Undercover Assignment

Author

Dana Mentink

Reads

19.8K

Chapters

Author

Dana Mentink

Reads

19.8K

Chapters

😊 Low Spice

ONE

Sam Kavanaugh rarely took the time to hike the boundaries of his remote Cliffside Lodge in southwest New Mexico, but worry compelled him into the sizzling summer night. Climbing to a perch on a high pinnacle of rock, he could see only a fraction of the three million acres of national forest that sheltered the Gila River. Mesas, canyons, hoodoos, cliff dwellings, the wilderness had it all and he relished the wonders...usually.

Tonight the molten July air felt menacing, the screech of a vulture overhead grinding his nerves. There was nothing evil lurking in the desert night that might threaten Sam, his young son Oliver, or the five guests currently residing with them. Or was there? Unease nibbled at his nerves.

He hadn’t imagined the jimmied kitchen window, though nothing had been taken. A random opportunist looking for quick money, he’d decided. But then there was the strange noise from outside that had awakened him in the wee hours and sent him scouring the property at three in the morning the night before. Again, he’d found nothing to worry about.

“So why are you hiking around again doing more clandestine reconnaissance for no concrete reason at all?” he muttered to himself. Feeling foolish, he climbed carefully down from his rocky lookout and took the path around the side of the main house.

Moonlight played off the adobe walls of the two-story, Spanish Revival style inn. It was beautiful, unique, like his late wife Hannah whose dream it had been. And Oliver, their three-year-old son, was lying safe and sound in his bed inside with their housekeeper keeping watch, Sam reminded himself. All was well, no cause for alarm. He should go back to the lodge and try to get a few hours of shut-eye before his morning duties kicked off.

But he couldn’t. If he’d learned anything from his time in the army as an explosives ordnance technician, it was to listen when his instincts were clamoring. Unless his instincts had become unreliable from too many long hours managing the inn or the worries of being a single parent.

Doggedly, he continued on, beaming his flashlight at the flagstone walkway leading up to the storage shed tucked behind a cluster of pines. A smudged footprint showed in the dust. From a man’s shoe? A woman’s? His heart kicked up a notch. The print had to be recent, since he meticulously swept every inch of stone each morning.

It might be nothing. Perhaps one of the newly arrived guests, disoriented, had left the print while trying to find their way to the main lodge. He reached out for the knob, expecting to find it locked as he’d left it.

Instead it turned under his fingertips.

He should have backed away, but that hard, stubborn part of him, the one that had gotten him through basic training and army deployments, seized hold. If he’d forgotten to lock the door, he deserved to feel stupid. If he hadn’t...he intended to figure out who was messing with his property and they were going to be brought to task. This was not just a lodge, it was his home, a fortress for him and his son against the world. He prodded the door open with the toe of his boot.

Hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt the rush of air behind him. There was only time for him to fling up an arm before a sharp pain exploded in his skull. His last thought was of Oliver as the darkness overtook him.

Officer Daniella Vargas was still simmering as she drove her rental car from the airport through Silver City, New Mexico, and pulled off before the steep slope up to Cliffside Lodge. From the back seat her Malinois, Zara, rolled her eyes in Daniella’s direction with her black muzzle resting on the few meagre strands of what had been a basketball net.

“It can’t hurt to try one more time,” she said to the dog as she dialed. “And by the way, you know you can’t take Nettie with you on duty.” Nettie had to be the strangest dog toy ever, but Daniella had not been able to get Zara to attach to any normal stuffed squeaking critter before she destroyed them.

Besides, Daniella figured Zara had earned Nettie. Before she was fully trained, Zara had leaped up and ripped the net right off the rim after Daniella’s basketball game at the community center, just for the fun of it. Zara was saddened to part with her hard-won prize and Daniella had let her keep it. Daniella took plenty of grief from the other K-9 handlers over Zara’s weird plaything, but they all admired the dog’s incredible athleticism. She didn’t perform such feets anymore, since she had the beginnings of arthritis affecting one of her back legs, but she was still plenty agile enough to do her job.

The phone rang a few times.

Daniella’s commander, Tyson Wilkes, sounded weary when he answered, but she put that out of her mind. “Hi, Sarge.”

“Made it to New Mexico?”

“Yes, sir. I’m on my way to the Cliffside Lodge now.” She hesitated. “I was thinking that maybe I could get some security protocols in place to prevent any further break ins, and check security in the kid’s room before I return to the unit,” she said. “A couple of days tops.”

He cleared his throat. “Daniella, we’ve been through this. You’re there for however long it takes. You’re the logical choice for this assignment.”

To be a nanny? A highly trained officer with a brilliant protection dog? Her teeth clenched. Because she was a woman? She would be more offended if she didn’t know Tyson to be a respectful boss and a good man. He’d already explained his logical reasons. “But...”

“We’re stretched a little thin here.” There was an edge to his voice.

True. The Rocky Mountain K-9 Unit was small to begin with, a Denver-based mobile response unit under the auspices of the FBI. The officers and their canines were dispatched around the Rocky Mountain region when needed.

The K-9 unit was busy as bees in the springtime, as her adopted uncle Cal would have said. She kept her tone light. “Harlow likes kids. She would be—”

“We need her dog available, in case.”

The gravity of that statement tamped down her ire. Harlow Zane’s beagle was a cadaver-sniffing dog. Daniella offered a silent prayer that Nell’s nose would not be pressed into service in the search for the baby the team had been frantically trying to locate.

Last April in Colorado, a torched car was discovered on a dark road leading to Rocky Mountain National Park. An infant car seat and pink baby blanket were found near the car—as was an unconscious woman, Kate Montgomery, who’d been in a coma ever since. But there’d been no sign of the baby. It was two steps forward and three back, investigation wise.

A few miles from the charred car, another vehicle was found in a ravine with the body of Nikki Baker, wearing a blond wig. Hairs from the wig matched those on the blanket found at the burned car. They’d determined that that Nikki Baker was the missing baby’s mother, but what was the connection between the women? Why had Nikki been disguised? Running? Was she another victim of an apparent serial killer who was targeting young women in the region? More questions than answers and the clock was ticking on finding Baby Chloe.

“Maybe...” she started.

He sighed. “Look, Daniella. I’m not going to force you to do this. Sam and I figured the best cover for you at the lodge was to pretend to be a prospective nanny. If you can get things under control quickly, you’re free to leave.” Tyson’s obvious stress awakened her discomfort. She knew she could be abrasive, and he’d been supportive and a good mentor. The pressure on him was intense, worse, since a couple of incidents with the dogs had the FBI questioning his ability to lead.

Man up, Daniella. She inhaled, shoved her dark hair back from her shoulders and summoned her depleted supply of patience. “All right. I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Thank you,” Tyson said. “Sam’s a good guy and he’ll appreciate it. Besides, your uncle Cal is close, right? You can squeeze in a visit maybe.”

“Sure. Thanks, Sarge. Talk to you soon.”

She disconnected the call. Innkeeper Sam might be a good guy, but he obviously couldn’t manage his personal business very well. What real threat could be brewing at a remote wilderness lodge in New Mexico? Not exactly a hotbed of intrigue. He was probably imagining something sinister in the shadows. He’d be better off equipping his son to face fears head-on. The little boy would feel safer if he knew he could protect himself.

It had worked for Daniella. She’d scraped and clawed to survive her childhood, but the struggle had forged her character.

Her deep well of tenacity had made her a good cop, and she would do her best for Tyson. If it meant reassuring a fretting single dad, she’d do it. After another steeply sloped mile, the Cliffside Lodge swam into view. Gorgeous, was her first reaction, the mellow gold of the structure glowing against a rugged backdrop of mountains. It was elegant and seemed to nestle into the landscape instead of competing with it. Not the rustic dive she’d been picturing. Surprise number one, she thought as she pulled into a tiny paved parking area.

“Leave it,” she commanded as Zara snagged Nettie when she opened the rear door. With a mournful look, the dog abandoned her toy in the car and leaped out, nose primed for new smells.

Clipping a lead to Zara’s harness, Daniella walked toward a tall, muscular man with a closely trimmed coppery beard and mustache. He held a rake over his broad shoulder. He must be the groundskeeper or something. Fit, she thought. She kept her body as toned as she could, and she appreciated the effort it required.

She put Zara in a sit and greeted him.

“Sam Kavanaugh,” he said, shaking her hand, his grip firm and confident. “You must be Daniella. Thank you for coming.”

Surprise number two. Sam was not the geeky business owner she’d anticipated. This man looked every bit the sturdy outdoorsman. He wasn’t even sweating in the late-afternoon heat. What’s more, he had a nasty bruise discoloring his temple, which made it look like he’d been out grappling with bears or something.

“From the attack?” she said, pointing.

“Yes. Hit from behind and knocked forward into the doorjamb. So much for my catlike reflexes.” He looked pained. “Listen, I wouldn’t have called in a favor with Tyson, but I was low on options.” He flushed. “There aren’t many things I figure I can’t take care of myself.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here. Tell me everything. I’m sure we can button this up quickly.”

He took her to a patio area tucked in the shade of a couple of trees. It was still hot, but tolerable. A small boy sat at the table, eating a cookie. He had his father’s broad cheekbones and caramel eyes, a glint of copper in his sandy hair.

“You were supposed to wait for the cookies, Oliver,” Sam said.

Oliver offered a chocolate-smeared grin. Daniella hid her own. As a kid, she wouldn’t have waited either.

“This is Ms. Vargas and her dog...er...”

“Zara,” she offered. “You can call me Daniella.”

Oliver looked at the large Belgian Malinois with her black muzzle and black-fringed ears. The little boy didn’t seem at all frightened by her.

Sam waved Daniella into the chair. She declined the cookie. Charming as Sam and his kiddo appeared to be, she was in business mode. Anything to make this assignment move along faster.

Zara obediently settled at Daniella’s feet, but she knew enough about her canine partner to understand the excited prick of the ears and the low lashing of the tail. Zara was hoping for one of the three things she adored the most; work, play or something to chew on.

Sam turned to his son. “Ms. Vargas—I mean Daniella, is here to help me take care of you for a little while, Ollie.” The statement seemed to cause him discomfort judging from the tightening of his mouth. Like he’d said, he wasn’t used to asking for help. Sam handed his son a paper napkin. “I need you to tell her what you told me.”

Oliver was staring at the dog. “Cookie for him?” he suggested.

“No thanks, and the dog is a girl,” Daniella said then realized her tone wasn’t the warm-fuzzy type you were supposed to use around children. She tried again. “Chocolate will make her sick.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He shot a wide-eyed look at the cookie in his hand as if it were a time bomb.

Great. She’d already traumatized the kid. “Uh, just because she’s a dog. Chocolate cookies are fine for humans,” she hurried to add.

In spite of her reassurance, he squinched his mouth and put the cookie down, picking up his plastic dinosaur.

“This morning, son,” Sam prompted. “Tell Daniella what happened.”

Oliver began to wrap his paper napkin around his dinosaur. “A bad man came into my room.”

“Did you see their face?”

He shook his head.

Could have been a nightmare, Daniella thought, or his imagination. There was a reason youngsters made notoriously bad witnesses. “Was the person tall or short?”

“Tall.”

Everybody probably seemed tall to a pint-sized boy. She looked at Sam. “Maybe it was your father come to check on you.”

Oliver shook his head. “Nuh-uh.”

With a friendly smile in place, she asked him gently. “How can you be sure, Oliver?”

Oliver continued to twist the napkin around his toy without answering.

After a few silent moments, Daniella looked to Sam. “I’m going to let Zara sniff around, okay?”

He nodded.

Zara leaped to her feet, ears and eyes swiveling to take in the surroundings. Sam followed her and Zara into the tiled courtyard, meticulously landscaped with pots of native plants. She eyed her excited Malinois. She’d have to make sure Zara knew she would not be allowed to excavate a nice hole for her ball during playtime. As a pup, digging had been one of the dog’s many talents, but every so often her youthful tendencies would still peep out.

“You see why I’m worried?” Sam said as Zara checked out the space. “Someone was in his room?”

She framed her response carefully. “I can understand a certain level of concern. But the attack at the shed could have been a crime of opportunity, someone trying to break in and steal things. Or Oliver may have been imagining it or making something up.” She’d said it wrong, she realized immediately.

Sam straightened to his full height, a solid five inches taller than she was. “My son isn’t a liar.”

Making lots of friends today, aren’t you, Daniella? “I wasn’t saying that. Little kids say stuff, right? Use their imaginations and weave it together with things they’ve seen on TV. Happens all the time.”

His mouth was still a hard line. “Know a lot about kids?”

The remark stung more than it should have. Now it was her turn to bridle as she stared back at him. “No, but I’ve done my share of interviewing them.”

“Oliver doesn’t lie,” Sam repeated. “And he doesn’t watch TV. My late wife and I agreed on no screen time until he was older.”

The whole conversation was shifting into troubled waters. Regroup, Daniella. Get it back on track. “I meant no offense, Mr. Kavanaugh. I’m a cop and I’m telling you the facts. Kids aren’t reliable.” When he started to reply, she held up a palm. “But I will do as thorough an investigation as I can, and if there’s an identifiable threat, I’ll stay here and deal with it. Fair enough?”

The caramel of his eyes darkened to mocha. “Thank you,” he said stiffly. He looked like he was about to add on to his clipped remark when Oliver got up from the table and joined them, his wary gaze on Zara, who wagged her tail.

He held up his dinosaur. “Like this.”

The dinosaur’s face was covered by the napkin, two poked holes for the eyes to look through.

Sam took the proffered toy. “What’s this, son?”

“The bad man had one,” the boy said.

Sam stared at the toy, uncomprehending.

“A mask,” Oliver said. “He wore a mask.”