Christmas K-9 Protectors, page 4
“So thieves use jewelers and pawnshops to launder stolen treasures?”
“Basically,” Ian said. “Crime is rampant on cruise ships especially, because all thieves have to do is pop off at the next port and find a pawnshop to melt it for them. So Alaska slapped some very strict laws on pawnshops here. They have to hold on to anything they receive for two whole months before selling or melting it, to give the authorities the opportunity to trace if any of it was stolen. That’s where Hugh comes in.”
Red and blue flashing emergency lights cut through the squalls ahead. There were far more than he’d have expected to see at a crime scene. A shiver ran down his spine. He took a deep breath and decided to trust her with his suspicions.
“Also,” he confessed, “my gut tells me we’re dealing with the same criminal who hit all those jewelry and pawnshops in Juneau last year. I’ve got no proof but if I’m right those two missing pawnshop workers could be victims of foul play, along the one who went missing here, and we’re dealing with a serial killer.”
“But why attack a forensic scientist to try to stop the investigation?” she asked. “Why not just take the money he’d stolen so far and move on somewhere else before the cops move in?”
“I don’t know,” Ian admitted. “Maybe he can’t walk away from that much money.”
He drew closer and the pawnshop came into view amid the mass of emergency vehicles, including those of state troopers and local police, and ambulances. It was on the very end of an unassuming strip mall, with stores to the left and forest to the right. Two local officers were cordoning off the area in yellow crime scene tape, while others instructed the jostling crowd of spectators to move back. The flashing lights of emergency vehicles illuminated the shattered glass of the front store window and the remains of ripped Christmas garlands hung from the window frame like some kind of eerie vines. By the look of things, someone had hurled a display case of large and gaudy costume jewelry through the window, scattering the shimmering baubles across the snow.
Yeah, he could see how that might draw a crowd.
Then he saw the somehow both imposing and elegant form of Colonel Lorenza Gallo standing under the pawnshop awning in a long wool coat, with Trooper Poppy Walsh and her K-9 partner, Stormy. The mammoth wolfhound’s head was cocked to the side as if she was taking in the briefing, too.
Tala’s eyes widened in surprise. “Stormy tracks live people and weapons. What are they doing here?”
“That’s the exact same thing I was wondering,” Ian said.
For that matter, why was a cadaver dog called to the scene?
The tall form of his colleague and recent mentor, Sean West, strode through the snow toward him, with his Akita partner, Grace, by his side. Ian rolled down the window and heard Aurora woof softly as if in greeting.
“What’ve we got?” he asked.
“Break and enter, robbery with a suspected double homicide by the look of it,” Sean said. “But we really don’t know.”
“Suspected?” Ian echoed.
“Well, we’ve got a whole lot of blood,” Sean said. “But no bodies.”
FOUR
As Tala looked out the window at the scene unfolding around them, she felt an odd and unfamiliar knot twist in her stomach. Work in her forensics lab was orderly, logical and neat. No matter how violent, bloody or vile a crime might be, by the time the evidence reached her desk it was usually distilled down to a series of plastic collection bags, swabs, crime kits and photographs, with the odd random object or vehicle for her to inspect.
She hadn’t been prepared for just how busy and chaotic a crime scene like this would be. Discordant lights flashed on and off from multiple directions at once, illuminating the broken glass, cheap jewelry and shattered Christmas decorations in the snow. Meanwhile, spectators shouted at law enforcement officers from behind yellow police tape, demanding information and trying to get better views for their camera phones.
“There are two separate blood trails disappearing into the snow in opposite directions,” Sean went on. “At least two different people involved in the altercation took off on foot after whatever happened. We’ve got to find them.”
“Got it.” Ian nodded. “I’m guessing Hugh Bertram, the pawn detective, is in charge of the crime scene?”
Sean shook his head. “No, apparently nobody can reach him.”
That didn’t sound good. But Tala did not have time to ruminate on that, because Sean indicated where Ian should park. Ian got out, opened the back door for Aurora and signaled for her to join him. The German shepherd leaped to his side and stood alert and attentive as he clipped her leash onto her harness.
Tala followed Sean, Ian and their K-9 partners toward the pawnshop. She glanced through the broken front window at the wrecked display cases splattered with rust-colored blood and at the white-clad crime scene investigators moving between them. Something about it was off. Tala could sense it. But in that moment, she didn’t know what. Ian lifted up the yellow police tape to walk under and then paused to hold the tape up for her.
“I’ve gotta go with Sean,” Ian said softly. “Are you okay if I leave you here?”
His eyes met hers and something jolted in her chest. She wasn’t okay. But she also wasn’t his problem to fix and he had a job to do.
“I will be,” Tala assured him. She tried to smile and instead settled for what she hoped was a professional nod. Then she tucked her head under his arm and stepped inside the cordoned-off area. Ian dropped the tape, but he didn’t move. Instead, they just stood there in the snow, inches apart from each other, with Aurora beside them.
“We still need to finish our conversation from earlier,” Ian said gruffly. “My shift won’t be up until tomorrow morning. Can I take you out for breakfast? Or even just give you a ride to work and we can grab coffee on the way?”
Tala couldn’t help but notice that Sean had stopped a few paces ahead of them, like he was trying to give them privacy to talk while also trying to figure out what the relationship was between her and Ian. If they stood in the snow whispering to each other, Sean wouldn’t be the only one. All that mattered right now was solving the case, she reminded herself. She couldn’t let anything distract her or Ian from that.
“Thanks, but no,” she replied. “But I’m sure we’ll see each other on a group call very soon.”
“Got it,” Ian said stiffly. He turned and followed Sean and Grace across the snow with Aurora by his side.
Tala took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Now what? The sense that something was wrong still nagged at her. She mentally analyzed every element of the scene around her until it hit her. Everything from the broken glass, to the crowd pressing behind the caution tape, to how local police were still securing the scene all looked so fresh and recent, she’d have pegged the crime as being discovered no more than twenty or maybe thirty minutes earlier.
So why then had two cadaver dogs been brought to the scene?
“Tala!” The warm and commanding voice of Colonel Lorenza Gallo, head of the K-9 unit and Alaska’s first female K-9 officer, seemed to cut through the swirling flakes and chaos.
Tala jogged toward her, feeling unexpected relief to see the colonel. “It’s good to see you.”
Lorenza reached out her leather-gloved hands and clasped Tala’s. “How are you doing?”
She gave the other woman a quick rundown of the kidnapping and the suspect, ending with the fact that she’d briefed Ian and taken detailed notes of the incident.
“Very good,” Lorenza said. “I’m sure you’ve given us a lot to go on. But how are you feeling?”
“Overwhelmed and a bit numb,” Tala told her honestly. “Also, very confused by all this.”
“What do you find confusing?” Lorenza asked, with a look that was more curiosity than surprise.
“Look, I’m not a crime scene investigator,” Tala started, “let alone a trooper—”
The colonel held up her hand before Tala could qualify herself any further. “Duly noted. Tell me what confuses you.”
“Well, Grace and Aurora are cadaver dogs,” she said, feeling slightly foolish to point out the obvious. “Studies do show that cadaver dogs can sense a deceased individual with ninety-eight percent accuracy within just three hours of death. Some theorize it could be even sooner than that.” Lorenza’s eyebrows rose. “But this crime scene seems pretty fresh. I can’t imagine people drove by this pawnshop for hours without noticing the window was smashed. Most people would call the police immediately, and for the few that wouldn’t, this place would be a looters’ paradise.” She released a breath, then continued, “Now, it’s also true that dogs can smell what they call the scent of death for weeks after a body’s been moved, as long as there are still residue particulates. Even if they’re too small for the human eye. But then you’d need to suspect a dead body was here. So, why did you call out the cadaver dogs?”
The smile that turned at the edges of Lorenza’s mouth gave Tala the odd sense she’d impressed her.
“Because the first officers on the scene could tell by coloration and scent that we were dealing with a mixture of both old and fresh blood,” the older woman said.
“At the same crime scene?” Tala asked.
“In the same pools of blood,” Lorenza clarified. “It’s as if the Golden Bandit is trying to outsmart investigators by staging a crime scene where the timeline makes no sense. The store closed at five. Shouts were heard from nearby buildings and the front window was smashed around seven thirty, so a little over half an hour ago. But some of the blood was shed a couple of hours before that.”
“I was forced into a van roughly an hour and a half ago,” Tala said. “So, if it was all done by the same person—hypothetically—he started robbing the pawnshop after five, tried to kidnap me at the mall after six thirty and then was back here at seven thirty ransacking the place. The mall is only fifteen minutes away, so it’s very doable. But again, that makes no sense. Usually, when a criminal returns to the scene of a crime, it’s to clean it up, not make it messier.”
A majestic howl sounded through the night. They turned to see Stormy charge out the back door along with her partner, Poppy. Tala wondered whose scent the wolfhound was chasing. Then Ian and Sean directed Aurora and Grace to sniff around the crime scene. Within moments both dogs signaled that they’d found a scent. Tala watched as the two K-9 teams headed out a side door and through deep snow up a hill toward the forest.
“I’d like you to don protective gear and take a look around while the crime scene investigators are gathering evidence,” Lorenza said. “I know you don’t usually attend the scene itself and you’ll get your chance to go over everything as usual when it arrives back. But officially, as the main forensic scientist on the case, I’m asking you to assess the scene to provide any added perspective.”
“Absolutely,” Tala said, “and unofficially?”
“This criminal has gotten away with multiple crimes without getting caught. And you’ve gotten closer to him that anyone else. So I’d appreciate your eye on this. Not for anything in particular but just because, in my experience, you’ve got an interesting way of looking at things.”
Despite the cold, Tala felt a gentle heat rise to her cheeks. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”
She whispered a prayer, steeled her breath and walked through the snow to the pawnshop, careful not to step on any broken glass or jewelry. Then she showed the Anchorage police officer guarding the door her officer crime lab ID. Nodding, he waved over a female officer who helped her into her full-body protective gear, including a white jumpsuit, facial mask and plastic gloves. Then she entered the pawnshop, feeling like an astronaut stepping through the door into an alternate world.
The store seemed to be divided into two display rooms. The one that she was in right now was entirely filled with glass cases, all of which had been smashed open. Rings, necklaces and tennis bracelets mingled on the floor with watches and antique coins. Had the Golden Bandit left in a hurry? Was he only after certain pieces? Judging by the size of the cases, he’d stolen a lot more than he’d left. According to white placards with numbers written in black marker, the cases had once displayed items priced anywhere between twenty dollars and several thousand. Tala knew she wouldn’t have been able to tell at a glance which was which. But she wondered if Ian could.
She stood back and watched, careful not to get in the way or disturb any evidence, as crime scene investigators in white gear moved efficiently and methodically around the space, taking pictures, collecting samples and setting down small, numbered placards to show where things had been. It was fascinating.
She moved into the adjoining room. It was longer, narrower and filled with things less valuable than the square room was, like used sports equipment, large toys, a bin of DVDs and old electronics. At the far end lay the side door that Ian, Sean and their K-9 partners had disappeared through. Nothing in the room looked like it had even been touched, let alone rummaged through.
Then she saw it—the faint remnants of a familiar-shaped snowy footprint by the door, heading into the store. She pulled out her phone and checked the tread pattern against the picture she’d taken of the footprints in the parking lot at the scene of her kidnapping. It was hard to tell from what little remained of both, but they definitely seemed similar. Did this mean that the person who’d tried to kidnap her had been here?
A speck of something green caught her eye. She crouched down lower. It looked like a small and flattened spruce tree needle.
“You’re not supposed to be in here.” The gruff and annoyed voice of Bob Flocks came from behind her. “Do you need me to call someone to escort you out?”
She straightened up and turned. The head crime scene investigator was in his early forties, tall and handsome in that scruffy and perpetually irritated way that gritty television shows seemed to think a lot of women were into.
“Oh, Tala!” he said, with a surprise she couldn’t tell was real or feigned. “Colonel Gallo did tell me that she wanted you admitted to the crime scene. I just presumed you’d check in with me.”
Had he, now? She fought the urge to roll her eyes and reminded herself there was a lot of ego and pride in crime work.
“Nice to see you, Bob,” she said. “What’s your assessment of the scene?”
“Two people were in the store after closing time,” he told her. “There was a fight. Knife, not gun. They ran out in separate directions.”
She nodded. Well, she’d see what her own analysis turned up and if it confirmed or denied his theory.
“What were you looking at?” he asked curiously.
“What looks like a snowy footprint and a spruce needle,” she said. “The footprint pattern reminds me of the tread in the pictures I took when I was almost kidnapped.”
Bob took a step back as if suddenly realizing he’d been so focused on preserving the integrity of his crime scene that he’d forgotten to ask how she was after her ordeal. He raised his gloved hand protectively over her shoulder as if to mime patting her reassuringly without contaminating their gear.
“How you holding up?” he asked. “Look, if you ever want to grab a coffee and talk or anything, I’m here for you.”
Now it was her turn to blink. Guess a damsel in distress brought out the crime scene investigator’s gallant side. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had asked her out for coffee. And today there’d been two.
“Thank you,” she said. “Do you think we can get this needle taken back to the lab?”
“Honey, you know there are a hundred and twenty million acres of forested land in Alaska?” he said. One hundred and twenty-nine million, actually. “But sure, we can do that.”
“Thank you,” she said again. She glanced back down at the footprint.
You told me to wreck the case, she silently told her kidnapper, and that only makes me more determined to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re caught.
* * *
Ian’s long legs ploughed through the thick fallen snow. Fresh flakes beat down against his head. Ahead of him, Aurora bounded in long and confident leaps. Beside him, Sean was doing his best to keep pace with his K-9 partner, Grace. He guessed they’d been chasing the invisible scent trail for at least ten minutes, if not more, climbing deeper up the forested hill as the lights of the pawnshop crime scene grew smaller behind them. And yet, Aurora had continued unwavering to pursue whatever it was that her excellent nose and fellow K-9 both sensed.
Suddenly, the two dogs pulled to a stop in unison, Aurora barked urgently and Grace howled. Ian shone his flashlight down on the snowdrift at his feet and a shiver brushed his spine.
“Well done,” he told Aurora softly. “Good girl.”
Then he turned to his fellow officer, who’d just radioed Lorenza that the dogs had alerted. Thick flakes clung to the heavy scarf Sean had wrapped around the lower half of his face.
“Now what?” Ian asked.
“Now we dig,” his teammate said, “and see what’s there.”
Whatever it was would be too sensitive to risk being damaged by dogs’ paws, despite the expert diggers their partners were. The men crouched down and slowly swept the snow away with their gloved hands. Moments later, Ian felt his touch brush something. Sean sighed sadly, and gently brushed back just enough snow to confirm a man’s dead body buried there, merely a few inches from the surface. Then he sat back on his heels.
“Lord, please help us catch whoever did this,” Sean prayed.
“Amen,” Ian agreed.
Sean stood and called it in. Ian stayed crouched beside the body. It was a young man in his early twenties, dressed in a bloodstained button-down shirt, jeans and boots. He recognized the face as a clerk at a pawnshop. Whatever reason he’d had for running out into the snow, he hadn’t stopped to put on his gloves, hat or even coat. If the stab wounds hadn’t killed him the cold would’ve finished him off. Ian found himself wondering yet again what had happened to the two young pawnshop clerks who’d disappeared from Juneau last winter. Then he felt Aurora’s comforting bulk lean into his side and fill him with warmth.
