Her Duty Bound Defender, page 1
Naomi watched, intrigued.
Detective Ford opened the back door, snapped a leash on the beagle, then gently placed the dog on the ground.
“Do I have your permission to check your vehicle and the contents?”
She nodded, unable to speak beyond the lump in her throat. She had nothing to hide.
The beagle stopped beside the driver’s side rear fender, barked twice, paused, then barked once more.
Naomi blinked. What did that mean?
An expression clouded the detective’s face, and her pulse quickened. “What’s wrong?”
Detective Ford faced her, eyes dark. “My dog just alerted to the narcotics you hid in your van.”
* * *
Mountain Country K-9 Unit
Baby Protection Mission by Laura Scott, April 2024
Her Duty Bound Defender by Sharee Stover, May 2024
Chasing Justice by Valerie Hansen, June 2024
Crime Scene Secrets by Maggie K. Black, July 2024
Montana Abduction Rescue by Jodie Bailey, August 2024
Trail of Threats by Jessica R. Patch, September 2024
Tracing a Killer by Sharon Dunn, October 2024
Search and Detect by Terri Reed, November 2024
Christmas K-9 Guardians by Lenora Worth and Katy Lee, December 2024
Colorado native Sharee Stover lives in the Midwest with her real-life-hero husband, youngest child and her obnoxiously lovable German shepherd. A self-proclaimed word nerd, she loves the power of words to transform, ignite and restore. She writes Christian romantic suspense combining heart-racing, nail-biting suspense and the delight of falling in love all in one. Connect with her at www.shareestover.com.
Books by Sharee Stover
Love Inspired Suspense
Secret Past
Silent Night Suspect
Untraceable Evidence
Grave Christmas Secrets
Cold Case Trail
Tracking Concealed Evidence
Framing the Marshal
Defending the Witness
Mountain Country K-9 Unit
Her Duty Bound Defender
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com.
Her Duty Bound Defender
Sharee Stover
For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.
—Ecclesiastes 12:14
For all the dedicated law enforcement K-9s and their handlers. Thank you for your service.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Cold Case Tracker by Maggie K. Black
ONE
A tragic murder in a blissful setting.
That’s how the Denver media sensationalized Peter Windham’s horrifying Valentine’s Day murder. An involuntary shiver passed over Naomi Carr-Cavanaugh. Peter Windham and Henry Mulder—both Naomi’s high school classmates—died of gunshot wounds. Additionally, the killer left a malicious note stabbed into their chests, claiming they’d gotten what they deserved. Worse, the crimes mimicked the demise of three other Elk Valley High School classmates and fellow Young Ranchers Club members in Wyoming a decade prior. Her gaze remained fixated on Peter’s barn, looming ahead in the distance with the gorgeous Colorado landscape for a backdrop. The same place where law enforcement discovered his body two months prior.
Why had the murderer returned now?
Why Peter?
Tears filled Naomi’s eyes, blurring her vision.
Unlike her teen crush, Trevor Gage, and his friends, Peter—the quintessential nice guy—was Naomi’s friend.
Naomi’s connection to all the murder victims and the prank they’d played on her at the YRC dance ten years prior remained one undeniable fact. Memories of the horrible night rushed at her, dragging Naomi back to the painful moment with Trevor and his friends—including Peter.
She shoved the unpleasant thoughts away.
Did Peter move to Colorado intending to flee their hometown and the painful reminders, just as she’d done?
The last rays of the April evening sun prepared to set behind the majestic Colorado mountains bordering the deserted Windham Ranch. The headlights of Naomi’s Ford Transit Connect van illuminated her path. She drove slowly, navigating past the outbuilding, stable and farmhouse to the barn doors, where she parked and shut off the engine.
Why am I here? Naomi had no suitable answer for the pestering question. She’d contemplated her motives since the last of her tour bus customers disembarked tonight. As the owner operator of her small business, Friends of Foothills Tours, she provided guided tours to common attractions around Denver and the bordering foothills. This night, she felt compelled to visit Peter’s property, and she’d driven straight here.
Again.
Months earlier, just after Valentine’s Day, when the news first reported the incident, Naomi made this same trip. Due to the heavy law enforcement personnel presence, she’d known better than to intrude.
But tonight, no other people milled along the property.
No coroner’s van drove Peter’s body to the morgue.
No crime scene technicians collected evidence.
She released her seat belt and opened her door, then paused. The trills of the birds faded as they nestled in the trees that bordered the pasture—void of the horses Peter loved to train. A swift kick under her ribs gained her attention, and Naomi caressed her swollen belly where her active baby boy moved. “We’re here, little man. I might as well look around.”
She awkwardly scooted out of the driver’s seat, reminded that no movement was easy at the advanced stage of her pregnancy.
Time was running out, though.
Soon she’d be a busy single mommy.
It was now or never.
Her ballet slipper flats crunched softly on the gravel road. Gravity pulled on her aching muscles, and she braced her palms against the small of her back, then leaned to stretch. Sprouts of overgrown grass and weeds peeked sporadically through the ground. A soft breeze fluttered the tendrils of hair that had escaped her French braid, tickling her neck. Goose bumps rose on her bare arms. She reached in and grabbed her favorite blue cardigan from the seat, donning the sweater. Then she withdrew her cell phone from her purse and activated the flashlight app, mentally chastising herself for not bringing a real one. Of course, she reasoned, she’d not anticipated coming to the ranch.
Naomi stood motionless, surrounded by inky darkness, and serenaded by chirruping crickets. With one last glance at her van, she started toward the barn.
Rusty red paint covered the wooden structure and a side door stood ajar. The motion sensor light overhead activated at her approach. Naomi jumped back, startled, and pressed her hand against her racing heart. Grateful for the extra light, she chuckled nervously and surveyed the grounds. Long rows of evergreens bordered the lane where she’d driven. Weeds and tall grass had overgrown the landscape. Shadows stretched out in all directions, bathing everything in an eerie veil, juxtaposing Denver’s nighttime ambient glow.
Her legs and back ached from the long day of sitting and driving. A walk would relieve the tension. Besides, since her husband Ted’s accidental death six months prior, she had no one to go home to. Not that he’d been around much before the mishap.
Naomi inhaled a fortifying breath, passed the barn and headed for the pasture separated by a split-rail fence. Sweet memories of her high school rodeo performance days trickled into her mind, and she smiled. All of it seemed a lifetime ago.
Naomi faced west, where the last glimpses of the sunset disappeared behind the craggy landscape. She inhaled the fresh air. Away from the busyness of the city, she relished the quiet, though it reminded her of Elk Valley.
Her baby shifted again, refocusing Naomi to her purpose.
She turned and walked toward the barn.
A rustling in the foliage behind her had Naomi pivoting. She scanned the row of evergreens bordering the lane, then her gaze roved the prairie.
Was it her imagination or did something move in the distance?
“Hello?” Naomi’s voice hitched, revealing her fear.
No response.
This was a huge mistake. She had no right to be on private property.
But there might not be another opportunity.
She approached the barn door, placed her hand on the iron handle and tugged it open. It creaked, though she’d expected nothing less. She stepped over the threshold and entered the darkened space.
Something rushed at her.
Naomi gasped and stumbled back into the opened door as a form whipped into the space between her and the outdoors. Her cell phone light captured the rabbit’s white tail as it darted into the pasture.
Naomi’s heart thudded so hard against her ribs it vibrated throug
Childhood and teen memories of her friendship with Peter fluttered to mind. They’d had such fun, and Naomi considered him one of her closest friends. They’d lost touch after the night of the semiformal dance, except for a single meeting after she’d left their hometown in Wyoming and moved to Colorado. However, she’d not entertained reviving their friendship. Between the loss of her parents, her husband and now Peter, life was too short to embitter herself by dwelling on thoughts of past hurts.
“If only things had been different.” Her words echoed in the empty barn, where the scent of hay and copper mingled. She proceeded farther inside, hesitating beside a large circular stain marring the hardwood floor.
Realization hit Naomi with the force of a tsunami.
Peter’s murder scene.
What was she doing here? Naomi again surveyed the space, unable to shake the strange sensation that someone watched her.
An icy shiver traced down her spine, and the urge to escape the area overwhelmed her.
She spun on her heel, hurrying for the door.
Gravel crunched outside the barn, and she peered out, still hidden behind the open door.
Would she be arrested for trespassing on private property?
Headlights bounced on the single lane, approaching the ranch.
There was no way to escape without being seen.
She glanced over her shoulder again, glimpsing the stained floor, and sucked in a breath.
Terror gripped her heart.
Had Peter’s killer returned?
* * *
Revenge nursed an insatiable hunger. The saying couldn’t be truer as Detective Bennett Ford watched through the binoculars. “Now you’re behaving like a serial killer, returning to the scene of the crime—possibly to meet up with your accomplices.” The sedan approaching Peter’s barn slowed.
He lowered the binoculars. If the situation were different, he might find the petite woman with chestnut brown hair and bright hazel eyes attractive. That part of the case file didn’t jive. How had anyone considered her a plain Jane? Regardless, the endless string of boring surveillance days following the Mountain Country K-9 Task Force’s number one murder suspect, Naomi Carr-Cavanaugh, had finally paid off.
Bennett exchanged the binoculars for his service weapon and tactical flashlight, gaining his K-9 partner Spike’s attention. “This is it! The truth always comes out.”
His beagle’s tail thumped the front seat, conveying his readiness to work.
Bennett didn’t have the heart to tell his partner that his unprecedented narcotic detection skills—a valuable asset to the MCK9 task force—might not be required on this case. The fifteen-person team headquartered in Wyoming was comprised of skilled law enforcement professionals, including local police, US Marshals, FBI agents, state troopers and sheriff’s deputies. However, the task force leader had asked Bennett to trail Naomi because Denver was his hometown. He was very familiar with the city and the surrounding area—including the Windham Ranch location. Plus, Spike’s nose could always come in handy for tracking. No matter. They were part of the elite group’s unified mission. Specifically, taking down the Rocky Mountain Killer or RMK, who was responsible for the heinous murders of five young men across Rocky Mountain states—Colorado, Montana and Wyoming—spanning ten years with the threat of more to come.
“Sorry, Spike. Wait here,” Bennett whispered.
The beagle harrumphed his displeasure and curled up on the seat.
For the first time since trailing Naomi, she’d deviated from her normal, predictable routine. Her daily schedule never strayed. She left her Roxborough apartment at the break of dawn and picked up six to eight tour customers at her small downtown storefront. Then she escorted them all over Denver, ending at Red Rocks Amphitheater, and dropped them off where they’d begun. Naomi drove straight home, turned out the lights early and repeated it the next day. Evidently, she’d planned to work right up to the baby’s birth. If Bennett didn’t know otherwise, he’d assume Naomi used boredom as her weapon of choice. He snorted at his sarcastic thought.
Tonight, she’d finally provided a twist from her norm by driving south of Denver to the Windham Ranch in Ridge. No doubt, to relish in her latest crime and, Bennett also hoped, to retrieve the 9 mm pistol used in all the murders. The weapon—which the authorities had yet to find—would give him the coup de grâce when he closed the RMK case.
The unexpected arrival of the second vehicle, however, provided the ultimate icing on the investigation cake. It explained how a woman in her final pregnancy trimester killed two grown men in different states—Peter Windham in Colorado and Henry Mulder in Montana. Additionally, the accomplices expounded on Naomi’s dire financial straits. She’d paid hired assassins to exact her revenge on the ones who humiliated her ten years prior.
The updated case file now shared the undeniably sad story of golden-boy Trevor Gage inviting Naomi to the YRC semiformal dance as a prank. When she arrived, all Trevor’s friends, except Peter, had laughed at her. Now, five of those young men were dead. Peter was the one anomaly, as he hadn’t participated in humiliating Naomi. The prank revealed Trevor had only asked her out as a joke. Devastated, she’d bolted from the dance in tears. A month later, on Valentine’s Day, authorities discovered three of the teens murdered in an Elk Valley barn. The start of Naomi’s reign of terror.
Not that Bennett condoned the young men’s unacceptable bullying behavior. What they’d done to her was beyond cruel, and someone should’ve held them accountable. Naomi’s illegal vigilante actions solidified her motive and thwarted any hope of the young men’s recompense. In an ironic twist, it turned the tables, offering those same instigators warranted justice.
Peter’s friendship with Naomi didn’t fit with the other victims’ intentions. Though the MCK9 team argued a better friend would’ve protected her from the start.
Peter’s adult life included a spotless reputation. He was an active churchgoer and well-respected horse trainer. Why kill him on the ten-year anniversary of the first three murders?
Unless the death of Naomi’s husband and her pregnancy triggered the killer inside? Were they the catalyst for her latest acts of revenge? She’d moved to Denver shortly after Peter Windham did. Stalking him, perhaps? Assuming she’d be far from her hometown of Elk Valley, Wyoming, and no one would piece the cold case murders together?
Bennett’s experience with liars, both professionally and personally, had taught him outward appearances didn’t reveal a person’s real underlying motives. He’d never again underestimate the mind of a criminal, thanks to Delaney Huxley—con woman, drug dealer extraordinaire and Bennett’s ex-fiancée.
Everything pointed to Naomi, and she might’ve gotten away undetected with the prior victims’ cases going cold. But she had to satisfy her insatiable appetite for revenge by killing Peter and Henry. Both were found bearing the same fatal gunshot wounds and vicious notes stabbed into their chests with a knife. They got what they deserved. More to come across the Rockies. And I’m saving the best for last.
This time, Naomi wouldn’t get away with murder. She’d pay for the five innocent lives she’d taken. Women serial killers were less common than their male counterparts, but were certainly not unheard of. Although, in Naomi’s case, if they added in her deceased husband who “accidentally” fell off a cliff hiking six months prior, the body count rose to six. Bennett scrutinized that a smarter killer would’ve purchased life insurance on the victim before shoving him to his death. However, if Ted Cavanaugh had discovered his wife’s murderous secrets, that was motive enough for her to eliminate him.
Bennett closed his truck door and crept through the brush toward the barn. He kept to the shadows, then hid behind Naomi’s small bright turquoise transit van with massive daisies painted in primary colors, covering the vehicle’s exterior. Magnetic signs in a shade of purple Bennett’s grandmother called wisteria advertised Friends of Foothills Tours in flowery lettering, with several catchy hashtags and contact information. After spending days surveilling her vehicle, he’d see daisies in his dreams for months after he closed the case.
