped around them as they struggled.
Before she could cry out a command to her K-9, the man wrapped his arm around her neck and dragged her backward. The tight grip of his elbow cut off her breathing. Black dots filled her vision as she felt herself being dragged across the sand toward the water.
She tried to twist her body to break free. The man’s other hand suctioned around her stomach. Hannah fought to remain conscious as it became harder to breath. Her vision was reduced to a pinhole. She managed to kick her assailant’s shins. The move caused him to loosen his grip around her waist. Grabbing his forearm to pry it loose, she angled her body and twisted free. The momentum of her move propelled her forward, where she fell to the ground on all fours.
Captain’s frantic barking pummeled her eardrums, as did the waves crashing against the shoreline. They were so close to the water’s edge.
She pushed herself to her feet and turned to disable her attacker, landing a blow to his stomach. He groaned in response. A fist collided with the side of her head, disorienting her. He grabbed her hair, which had worked free of the bun she kept it in.
Water soaked through her shoes as he dragged her deeper into the lake. His hat had fallen off. She saw his face—just the flash of an image but crystal clear. The arched eyebrows and redness of his skin. His features were contorted into an expression of rage.
She clutched at his shirt. He pushed her into the water and was on top of her before she could react. As she flailed, his hand was full on her face, forcing her under.
Dear God, no, this can’t be happening.
After all these years, she knew what Jodie’s killer looked like, but she would not live to see justice.
The water enveloped her as she fought to stay conscious.
The noise of a barking dog caused Trevor Gage to draw his attention to the shore. Diverting from the trail where he’d been walking, he ran toward the lake. A large black wooly-looking dog paced the shore. He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what he was seeing. The setting sun hitting the water made images murky. He saw the back of a man in a park employee uniform as he bent over in the waist-deep water. What had the dog so upset?
He drew closer, running past a patrol car with the Mountain Country K-9 insignia on it. He’d had more than one encounter with that multistate task force since the recent murders of men he had known when he lived in Elk Valley, Wyoming. The Mountain Country K-9 task force believed that he was the next target for the serial killer and that he should accept the unit’s offer of a safe house. The loss of three of his friends ten years ago had been hard enough and now, it was starting all over again with three new victims.
The man in the water angled sideways.
Trevor’s heart pounded when he saw a woman’s head bob to the surface and then the man turned and pushed her under again. The woman thrashed in the water, her arms and legs flailing while the man held her down. The buoyancy of the salt water probably required extra effort to keep her head under, but she was still being drowned.
Still some distance away, Trevor broke into a run as he shouted, “Hey, you. Stop.”
The man’s head shot up. He glanced in Trevor’s direction and then rushed toward a nearby boat, jumped in and yanked the rip cord. As the boat lurched forward, the man reached out and grabbed the floating woman, dragging her into deeper water.
Trevor slowed when he reached the rocky shore as terror surged through him. He hurried as fast as he could. His feet sank into the sandy beach, but he kept running.
It looked as though the woman had raised her head and shouted something.
The dog lunged into the water and swam toward the boat. The man in the uniform tried to push the woman back under from his position in the boat. As the dog drew closer, he let go of the woman and sped away.
The dog reached the woman and grabbed hold of her collar, then pulled her toward shallower water. Trevor ran into the lake up to his knees. Still holding the woman by her collar, the dog swam with a ferocious energy toward the shore.
The woman said something to the dog, who let go of her. She stood up in the waist-deep water, blinking and shaking her head.
Trevor stepped toward her through the water. “Are you all right?” he shouted. It seemed a ridiculous question to ask considering he had just witnessed an attempted drowning. The man in the park uniform was now a tiny dot in the distance. The engine noise had become a low-level hum almost drowned out by the waves hitting the shore. The culprit was long gone.
The redheaded woman caught sight of Trevor. Water dripped off her face and long hair. Her hand reached out for the back of the dog as they pushed through the water and got closer to him. Her slack jaw and wide unfocused eyes told him she was in shock. She shook her head in disbelief.
He hurried toward her.
When she drew close, he reached out and guided her to the shore, putting an arm across her back. “I gotcha.” The dog followed dutifully beside her. Still supporting her, Trevor led her across the sand and up the rocky shore. She was dressed in a uniform with the MCK9 logo on the pocket and back of her gray jacket. The car he’d run past must be hers. No doubt, she had come here looking for him.
She gripped his arm. “I just need a moment.” She sat down and stared at the ground. There was a cut on her arm.
“You’re hurt. Can I look in your car for a first aid kit?”
She nodded without looking up.
He searched the car, finding a first aid kit under the front seat and a blanket. When he returned, the dog shook the water off his substantial fur coat far enough away not to spray her and then settled down beside the woman. Trevor wrapped the blanket around her, squeezing her shoulders before sitting beside her.
He flipped open the first aid kit. “Give me your arm. It’s scraped up.”
She twisted her arm toward her face. Her forehead furrowed as she examined the injury. “I fell on the rocks when he chased me.” Her voice sounded faraway and disconnected. She was still in shock.
Cupping his hand under hers, he squeezed out some disinfectant from a tube, then placed a bandage over the cut and patted her forearm gently. “Better?”
Hannah drew the arm closer to her body, holding it at the wrist. “Thank you.”
She stared at the ground. “I should call this in and make sure a report is filed. I need to catch the man who attacked me.”
He wondered about the use of the word I, as if it was her sole responsibility to arrest the man who had tried to kill her.
“What happened out there? It looked like that guy was trying to drown you.”
She nodded her head. “Yes, he was.” She folded her arms over her chest and rocked. Her eyes glazed over.
“Who was he?”
“It’s a long story.” She lifted her head and stared off into the distance. Her response indicated it was not a story she was ready to share. The dog pressed closer to her, making a sympathetic noise.
She clearly needed more time to recover from such a traumatic event. “Maybe you should take a second to catch your breath,” he said.
She ran trembling fingers through her wet hair and let out a heavy breath. “First, I need to call this in.” She rose to her feet. “I’m going to radio the park police. Maybe they can catch him. He works for the park. They might even know who he is.”
With the dog trailing behind her, she walked to her vehicle. She opened the driver’s side door, leaned in and retrieved the radio.
Trevor followed her. He listened as she gave the details of the attack, the kind of boat the man was in and what he looked like.
She put the radio back then looked directly at him for the first time. Light came into her eyes as recognition spread across her face. “You’re Trevor Gage.”
He nodded and then pointed toward the patrol vehicle. “I’m assuming you’re here to talk me into going into a safe house since the phone calls didn’t work.” His tone was more defensive than he’d expected. The truth was the guilt he felt over his friends dying ten years ago—and all over again more recently—had never left him.
From the phone interviews he’d had with members of the unit, he knew they suspected that the murders might be connected to an incident he had been a part of ten years ago. All the victims, the first three and now three more recent ones, had been members of the Young Rancher’s Club in Elk Valley. Trevor had asked a girl to a formal dance the club put on. He had really liked Naomi, but his friends had told her that she’d been invited as a joke. Maybe if he had been more forthright in coming to her defense none of the murders would have happened.
She crossed her arms. “I’m supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around.”
“I’m just glad I showed up when I did,” he said. “If I hadn’t heard your dog barking, I wouldn’t have known something was amiss.”
The woman brushed her fingers over the dog’s head. “We look out for each other.”
The dog licked her hand.
“What’s his name?”
“Captain.” She held her hand out to him. “And I’m Officer Hannah Scott.”
Hannah’s grip was firm. The softness of her skin sent an electric pulse up his arm. Her hair must have been in a bun at some point, as part of it was secured and hanging off to the side. Even in her bedraggled state, she was a striking woman. Perhaps it was the green eyes. “You didn’t call and say you were coming?”
“You stopped answering our calls. Besides, I thought you would be more likely to agree to be taken in if you didn’t have time to think about it.”
He pressed is teeth together. “So that’s the new tactic. An ambush from the Mountain Country K-9 team. I already said I could take care of myself.”
“We’re only trying to protect you, Trevor.” Her words took on a biting quality that matched his tone of voice.
He shook his head but restrained himself from saying anything more.
He stared off toward the lake. He wasn’t going to a safe house. Hadn’t he made that clear?
When he turned in her direction, he noticed that her hand still trembled a little when she brought it up to her neck. Was she still upset from the attack or was this about his refusal to cooperate with her plans for him?
She was clearly shaken. He couldn’t just leave her here.
“Why don’t we drive back to my RV so you and I can get dried off? You can have a moment to catch your breath.”
She turned in his direction. “Did you walk here?”
“Yes, I was out trying to clear my head.” The truth was, he had been thinking about the RMK and what he could do to catch him. Trevor could handle himself, and he’d grown up shooting guns. Coming to the island had been partly to get away from the busyness of Salt Lake, but he wondered if his being in the open would draw out the killer and end this whole nightmare. From the questions he was asked in interviews, he’d deduced who the main suspects were. Even if the RMK was Ryan York and not Naomi Carr’s brother, Evan, Trevor felt a responsibility for the killings. If he had called out the other young men on their behavior all those years ago, even if he’d never acted that way toward a young woman, maybe no one would be dead. “What do you say? Do you want to go back to the RV to get dried off?”
She glanced down at her soaked uniform. “I guess that’s what we should do. Plus, you really shouldn’t be out in the open by yourself.”
After Hannah loaded her dog in the back of the vehicle, she got behind the wheel. He directed her to where his campsite was.
They drove past a herd of buffalo. The island was famous for its wildlife, including the antelope it was named for, as well as bighorn sheep, foxes and an abundance of birds. The land around them was flat but mountains were visible in the distance. When he glanced through the back window, the silvery lake had just slipped out of view.
“So that guy who came after you. Do you know who he was, or was it a random attack?”
She shook her head and stared through the windshield. “It’s a long story.” Her voice had taken on that flat disconnected quality again.
He longed to know the reason behind such a violent attack, but it was clear she wasn’t ready to share. If the attempted murder was for personal reasons and hadn’t been random, he wondered if the guy would come after Hannah again. Probably, if he wasn’t caught soon.
The prediction the MCK9 unit had made was that he would be the RMK’s next victim and that had been the plan from the beginning. That meant that both he and Hannah had targets on their backs.
