High Intensity (High Mountain Trackers HMT 2G #2)

Chapter 18

Eighteen

Jillian

“We may need to postpone the trip to Kalispell.”

I glance up from the amazing breakfast spread Ama put out in the kitchen.

She’d cooked dinner last night as well, which was scrumptious, so when Wolff suggested going to the main house for breakfast after finding only a stale box of cereal and a quarter gallon of questionable milk in his cabin, I was on board.

“Why?”

Wolff braces a hand on the kitchen island and leans in.

“Doc called. She’s on her way here to check in on an injured horse and may have your pups in her truck.”

The pressure balloon I’ve carried around in my chest these past few days pops, and all the worry for Hunter and Nugget drains in the form of unexpected tears. I’d wanted to go see them so badly, but recognized that probably wouldn’t be smart, not only exposing myself but possibly drawing unwanted attention to Janey Richards. As hard as it was to stay away, I wasn’t going to take that risk.

“Nice going, Lucas,” Jonas’s father grumbles when he shuffles into the kitchen. “What’d I tell you?”

Embarrassed, I hide my face in a napkin.

“Ease up, old man,” Ama jumps to Wolff’s defense. “I believe those are happy tears.”

I lower the napkin to find Thomas intensely staring across the kitchen island at me.

“They are,” I confirm.

He turns his attention back to Wolff. “Well, in that case, well done, son.”

“More coffee?” Wolff asks me, pointedly ignoring the older man.

“Please.”

I’m happy to return to my apple-stuffed French toast and bacon Ama served up this morning, and make a mental note to ask her for the recipe, if she’s willing to share. I enjoy the rest of my breakfast in silence, as I listen to Ama and Thomas bicker like siblings. They’re not related, and a generation separates them, but the love between them is obvious. At some point, Jackson walks in, closely followed by Sully, and before you know it every stool at the kitchen island is filled, and the supply of food seems never-ending.

It’s a strange patchwork of individuals in this kitchen, but there is no doubt these people are family. I feel pretty lucky I’m being made to feel included.

I’m just shoving the last bite in my mouth when JD walks into the kitchen, his eyes on me.

“Doc’s here,” he announces.

I’m off my stool and beelining it for the front door. I didn’t even thank Ama for breakfast. Janey is standing next to her truck with the rear door open, grinning widely as she steps aside for me to poke my head inside.

“Oh my God, you guys. Hey…”

Hunter leaps up from the back seat and attacks my face with her tongue, while her tail beats a tattoo against the leather seat.

“Hello, pretty girl. You’re looking a lot better.”

When I nudge her aside, I catch sight of Nugget on the other side of the back seat, whimpering softly. He lifts his head and his tail wags too, albeit with a little less enthusiasm.

“Who’s my good boy?”

I quickly lift Hunter out of the truck and reach back in for Nugget, who is already crawling toward me. I gingerly pick him up, cradling him in my arms when I back out of the truck.

“He’s still weak,” Janey volunteers. “Much better than he was though. Given he has the smallest body mass of all the dogs, I think it’s going to take some time for the drugs to get completely filtered from his system. But he’s progressing, and I’m positive he will do even better once he’s back with his pack.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Believe me, it’s my pleasure. Happy to see them doing better. Although, you may want to keep an eye on Nugget just for today. I think you’ll see a great improvement in him with another day or so.”

“Did you ever find out what they were given?” Wolff asks.

I hadn’t even noticed him following me outside, I was too focused on my dogs.

“Yes,” Doc responds. “I believe it was acepromazine. It’s a tranquilizer often used as a pre-anesthetic. It would’ve been about forty minutes to an hour before it would’ve taken effect once in a dog’s system and can last six to eight hours to wear off when properly dosed.”

“They were probably given something when I last let them out before we went to bed,” Wolff suggests.

The vet agrees, “That would be my guess.”

I thank her again and ask her to send me the bill, to which she responds with a smile and a, “Sure.” I have a sneaking suspicion I’ll have to chase that bill down.

Once again, I feel that warm sense of community, of family. Something I’ve denied myself for too many years.

I carry Nugget as I follow Wolff, who leads Hunter to his cabin. The welcome from the rest of the pack is enthusiastic, and I have to caution my bigger boys to be gentle with especially Nugget.

“New plan for today,” Wolff announces once the pack seems settled down.

“Which is?”

“You stick around here with the dogs. Give Nugget a chance to recover and maybe tomorrow he’ll be good enough to come with us to Wellspring. Give the big dogs some exercise so they don’t feel left out. And Jackson says he’s sticking close by today,” he suggests as he reaches for me.

I step willingly into his arms. Amazing how fast his embrace has become like home to me.

“And what about you?”

“I’m gonna head over to your place. The feds should be done with it by now, but they’re not known for leaving things tidy. I’ll do a bit of cleanup, maybe grab whatever perishables are in your fridge and freezer to bring back, and make sure the place is locked up tight. Anything you need that I can pack up?”

I squeeze his waist and tilt my head back. “A couple of the dog beds. Three dogs barely fit on your spare bed, all five of them would be pushing it. Nugget won’t be able to jump up there by himself anyway.”

He drops his head for a quick, hard kiss.

It’s not until he grabs his keys off the coffee table, fits his hat back on his head, and aims for the door, I realize I only grabbed my toothbrush and one change of clothes when we left my house in a hurry.

“Wolff?”

“Yeah?”

He looks back over his shoulder, and it suddenly strikes me how incredibly handsome this man is. Not in any flashy way, he doesn’t have JD’s dark, cut, smoldering looks, or Dan’s stacked physique, but I much prefer Wolff’s swimmer’s body and his calm blue eyes. I’ve even grown to love his longer hair, and nothing beats that little smile he seems to reserve just for me.

I think I may be falling for him.

“I forgot; I don’t have any more clean clothes.”

That smile makes an appearance. “That’s okay, I much prefer you without.”

I roll my eyes.

“That’ll for sure get tongues wagging at Wellspring Senior Living tomorrow,” I fire off in return.

Wolff throws back his head and starts laughing, his eyes crinkling and white teeth flashing.

Oh yeah…I’ve got it bad.

Wolff

It surprises me to find a sheriff’s cruiser parked outside Jillian’s place.

Billy Keegan, one of the deputies, who is sometimes partnered up with Sloane, gets out when I pull up behind him.

“The scene hasn’t been released by the feds yet,” he informs me when I step out of the truck.

“Still? What the hell do they think they’re gonna find here?”

Billy shrugs. “They’re supposed to be back to finish up. There was a task force meeting at our office earlier this morning, and it looks like some of the evidence they found links back to that Puma guy.”

“Stefano Puma?”

“Fingerprints on the gun he dropped.”

All right.

I didn’t get a good look at those guys in the middle of the night. It was dark and I was working on instinct rather than sight when I confronted them. That said, I don’t mind the idea I put a bullet in Puma—that piece of shit—although I have to say, I’m surprised he got his own hands dirty.

I hope he’s hurting.

“What are you doing here?” the deputy wants to know.

“I was hoping to clean up a little, pick up a few things, and make sure the place is locked up,” I explain.

“The cleanup will have to wait, we can call about letting you grab some things, and as for locking the place up, I’ll make sure you’re notified the moment the feds are done with the place.”

I clap him on the shoulder. “That would be helpful.”

Ten minutes later, after a bit of a runaround from SA Bellinger, I’m finally granted permission to go in the house. Of course, with Billy Keegan looking on. As suspected, the place was left a mess, fingerprint powder everywhere, still smudges of blood on the kitchen floor, and just about every drawer, cupboard, and closet door left open.

Billy dutifully follows me around the house, but when he trails me down the hall to Jillian’s bedroom, I stop him.

“Seriously? Her bedroom?”

He grins sheepishly. “Just following orders.”

“Her bedroom is not part of the crime scene,” I remind him. “You can wait out here.”

No need for him to look over my shoulder when I go through Jillian’s dresser drawers. I think she’s been violated enough.

At least they left the bedroom door closed, but when I slip inside, it’s evident the room didn’t escape scrutiny. Clearly, sometime after we left early on Tuesday morning, her closet, her dresser, and the nightstand were gone through. Even the fucking sheets on the bed are gone. It looks like they’ve been in the damn bathroom too.

No way in hell I’ll let Jillian see how badly her privacy was invaded.

I grab a bag from her closet and start shoving clothes and underwear in. In the bathroom, I add the obvious toiletries from the edge of the tub and the counter. Then I yank the door open, startling Billy Keegan, who is looking at something on his phone.

“Get fucking Bellinger back on the phone,” I bark as I brush past him.

“No need,” he says as he follows me to the kitchen. “I just got a message he’s on his way with the sheriff.”

Good. I’d rather look him in the face when I give him a piece of my mind.

I already have Jillian’s bag, the dog beds, and the contents of her fridge and freezer in a box in the truck, when the sheriff’s cruiser followed by a black Ford Expedition turn on to the driveway. Perfect goddamn timing.

I’m waiting for Bellinger to exit the SUV, my arms crossed over my chest in case I’m tempted to throw a punch.

“Mr. Wolff, I was hoping to catch you here.”

I notice Ewing walking up behind the agent, but my focus is on Bellinger.

“You took the fucking sheets?” I hiss at him.

He jerks back and I can tell he wasn’t expecting a full-frontal attack. Well, too damn bad.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” he skirts.

“The bedsheets. Off the bed Jillian and I were sleeping in. In the room that was never part of any crime scene.”

“Ease up, Wolff,” Ewing tries to moderate when I get into the agent’s face.

But I’m pissed. I can’t remember the last time I was this worked up.

“You already went through her goddamn underwear drawer. That wasn’t enough of a violation of her privacy for you? You had to take the sheets off her bed?” I continue my rant.

“Now hold on a second. I guess you’ve been away from the Bureau a few too many years, so maybe you’ve forgotten standard procedure when processing a crime scene? Or has your judgment been clouded by the pretty little redhead?”

I’m surprised at Billy Keegan’s strong hold when he wraps his arms around me from behind, pinning mine to my side. Just as I was about to throw a right hook in Bellinger’s smug, fucking face.

“That’s enough,” Junior Ewing barks, stepping in front of me, waving a finger in my face. “Cool your goddamn jets, and don’t you dare take that swing, or I will throw your ass in jail.”

Then he turns his back and faces off with Bellinger.

“Standard procedure? Bedsheets?”

“Just being thorough,” I hear the asshole respond. “If anything, we needed to rule out any possible involvement Ms. Lederman might have in this case.”

“What?” I can’t hold back my disbelief. “Are you nuts?”

“Surely, you don’t believe that is even a remote possibility,” Ewing expresses the same sentiment, except in milder terms.

“Look, we have the woman on camera talking to Stefano Puma in the parking lot of your hospital. There’s no way to know what they were discussing. Hell, they may have greeted each other as old friends, there’s no way to tell what was said, except for Ms. Lederman’s claims.”

“And she then turned around, told a sheriff’s deputy, and made sure everyone’s attention was drawn to the man?” I scoff, getting heated up again. “How does that even make sense? You think she willingly had someone poison her dogs? To what fucking end? What is her gain? You’re reaching, Bellinger.”

“He’s got a point,” Ewing offers his support as he steps out of the way.

I can see Bellinger, both his hands clamped at the back of his neck and his head tilted up to the sky. Then he drops his gaze and locks eyes with me.

“Look. We don’t know, all right? All we know is these guys disappeared into thin air in the early hours of Tuesday morning. We don’t know where they are, we’re not even sure what they want, so yes…I’m going to fucking run down any and every possible lead, however thin or far-fetched it may appear. And I’m sorry if that offends you or your girlfriend, but I have an eleven-year-old orphan whose life may depend on me solving this case.”

Just like that, the fire raging in me is doused.

He’s right, it’s easy to forget who this is really about, and the kicker is, Jillian would have volunteered her underwear drawer and her sheets if it meant getting closer to answers for Hayley.

Dammit.

Now I have to eat crow.