Protection Detail. Shirlee McCoy

thought of that sent a wave of adrenaline coursing through Gavin.

      “Did you send someone over to All Our Kids?”

      “Not yet. It’s your case, your call. You want to go over or do you want me to?”

      “I’ll go.” His boss, Margaret Meyer, had assigned him the case. As head of the president’s special in-house security team, she’d put Capitol K-9 together and was the hub of the organization. The fact that a congressman had been shot and his son killed had been enough for her to want Capitol K-9 involved. Gavin had asked to lead the case. He’d known the Jeffries for years, owed Harland a lot, was determined to make sure Michael’s killer was brought to justice. He walked to the path, eyeing the dark edges of the woods. If he were a young kid running from a killer, would he go home or hide?

      Probably home, but Gavin didn’t want to take any chances. Glory was trained in apprehension. Part of that training was scent tracking. He opened the evidence bag, bent so that Glory could get a whiff of the mitten. Her ears perked, her eyes sharpened with interest.

      “Find!” he commanded, and she lunged toward the trees, loped onto the path. He ran behind her, the lead loose in his hand.

      Moonlight filtered through the thick tree canopy, casting golden-yellow light across dead leaves and winter-dry undergrowth. Spring hadn’t quite made its appearance, the early March air frigid with winter’s last sting. If a child was out in this, he’d be cold, tired, scared.

      Glory veered off the path, plunging through undergrowth and between trees. She didn’t hesitate. She had the scent, and she’d follow it to her mark.

      * * *

      She stopped a dozen feet off the path, nose to the ground, snuffling a pile of leaves. She circled a large oak, found her way onto the path again. Gavin had walked this way so many times when he was a teen that he could have done it blindfolded.

      Glory paused again, cocked her head to the side and growled low in her throat.

      Bushes rustled, twigs snapped.

      Gavin grabbed his light and flashed it into the trees.

      Nothing. Not even a hint of movement, but Glory growled again, her entire body tense, her muscles taut.

      Criminal or kid. That was Gavin’s guess.

      “Police!” he called. “Come on out!”

      Nothing.

      “You come out or I’ll send my dog in,” he warned.

      Nothing.

      Okay. Fine. They’d do it the hard way.

      “Track!” he issued the command, and Glory lunged off the path, shoving through thick foliage, her wild bark ringing through the cold March air. He called in his location as he followed.

      Up ahead, feet pounded on dead leaves. Whoever it was was heading toward the road. He wouldn’t make it. Not before Glory caught up.

      “Track!” he urged again, and Glory howled her response. She loved the chase almost as much as she loved the find.

      Somewhere nearby, sirens screamed.

      Another emergency?

      Not uncommon in DC’s rougher areas, but in the Jeffrieses’ posh neighborhood, crime was nearly non-existent.

      Glory stopped short, her ears perked, her scruff standing on end. She swiveled, turning in the direction they’d come. Gavin could still hear branches breaking in front of them, but Glory was trained in protection. She wouldn’t move toward a fleeing threat if there was another threat coming up from behind.

      She growled, her dark eyes focused on the trees behind them. Gavin aimed his light in that direction, saw a shadow darting through the trees.

      “Stop!” he shouted. “Police!”

      The shadow kept going.

      “I’m releasing my dog!” he yelled.

      He unclipped Glory’s lead, gave her the command.

      She lunged into the trees, muscle and fur and enough power to take down a grown man. She wouldn’t. Not until she was given the command, but she’d be able to corner whoever it was, keep him or her from escaping.

      He ran after her, sprinting into the dense foliage, heading back the way they’d come. He hit the path at a dead-out run, his light bouncing across dirt and leaves, splashing over Glory and her mark. Small. Wearing jeans and T-shirt. A woman or a kid. Long hair, so he’d say female.

      The rest of the details were lost as she veered off the path, ran into the trees. She must have thought she could lose Glory that way.

      Wasn’t going to happen.

      The woman screamed, the sound cut off by leaves rustling and Glory’s wild bark.

      Gavin sprinted forward, his light bouncing off Glory’s brown-black coat.

      “Release!” he commanded, and she moved to his side. She’d stay there until he told her differently.

      “You may as well come down,” he said, moving the beam of his light into the tree. It flitted over bare feet, jean-clad legs, a soft pink sweater. A face he knew well. Cassie Danvers—housemother at All Our Kids for the past couple of years. He’d done his share of volunteer work at All Our Kids. He’d owed the congressman and the home that. Last year, he’d put new tile flooring in the kitchen, painted the trim of a dozen windows, helped run a field day for foster kids and their families. He’d seen Cassie there more times than he could count.

      He scowled. “What are you doing up there, Cassie?”

      “Climbing for my life,” she responded, her dark green gaze fixed on Glory.

      Glory barked, and Cassie scrambled higher into the tree.

      “Glory isn’t going to hurt you.”

      “You might want to tell her that,” she said. She had a bruise on her cheek, blood on her feet. Something had happened to send her out into the woods at this time of the night. Had she heard the sirens? Come to see what was going on? Run into whoever it was Glory had been chasing through the woods?

      He needed to get her out of the tree, get her back to All Our Kids, find out exactly what was going on.

      “I already did. That’s why she backed off,” he responded, clipping on Glory’s lead. “She won’t move again unless I tell her to.”

      “I’m not sure I can move, either,” she muttered.

      “You’re stuck?”

      “Maybe.” She peered down at him, her red hair falling across her cheeks, her eyes wide with fear. She’d managed to climb up ten feet, and he thought she might be wondering how she was going to get down.

      “Want me to climb up?” he asked.

      “I can figure it out. Thanks.” She eased down through the tree, her hand grasping branches and pine needles.

      It seemed to take forever, every painstaking inch of progress making Gavin want to climb up and give her the help she said she didn’t need.

      Instead, he waited.

      He’d known Cassie for a couple of years. Not well, but enough to understand a few things about her. She wasn’t the kind of person who liked needing help, wasn’t the kind who’d trust quickly or easily. She was great with the kids, seemed to have a good relationship with Harland and Michael. She attended fund-raisers and hobnobbed with ease, but she didn’t ask for anything from anyone. If one of her kids had a need, she found a way to provide for it.

      That was probably one of the reasons Harland had hired her at such a young age. The go-getter attitude combined with compassion. Those things were necessary for the job she did.

      What was necessary for his job was information, and he needed it sooner rather than