Valerie Hansen - Trail Of Danger

“Copy. I’m showing you on West Fifteenth Street a little north of Bowery.”

“That’s affirmative. I’m about to head for the hospital to check on the victim, then I’ll be ten-sixty-one. It’s been a long night.”

“Copy that.”

Visions of Abigail’s pale blue eyes and ginger hair remained vivid, not that he was pleased to have noticed. His life was complete. He had the perfect job, a peaceful private life and the best tracking dog in the unit, maybe in the whole state. The K-9s and his fellow officers, which included his sister, Lani, as a rookie, were all the family he needed. Theirs was a dangerous profession. Just look at what had happened to his former boss, Chief Jordan Jameson, six months ago.

The entire NYC K-9 Command Unit was still mourning deeply, as were others. Losing Jameson had been hard to accept, especially for Zack, Carter and Noah Jameson, Jordy’s brothers. The glue of respect and friendship that had held their unit together had been sorely tried after Jameson’s murder and Noah’s interim promotion into his vacated position.

The killer had been clever, even leaving a suicide note, but Jordy’s team of officers hadn’t bought it. Between the four branches of the K-9 Unit—Transit, Emergency Services, Bomb Squad and Narcotics—they had all the expertise they needed to pursue the truth. To help homicide solve the crime, one way or the other. No one in his unit was content to sit back and wait for results from other divisions.

Yet life went on. It was true that New York City never slept. Reed knew what his duty was and did it to the best of his ability. Now and then, however, a puzzle came along that fascinated him enough to seek answers on his own time, such as, what had happened to Abigail Jones tonight.

“I just want to go home,” Abigail kept telling anyone who entered her hospital room. What was wrong with these people? Why were her wishes being ignored?

The graying patient in the other bed snorted as a harried nurse beat a hasty retreat. “Might as well save your breath, sweetie. You ain’t gettin’ out of here tonight.”

Desperate for someone who would listen, Abigail fought tears of frustration as she said, “I don’t understand why they won’t discharge me. They did a brain scan and the doctor told me there was no damage.”

“I believe he said, ‘No visible damage.’”

“Same thing.”

“Not hardly.” The other woman coughed. “I heard him asking questions. You didn’t have a lot of answers.” Another cough. “You hidin’ from an abusive man or avoidin’ the cops?”

“Of course not!” I’m not my mother .

“Okay, okay, don’t get your jammies in a twist. I was just askin’. What happened to you, anyway?”

Abigail chewed on her lower lip before admitting, “I don’t know. I remember getting ready to leave the office. The next thing I knew it was dark and I was looking up at a stranger.”

“Did he hurt you? If he did, you gotta report it, you know. We can’t clean up these streets if we don’t all do our part.”

“I know,” Abigail said sadly. “I work with homeless teens all the time.”

“So what really happened to you? You can tell me. I won’t breathe a word.”

Frustration took over. Her voice rose, then cracked. “I don’t know! I can’t remember.”

As she took a shaky breath there was a knock at the open door and a man in a dark blue uniform entered the room. No, not a man, the man. She might not recall anything else from her ordeal but she’d never forget Reed Branson. Or his dog.

He smiled, dark eyes twinkling. “Good to see you awake and recovering.”

“Yeah. I’m pretty happy about that, too.” Abigail mirrored his expression. “They tell me there’s no brain damage but they won’t let me go home.”

Approaching her bed, he pulled up a chair and sat. “Do you know where you live?”

“Of course I do. I have an apartment in Brighton Beach.”

He held up his hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. Just asking. What else have you managed to remember since I found you?”

“Not a lot.” Abigail sobered. “I was just telling my new friend here that it’s a blank.”

“I heard part of that before I came in.”

“You were eavesdropping?”

“Not exactly. You’d be surprised how often we overhear a lot more than people are willing to disclose officially. I’m not the enemy, Ms. Jones. We really are sworn to protect and serve.”

Sighing, she nodded at him. “Well, at least you know I’m not holding back. I’d give almost anything to remember what made me walk over to Coney Island at night. I’m usually more cautious. Any big city like ours will rise up and bite you if you’re not careful, I don’t care whether you’re a native or not.” Studying his face, she noticed a small scar on his chin and wondered if he’d gotten that in the line of duty. Rather than spoil his looks it gave him a rugged edge.

“Will you be all right when you do go home? I mean, do you live in a secure building?”

“Why?” She inhaled sharply when she fully grasped his implication. “You don’t think anybody will come after me there, do you?”

“Probably not. I wish I knew more about the guys who were manhandling you tonight, though.”

“So do I.” Mulling over her predicament, she added, “I can only hope I’ll recognize them soon enough to protect myself if I see them again.”

“Tell you what,” Reed said. “I’ll go look your place over on my own time if the department doesn’t send another officer to do it. How’s that sound?”

Abigail frowned at him. “Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me.”

“I’m not real sure,” he admitted with a grin. “Maybe because my being in the right place at exactly the right time to rescue you seems like such an odd coincidence. Plus, I had Jessie with me. She did all the tracking. I just followed her lead. That strikes me as providential, if you get my drift.”

“Why did you say were you down on the boardwalk?”

“Jessie and I were sent to follow up a tip on a missing K-9 that means a lot to the department, to my unit. Snapper is a highly trained German shepherd who used to be the chief’s partner.”

The flash of grief she saw pass over Reed’s face took Abigail by surprise. She could understand missing a dog as if you’d lost a friend, but the officer’s emotions seemed stronger than that. She had to ask. “What happened?”

When Reed swallowed hard and said, “Chief Jordan Jameson was murdered by a person or persons unknown. Snapper was his K-9 and has been missing since,” her stomach knotted. He wasn’t merely looking for a lost dog, he was searching for a cop killer. That made all her troubles pale in comparison.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Me, too.”

Before Abigail could decide what to say next, the handsome K-9 officer got to his feet. “You take care. I’ll get your address off your file, then speak to your super and make sure your apartment is safe before you’re discharged. I promise.”

He wheeled and was gone before she had time to decide to stop him. Pride urged her to object to having her privacy violated but good sense intervened. There was nothing secret in her life, nothing that anyone could hold against her.

Except my childhood , she added. Those records had been expunged but she hadn’t hidden her past when she’d applied for the job at A Fresh Start. If anybody could understand street kids, it was her. Success proved it.

The image of a pretty blonde teen popped into her mind. Kiera Underhill was one of her toughest cases, a girl with a chip on her shoulder the size of Lady Liberty’s torch.