The Pregnant Colton Witness Page 11

  “Here are my keys.” She opened a desk drawer in her office and handed him her key ring. “It’s touchless.”

  “I think I can figure it out.”

  “I didn’t mean to insinuate you couldn’t.”

  They looked at one another for a heartbeat.

  “Is it always going to be this prickly between us?” He knew she didn’t feel her best, being newly pregnant, but thought maybe he’d done something to tick her off.

  She exhaled forcefully and it made the wisps of hair around her face float. “I’m sorry, Nash. It’s been a little intense, hasn’t it? I mean, I know we’re both in the business of adrenaline rushes, you more so than I. But I’m used to having downtime each day after surgery, and the other day was insane. We had an emergency gunshot wound and...”

  “And?”

  She let her shoulders fall and leaned against the wall behind her desk. “And nothing. It sounds so tame after witnessing a murderer dump a body into a lake.”

  “Don’t forget being chased and then stalked by the killer.” He knew she’d already compartmentalized what had happened. It was the only way she’d be able to walk in here again and not curl up into a protective ball on her worn office sofa.

  “Yeah, well, there’s that, too. But none of this is really out of the ordinary for you and Greta, is it? Not that you see murderers every day, but you’re more used to the break-ins and chasing vandals. Am I right?”

  “You are. But there’s nothing like the stress of an op that turns personal. This case was personal for you the minute you identified the man dumping the body. Speaking of which, I have more news.”

  “Oh?”

  “Turns out it was a young student from the community college in Rapid City. Her name was Dallas Remington, and she was nineteen and suspected of dealing heroin.”

  “If she was in school in Rapid City, what was she doing way up here?” Rapid City was almost two hours away in the southwest portion of the state, mirror opposite to Red Ridge’s location.

  “Probably picking up a drug delivery. We’ve had a lot of heroin activity recently and this ties in with it.”

  “What a shame.” Patience studied him and Nash had to admit he didn’t mind it when her attention was on him. “You must worry about your siblings. The opioid epidemic is alarming.”

  He nodded. “I sure as hell do. Being a police officer never protects a family from crime, even though I wish it did. But it’s frustrating to know so much about what it can do to a kid and not be able to do anything but educate.”

  “And some hope and prayers, too, I imagine.” She had a soft smile that he remembered from after they’d made love the first time in the middle of the night. “You can’t do it all, Nash.”

  “No one’s asking me to. I do the best I can.” He needed to get back to the station. “Text me when you leave here, and when you’re safe in the cabin. Take your weapon with you, and make sure it’s loaded. And please, above all else, don’t hesitate to use it if you need to.”

  “Do you really think I’d think twice if I see that monster again?”

  She had him there.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, they rose before sunup, and Patience beat him to the kitchen. When he walked in from his shower, the coffee was hot and she was at the stove.

  “Good morning. I’m making some eggs—want one?”

  “Sure, I’ll take three if you have them.”

  She laughed. “Scrambled okay?”

  “Perfect.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he poured himself coffee. “You don’t seem to be having morning sickness.”

  “Oh, trust me, I do, but it hits me at the oddest times. And I woke up craving eggs, so I’m not going to argue. My guess is that I need the protein.”

  “My guess is that you’re exhausted from all we’ve been through, plus making a baby while you’re at it.”

  He wasn’t sure what he felt, standing in Patience’s kitchen at five thirty in the morning, but it wasn’t unpleasant. A warmth pervaded the atmosphere and even Greta was perkier than usual. He nodded at her as she sat near the counter stools. “She bother you?”

  “Not at all. I took her out for a quick walk while you were in the shower.”

  “You didn’t have to. She would have waited for me.”

  “I figured as much, but she knows me and I knew you’d trust me with her.” And she was correct—he’d trust his life with Patience, and certainly his K9.

  “You know all of the RRPD dogs better than anyone, except for their handlers.”

  “That’s my job.” She served the fluffy eggs up on an aqua plate. “Here you go. And don’t get used to it. I’m usually a quick yogurt or smoothie girl in the mornings.”

  “This looks delicious.” He sat at the high counter and dug in. Between bites, he tried not to stare at her. Patience Colton first thing in the morning was a beautiful sight. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Was the sofa comfortable? I see you gave in and used the pullout.”

  “I did. Greta is settling in, keeping guard at the front door. I have to say I never heard anything strange or out of place. Besides, Greta would have alerted if anyone tried to snoop around.”

  “Not happening. We’ve taken good precautions with the cars, and trust me, I made sure this place was off the map enough when I bought it. I needed a respite.”

  “Normally I wouldn’t agree with you. Someone who’s determined enough will always find who they’re looking for. But this is very remote, even though I noticed you didn’t say ‘off the grid.’” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Patience liked her creature comforts and Wi-Fi was included.

  “No, I’m definitely not a doomsdayer! And as you noticed yesterday, I am a bit of a technophile.”

  “What’s attractive about you, Patience, is that you don’t have to have all the best, all the time. You’d never have taken the K9 position, or even be a vet, if you weren’t able to put the needs of others above yours.” The K9 clinic was practically brand-new and a sparkling facility, but it was still a vet’s clinic. Her office sofa had already become worn in a short time from all the dogs she allowed on it.

  “Thank you. No one’s ever said that to me before.” She sat next to him with her own plate of eggs. “I’m used to folks just assuming I’m a spoiled Colton. At least when I was younger. Now they take me for who I am, more or less.”

  Nash wanted to take her in every way imaginable. But that was a conversation he suspected wouldn’t go over too well. Patience had made it clear that there was no hope for a relationship, or at least a repeat or two of their spectacular night together. Yesterday had been an anomaly.

  He had no choice but to respect her wishes on that, but he wasn’t going to give up on being a full parent for the baby. The question was how could he get past Patience’s strength and independence to show her it was okay to lean on him for the baby’s sake?

  * * *

  By the time Nash and Greta were at the dive scene, the lake was spotted with local fishing vessels, but not nearly as many as during the warmer seasons. Fall was wrapping up in Red Ridge and the morning chill proved it. In his dive suit and scuba gear, Nash wasn’t looking forward to the water temperature.

  “Greta, stay.” Nash and Greta were on a police patrol boat with four other officers, anchored over the sight where the victim had been found. The RRPD and a local coast guard unit had guarded the area since the night of the murder. A basic drag of the lake hadn’t revealed any more bodies, but a couple sonar hits in this area had alerted the RRPD that there might be something still hiding in the lake.

  Greta let out two sharp barks, her signal that something was going on below the water. RRPD Officer Cathy Schwab was working the bottom of the lake, and Nash was up next.

  “Has Cathy found anything yet?” Nash spoke to Tom Billings, the offi
cer in charge.

  “Yes, but I couldn’t make out what. She’s coming up now.” Tom looked overboard to where the diver’s figure was visible as she rose from the lake’s bottom. He held his headset tight to his ear.

  “It could be why Greta is alerting, but we’ll be on the lookout for anything off.” Nash spoke to the team as much as to himself. He trusted Greta’s instincts and didn’t believe she’d alert over Cathy’s movements.

  “Nash, you ready?” Tom spoke as he checked Nash’s oxygen tanks while they waited for her to surface. Within seconds she was alongside the boat and the two other officers hauled her back on board.

  Officer Schwab stripped off her hood and mask as the dive team worked to untether her safety line and attach it to Nash’s harness. “There’s definitely something there, and it looked like a fluorescent orange flag marks the spot. But I had to surface—I was out of air and feeling hypothermic. I felt cold almost right away, Nash. Don’t expect to stay down for too long.”

  “We need heated wet suits.” Nash knew he’d stay as long as he could in the icy water, but the department rule was safety first.

  “Funding is everything. Why don’t you ask Dr. Colton while you’re hanging with her? She can get her father to throw us some support.” Tom referred to the fact that Fenwick Colton had almost single-handedly donated the funds to pay for the new upgrades at the K9 training center, making the decades-old building practically brand-new, with a full extension and indoor training pool. It was where the team practiced this kind of dive.

  “I’ll get right on that.” Nash’s reply made the entire team laugh. “I’m going in. What do I have, ten minutes?” He looked at Cathy.

  She nodded. “It’s the most you can hope for in these temperatures.”

  Nash put on his mask, made sure the underwater breathing apparatus was working and gave Tom a thumbs-up.

  He plunged into the water. As much as he’d braced for the shock of the cold, nothing ever prepared him for it. Grateful for his wet suit, he got to work. The lamp on his headgear lit up the surrounding area, clearer than usual. The cold temperature affected the sediment and dirt twenty feet below the surface, too. Still, he waited for a light cloud of dirt and sand to settle. Once it did, he focused on the area Cathy had directed him to, and within seconds saw the flag she’d been talking about.

  “Eyes on flag. Going there now.” He had to modulate his breathing in order to talk. He kept communication to a minimum when he dived.

  Nash swam to the flag, a triangular orange cloth attached to a long white flexible pole. He found two sealed containers at the base of it, nestled against a large boulder, and reached down to see if he could lift them. They were light enough, and upon further inspection, he saw they were waterproof ones used by divers and fishermen.

  “Nash, abort mission and surface now. Repeat, abort mission.” Tom’s voice sounded in his earpiece.

  He felt a sharp tug on his safety line, another emergency signal that demanded he surface immediately.

  “Why, Tom?” he asked over the comm unit. He had seven minutes left on his watch. But there was no reply from Tom, not even a rush of static. As dive master, Tom’s orders were sacrosanct. Nash grabbed one of the boxes and prepared to surface.

  Before he could, the large form of Greta appeared, swimming straight for him. Why had Tom deployed Greta while ordering Nash to surface? He signaled for her to surface, too.

  Greta either didn’t see his hand signals or ignored him, completely unlike her. As she swam not to him, but past him, Nash turned. Adrenaline surged when he saw her target—another diver, male, who was not RRPD. The man held a knife in his hand and Nash realized that must have been the tug he’d felt—his line had been cut. That same knife meant trouble for Greta.

  Greta had the other diver’s arm in her teeth and was making for the surface with him when he saw the man strike her head with his free hand. Nash feared she’d been stabbed and knew Greta needed air, so he signaled her to surface while he went after the assailant.

  The thug knocked the container from Nash’s grip and grabbed the second one, wielding his knife in a clear message: he’d kill Nash for the boxes. Nash didn’t have body armor on, and even if he had, it wasn’t bladeproof. He was a strong swimmer and diver, even with the weight vest. But he found himself struggling to breathe, and at the same time, his tank issued a loud warning alarm. The thug had cut his air off, too. He had no choice but to surface. And pray that Greta was okay.

  * * *

  Patience stood on the edge of the lake, watching as the RRPD launch approached the small dock. It was all she could do not to jump into the water to reach Nash sooner, to hell with the cold. If not for their unborn child, she would. When she’d heard the alert over the clinic’s sound system she’d had to fight off the urge to throw up. Greta was injured, and that meant Nash had been in harm’s way.

  As the boat cut across the usually placid lake, sadness hit her that what had been her secret serenity spot had turned deadly overnight. Literally.

  Greta wagged her tail as the boat neared, even though her head was held by Nash, keeping her still. Thank God, Nash appeared none the worse for wear.

  Patience ignored the other dive team members, focused solely on him. She made eye contact with Nash as the boat came alongside the concrete pier. It wasn’t necessary for her to jump into the vessel, but she wanted to. Best to keep it professional, though, since Greta didn’t appear seriously injured.

  “You okay?” She wanted him to know she cared. He was still in a wet suit, but it was unzipped, his RRPD jacket and ski cap providing warmth.

  “I’m good. Greta got stabbed.” He held the dog’s head in his lap, pressing a gauze bandage to it. The red stain that spread on the white fabric told her he was keeping it under control, but she suspected Greta was going to need stitches at the very least.

  Greta looked up at her with soulful eyes and Patience smiled. “You’re going to be just fine, girl.” She returned her attention to Nash and the dive team. “Did anyone see what happened to her?”

  “I did.” Nash stood and helped Greta get off the boat. Patience pointed for her to lie down on the lowered stretcher, which Greta did with her bulky frame as gracefully as any sugarplum fairy in The Nutcracker. Patience buckled the dog onto the cot before she stood and pressed the button to raise the stretcher to working height. Nash went to push Greta but Patience put her hand on his arm. “They’ve got her.”

  Two vet techs expertly moved Greta up the pier and onto the ramp at the back of the clinic.

  “I think she’s fine. It looks like she just got a cut on her scruff. An unknown diver attacked me and her. They made off with containers we discovered. A patrol was dispatched to intercept the diver but they’ve found nothing.” Nash issued the report with professional expertise, but she saw his pallor, the pulse at his temple throbbing under his skin. He’d obviously been through an event, and with the cold conditions could go into shock. He needed to warm up.

  “I’ve got her, Nash. Go get a hot shower and find us when you’re dressed.”

  She didn’t wait for him to respond, but instead ran to Greta’s side. All the K9s were vital to the RRPD’s work and she treated them all as if they were her own. But now Greta had achieved a new status with her—she was her baby daddy’s K9. Patience knew the pain it caused Nash to have his partner hurting in any way.

  She walked behind Greta’s gurney to the clinic. She couldn’t pinpoint when or where it had happened, but Nash’s well-being was inexplicably important to her. It wasn’t just because of the baby, though that was the easiest explanation for the fear that had rocked her when she’d heard the alarm call for Nash and Greta.

  She quickly glanced around the clinic and to its farthest visible bounds, quelling her anxiety over the Lake Killer. He was nowhere in sight. For now.

  * * *

  Patience quickly ascertained that
Greta’s cut was superficial. As she cleaned the small wound, she wondered how Nash had checked out with the EMTs the RRPD called in. If he had to go to the ER, she’d be the one to get him to the cabin tonight.

  She and Greta walked to her office, where Greta settled down and Patience checked her emails.

  “Nice headgear, Greta.” Nash’s voice made her stomach flip as he walked into her office and spoke to his K9, who’d taken up her favorite spot on the largest of three dog beds. Often Patience would have one of the dogs stay with her after it had been through either a daily drill with its partner or the monthly group training session. Patience knew the K9s needed to accept her as worthy of trust, so that they’d allow her to treat them in a worst-case scenario. Which, unfortunately, she’d done on several occasions.

  “Greta’s doing fine.” She pushed back from the side of her desk, where she’d been working on the computer. “You were right. It was a very minor cut. And while I know the knife wound scared you, it was a clean cut and I didn’t even have to stitch it.”

  “You were able to glue it?”

  She nodded. “She’s absolutely fine. But no diving until it’s healed, of course. I’d give it a week, at least. We don’t want to risk infection. Because it’s on the top of her scruff she can’t get to it, so I’ll send her home without a cone. How does she usually do when she’s hurt?”

  “She only needed a cone after she was spayed.” Nash was on his haunches next to his dog. “You did a good job today, Greta.”

  Greta’s huge tail thumped against the floor and they both laughed.

  “She’s a special dog. What happened out there, Nash?” Patience was worried there might be more victims. She was haunted by it since the other night.