Home of the Brave (Raine Stockton Dog Mysteries Book 9) (3 page)

I scowled first at him, and then at the paper.  “It cost me eighty-five dollars.”

“It would’ve been cheaper to get your permit renewed.”

I turned the scowl back on him, more intensely.  “That’s it?  No apology?”

“Speeding, resisting arrest, threatening an officer, carrying a concealed weapon …  You’re lucky you’re not being strip-searched this minute.”

My temper flared. “Come on, Buck!  Are you freaking kidding me? Resisting arrest?  How stupid do you think I am?  She dragged me out of my car in the rain!”

“You know damn well you’re supposed to inform an officer you’re carrying when you’re pulled over,” he returned, glaring at me.  “You’re the daughter of a judge, for God’s sake!”

I pushed on angrily, “And I never threatened anybody!”  Of course, by then I did have a vague recollection of saying words like “I’m warning you” and “you’ll be sorry,” but I was in too deep to back off now.  “I’ll tell you what this office needs, and that’s a training program on how to interact with the public!  And if you want to know who’s lucky, it’s
you
that it was me she treated like that, because if it had been anybody else …”  I was beginning to realize that I might not be making as much sense as I might have liked, so I concluded with a terse, “You know what I mean.  What’s the story with that girl?  Does she really work here?  How’d you get a K-9 unit, anyway?  And how dare she arrest me!”

He blew out a breath and sat down in the sagging vinyl chair, pushing it back from the desk on squeaky wheels so that he could stretch out his long legs.  He regarded me levelly across the sloppy stacks of file folders and unanswered phone message slips.  “Her name is Jolene Smith and if you try calling her a ‘girl’ to her face she’ll probably punch your lights out.  The county got a grant through some kind of Homeland Security program
and she was assigned here.  She was a K-9 handler in the military. Nike is a specialist in explosives detection.”

I couldn’t hide my skepticism.  “A bomb-sniffing dog?  Here?  Well, that explains why you put her on highway patrol.”

“Come on, Raine, cut me some slack.”  He looked mildly uncomfortable.  “We’re figuring it out as we go, here.  Besides, she’s got to learn the territory somehow.”

“She wouldn’t even let me make a phone call!  She never once told me her name or showed me her badge or read me my rights!”

“That’s because you were never under arrest.”

“I told her to call you!  She didn’t even run my tag!”

He pushed his fingers through his hair, lips tightening briefly.  “Actually, she did,” he admitted.  His expression grew rueful.  “Look, Raine, you know how it is with a new man on the force.  It looks like a couple of the boys thought Jo was due for a little hazing and you happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”

I couldn’t help noticing that
he seemed to be wasting no time with formalities.  She had only been here three days and already she was “Jo.”

“It seems Deke and Mike spotted your car on Turnbull Road and called in a possible sighting of a stolen vehicle …  You know Jessie Connor, right?  He reported his car stolen yesterday morning, and he drives a green Explorer, like yours.”

“Half the people in this county drive green Explorers!”

He ignored me.  “I guess they thought it would be a good joke on her if she pulled you over and accused you of driving a stolen vehicle.”

“That’s stupid!”

“Damn stupid is what it was,” he countered sharply with a frown.  “If I didn’t need a full complement for the holiday weekend, I’d suspend them both without pay.”

Monday was the Fourth of July, and the population of our little mountain paradise would easily double this weekend with tourists, hikers, boaters and vacation home owners.  Restaurants and retail shops would prosper; so would traffic jams, pickpockets and bar fights.  This was the beginning of the official high season in the Smokey Mountains, and from now until November everyone would be operating at full capacity, including the sheriff’s office.

He let the frown go in a way that was typically Buck, and went on, “Anyway, Jo ran your tag when she pulled you over, and she also called the office for a background check …”

I smothered another exclamation of outrage but he held up a hand for forbearance.  “And I’m guessing that’s when she figured out she’d been set up.”

“
She
’d been set up?”

“But instead of taking a joke, she decided to play it straight.  After all, you
were
speeding.  The expired permit was just good luck.”

I stared at him belligerently.  “For whom?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  “She wanted to make a point.  Don’t worry, the guys have got one hell of a reaming-out coming.  It won’t happen again.”

I waited.  “And her?  Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

“We’re lucky to have her, Raine.  A little place like this with a $50,000 K-9 team?  Not a boat I want to rock.  And you should see that dog work.”  His eyes sparked with admiration as he spoke.  The love of dogs—or at least one dog—was still the one thing we had in common.

I said shortly, “I have no problem with her dog.”  Then I added seriously, “Buck, you might not be as lucky as you think.  Most people are afraid of police dogs, and this is a small town.  A lot of folks are going to think that $50,000 could have been spent in better ways.”

He gave an impatient shake of his head.  “It doesn’t work like that.  We had to spend it on the K-9 team or lose it.  That was the whole point.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not like you need one to break up street gangs or sniff out bombs at the courthouse, especially since we only have court twice a month.  And I don’t care what you say, your girl there is never going to win Miss Congeniality.  If she goes around treating everybody like she did me today, your expensive K-9 team can end up being one giant liability.”  I looked meaningfully at the stack of election posters on his desk.  “I’d think about it, if I were you.”

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment.  “You might be right. We probably need some kind of public awareness campaign.  Get a story in the paper, send her around to the schools …”

“School is out,” I reminded him.

“Say,” he said suddenly, “are you and Cisco going to that dog camp this weekend?”

I was uneasy.  “How did you know about that?”

“They had to get their permit from me.  I don’t suppose you could …”

“In the first place, no,” I retorted, “and in the second place, are you crazy?  The woman just tried to arrest me!”

“I’ll bet those kids sure would like to see a real bomb-sniffing dog at work.”

He had me there. 
I
would like to see a real bomb sniffing dog at work.

“The schedule’s already been set,” I said.  “I don’t have anything to do with that. You’d have to talk to the camp director.”

“I’ll get Annabelle right on it,” he said decisively.  “Maybe somebody from the paper can come out and take pictures.  Then we’ll get them to do a demo at the Fourth of July parade, more pictures, it’ll make a nice spread.  Good PR for the department.”

Cisco and I usually did the demo at the Fourth of July Parade.  “Oh that’s a great idea.” I didn’t bother to disguise my sarcasm.  “I happen to know she’s terrific at arresting innocent citizens, and maybe she could shake down a few little old ladies for an encore.”

He grinned.  “Come on, Raine, it’s not like you to hold a grudge.”  He changed the subject.  “Speaking of the parade, did you hear Jeb Wilson is going to be the grand master?”

Jeb Wilson was our hometown boy made good, a former lieutenant gove
rnor, now running for a national congressional seat.  I didn’t know him; he’d been off to college before I even started high school.  But I thought I recalled that Buck had met him once or twice.

I said, “How could I miss it?  It’s been plastered all over the paper the last couple of weeks.  What’s he coming here for, anyway?”

He shrugged.  “To make speeches and shake hands, I guess.  It’s election time.”

I glanced back at the stack of posters on his desk.  “Is he going to endorse you?”

“I guess so.  It’s a party thing.”

I had known Buck all my life.  We were best friends as kids, childhood sweethearts, married right out of college.  I thought I knew everything about him, but I had never pictured him in this role.  Running for office, making speeches, having his picture tacked up on telephone poles and posted on street corners. It felt odd, and yet somehow exactly right.  I said, “I think you’re going to make a good politician.” I was
not entirely sure that was a compliment.

He gave a crooked, self-deprecating smile.  “Oh yeah?  Do me a favor then and tell that to your boyfriend, will you?”

The person to whom he referred was Miles Young, Melanie’s father.  Since we had just returned from a family vacation together—which was one reason I wasn’t entirely up to date on the happenings in town—there was no point in denying our relationship.  I still wasn’t entirely comfortable discussing it with other people, however, particularly with my ex-husband. The fact that Buck had brought it up made me both confused and wary.  Buck rarely even acknowledged that Miles existed, and had never referred to him as my boyfriend.  “What does Miles have to do with anything?”

“Aside from the fact that he’s backing the other guy, not a thing.”

I stared at him.  “Other guy?  What other guy?”

He chuckled softly, and stood.  “You really do live in your own world, don’t you, Raine?  Come on, I’ll drive you back to your car.”  There was a flicker of something odd across his eyes as he added, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about anyway.”

I really wanted to pursue the subject of Miles and the other guy he was backing, but I glanced at my watch and felt my annoyance returning.  “Well, make it snappy.  I’ve got people coming to pick up dogs in half an hour.  This was not on my schedule.”

“It would mean a lot if you’d give Jo a chance, Raine.”  He opened the door for me.  “She doesn’t have any friends in town, and you’ll like her once you get to know her. And, hey.”  He gave me the smile that had melted a thousand hearts.  “Like your hair.” 

And that, right there, was why he was going to win this election.

I had to work to keep my expression sour as I stepped out into the hallway, and I have to admit my internal disposition was a lot more mellow than it had been when I’d arrived.  Almost as if on cue, Deputy Jolene came around the corner, her canine partner at her side.  I decided to rise to the occasion, mostly because, I’ll confess it, I was still fascinated by her amazing dog.

“Hey,” I said.  I stepped forward with my hand extended.  “I’m Raine.  I guess we got off to a bad start, but welcome to town.  You’ve got a great dog.”

She stared at me as though I was something she was deciding whether or not to scrape off her shoe, and, in confusion, I dropped my hand.  I turned my attention instead to the dog.  “Hey, big fella,” I said, leaning into him.

“Don’t pet my dog,” she barked sharply, and both she and the dog took a unified step backward.  “He’s working.” 

I felt like an idiot. How many times had I given that exact same lecture to school children and civic groups?  You don’t engage a working dog.  I could actually feel my cheeks go hot, and I was about to mumble a clumsy apology when Buck touched my shoulder.  “Let’s go,” he said.

There were a couple of dozen things swirling around in my head, ready to be spoken to him when we were alone, and I really, really wish I’d gotten a chance to say at least three of them.  But as we reached the reception desk, Annabelle stopped us with, “Hey, Buck.” 

He paused, looking as reluctant as I was to slow down.  “What?”

She looked disturbed and uncertain. “The state police just called.  They found Jessie’s car.”

He was interested.  “Yeah? Where?”

“Out on Crooked Branch Road, at the bottom of a gully.”

Now even I was interested.  Unless I was mistaken, that was in the middle of the National Forest, and far out of the Hanover County Sheriff’s Department’s jurisdiction.

Buck muttered, “Damn kids.”  Then, “Guess you’d better call Jessie, so he can start an insurance claim.  I’ll get the paperwork together.  How bad was the damage?”

She looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Pretty bad,” she admitted.  “The state police said it was set on fire. Burned to a crisp.  And Buck.”  Her pale blue eyes looked magnified behind the glasses as she looked up at him.  “There was a body inside. They’re calling it homicide.” 

Chapter
Three

H
anover County, North Carolina, is one of those peaceful little Smoky Mountain communities that most people think exist only in the imaginations of screenwriters.  We’re two hours from the nearest mall, half an hour from the nearest big box store; right smack in the middle of some of the most spectacular scenery God ever put on this earth.  Roaring waterfalls drop hundreds of feet off of sheer mountain cliffs into deep rock gorges. Trout flicker like silver ribbons in clear, wide riverbeds. You can hike half a day without seeing another human being and suddenly break out of a forest glade to find yourself looking down at the clouds.  It is what many people call paradise, and I am one of them.