Tracing a Killer, page 1
Captain’s barking intensified.
Hannah clawed at her attacker’s hands, and his grip loosened. She managed a punch to his solar plexus. The man gasped as she crawled out from beneath him.
Before she could get to her feet, he grabbed her leg and dragged her across the dirt. Sharp pebbles pressed into her skin.
Her K-9 lunged.
“Get away from me!” her attacker cried out.
He reached for Hannah’s neck, and Captain growled in response. She thrashed back and forth as she struggled to breathe.
A thudding noise caused the man to let go of her. Her assailant bolted to his feet. From the ground where she lay, she saw the silhouette of two men fighting—no doubt one was Trevor.
* * *
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
Ever since she found the Nancy Drew books with the pink covers in the country school library, Sharon Dunn has loved mystery and suspense. In 2014, she lost her beloved husband of nearly twenty-seven years to cancer. She has three grown children. When she is not writing, she enjoys reading, sewing and walks. She loves to hear from readers. You can contact her via her website at www.sharondunnbooks.net.
Books by Sharon Dunn
Love Inspired Suspense
In Too Deep
Wilderness Secrets
Mountain Captive
Undercover Threat
Alaskan Christmas Target
Undercover Mountain Pursuit
Crime Scene Cover-Up
Christmas Hostage
Montana Cold Case Conspiracy
Montana Witness Chase
Kidnapped in Montana
Alaska K-9 Unit
Undercover Mission
Pacific Northwest K-9 Unit
Threat Detection
Mountain Country K-9 Unit
Tracing a Killer
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com for more titles.
Tracing a Killer
Sharon Dunn
Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.
—Isaiah 43:19
For my beloved dog, Bart the nervous border collie, who was my best friend for over thirteen years. I’m so glad you were a part of my life.
I miss you every day.
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Dear Reader
Excerpt from K-9 Ranch Protection by Darlene L. Turner
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.
