Threat of Darkness Read online

  Samantha could understand that kind of work ethic because she possessed the same kind of dedication. That was why she’d laid her job on the line, more than once, in an effort to help the helpless. And it was why she would do the same thing again, in a heartbeat, if she suspected any child was in jeopardy.

  Picturing Danny and remembering his fright, she momentarily closed her eyes and shot a quick prayer heavenward. “Father, be with him. Keep him safe,” was all she deemed necessary. She was a no-nonsense person with regard to her daily existence and didn’t stray far from that approach in other areas.

  Perhaps that was one reason she’d gone into nursing, she concluded. She liked to see things done well and handled properly, efficiently. Having order in her life made up for the chaos of her childhood, for the moment-by-moment uncertainty, for the deep-seated fear that even now occasionally surfaced and caught her unawares.

  Samantha shivered and wrapped her arms around herself to hold her nylon jacket tighter over her hospital-type scrubs. The iciness was more in her mind than her body. It kept company with unreasonable dread and the feeling that she might be on the receiving end of more senseless violence at any moment.

  Lashes lowered, she chanced a sidelong glance at her companion. He wasn’t paying the slightest attention to her. He didn’t have to. Just seeing him there beside her was enough. As always, John Waltham’s mere presence both blessed and comforted her.

  * * *

  John drove his rig around the farmhouse and carefully checked the trailer’s clearance before easing it beneath Sam’s carport. Thankfully, there was plenty of room.

  While he was doing that, she jumped out and headed for the back door.

  “Wait. I’ll go in with you,” he called. “Just let me get unhitched so the truck isn’t hampered by this extra weight.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  She had paused with her hand on the doorknob and he could tell she wasn’t likely to listen to anything but the most blunt warning.

  “One, we may want to make a quick getaway and the trailer will slow us down. And two, I want to check the house before you go wandering around in it.”

  “Oh, please.”

  Seeing her rolling her eyes and knowing what she was liable to do next, he left his unhitching task half finished and joined her on the back porch, taking the steps two at a time.

  She held up her new house key. “Here. I suppose you’ll want this.”

  “Thanks.” As John took the key, his hand brushed Samantha’s and a tingle shot up his arm. Did she sense the same extent of awareness he did? A quick glance at her expression hinted that she might, yet there was no smile ticking at the corners of her mouth, no typical twinkle in her dark eyes.

  He eased the key ring from her hand, letting his touch linger as long as he thought he dared, and fit the key into the shiny, brass lock. Something seemed off, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it might be.

  Scowling, he looked over his shoulder at Samantha. “Do you sense any problems?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I can’t say. It just feels wrong, somehow.”

  “Probably because you’re opening my door instead of yours. This whole stupid situation feels weird to me.”

  “No argument there,” John said.

  He turned the knob. The door swung open. The kitchen was dimly lit, the house was quiet. He froze. Turned to Sam. Saw her understanding dawn.

  They had not been greeted. There was no sign of her old, faithful dog.

  Samantha pushed past him. “Brutus! Where are you? Here, Brutus. Here, boy.”

  John grabbed her arm to stop her from going any farther. “No. Wait. Let me check first.”

  “Let go of me. He’s my dog.”

  She tried to twist free but John held her fast. “And you want to be in good enough shape to take care of him if he needs you.”

  He pushed her back as he drew his gun and started from the kitchen into the hallway. “At least stay behind me.”

  Samantha gave his shoulders a hard push. “Then go. Hurry. He might be hurt.”

  Or worse, John thought, keeping that morbid notion to himself. If anything had happened to Sam’s dog she’d be inconsolable, and with good reason. She and Brutus had more than a long history together, they shared a difficult past that had forever tied them to each other.

  Large-breed dogs like hers didn’t usually live as long as smaller ones did and the old dog might have simply laid down and gone to sleep, never to awaken. That would be bad, yes, but not nearly as hard to take as if Brutus had been the victim of the criminals who had been targeting Sam.

  Her voice weakening and starting to break, she kept calling, “Brutus, Brutus,” as they made their way through the house and completed their inspection.

  Back in the living room, John holstered his gun and turned to her. “I’m sorry, Sam. He’s not here.”

  “He has to be. He was fine when I left him this morning. There were new locks on the doors and they haven’t been broken or tampered with. I saw you check them. So how could he get out?”

  “I don’t know. Are you positive he didn’t slip past you as you were leaving this morning?”

  “You picked me up. Did you see him come outside?”

  “No. And he’s pretty hard to miss, especially since he usually stays so close to you.”

  “Then where is he?”

  The sight of tears slipping past her dark lashes and starting to trickle down her cheeks hit John like a sucker punch. He opened his arms. She stepped into his embrace.

  As he held her and she wept silently, his practiced glance kept sweeping that room and the part of the hallway he could see. There had to be a clue. Something that would lead them in the right direction. Why would a criminal bother the harmless old dog, yet leave the house intact?

  Reluctant to ease his hold on Sam, he nonetheless took a step back so he could look into her eyes as he spoke. “I think we may have missed something, honey. We were looking for Brutus, not other clues.”

  He took her hand. “Come on. We’re going to search this place again from top to bottom. And this time, I want you to look for anything that may be different. Understand?”

  “Yes.” She sniffled. “Like what?”

  “Hopefully, we’ll know it when we see it.”

  “You don’t think he just wandered off?”

  “No,” John said flatly. “I suspect he either slipped out when someone opened the door or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or, he’s been dognapped.”

  NINE

  Samantha couldn’t believe her ears. “Dognapped? But who? Why?”

  “Who is the biggest question. If the dog knew the person who took him he probably went willingly. If he didn’t, I think we’d better keep an eye out for signs that his kidnapper is suffering from a dog bite.”

  “You call the police. I’ll call the hospital,” Samantha said, eager to have something to do besides worry and weep. She hated any show of weakness and had thought she was too strong-willed to succumb to it—until her best friend had disappeared. Worse, she’d shed tears all over John’s uniform shirt. What must he think of her?

  Stepping aside, she took her cell phone from the pocket of her scrub top and called the E.R.

  When she was done explaining the situation she looked to her companion. His expression was not encouraging.

  “No one has come to the E.R. complaining of a dog bite. What did your chief say?”

  “That he’s not going to consider a lost dog as a crime. Unless we can come up with something else that gives him a better reason to investigate, we’re on our own.”

  “Then let’s go.” She grabbed his hand to hurry him alo
ng.

  “Wait. Stop and think. Since nobody jimmied the door locks we need to look more closely at the windows. You had them all latched, right?”

  “Yes. I double-checked every one before I went to bed last night.”

  “Okay. Then the next order of business is for us to go over the yard and look for tracks.”

  “Brutus is out there all the time. His paw prints will be everywhere.”

  “It’s impressions from strange boots or shoes we’re looking for, especially if they happen to be next to the most recent tracks left by the dog. And while we’re at it, keep an eye out for signs of injury—not to Brutus, to whoever took him.”

  “He still might have wandered off. He’s been known to chase armadillos.”

  “It’s been daylight from the time you left for work until now. Armadillos are nocturnal.”

  “I know. I just…” She knew if she kept talking her voice would falter so she quieted. This whole predicament seemed impossible. She had thought about someone trying to get at her by waging personal attacks but it had never occurred to her that anybody would be evil enough to take out their animosity on a defenseless animal like Brutus.

  Why not? she immediately asked herself. People abused their own children all the time. What was to keep them from hurting a dog? She’d rescued Brutus from that very situation once and she’d do whatever it took to save him a second time.

  If they could find him before it was too late.

  * * *

  John checked the interior of the dilapidated barn and found nothing, then slowly circled the house, his eyes on the ground, his hand grasping Samantha’s so he’d be certain of exactly where she was every second.

  Suddenly, she gave a yank.

  He whirled, the heel of his free hand jumping to the butt of his holstered sidearm. “What? What do you see?”

  “There.” She was pointing up. “That ladder. It’s usually in the barn. I’ve never needed it so I’m not positive it’s the one I keep out there but it sure looks the same.”

  His chin lifted, his gaze settling on the second story. “Do you use the attic much?”

  “No. I haven’t been up there in years. Elvina and I emptied it long before she passed away.”

  “Well, somebody’s been messing around up there,” John said. He started for the base of the ladder, made sure it was well positioned, then put a boot on the bottom rung. “Stay here. I’ll go check it out.”

  The obstinate look on Sam’s face told him what her opinion was long before she opened her mouth to speak.

  “No way, mister. If you’re going up, I’m going up.”

  “You can steady the ladder for me.”

  “In a pig’s eye.”

  “Sweet talk will get you nowhere, Ms. Rochard. We can either stand here arguing or you can back off and let me do my job. Your call.”

  “If I wasn’t so worried about Brutus you know exactly what I’d do.” Nevertheless she took several steps back, cleared the way for him and spread her arms wide. “All right. You win. Go ahead.”

  As John climbed toward the attic he remained on alert, ready for an attack. It didn’t come. Instead, he found the small window smashed and the sash lifted. Broken glass littered the dust-covered attic floor. Footprints crossed the room and disappeared into a stairwell.

  Once inside, he inspected the area carefully with a flashlight, then leaned out to call down to Samantha. “There’s nobody here now but it looks like there was.” He waved his cell phone and flipped it open. “I’ll report a B and E. Breaking and entering. That won’t bring a fast response the way a robbery in progress would, but I want this incident on record just the same.”

  “What about Brutus? Is there any sign of him up there?”

  John shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

  “Well, at least…”

  He knew exactly what she was thinking even though she didn’t finish putting it into words. At least the old dog’s body wasn’t lying up there. That meant there was still a chance he’d survived.

  Was it wrong to pray for the safety of an animal? John didn’t think so, but just to be on the safe side he focused his heavenly plea on Samantha’s well-being and her need for the return of her faithful companion.

  His “Amen” echoed as he crossed the attic, careful to avoid stepping in the prints he’d discovered, and started to descend the interior staircase into the main part of the house, inspecting the narrow passageway as he went.

  When he slipped a handkerchief over the knob and opened the door at the base of the stairway, he was startled to find Sam standing there. “I told you to wait outside. What if there had been someone hiding on these stairs?”

  “But there wasn’t.” Her eyes were wide, her expression a cross between persistence and pleading. “What did your chief say? Is help coming now?”

  “Not code three, if that’s what you’re asking. Levi said to seal off the attic and he’d get somebody out here as soon as possible. Since the perp is gone and we didn’t find anything missing, they’re not considering it a robbery, or even a real crime scene, at least not yet.”

  “My dog is missing! I don’t care about anything else. Doesn’t anybody understand that?”

  “I do,” John said, reaching for her hand.

  She pulled it away. “Then do something.”

  “What would you have me do, Sam? We’ve covered the whole house and the yard. Brutus is gone.” Unshed tears had dampened her lashes again and were threatening to slip down her reddened cheeks.

  “Everything started with Bobby Joe Boland,” she said, sniffling. “I’m going to go make him tell me everything.”

  John watched her stalk off and wondered how long it would take her to realize she was afoot without him. It turned out to be about four seconds.

  Samantha whirled. Waved her arms. “Well, come on. Let’s get that trailer unhitched and hit the road.”

  “What makes you think you’ll be allowed to talk to a prisoner? The sheriff and Chief Kelso have rules, you know.”

  “And you’re going to help me get around them,” Sam said flatly. “One way or the other.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  He almost laughed aloud when she fisted her hands on her hips, stuck out her chin and simply said, “Yeah.”

  “Well, okay, then.”

  Keeping his face averted as he returned to the trailer and continued to disconnect it, John worked to hide his intense admiration. That woman had been resilient and continually surprising as a teen. As a mature adult she was a marvel. Or, as Elvina used to say, Sam was a real pistol; a cornered wildcat with a chip on her shoulder and the grit of a catfish caught on a trotline.

  “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Sam asked, sounding miffed.

  John straightened. “No. I am definitely not laughing at you.”

  “Then what’s with that stupid grin?”

  “Let’s just say I’m coming to fully appreciate your courage and perseverance.”

  “Well, don’t give me too much credit,” Samantha countered. “I am determined we’ll find Brutus but I’m still scared to death we’ll be too late.”

  If John had voiced his thoughts at that precise moment it would have meant agreeing with her, so he remained silent. They could not be too late. That was simply unacceptable.

  * * *

  Samantha was lost in the depths of her vivid imagination and struggling to sort her thoughts into usable form when her new cell phone played her a tune.

  John looked across the truck’s cab as he drove. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

  She shook herself from her doldrums and pawed through the shoulder bag she’d picked up to replace the stolen one. “Oops. I didn’t recognize that new music. Hello?”r />
  Listening, her heart began to pound and her hand trembled. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

  “Is it Brutus?” John asked. “Did somebody find him?”

  “No. The social worker I work with, Brenda Connors, wants me to meet her at the hospital ASAP. She just heard that Danny’s father is trying to check him out against the doctor’s orders.”

  “What can you do?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe talk him down or at least stall long enough for Brenda to get there, too. Thankfully, we’re only minutes away.”

  She eyed her companion’s uniform. “Brenda said she called the police, but even they can’t stop a parent from taking a child home unless there’s been a court order preventing it. Maybe you can bluff him.”

  “Okay. Whatever you need.”

  “It might cause you trouble with your chief,” she warned. “It’s not technically legal.”

  “But it’s the right thing to do.” John smiled as he increased his speed. “As an old friend of mine likes to say, ‘Do the right thing no matter what.’”

  “Who? Me?” In spite of her anxiousness she appreciated the compliment. John did see her reasoning and understand her motives. That made him more than a friend, it made him a valuable ally. They were in a war for the well-being of children and every skirmish was one more step toward the ultimate goal of rescue. She knew she couldn’t save them all but she was determined to do everything in her power to help those few kids whose lives touched hers.

  All across the country, other volunteers were doing the same things, fighting the same kinds of battles and defending the innocents, one court date at a time.

  Samantha clenched her jaw. If she let herself think about all the children who had no advocates, no one to speak on their behalf, the burden was almost overwhelming.

  Father, get us to the hospital in time to help Danny, she prayed silently. Please, please, please!

  * * *

  John chose the closest parking place and skidded to a stop. They both jumped out of the truck, hurrying toward the glassed front entrance.