Truth And Consequences. Lenora Worth

there while I’m here. Don’t want to get rusty.”

      “And exactly why are you here when you could be anywhere in the world right now?” she asked, her eyes scanning the train again before she whipped her gaze back to him. “Because I’ve never heard of anyone wanting to spend downtime in Desert Valley or wanting to volunteer to work with Dr. Pennington.”

      David braced himself and stored up her pointed notations for future reference. He’d have to be careful with this one. Whitney would keep digging until she had him figured out. “Well—”

      But Whitney Godwin was no longer listening to him. She held up her finger and then, giving Hunter a silent command, drew her weapon and took off in a crouched run toward the empty train.

      * * *

      A man scurried toward the train like a lizard, his head down and his back hunched. He wore a burgundy hat and dark shades.

      Whitney spotted him when she glanced back while talking with David. She’d have to figure out the medic’s angle and his story later. Right now, she intended to nab two criminals. With her gun drawn and Hunter waiting for her command as he trailed along, she hurried around the stopped train and looked up and down the tracks.

      Nothing. No one. Had she only imagined seeing someone? No, she’d seen the man, and his description had fit the one David Evans and Mr. Gallagher had given her. She hadn’t slept much last night, but she wasn’t imagining things. Fatigue weighed on her like a blanket of dry heat, but she kept her cool and went on with doing her job. Being a rookie meant she always had to go the extra mile. Being a female police officer meant she had to work twice as hard as the men around her.

      She checked the front of the stopped train again and then walked by the narrow openings between the four small passenger cars, and headed to the car where she and Hunter had found a kilo of heroin earlier.

      “C’mon, Hunter,” she commanded. Hunter went in ahead of her, doing his job with practiced excitement. He sniffed and moved on, sniffed again, dug around some and then kept up the search.

      Could one of these men have come back for the package they’d dropped? Or did they have more stashed elsewhere?

      Thinking it was mighty bold of this one to creep back so soon after they’d taken off earlier, Whitney glanced around. They’d allowed the few passengers traveling west to get back on, but some of the passenger cars were still empty.

      Easy for someone to slip in and hide.

      Whitney moved behind Hunter up the aisle, careful to search every compartment and seat. When they didn’t find anything, she shook her head and wiped at the sweat dripping down her brow. It would be so nice to get home and have a long shower. But she had reports to file and other obligations to consider.

      And one very good-looking medic hanging around for no good reason. Her suspicions regarding David Evans increased by the minute. His excuse for being here didn’t make sense to her practical way of thinking. And yet he’d put his own life on the line to help the injured attendant, and he’d cooperated fully with the police. He’d answered her questions without hesitation.

      Maybe she was too tired to have any clear thoughts right now.

      “Let’s get out of here,” she said to Hunter, her gut telling her the criminal was still lurking somewhere near the train.

      They exited the train and she did one last sweep, checking between the sleek cars, looking underneath, turning toward the scraggly woods.

      Then Hunter let out a guttural growl and stood staring at a spot at the end of the train.

      “Go ahead,” Whitney commanded as she drew her gun and hurried down the side of the tracks near a copse of ponderosa pines, dry shrubs and chaparrals. A few spring wildflowers peeked out in bright orange and red, interspersed underneath a scraggly cactus bush, but she was interested only in seeing what Hunter wanted her to see.

      Hunter took off, silent but steady, toward the scattered rocks and shrubs.

      Whitney followed. When Hunter alerted again, she crouched down near a jutting rock. Too late to call for backup. She’d have to do this on her own. Bracing for action, she whirled out from the rock with her weapon ready only to find a dirty black shirt lying on the ground.

      Then Hunter started barking. She heard a click behind her. “Halt the dog and drop the gun.”

      Whitney did as he asked. “Stay,” she said to Hunter in a commanding voice, her insides like jelly. Then she slowly laid her gun on the ground, her mind racing. This could go wrong if she lost her cool. Hunter growled low, but he wouldn’t attack without her order.

      Could she do this? Could she risk having her K9 partner shot in midair? Hunter was still in training, too. What if he got hurt because of her carelessness?

      “Stay,” she told him again, her tone firm in spite of her trembling nerves.

      She glanced back and found a handgun pointed at her head by a tall bearded man wearing a black baseball cap and dark shades. But this wasn’t the man she’d seen running beside the train. That man had been wearing the dark red baseball cap and had shorter hair. Which meant he was probably moving through the train car, looking for any lost packages of heroin. They’d set a trap.

      “What do you want?” she asked the man who held his gun pointed at her.

      “Keep telling the dog to heel,” he whispered in a rasp that burned her neck.

      Hunter stood growling, ready to attack.

      “Stay,” Whitney commanded, her pulse pumping adrenaline through her body. “Stay.”

      Hunter didn’t move, but the big dog’s whole body shook with aggression, his bared teeth visible.

      “One move from you, lady, and that dog and you both die.” He twisted her around and jerked her arm with a brutal grasp, his rancid breath hissing against her ear.

      “I’m not a lady,” she retorted. “I’m a police officer.”

      The stench of his sweat assaulted her. Sweat and fear. “And a nosy one,” he replied on a huff of air. “Shoulda kept going.”

      He pushed her deeper into the sparse, dry landscape, kicking up dust that made her want to cough. Whitney glanced around, her breath settling. No one had noticed them on the far side of the big train car, and now the train would soon be leaving the station. She wouldn’t let this criminal get to her, but she wasn’t going to die here, either. She’d get out of this. Somehow.

      She’d acted too hastily and made a rookie mistake. She hadn’t been careful, and she hadn’t called for backup. Hunter would do her bidding, but she had to find the right moment. She’d like to blame her lack of attention to detail on the mysterious medic who’d appeared here and stayed with her. But Whitney wasn’t one for pushing off blame on others. This was her mistake.

      The man kicked her gun behind him, then shoved her into a cluster of pines and rock. Praying that someone would see what was happening, Whitney kept thinking ahead. He could be bringing her out here for only one reason.

      Trying to memorize all the details around her, she took a deep breath. Black Hat had a tattoo on his lower arm. Some sort of intricate symbol. An arrow and three hanging feathers with what looked like a face in the arrow. Could it be the same symbol David Evans had mentioned seeing over the license plate of the SUV?

      “So what’s your plan?” she asked in a matter-of-fact tone that belied the tremors running through her body. “Where’s your buddy?”

      “Shut up so I can think,” he said into her ear. “We got surprised today, so I have to clean up this mess before the boss finds out.”

      “Who’s your boss? If you agree to cooperate, we might be able to help you out. Think about it. Your boss won’t help you.”

      His voice shook. “Right. I’m not buying that, so shut up.”

      Whitney