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“Handsome as sin.” She cut him off with a warning glare. J.C. could not be allowed to ruin this narrow window of opportunity. In the past three months, the dogfighters had only grown bolder and a successful raid like this would only fuel their sick confidence.
“An ass,” J.C. finished defiantly.
“That proves she knows me well enough,” Dale said with a short, rusty laugh. “I am an ass.”
“Not all the time,” Heather said sweetly, rubbing her left hand across his shoulder. “Besides, I like your ass.”
“I’m gonna puke,” J.C. grumbled.
Heather opened the office door that led to the lobby. “Better do it outside before you compromise the crime scene.”
He stomped right out the door, Dale following. Before she joined them, she grabbed a microchip scanner from the desk and pushed it deep into her coat pocket.
The official policy was to have the animals chipped and registered at the time of adoption, but after a dog had been found dead in a nearby park three months ago, she and Terry had started chipping all of the strays when they came in, just in case something like this happened.
They hadn’t had any obviously troubling adoptions over the past year, but they had friends at other shelters in more urban areas that had been put on alert. Between those concerns and reports of stray dogs and dead dogs popping up in the state parks, she’d started looking as deep as she could, carefully gathering information into her own database without tipping off anyone inside the DNR.
Because someone inside the DNR had to be involved with arranging the time and space for the dogfights. No one else had the access or authority. She hadn’t figured out how they were getting in and out of the parks, but she’d been able to identify the circuit, a few names of key players, and most importantly, she’d figured out the timing.
According to the schedule she’d cracked, two more fights would happen this weekend in the state park that spanned the natural hardwood forest between Haleswood and the coast. Whatever mistake Dale had made in revealing her involvement, the organizers were making this personal.
That was fine with her. She was more than ready to expose the operation any way she could. It’s why she’d gone to Dale. If he hadn’t swept her into his own scheme, she’d planned to try and catch the organizers in action this weekend.
Since she’d found dumps after previous fights, she was sure she could track them down during a fight night. She just hadn’t quite decided what to do once she found the fight itself.
Her brother held the door for her and Dale waited just outside, his trademark grim, brooding expression firmly planted on his face. He was handsome anyway, she decided, dipping her chin into her collar to stay warm.
“We checked the records against the kennels occupied and it seems four dogs are still unaccounted for,” J.C. explained. “I called out Animal Control once the area was secure. Before I called you.” He pushed back his sleeve and checked his watch. “They’ve been searching for about an hour.”
“Did you see any tracks?” she asked. Their father had taught them everything about tracking animals, both wild and domestic, in this part of the state.
“Nothing useful. No tire tracks either but there was clearly some sort of altercation over this way.”
Once more Heather and Dale followed J.C., this time around the opposite side of the building where a dog run had been installed last year.
“More fabric,” Dale said, pointing at the chain link fencing. “Looks like it could be the same as that bit caught in the latch inside.”
More. She shouldn’t be surprised he’d also noticed the fabric. His insistence that he’d made a mistake and exposed her involvement in this case didn’t negate his overall ability as an investigator.
“The techs will bag it. We’ve taken pictures,” J.C. assured them.
“Good,” Dale replied. He carefully crouched down, studying the marks in the dirt in front of the fence. “At least two sets of prints here. One sole pattern might be tennis shoes.”
A hard knot of agony landed in Heather’s stomach. Dale’s observations added with the bits of fabric didn’t indicate anything positive for Terry. Emotions wouldn’t find him, only actions.
“J.C., we’ll take a look around if it’s okay?”
“Be my guest,” he said, gesturing toward the trees. “You won’t get far. The trail just disappears about ten yards in. I followed a false trail that looped right back to the shelter while I waited for you.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t care about the odds, she wanted to see for herself.
“You know it’s likely Terry was in on it,” J.C. said. “He has a hard record.”
Heather stopped short, resisting the little-sister urge to kick her brother in the shin. “He was not in on it.”
“I know you were friends, but sometimes—”
“He told me about his mistakes,” she said, cutting him off. “I probably know about a few crimes that didn’t get prosecuted. His past has nothing to do with this. He wouldn’t hurt these animals, or let anyone else hurt them.”
