LITMIR.BIZ

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of Desert Valley embraced the K-9 officers and their canine partners. He couldn’t say the same of bigger cities, where law enforcement was usually viewed with fear, suspicion and malice.

      Bella stopped abruptly, her ears perking and her nose lifting to smell the air.

      Unease tightened Shane’s shoulder muscles. She’d been alerted to something. “What is it, girl?”

      Bella took off. Keeping the beam of the flashlight aimed ahead of him, Shane ran to keep up, his feet pounding noisily on the pavement. The lead connected to the dog’s collar pulled taut, and Shane pressed himself to move faster. They headed toward the training center. Had something happened to one of the dogs? The trainers?

      Bella led him past the veterinary clinic and skidded to a halt at the outdoor puppy-training yard.

      Shane stopped and kept Bella at his side. He swept his flashlight over the scene before him. Dread crimped his chest. He sucked in a quick breath.

      Veronica Earnshaw lay twisted on the ground with her dark hair and striking face coated in dirt. Her open eyes stared at the stars above. And what appeared to be two gunshot wounds marred her chest. Bile rose in his throat.

      His priority as the first officer on the scene was to determine if the victim was alive or dead.

      Bella tugged at the leash. He gave her the hand movement to sit and stay. She obeyed, but her gaze was riveted to the bushes along the fence.

      Was the perpetrator hiding in there?

      Wishing he had his sidearm, which he’d left locked up in the condo, he shone the flashlight on the thick shrubbery. He let out Bella’s lead. She made a beeline for the greenery and sat staring at the dense foliage.

      Caution tripped down his spine. There was no coverage for him to use. If the person who’d shot Veronica was in the bushes with the gun, he might well be the next victim.

      “I’m a police officer. If someone is in there, you better come out,” he said with authority.

      “Shane?”

      He knew that voice. “Gina?” It was the junior trainer from the Canyon County training facility. A sob came from the bushes, then Gina crawled out. He reached out to help her and she flinched. Her long auburn braid was coming undone. The hazel of her eyes was nearly gone because of her enlarged pupils.

      He held up his hands, palms out.

      Was Gina’s shock real or fake? Had she committed murder? Or was she a witness?

      Cautious, in case there was a gun he couldn’t see, he crouched beside her, noting blood on her hands and smeared on her khaki pants and pink sweater. “Gina. Are you hurt?”

      “No.” She took a shuddering breath. “She’s dead. Veronica’s dead. He killed her.”

      A witness, then. He refocused his attention on Veronica. There was no discernible movement of the upper part of her abdomen, indicating her breathing had stopped or was too shallow to be observed.

      He checked for a pulse and found none. He shone the flashlight into her eyes—no response.

      There was no question in his mind.

      Gina was correct.

      Veronica Earnshaw was dead.

      His chest tightened; his lungs seized. An itch scratched at his throat. He put his hand on the inhaler in his pocket, but he refused to let the asthma take hold. There were procedures to follow. A crime to investigate. He had no time for an asthma attack right now. And as the first responder, he had a responsibility to make sure no element of the scene was disturbed any worse than it had already been.

      Instead of his inhaler, he took out his cell phone and called the police department. When the dispatcher answered the call, he said, “This is Officer Shane Weston. I need assistance at the side yard of the Canyon County Training Center. One gunshot-wound victim. One potential witness.”

      He hadn’t ruled out perpetrator. Not yet.

      “I’ll let the chief and Officer Hayes know,” she responded before the line disconnected.

      Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he made mental notes of the scene since he didn’t have a notepad and pen. When he left the condo, he hadn’t expected to end up working a crime scene.

      He hadn’t heard the report of a gun, much less two shots, so he knew this tragedy hadn’t happened recently. Unless...a noise suppressor had been used.

      The thought stuck in his mind like a thorn.

      Because if that were the case, then Veronica’s murder was premeditated.

      He did a quick visual search with the flashlight for the weapon but came up empty. A dark trail of what he assumed to be blood led from Veronica to the training center doors. Had Veronica been dragged out of the building or had she managed to crawl to the gate seeking help?

      As he waited for the Desert Valley police, he turned his attention to the woman sitting on the ground by the bushes. She’d drawn her knees to her chest and had begun rocking. Compassion tangled with suspicion. As much as he didn’t want to think ill of Gina, she certainly had a reason to dislike the lead trainer.

      “Gina, can you tell me what happened?”

      She didn’t acknowledge him but kept rocking, her gaze locked on something only she could see. He gently touched her shoulder.

      She started and scrambled away from him. “No, please, no,” she cried and curled into a tight ball.

      He backed away, giving her space. “Gina, I’m not here to hurt you.”

      She raised her teary gaze to meet his. She blinked as the glazed fog lifted. “Oh, Shane. We’re not safe. He’s here. He found me.”

      A knot in his chest tightened. He? “Who are you afraid of?”

      A visible tremor ran over her. “My twin brother, Tim.”

      “Wait, you have a twin?” He’d had no idea.

      “Yes. Two years ago he escaped police custody in Mesa and disappeared.” She rubbed at her temples. “I moved to Desert Valley to hide from him. I had hoped he wouldn’t find me here. But he has. And now...”

      Concern arced through Shane. They had an escaped criminal on the loose. Gina’s twin brother. Had he killed Veronica thinking he’d shot his sister? Or was this a contrived story to cover Gina’s crime? Was there really a brother, much less a twin? He didn’t know her well enough to know if she had a sibling. “What happened to Veronica?”

      “I’m not sure. I found her like this. I checked for a pulse.” She looked away. “There isn’t one.”

      He winced. She’d already contaminated the scene—if she wasn’t the perpetrator. “Don’t touch anything else or move again until the chief arrives, okay?”

      She nodded on a shuddering breath.

      “Why do you think your brother killed Veronica?” Shane asked her.

      “Isn’t it obvious?” She stared up at him. “He came here looking for me and instead found Veronica. He killed her out of rage because I wasn’t here.”

      “You didn’t see it happen?” Though her explanation was plausible, there were holes. “How would he know where you work?”

      “I don’t know. He’s smart.”

      “But you don’t work here anymore, right?”

      “What?” Her voice held a note of confusion.

      “Didn’t Veronica put you on indefinite probation?” It had been a spectacle. Veronica had turned her mean streak onto Gina yesterday right in front of the newest class of graduated rookies. Veronica had loudly and very publicly claimed Gina had used the wrong training technique and declared Gina was on probation indefinitely.

      Shane

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