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“Are you hurt?” he asked, meeting her gaze again.
He had the darkest eyes she had ever seen. Nearly black, the irises all but melding with his pupils.
“I don’t think so,” she responded. The baby was turning cartwheels, little elbows and feet and hands jabbing and poking. She would be an active child, and Katie wondered if Jordan had been that way.
It bothered her that she didn’t know.
They’d known each other for only a few years. They’d met, dated and married so quickly, people had probably wondered at their rush.
“You aren’t sure?” Tony released her arm and turned her hands over, frowning as he eyed the scraped and bleeding flesh.
“I’m fine. I just... I’d be better if you were going after Martin. I want him caught.”
“We all do,” he replied. “I called in the direction Martin took. Police are all over Forest Park, looking for him.” He held her gaze for a moment, then motioned at a small group of medical personnel that had emerged from the building and were standing near the clinic’s door.
“We need some help over here,” he said.
A nurse rushed over.
That was no surprise.
Tony had a way of getting people to do what he wanted. He wasn’t manipulative. He wasn’t demanding. He simply had an air of confidence that people responded to.
“Mrs. Jameson!” the nurse cried. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”
“Me, too,” she murmured, suddenly faint, her heart galloping frantically. She couldn’t catch her breath, and she sat on the curb, the edges of her vision dark, sounds muted by the frantic rush of blood in her ears.
“Katie?” Tony said, his voice faint, his palm pressed to her cheek. She realized he was crouching in front of her, his face filled with concern. The nurse was beside her, checking the pulse in her wrist.
“I’m okay. I just want Martin caught.”
“Me, too.” He glanced toward the parking lot’s entrance. Several patrol cars were pulling in, with their lights and sirens on.
“You can go, if you want,” she said. “There are dozens of people around. Martin would never try to...”
She stopped, because she knew he would try anything to get to her. There was no telling what he might do. No one had imagined that he’d enter the clinic and go after her there, but he had. He had killed Jordan. He’d kill again to get what he wanted.
And, what he wanted was Katie.
Her pulse jumped at the thought, and her abdomen cramped with such surprising intensity, she gasped.
“Hun, are you okay?” the nurse asked, laying a hand on Katie’s stomach as if she knew exactly what was happening.
“Yes,” she replied, but she wasn’t certain.
“Feels like you’re having a contraction,” the nurse said.
“A contraction?” Tony frowned. “As in the baby is coming?”
“No. We’re a couple weeks out from that,” Katie managed to say.
The nurse smiled kindly. “The baby will come when he or she decides it’s time. If today is the day, there’s not a whole lot you can do about it.”
“Today can’t be the day,” Katie said.
“If it is, you’ll be fine and so will the baby. You’re at what? Thirty-six weeks? That’s early, but we deliver thirty-six-weekers all the time. They do remarkably well.” The nurse straightened and turned back toward the building. “I’ll get a wheelchair, and we’ll bring you back into the clinic, hook you up to a fetal monitor and see what’s going on.”
“Today can’t be the day,” Katie repeated, but the nurse was already hurrying away.
“She’s right,” Tony said quietly. “You and the baby will be okay. Even if she arrives today.”
“I don’t want to give birth until after Martin is caught.”
She didn’t want to give birth alone, either, but she didn’t tell him that. She hadn’t told anyone how afraid she was to go through this without Jordan.
“Like the nurse said, the baby will decide.” He smiled gently. “Noah just arrived. I’m going after Martin.”
He touched her cheek, then stood.
When he moved away, she could see her brother-in-law, the new chief of the K-9 Command Unit, rushing across the parking lot, his rottweiler partner, Scotty, bounding beside him.
“Katie!” Noah shouted, his expression and voice only hinting at the fear she knew he must be feeling. The baby she was carrying was the Jameson family’s last link to Jordan. She knew Jordan’s parents and three brothers cared about her, but the baby was blood.
“I’m okay,” she assured Jordan’s brother. “And so is your mother.”
She wasn’t sure if he heard.
The police sirens were loud. An ambulance was screaming into the parking lot. A large crowd had formed, the murmur of panicked voices drifting beneath the cacophony of emergency sirens and squawk of radio communications.
There were dozens of people around.
But, somehow, Katie felt completely alone.
Katie and the baby would be fine, Tony told himself as he jogged along the railroad tracks that cut through Forest Park. Rusty was in front of him, following a scent trail through oak leaves that partially covered the railroad ties that stretched between the rails. The Lab had an exceptional nose. They’d spent countless hours together training in wilderness-air scent and urban recovery. They were a team, partners in a way people who have never been dog handlers couldn’t understand.
Jordan had understood. Just like he had understood the desire to go into law enforcement, the deep-seated need to see justice done. They had been best friends for years. Jordan’s death had been a blow that Tony was still trying to recover from.
Martin Fisher was a cold-blooded killer—evil. When Tony thought about the horrific lengths Martin had gone to... Threatening to kill Katie via a bomb he’d said he’d rigged, Martin had forced Jordan to write his own suicide note, then had given him drugs to simulate a heart attack. The “suicide” had seemed plausible to some, but not to the Jameson clan or to Tony.
Jordan had been happily married, excited about life and enthusiastic about the future. He’d had everything to live for.
The discovery that Jordan had been murdered had not surprised Tony. He had been taken by surprise by the reason for his best friend’s murder. Every police officer understood the dangers of the job. Tony and Jordan had discussed what would happen if one of them were killed in the line of duty. Jordan had promised to always be there for Tony’s family; Tony had, of course, promised to always be there for Jordan’s. During Jordan and Katie’s wedding reception, Jordan had pulled Tony aside and reminded him of that promise.
If anything happens to me, you’ll make sure she’s okay, right?
You know I will, but nothing is going to happen to you, bro.
Something had happened, but not in the way either of them had imagined. There had been no gunfire during a robbery, no ambush during a response to a domestic incident. As far as Tony could ascertain, Jordan hadn’t even had a chance to fight. He had been murdered by a man who was obsessed with Katie, and he’d seemed to have been taken as much by surprise as the rest of the team had been.
Jordan’s German shepherd partner, Snapper, had been missing since the day the suicide note had been found. Recently the team had learned that Snapper had been picked up by an animal shelter not too long ago and adopted out. The once-majestic canine had been a stray on the streets for so long that he had become unrecognizable. The NYC K-9 Command Unit was attempting to contact the man who had adopted Snapper. So far, they’d had no success.
Jordan would want Snapper home.
He would want Martin prosecuted and tossed in jail.
He wouldn’t want anyone on the K-9 unit to circumvent justice and mete out punishment without due process.
Tony knew that. He had been working hard to keep his emotions in check and not allow anger to skew his perspective, but he was angry. Jordan had been one of the best. Not just at his police work but at his friendships and his life. He had been loyal, brave and devoted. He should have had decades of service left to the community. He should have grown old with Katie, raised a bunch of kids with her and retired into a life of leisure. Tony frowned, stepping over a downed tree that had fallen next to the tracks.
He had grown up in Queens and still lived there, renting a one-bedroom floor unit in a multifamily house right on the edge of Forest Hills. He and Rusty spent their downtime in this park, walking the trails and hiking through the oak woods. They both knew the area, and Rusty was confident as he loped ahead. After Tony had freed Rusty from his lead, the dog had circled back to find Tony in the park and then led him here. Like any well-trained search dog, he knew his job. Find the subject and return to the handler again and again, until the handler and the subject were in the same place.
With backup arriving and fanning out across the five-hundred-acre expanse of trees and trails, it wouldn’t take long to find Martin if he had stayed in the park. Based on the direction Rusty was heading, Tony didn’t think he had. There was a crossroad ahead, dirt and gravel that cut through the park. Vehicles were prohibited, but that didn’t keep teens and young adults from driving through.
Rusty sniffed an area in the center of the road, circled around and headed east. Tony followed. Tire tread marks were clearly visible, all of them sprinkled with leaves and debris. They had been there awhile. From the look of things, Martin wasn’t in a vehicle.
“Find!” Tony called, encouraging the Lab to keep searching.
Rusty made another circle, sniffing the ground and then raising his head. He had caught the scent again. Tony followed him off the road and into the woods.
The day had the crisp edge of winter, the bright sunlight filtering through a thin tree canopy. From his position, Tony could see a trail that wound its way through the trees.
If Martin knew the area and the park, he would know that the trail led to a busy road and an easy escape. Tony had every reason to believe Martin was familiar with the area. He had been renting an apartment just a few miles away before his arrest for Jordan’s murder.
A murder Martin had tried to make look like a suicide. Tony shook his head, unable to stop thinking about it, what Martin had done. Tried to do. If he had gotten away with it, Jordan’s family would have spent a lifetime trying to understand how they had missed signs of Jordan’s depression. They would have wasted energy on unfounded regrets.
The thought still filled Tony with fury.
Again, he had known immediately that Jordan would not have taken his own life. His friend had had too much respect and appreciation for all that God had given him.
There were others who had doubted, though. People who had whispered that Jordan might have had secrets or addictions or relationship troubles that had sent him into a spiraling depression.
Those whispered rumors had only compounded the tragedy of Jordan’s death.
Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, the sound carrying on the breeze. Another joined the chorus, the wild baying of a hound on the scent. This was Tony’s music, his symphony. He loved the sound of working dogs doing their thing. He loved being part of the NYC K-9 Command Unit. His father had wanted him to follow in his footsteps and become a homicide detective, but Tony enjoyed pounding the pavement, interacting on a daily basis with the community he served. The fact that his job choice had led him into K-9 work was something Tony was constantly grateful for.
He loved what he did.
He loved the life he led.
But, a piece of his soul seemed to have disappeared the day Jordan died.
They had been as close as brothers.
Losing him had left a giant hole in Tony’s life.
He had been trying to fill it with work, but even that had begun to feel hollow. There had to be more than long days stretching into long nights and a quiet apartment.
He frowned.
He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. That had to be the reason for his melancholy mood. Nearly eight months after Jordan’s death, and he was still burning the candle at both ends. In the first few months, he had been trying to figure out exactly what had happened to his friend.
Now, he was desperately trying to get a step ahead of Martin.
He was close. Tony could feel it.
Rusty growled softly, and the warning made the hair on the back of Tony’s neck stand on end. He knew his canine partner better than he knew the park or Queens or New York City. Rusty only growled when he sensed danger.
Tony whistled to call the dog back, then stood still, listening to the sudden silence of the park. A bird took flight, zipping away from a tree a dozen yards away. Leaves rustled. Branches snapped. Someone was coming, and he wasn’t being quiet about it.
Tony pulled out his gun and aimed it in the direction of the sound. Martin had dropped his gun near the clinic, but if he’d been able to get his hands on one firearm, he could certainly have another.
Seconds later, a teenager stumbled from the woods, his face ashen. Thin and gangly, his entire body trembling, he looked to be thirteen or fourteen. Probably a kid playing hooky from school who had run into a lot more trouble than he had expected.
“Hold it! Hands where I can see them,” Tony shouted.
The kid whirled in his direction, his eyes wide with fear. “Some guy has got my friend. He has a knife to his throat.”
Tony didn’t need to ask who. He knew. This was exactly what a coward like Martin would do. Find an innocent bystander and use him as a shield during his escape.
“Which way did they go?” Tony asked.
“That way!” The boy pointed through the trees.
“Stay here. Rusty, find!” The Lab plunged into the undergrowth. Tony followed, branches snagging his clothes. Rusty bounded ahead, ears flapping, tail high. He knew where he was going, and he shot straight as an arrow toward the scent pool.
He disappeared into a thicket.
Tony raced after him, radioing in his location and hoping backup would arrive quickly. Martin had already committed murder; there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t do it again. The teenager he’d kidnapped could be as easily disposed of as he had been abducted.
Rusty barked, and the sound reverberated throughout the woods.
“Call your dog off!” a man shouted, the voice high-pitched and filled with anger and fear.
Tony plunged into the thicket, pushed through the heavy bramble and thick vines and shoved his way into a small clearing.
Martin was just ahead, his arm around a young teen’s waist, a knife held against the boy’s throat. Rusty was snapping and growling nearby.
“Let the kid go, Martin,” Tony said calmly.
“Call off your dog,” Martin responded, the knife nicking flesh, a tiny bead of blood sliding down the kid’s throat.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t cry out. He just stared into Tony’s eyes, silently begging for help.
“Rusty, off,” Tony commanded.
The Lab continued to growl as he backed off and took his place next to Tony.
“That’s better,” Martin muttered, stepping backward, the knife blade still pressed against the boy’s neck. “Now, put your weapon down, and we’ll all be just fine.”
