But he couldn’t do that. Couldn’t turn that madman onto Jack. Maybe it would be better to repent now. Avoid any more pain. The worst thing was that they wouldn’t find his body. Gran and Jack would be forever waiting.

  He swallowed another groan, gathering some satisfaction that he’d briefly flustered his captor. The man had looked so confused when he discovered the hay gone and Billy’s clothes wet. Of course, Billy’s satisfaction had been short lived. His captor had only returned with the cattle prod. And Billy had quickly removed his clothes.

  Billy flattened his face against the wall, keeping his eyes closed. There was really nothing left to do now but wait. And try to be brave.

  Something shuffled in the aisle. His captor must have returned. Judging by the sounds, he was dragging something.

  Billy cracked open his eyes, reluctant to look.

  He winced at the sight. Another captive. This man was big though, well fed and clearly unconscious. He must have been jabbed with a syringe, just like Billy had been last week. But no, his head was bleeding. And the face looked familiar.

  Billy stiffened. Sgt. Smitty?

  Hope flared and he found the strength to balance on his toes. It was definitely Smitty. The cop was big and tough. When he woke up, he’d rescue Billy. And Jack said police were like ants. If you saw one, there had to be others.

  But Psycho Man was reaching for his chainsaw. Oh, God. Billy opened his mouth to protest, but the only sound that came out was a fearful squeak. “No talking,” the man had said. And he religiously enforced the rules.

  Billy gaped, his words stifled with fear. But this was horrible. Psycho Man was going to cut Smitty up while he was still alive. Before he even woke up. Billy couldn’t just stand by and watch.

  “Don’t, please,” Billy managed, his voice rusty. “Don’t hurt him.”

  The man’s jaw clenched. “You know the rules. No talking. Until it’s time to repent.”

  “But I’m sorry I burned that horse. I want to talk about it. I want to...repent.”

  The man’s head shot up. “Very good,” he said, his eyes glittering. “You see, that wasn’t so hard.”

  “Yes, but you have to understand. I love animals and I’ll be good to them now, I swear.”

  “You will be good to them. In the afterlife. And when you come back to this earth, you’ll be a better person. The entire world will be a better place.”

  “But that man loves animals too,” Billy said, his voice gaining strength. “He’s good to them. And to people too. He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t need to repent.”

  “I know,” the man said, almost sadly. “Now be quiet. Or I’ll do you first.”

  “But you can’t cut him up,” Billy said, spurred by desperation. “Not now. The...drugs in his system will hurt the pigs. That wouldn’t be right, you know, to the animals. It would hurt them.”

  The man’s brow furrowed. He set down the chainsaw and strode into the stall. “What kind of drugs?”

  “Oxycontin and Vicodin,” Billy lied, thinking fast. “We both did them at the police station. Not everything was reported after a bust. We kept a whole tack box full of that stuff.”

  “Oxy.” The man stroked his beard. “Probably take a week to get that out of his system. But you’d be okay.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. It takes months. You better research it.”

  The man glanced at Smitty’s inert body then back at Billy, his forehead wrinkling with indecision.

  “We had a lot of drugs at the police station,” Billy added. “I don’t even know all their names. But you really should check first. Ask a vet or something—”

  “Stop talking! I’m trying to think.”

  Outside a hound was baying and they both glanced toward the side door. Billy hadn’t heard a dog on the property before. And his brain must be fried from all the shocks. Because the dog that burst through the doorway and rocketed down the aisle looked exactly like Sparky.

  The dog shot into the stall, past the man and jumped on Billy.

  “Hey, boy,” Billy said weakly. And even though Sparky’s claws hurt, it was so damn good to see his dog that his eyes misted. His brain couldn’t process it though. First Smitty, then Sparky.

  He didn’t know what it meant but it sure beat dying alone.

  The man seemed confused too. “That dog likes you,” he said.

  Billy swallowed. If he admitted Sparky was his dog, the man would know rescuers were coming. But were they? Maybe for some reason Sparky had been with Smitty—who was now down and out.

  “Just let us go,” Billy pleaded.

  The man shook his head. “No. My work is more important than any individual. He’d try to stop me.”

  “But we won’t. Please. I promise not to tell.”

  “No, it’s your time.” The man stepped out into the aisle and picked up the chainsaw. He strode back into Billy’s stall, his eyes shining with purpose.

  Billy’s throat dried in sheer terror. “Not in front of the dog,” he squeaked, glancing down at Sparky who’d curled in a ball and now rested his loving head on Billy’s foot. “It will give him nightmares.”

  The man hesitated.

  “Put down the chainsaw,” a woman behind them snapped. She looked like a woman from Jack’s magazines except that she was fully dressed, and her voice was crisp and authoritative. Best of all she held a gun.

  Billy choked, so relieved he sagged against the cuffs.

  “You okay, Billy?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Put it down,” she snapped. “Now.”

  The man turned, gripping the saw. He stepped back out into the aisle and edged toward her. She didn’t want to shoot him. Billy could see it in her eyes.

  Just shoot him, he willed. In the knee, in the arm, even the damn chest. Before Psycho Man gets too close. If Billy had the gun, he wouldn’t hesitate. He could scarcely breathe, afraid she’d look at him and the man would jump her.

  But she backed up and the man moved with her, both of them edging down the aisle in an odd death dance.

  Shoot him! At least she wasn’t talking, Billy thought. Her eyes were hard as glass, as if she’d been in this position before. Maybe she knew what she was doing. But he didn’t like how she was backing away. And Psycho Man was posed to spring. Billy could see the tautness of the man’s shoulders. He watched in horror, not wanting to look but too terrified to turn away.

  And then Jack charged out from behind the work bench. He stuck his arm out and jammed the six-foot cattle prod into the man’s back. The man screeched and fell to his knees, the chainsaw clattering to the floor.

  Billy blinked. His brother was here too? That’s why the woman had backed up, drawing the man closer to the bench. And Jack was rather impressive. For a guy who preferred cars and city streets to farms and barn animals, he had an excellent knack for using a stock prod. He gripped the instrument in both hands, keeping the prongs pressed into the man’s back, coolly watching while the man writhed in agony.

  The woman didn’t even try to stop him. Maybe she wasn’t a cop after all. She was totally silent, as if understanding Jack’s emotion. Prepared to overlook the punishment he was doling out.

  “That first one was for me,” Jack said, lifting the prod and shifting it to a more sensitive area. “And this really long one... Well, this one is for my brother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Justin pulled his car in front of the hospital entrance, then surprised Nikki by leaning over and brushing her mouth with a tender kiss.

  “That doesn’t seem professional,” she said, peeking around his wide shoulder. “Especially with all the lurking reporters.”

  “The hero of the city doesn’t have to worry.” Justin grinned but straightened behind the wheel. “Sgt. Smith is surely grateful. By the way, he wants no part of the reward. Says it’s all yours.”

  Nikki smiled. Jack didn’t know it yet, but he was about to receive a healthy influx of cash. Ray Gibson had readily confessed to the Judge’s murder, along with countless others. Nikki didn’t need Sonja’s input to know the man had countless psychological evaluations in his future.

  “I’m grateful too,” Justin said. “You cleared my case.”

  Which she supposed, was why Justin was taking twenty-four hours off to do “whatever she wanted.”

  “I took the liberty of packing your bag,” he added, “so we could save time. Leave directly from here.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to inject some interest in her voice. There were a lot of activities they both enjoyed: the racetrack, a horseback ride, or even a visit to the shooting range. But choosing required too much energy and she was relieved he’d taken over. Besides, she didn’t care.

  She just wanted a chance to decompress: to forget the sights and smells of Ray’s killing farm and those horrible, hungry pigs. “Maybe I just need some sleep,” she said. “I feel exhausted.”

  “It’s the crash after the rush, Nik,” Justin said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “A lot happened. Makes it hard to think. So I’m taking you away for the night.”

  She gave a little nod. But her smile slipped. She wasn’t keen for a night at a hotel, even a luxurious one, or the drawn-out rituals of an impersonal restaurant. She just wanted to be somewhere quiet and safe. And to know that the man she loved was safe too.

  And she ached to wrap her arms around Gunner’s neck and laugh and cry, and let his solid presence soothe her jumbled emotions. But she didn’t want to disappoint Justin. He’d already guided her through the countless police interviews and had worked hard to keep the media at bay.

  “So I thought we’d drive down so you could be with your favorite guy,” Justin was saying. “They’ve already agreed to let Gunner sit outside with you. We can have beer and wine and dog treats delivered and know that everything is right in our world.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. Then she shot forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That sounds perfect,” she said, pressing a heartfelt kiss on his cheek, no longer caring who saw.

  She never should have doubted Justin. He always knew exactly what she needed, before she knew herself.

  “I’ll hurry inside,” she said, suddenly invigorated. “See the Tanners and be out in half an hour, tops.”

  Still grinning, she rushed from the car and bounced into the hospital foyer. She hurried toward the elevator, passing a coffee machine and an automated news vendor. Bold headlines proclaimed a missing teen had been saved from a serial killer although full details weren’t yet available.

  Her steps lightened even further. This was about as good as it could get. Billy was safe, exhausted but alive, and from his grandmother’s accounts, even smiling.

  “Hey, super sleuth.”

  Nikki turned toward the familiar voice. Sgt. Lara McCullough strode toward her.

  “I just saw Smitty,” Lara said, reaching out and pumping Nikki’s hand. “They wouldn’t let me stay long. Thank you for getting there in time—you know...”

  She paused, taking a deep breath. “But Smitty’s head is like concrete. He’ll be okay. He’s beating himself up though, about not noticing Gibson.”

  Serial killers are hard to recognize, Nikki thought. That’s why they were so successful. And she’d been lucky. Driving down that lonely road, spotting Smitty’s truck and best of all, having Sparky catch Billy’s scent.

  “At least you didn’t have to shoot Gibson,” Lara said. “Apparently he’s cooperating. That will give the other families some closure.”

  “Jack was a big help,” Nikki said. “He helped subdue him.”

  “I heard he got some jabs in.” Lara gave an approving nod. “He’s quite a kid. Both boys are. We’re going to make sure Billy has a part-time job, and Jack too if he wants. Smitty would be delighted if you’d drop by some day when he’s feeling better, so he can personally thank you. Better still, visit us at the barn.”

  Lara moved a little closer, her voice lowering. “If you ever need anything, if we can ever help, just let us know, okay?”

  Nikki gave a grateful nod and stepped on the elevator. With her widening police contacts, she’d be assured of seeing the report on Gibson’s mental assessment. His eyes haunted her, the intent way he’d stalked her with that chainsaw. Investigators were already in the process of gathering DNA from his farm. Preliminary numbers estimated at least thirty victims although Gibson claimed forty-two wrongdoers had “successfully” repented.

  The elevator eased to a stop and she stepped off, turning right on the eighth floor then following the signs. Billy’s room was the last one at the end of the sterile corridor. Although the Tanners had no medical insurance, authorities had arranged for a private room. Mrs. Tanner reported Billy had been delighted to have his own television but was too exhausted to take much advantage.

  The door was open. Mrs. Tanner spotted Nikki in the doorway and immediately lurched from her chair, fumbling for her cane.

  “Come in,” she called. “I’m so glad you came.”

  Nikki grinned—at Billy, at Jack, at Mrs. Tanner. For a moment she couldn’t speak. It was cathartic to see Billy safe in a hospital bed, his back wrapped in a clean white dressing, instead of naked, and caged in an execution cell. He looked wan and thin but his smile sparkled, and the sheer gratitude in his eyes spoke volumes.

  Jack rose and gave Nikki a fist pump, then surprised her by pulling out an empty chair, positioning it in the prime spot next to Billy’s bed.

  “Billy was just saying he thought you were too pretty to be a cop,” Jack said, shooting his brother a teasing grin.

  “And that he was afraid you’d be too nice to pull the trigger,” Mrs. Tanner added.

  Nikki smiled at a blushing Billy. “I was hoping not to shoot,” she admitted. “Luckily your brother didn’t listen to my instructions. And he was pretty crafty about sneaking around the barn.”

  She pretended to frown but it had actually been fortunate that Jack had chosen to follow instead of waiting by the car. And so lucky the dog had bolted up the driveway in search of Billy. A few more minutes... She hid her shiver. It had all turned out—this time.

  Everyone was silent for a moment. Then conversation bubbled again and there were no more references to the horrors of the pig farm, just a reunited family sharing their joy. Billy and Jack even argued over whose turn it was to weed the garden, considering that Billy had missed more than a week of chores. Still, it was obvious that the brothers were extremely close.

  “Stop bickering, boys.” Mrs. Tanner frowned at her grandsons then turned to Nikki. “Would you like something to eat? We have so much food. Sgt. Smitty sent a fruit basket, the police station sent a sandwich tray, and there’s even candy from a perfect stranger. Billy will be fattened up in no time and ready to be punished for putting us through this.”

  Billy stopped arguing with his brother and twisted his head against the pillow. “Are you mad at me, Gran?”

  “For taking Jack’s place?” Mrs. Tanner sighed. “I raised you boys to look out for each other. So I guess I can’t be too angry.”

  “It’s not just that.” Billy smiled, so teasingly it was hard to remember that only two days ago he’d been imprisoned in a stall. “Jack said you made a fresh batch of biscuits this morning. But you didn’t bring any to the hospital.”

  Mrs. Tanner hesitated for a moment, an uncharacteristic pause for such a forthright woman. She fiddled with her cane, positioning it carefully beside her chair. And when she finally folded her arms and looked up, her eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

  “There aren’t any left to bring,” she admitted. “I gave them all to Sparky.”

  Check out BONE TRAIL,

  Bev Pettersen’s next book in the K9 mystery series!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Gunner looked like a healthy dog. Nikki Drake slowed her jog, analyzing his movement as he trotted from tree to tree, sniffing the wooded trail. Now that her German shepherd was no longer glued to her hip, it was easier to check his gait. And be grateful that he had healed from his gunshot wound.

  Perhaps he didn’t stride out quite as far with his left front leg as he did with his right. But staff at the K9 center had done an excellent job with his rehab. He was walking and running, showing little weakness. Physically at least.

  Now it was his aversion to men that caused a problem. He’d always been wary of strangers. Now he was flat-out aggressive. But being shot by a trusted friend tended to do that.

  Justin was the only man Gunner allowed close to Nikki. And that was fine, since he was the only man she wanted close. But it would make her PI job difficult when they returned to the city. No one wanted to be around a hostile shepherd. She might have to accept that he would only show his kind nature if he were kept away from other people.

  Swallowing her worries, she veered onto the abandoned logging road and picked up the pace. Gunner’s ears were pricked and his tail was out, and he looked confident and relaxed as he scouted the overgrown trail ahead.

  She skirted a stand of fir trees, leaping over exposed bony roots, following Gunner along their usual route. For the past ten days, she and Justin had run this way every morning. Rarely had they encountered any hikers on this side of the California national forest. The only area close to other people was where the trail opened into a small meadow adjoining the backside of a luxurious horse farm.

  That meadow was Gunner’s favorite place to stop. He’d struck up a friendship with an inquisitive bay horse named Chico who liked to visit over the fence. It had worked out perfectly as the grassy area was the perfect place to stretch out and do some calisthenics.

  She jogged from the woods onto the sparse grass of the clearing, following her eager dog. Strangely the horse paddock adjoining the meadow was empty; Chico was nowhere in sight.

  Gunner looked puzzled then disappointed. He wandered along the fence line, marking several posts and lifting his nose to check the breeze gusting from the stable.

  Nikki dropped to the grass, keeping a careful eye on her dog, and began her regular series of pushups. Until Justin left, this had also been her favorite spot and the site of several good-natured competitions. Naturally Justin always won but a couple of times she’d nearly beat him in ab crunches. Her fitness level had never been better but without her boyfriend to challenge, the workout wasn’t nearly as exciting.

 

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