Scent Of Danger. Terri Reed

      Rumor had it that too many kids were partying on the center grounds.

      Nothing had ever come of the internal investigation their captain had initiated. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening, which was why Parker and Sherlock had headed over to the center when the news came in that there’d been a break-in. The crime syndicate overrunning Sagebrush had their hands in the drug trade and would no doubt see the youth center as a viable outlet for their product.

      Painful memories of his younger brother raced unbidden to the forefront of his mind. A deep sadness welled. Followed quickly by the anger that always chased after thoughts of Ethan.

      His brother had died from tainted drugs.

      Forcing his own personal torment back to the dark recesses of his mind, he answered, “No, nothing missing. Perp ransacked her office. She has no idea what he was looking for.”

      Slade narrowed his blue eyes. “The code?”

      Parker shrugged, baffled by this turn of events. “Maybe. But why her office? She’s not a part of our unit.”

      “Assuming that the masked perpetrator and The Boss are the same person, he must be getting desperate,” Slade said.

      Parker’s cell buzzed, and he checked the caller ID. He didn’t recognize the number. “Parker Adams.”

      “You better hustle over to the youth center. There’s a drug deal going down.”

      Parker recognized his confidential informant’s gruff voice. “What kind of drugs?”

      “How should I know?” The man hung up.

      Parker blew out a frustrated breath. Sometimes Harry Trenton was a pain in the neck. But his intel was usually worth the stipend Parker regularly doled out to him. Which meant the youth center wasn’t what it seemed. An image of the lovely Melody rose in Parker’s mind. He sure hoped the pretty detective wasn’t involved in dealing drugs. He didn’t like the idea of arresting her. But he would in a heartbeat. Getting drugs off the street was his number-one priority.

      Meeting Slade’s questioning gaze, Parker said, “My CI claims there’s a drug deal going down at the youth center.”

      Visible tension tightened Slade’s jaw. “You didn’t find any drugs this morning?”

      “No. Sherlock followed a couple of false trails. Could have been trace amount brought in on a shoe.” He hoped that were the case.

      McNeal stroked his jaw. “Check it out. If you find something concrete, let me know. I’ll have to inform Captain Drexel.”

      The captain of the homicide division and Melody’s direct boss.

      “Will do.” Parker headed out the back door of the brick one-story building and jogged the short distance to the K-9 Training Center on the adjacent lot. Parker had dropped Sherlock off a little earlier with the training staff because, being a two-year-old beagle, the dog needed some time to run around and burn off his excess energy so he’d be ready to focus when needed.

      Callie Peterson, the lead trainer for the Sagebrush Special Operations K-9 Unit, greeted Parker with a smile and a wave as Parker approached the training yard.

      “Sherlock’s in kennel one,” she called out as she worked with Justice, a good-looking bloodhound, and his handler, Austin Black.

      “Hey, Parker,” Austin called out.

      Parker lifted his hand acknowledging his friend and fellow team member.

      Continued training for all the dogs of the K-9 unit was mandatory and necessary to keep the dogs and their handlers fresh and working well together. Justice was an integral part of the unit, his specialty search and rescue. Thanks to Austin and Justice, seven-year-old Brady Billows had been found unscathed after two thugs working for The Boss nabbed the boy because he’d been a witness to the assault on Captain McNeal’s father and Rio’s kidnapping.

      Now if they could only find the captain’s beloved dog. Even a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward offered by the captain’s good friend, Dante Frears, hadn’t yielded any results. Everyone was working hard to bring Rio home.

      Going to the kennel door, Parker grabbed the nylon leash from the nearby hook. Sherlock’s short legs kicked up dirt as he jumped at the door clearly wanting to be set free.

      “Settle down, boy,” Parker said softly as he opened the dog-run door.

      Instantly, Sherlock sat, his tail thumping the ground, his big brown eyes staring at Parker.

      Love for the little beagle filled Parker as he clipped on the leash and led the dog toward his vehicle. “Come on, boy, we’ve got work to do.”

      With his lights flashing, Parker drove the few blocks to the youth center with Sherlock inside his special crate mounted in the back passenger area of the SUV. Parker glanced in the rearview mirror at Sherlock. Affection rushed to the surface. The dog was the closest thing to family Parker had in Sagebrush. His parents had moved to San Antonio not long after his kid brother’s death.

      The sharp pain of loss stabbed at him. Parker’s life plan had changed that day. He vowed to keep the streets drug free. A tall order for just one person, but Parker figured for every drug dealer he put behind bars, more kids would have a chance to live.

      He’d gone on to the local college, but instead of majoring in business as he’d planned, he’d majored in criminal justice. As soon as he’d graduated, he joined the police academy, setting his sights on becoming a narcotics detective. When he’d been offered the job to work with the K-9 unit, he jumped at the chance. Sherlock was the best drug-sniffing beagle in the whole state of Texas.

      They both proudly wore the Sagebrush Police Department emblem.

      Parker brought the official K-9 unit vehicle to a halt at the curb, climbed out and opened the back door for Sherlock. The beagle jumped out. Immediately, his nose went to the ground, sniffing for a trail to follow. Reining in the leash, Parker walked toward the front of the Sagebrush Youth Center.

      A squeaking sound drew Parker’s attention. An old man, dressed in ragged clothing, pushed a shopping cart full of his possessions down the sidewalk. Their gazes met. Surreptitiously, Harry, the confidential informant who’d called Parker, pointed one gnarled finger toward the rear of the building.

      Without acknowledging the old man, Parker veered Sherlock away from the front steps and hurried toward the back of the building where a wire fence, erected to keep in stray balls from the basketball hoops, dug into the cement of an old parking lot. Voices echoed off the sides of the center.

      “Look, you don’t scare me.”

      Parker recognized Melody’s voice. The words were spoken evenly enough but a faint tremor of fear underscored them.

      “You should be scared, lady. You’re all alone. We can do whatever we want with you.”

      The pretty detective was in trouble.

      TWO

      Parker quickened his pace, anxious to help his co-worker before anything bad happened.

      “Tell me what you know about Daniel,” Melody insisted. “Why was his grave desecrated? What was he into before he died?”

      This didn’t sound like a drug deal. Parker rounded the corner. A rough-looking character brandishing a knife had Melody backed up against the brick wall.

      His stomach muscles tightened. Concern spread through his chest.

      Two other equally seedy-looking thugs stood nearby leering at her. Melody’s hands were up in a placating way, but she seemed far from cowed. In fact, she looked downright impressive in her tailored pantsuit, crisp white blouse and black boots. Her dark hair was gathered up at the nape of her neck by a gold clip. Truth was, he’d never seen her appear more collected.

      She stared at her assailant