LAST DOG OUT: A HIDDEN VALOR MILITARY VETERAN/K-9 MYSTERY, Book 4 (PAPERBACK)

LAST DOG OUT - Chapter 1

Where was he?

Kate Holland pulled the drizzly, predawn air into her lungs as she vaulted over the fallen tree her German Shepherd had cleared moments earlier. Their thirtieth in as many minutes. As exhausted as she was, it could've been worse. With every subsequent thump of her old rubber-soled combat boots, she blessed Arash Moradi. If the Mazelle detective hadn't forced her to step up her game these past two weeks by driving to the house to join her and Ruger on their morning runs, her relentless mutt would've been dragging her sorry ass through the thorny underbrush and bald oaks that clogged up this part of the Ozark mountains long before now.

As it was, she'd been able to keep up the pace, though barely. God willing, they'd be on top of their prey any moment.

Or not.

When her new, official K-9 partner slid to yet another halt amid the muck that coated his paws and most of his sodden fur, she knew the Shepherd had lost the scent of the wily bastard they were chasing. Ruger was undaunted. He lowered that super sniffer to the shadowy leaves and slippery moss, his entire body curving into another snaking trajectory as he worked to regain Topher Strom's scent. The cold, intermittent rain and low-lying fog weren't helping.

The Shepherd forged on regardless, working the snake for a solid minute—until the forty-three-degree breeze shifted, and he stiffened.

A split second later, that drenched head snapped up, his overblown nose pointed directly into the wind as it cut through the trees, swirling up leaves and bits of twigs just before it bathed those three hundred million-plus olfactory receptors and that incredibly talented vomeronasal organ that her four-legged partner possessed. Riding this shift of wind? Their prey's scent. Confirmation arrived as the Shepherd's ears swiveled forward while his sodden dragon's tail snapped straight backward.

Ruger had found Topher again: their first official fleeing felon. Transfixed on a distant point, the dog's entire body quivered with the need to give chase and take the bastard down.

Kate moved in, bending low to unclip Ruger's tracking lead and offer up the command he was all but begging her to give. "Get 'em."

The Shepherd lunged forward, splattering the lower half of her cold-weather running jacket, pants and boots with muck as he shot off with a single-mindedness that had her in awe. Once again, Ruger had left her in the dust.

Or, in this case, the dark, icy underbrush of the lower Ozarks.

She tore off after him, following the inkier path created as the low-lying mist churned up in his wake. Desperate not to lose it—let alone her cherished partner, she lengthened her stride as much as she dared, fusing her acclimated night vision to that telltale, darker ribbon cutting along the forest floor.

Within minutes, her lungs were burning again and a stitch stabbed in on her right. She kept her eyes on the ribbon and continued running.

Another minute, and she could make out the distant sound of—

Was that running water?

Lord, she hoped not. Ruger's fur was soaked through as it was.

She ignored the rain pelting her forehead and cheeks, the fire in her lungs and that agonizing stitch and pushed harder, running faster.

Definitely water. Despite the deep pants ripping in and out of her mouth, she could hear it clearly now, splashing against rocks. Big ones, too. She and Ruger had crossed a winding Arkansas River tributary in the Durango roughly ten minutes after hitting Russellville and turning up Highway 7 during the drive here. But they were even further north now. Based on their current pace, at least four miles from where she'd parked her SUV, if not more.

Fortunately, most of the ground they'd covered on foot had been relatively flat.

Another Arkansas River feeder or not, Kate cursed the man who'd set out to force them across it as she breached the tree line. Her right boot already in full stride, she was unable to pull back in time. Her heel slammed down onto the bank, its waterlogged edge giving way from last night's rain. She went down hard, stumbling face-first into the freezing stream and impressive boulders that lurked beneath. Her right knee, reconstructed collarbone and shoulder took the brunt of the fall.

Coughing up water, she clambered upright and began to slog her way across the current. Her old combat boots, cold-weather running pants and jacket were soaked through. She didn't care.

She'd found her partner.

She could make out Ruger's equally sodden shape off her right. Topher's backtracking within the river had caused the Shepherd to lose the man's scent again—which the wily bastard had counted on. But Ruger refused to give up. He worked the opposite bank, sniffing through the drenched moss and rotting leaves that bound another sixty-degree turn of the rushing stream. The Shepherd froze, then lifted his head, ears perked as he cocked it to the side—just before he swung to his left and tore off.

Despite her throbbing shoulder and utter exhaustion, Kate grinned as she climbed out of the water. Seasoned Air Force Security Services dog handler or not, Topher Strom was doomed. The man just didn't know it yet.

But as Kate resumed running, she accepted that this wouldn't be an easy takedown, especially for Ruger. With the drizzle finally ebbing and dawn beginning to blush up and lighten the clouds above, she could make out the faint lines of a flat-roofed, triple-storied stone structure in the distance.

It appeared to be an abandoned mill.

As Kate closed in on the crumbling building, she spotted the flash of Ruger's tail as he bolted through the yawning double doorway at the left. The vestiges of her grin seared off as she caught the cacophony swelling up from behind the mill. Waterlogged eardrums or not, there was no mistaking it. That growing thwop, thwop, thwop could only be coming from a set of giant, mechanical blades that had been fired up and were beginning to spin.

Topher had had access to a chopper?

Shit.

Ruger was good, but he'd yet to encounter a suspect fleeing toward a waiting helicopter. Nor had she even thought about pitting the dog's tenacious tracking skills against the beastly, up-close thunder of a mainstay of combat. Not with Ruger destined to remain in Arkansas.

Topher had considered the scenario, though. And given who he was, not to mention the man's Army lineage, she should have expected it.

This was her mistake.

Worse, from the decibels cutting through her ears as she followed the Shepherd deeper into the clearing, she was willing to bet her newly minted Arkansas State Police special investigator's badge and Ruger's slightly older police K-9 quals that the chopper on the far side of that massive stone structure was well on its way to becoming warmed up and ready for takeoff. Given Topher's family history, it was probably an old H-6 Vietnam-era Little Bird.

As Kate reached the mill's yawning double doorway, she spotted a six-foot, generously muscled male twenty feet off her right, near the bottom rungs of a wrought-iron emergency ladder bolted down the side of the building. But while that loitering, denim-clad figure was black, he was far too young to be Topher Strom. Ruger had discounted the decoy, as well. Her partner's certainty was seated in those extraordinary olfactory receptors: this man was not the source of the odor on the T-shirt she'd waved under his nose more than half an hour ago.

Kate zeroed in on the trail of muddy paw prints tamping through the dust and dirt that caked the shadowy cement inside. She followed the prints up a waiting set of cracked steps—and then another. Vaulting out onto the mill's flat-topped roof, she spotted Ruger forty feet away, near the anchored end of a repelling rope tossed down the far wall.

The rope was naked.

Worse, not only had she been correct regarding that H-6, but the antiquated Little Bird was rising and already cutting sharply across the roof's edge due to the power lines that crowded the far side of the building. Ruger snarled out his fury as the chopper skimmed overhead—mere feet out of his reach.

And Topher?

The man didn't just have access to the chopper, he could fly the damned thing. The whites of the wily goat's eyes and that shit-eating grin glinted victoriously from within the pilot's side window. Topher had the nerve to tack on a taunting wave before he veered off toward the river where she'd almost drowned herself.

Grudging acceptance plunked in. The chase was over.

She and Ruger had lost.

Not that her partner had ceded defeat.

Before Kate could open her mouth to call him to heel beneath the din of the blades, the Shepherd bolted past her, barreling down both sets of stone steps on his way out of the mill even as she realized why. The bird had cleared the far side and was dipping low. Topher had chosen to land shy of the river to conduct their debrief instead of completing what would have been an admittedly impressive escape.

Kate vaulted into Ruger's wake and headed down the steps at double time, hoping to catch up to watch the beginnings of the takedown Topher had gifted them. But by the time she reached the ground floor and had cleared the mill's doorway, her four-legged partner had latched onto the upper right arm of the bite suit his prey had donned after he'd scampered down that repelling rope and was already dragging the man out of his seat. And that seat? It was located at the back of the belly of the chopper.

Topher had pulled another fast one. They hadn't been chasing the school's owner but an associate of his.

The switch-up did not affect her partner.

As Kate closed in, the dog continued to tug roughly one hundred sixty pounds of human sinew out the open side doorway of the Little Bird. Ruger then dug his equally powerful canine legs into the mossy mud and rocks as he moved backward, paw over paw, until he'd dragged his prize into the freezing water.

She didn't know whether to call the dog off or give in to the laughter that bubbled up. She settled for letting her partner get in a few more seconds of that precious gotcha reward, then called, "Out," over the slowing thwop of the Little Bird's stunted blades.

The Shepherd immediately released his bite and leaped out of the water. He remained on guard at the edge of the riverbank, his steely stare and deep growl focused on the thirty-something man lumbering up to his feet, wincing and massaging his right biceps through the padded and thoroughly drenched bite suit.

Kate slogged in and read their true prey his rights as the fifty-year-old goat she'd thought they'd been chasing bailed out of the pilot's seat.

Topher waved up the young man she'd spotted at the side of the mill earlier to escort their "arrestee" to a four-wheeler waiting at the side of the mill. As Kate praised and then distracted her partner, their former prey doffed the bite suit, hopped aboard the ATV and drove off.

Exercise officially complete, the recently retired Air Force master sergeant who'd phoned the previous week to invite her to help work out the kinks for his coming K-9 course for law enforcement joined Kate and Ruger on the mossy bank.

Topher was still grinning. "That was bloody fantastic!"

She grinned back. "It was. I haven't had that much fun in a long time."

The man's satisfaction gleamed amid the spreading dawn. "You do look a little worse for the wear, though. But so did Mike. He's a Ranger buddy of mine. I wasn't sure I could get the old bird flying in time for this morning's debut, but when I did, Mike offered to play prey so I could take it up for y'all. I don't know if you noticed, but Mike was belted into that seat! I still can't believe your pup managed to pop the latch and haul him out. If you hadn't called him off, pretty sure he would've drowned the guy."

Kate laughed as she brought Ruger to heel at her left before putting him at ease. "Great job, buddy." She caught the pride in his gorgeous light brown stare as she ruffled his ears and continued to praise him for a job well done. 'Though you do know Master Sergeant Strom gave us that finish, right?"

Which she appreciated. Not only had Ruger wanted that bite, but after a half-hour chase, he deserved it.

Still riding the high of the run, plus his fantastic takedown, her saturated monster shook at least a gallon of water from his fur—most of it soaking into her already waterlogged pants and jacket—before he settled his tush down beside her left boot. Then again, her lovable mutt also had the decency to slurp the splatter he'd caused from the back of her hand before giving it a swift nose bump.

Topher shook his head at the dog's antics, then looked at her. "You two are quite the pair. I'm thrilled you were willing to give up sleeping in on a Saturday to drive up here. So, what did you think of the rabbit run? Will my customers get their money's worth?"

And then some. He'd earned her respect, too. "Let's just say that the finishing act with the Little Bird was unexpected." Though, in retrospect, it shouldn't have been. "You mentioned on the phone that your granddad flew for Uncle Sam. Still, you could've let me know you had a chopper—and could pilot it."

His grin flashed wider. "Now, where would the fun be in that? Not to mention the training. Always expect the unexpected, Special Agent Holland—always." The man who'd spent thirty years handling working dogs for the Air Force tipped his thinning, silvering curls toward the true star of the morning. "It'll keep you and that amazing pup alive. And he is amazing. That guy you've got there was sharp and forward-thinking enough to have realized he might get a second crack at Mike the moment the bird decreased altitude. I don't know if you cleared the door of the mill in time to see him in action, but Ruger jumped into the chopper's belly before the skids hit the moss. That's what I live to see: handlers and dogs who can deal with the unconventional and the unexpected. And if they can't?" The hefty shoulders beneath the man's dark green coveralls pushed up. "Well, that's my goal: to help teach it." He glanced at this part of the rushing river, then to the dilapidated mill a good hundred yards across the clearing. "That's why I jumped at the chance to pick up this property. Not only does it butt up against my grandaddy's old place—it offers so many interesting training possibilities. I just need to convince the county to move those damned power lines, so I have a bit more wiggle room when I'm making my grand escape."

That exfil had been grand, all right, if perilously close to the roof.

Hell, this morning's entire exercise had been spectacular.

Kate reached down to ruffle those irresistible ears again. When her shrink had phoned earlier in the week to let her know he needed to reschedule this morning's therapy session because his daughter had delivered his first grandchild early via an emergency C-section, she'd called Topher back and accepted this invite. At first, she'd been happy simply to help a fellow vet get his venture off the ground, especially one recently retired from teaching at the military's working dog school. She should've known she'd learn more in one hour with Topher Strom than during the week-long civilian class she'd completed with Ruger.

Though, admittedly, they'd both been dryer and warmer then.

"If you need a review to post on your website once it's live, let me know. We'll definitely be giving this morning four paws up, right buddy?"

Ruger sounded off with a timely chuff, causing that gleaming grin of Topher's to reappear as its owner glanced past her shoulder.

"You catch all that, Efrem?"

"Yep—and like you, I am in awe of that pup."

Efrem? Joy exploded as Kate spun about to find a pair of handsome black men walking toward them. The younger one had been their decoy and had escorted their prey off earlier. But the darker-toned one holding that silvery Mylar blanket and sporting a crop of shocking, snow-white hair? He was the father of one of her most precious friends in junior high, plus two tours in Afghanistan.

"Efrem!"

Ty's father threw those camouflage-covered arms of his wide as she chewed up the remaining distance to fling herself into them. She burrowed her face in the man's quivering chest as they squeezed their way through a three-and-a-half-year absence brought on by the horrific suicide of this man's only son.

She pulled back, patting the camouflaged jacket that was now as drenched as her entire body, then swiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. "It's so good to see you. But what are you doing here? And why didn't you call to let me know you were coming? Are you home for good? Or just visiting?"

The lines that had been added to his face since they'd seen each other last cratered in as he laughed. "Whoa, there. That's quite a grilling, Katie. A person might think you'd just been sworn in as the governor's spanking new special investigator."

"Funny." She smacked his arm. In part to get even with that smirk but mainly because she was driven to move to keep from shaking.

Now that the chase was over and the added adrenaline from the takedown had begun to ebb, she was freezing.

Efrem caught the shiver that escaped and shook out the Mylar blanket he carried, wrapping it around her shoulders and crunching up the silvery ends with his left hand to pull it snug as he spoke. "That wasn't meant to be a joke. 'Cause my pride is a serious thing. Being a fellow former grunt, you know that." He used his right hand to lift her chin. "Congratulations, Special Agent Holland. I've been keeping tabs on you from afar, especially since that damned Garbage Man case. You have been on fire ever since. I'm not surprised Leahy snapped you up."

"He told you." After all, this man had once worked for her new boss. It stood to reason that Captain Leahy had stayed in touch even after Efrem had retired as a K-9 handler with the State Police following his son's suicide.

Efrem relinquished his grip on the Mylar to hers. "That he did." He glanced down at the saturated running pants that covered her legs. "You got it on you?"

"Yep."

"Well, let me see the dang thing."

Holding the Mylar with her left hand, she reached around with her right to unzip the pouch she'd clipped to her waist an hour earlier. She fingered her way behind her holstered Glock 26 to wrestle her State Police credentials free.

She held them out.

Efrem snatched up the leather bifold and flipped it open to study the gold shield glinting within. His smile deepened as he winked down at her. "Shiny."

It should be. She laughed as she returned the badge to the pouch. She'd been sworn in less than twenty-four hours earlier. Arash had left work early to join the sheriff and the rest of her former fellow deputies with the Braxton PD to watch as Leahy had arrived to administer the oath before handing off her badge and State gear. Her new boss had needed to return to Little Rock, and Arash was scheduled to continue on up to Fayetteville so he could escort his widowed aunt to an awards dinner. But her old boss and the rest of the station had hung around to share the frosted vanilla cake Lou's wife had baked for her and Ruger. The impromptu party would've been that much sweeter with Efrem in attendance.

But the man was here now. Finally. "Well? Are you here to stay?"

That dark, leathery visage nodded firmly—and she let go of the edges of the Mylar to launch herself back into his arms.

"Yes! Lord, I've missed you." She reached up to buss his left cheek.

He patted hers. "Me too, Katie. I'm sorry I had to leave. Part of me didn't want to, but the other part needed it, ya know? Seeing my boy in that casket? I'm not proud of it, but I caved into the urge, and I ran. It didn't matter where I was going. I just couldn't be here—mere miles from where Ty had ended it. And I know I should've called now and then. But you two were so close for so many years…I guess I needed space from you, too."

Hell, back when Ty had shoved the front sight of his sidearm into his mouth and pulled the trigger? She'd needed space herself. "I understand. But I am so glad you're home. Have you kicked the renters out of your house in Searcy yet?"

"Well, now, I'm still thinking through the logistics. As much as I enjoyed the last few years with the South African police, I'm tired of standing in front of the classroom. I need to work with the dogs again. I even thought about getting a new pup and contracting us out once he was up to snuff. But then Topher called two weeks back and asked if I was ready to come home. When he told me he had a proposition of his own, I agreed to come out and take a peek at this place. He convinced me to stay on. I'm gonna help out as he buys his first few dogs and raises them. See how I like it. Who knows? Might find this just as rewarding."

"I get that." But, "You've been back for a week?" He could've made yesterday's State Police swearing-in and impromptu party, after all.

The man nodded. "Yeah, I was gonna call to see if you could get together, but then I saw your name on Topher's schedule for today. I asked him to keep quiet." That beautiful smile that was so much like Ty's split in. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Oh, you did." But she wasn't the only one who was shocked. Ruger was looking up at her, then Efrem, then back to her, puzzled by the familiarity and love he could feel radiating off her toward this strange—at least, to him—man.

Efrem chuckled at the dog's bemusement. "So, I've just seen your handsome fellow in action. Do you have another guy in the wings yet? One with two legs?"

She smiled. "I might." Although she and Arash were in a bit of a holding pattern physically until she'd completed her final three sessions of therapy for her PTSD. That, and Arash felt that she needed time to work out her notice with the Braxton PD and see to Ruger's qualifications—and learn the ropes for her new job. He was right. It was…a lot. "Arash is a detective with the Mazelle PD and a major in the Reserves. He's out of town this weekend, but if you drive down for dinner this coming weekend, I might introduce the two of you. I can put you up in my guest cabin if you have an extra day or two on your hands. I have something I'd planned to mail to South Africa. Arash helped me put it together. But now that you're back, I can pass the gift off in person."

"Gift?" The man's puzzlement furrowed those frosted brows, then cleared as they nudged up on pure hope. "You've got more photos of Ty?"

"Loads more. Arash and I cleaned out my dad's room so we could remodel it. I had my Army footlocker in there." Like Efrem, she'd tried to run from the memories within. But with Arash's support, she'd sorted through the photos she'd taken with her 35mm camera. Quite a few were of Ty and his beloved bomb dog. "I gathered enough new shots of Ty and Volt to fill another book."

"Oh, I'd love to have that. We can work out the details in a few minutes. But first—" He tipped his head toward the mill. "Topher's got a bathroom in there. It's off the main stairs. Nothing fancy, but the toilet works, and the shower has hot water. You'll find a stack of dry towels on the bench and the duffle containing the clean clothes you swapped for that dirty shirt of Don's to wave beneath your dog's nose earlier."

Hot running water and a clean towel? That was more pampering than she'd ever gotten while roughing it out in the field with Uncle Sam. She glanced down over the Mylar to her muddy pants and equally bedraggled mutt. "What do you say, partner?"

His filthy tail thumped against her equally filthy left boot.

She laughed. "Sold. I'll skip the heads-up about the chopper in my coming online review, but I'll absolutely mention the hot shower perk."

"We appreciate that, Kate." Topher.

The retired master sergeant's left hand was hooked proudly to the right shoulder of the human decoy she and Ruger had discounted earlier. This close and with dawn making headway, she could tell the decoy was younger than she'd assumed. Fifteen, sixteen. And with that sculpted nose, strong cheeks and full lips so close to those of Topher's, he had to be—

"My son, Brandon. He wasn't in the welcome shack when you came in to drop off your bag and pick up the scent—for obvious reasons. I needed to use Brandon out here. Mike was a one-off favor, so I'll be using Bran more and more until he leaves for college. But, thankfully, he's still a sophomore, so that's a ways off."

"Hi." The burly high-schooler stepped forward, greeting hand outstretched. It faltered a bit as his gaze dropped to her right cheek to take in the mishmash of scars, but his eyes radiated curiosity more than sympathy. And he quickly snapped his focus back up.

Two courtesies that consistently scored extra points with her.

"Hi, yourself." She soothed the teen's embarrassment at getting caught peeking with an open grin. "I'm Kate—and this gorgeous guy is Ruger." Gripping the edges of the Mylar in her left hand, she wiped her right down her running pants before she met Brandon's cleaner palm. "Sorry. Still a bit muddy."

The teen looked a lot like Ruger had as he preened. "That just means this morning worked." He glanced down at her dog. "He is gorgeous. Do you mind?"

Kate nodded her permission.

The teen hunkered down, eager to make friends. Unfortunately, Ruger was not quite as enthusiastic, if at all.

Greeting rejected, she shot Brandon a consoling smile as he rose. "Sorry. He's not a fan of most human males. I think it's based in his early days, though I can't be sure. He'd hit six months before we found each other."

Both father and son whistled low.

The son added words to his. "You found this guy?"

"Yep." She relayed a truncated, heard the shot, saw him out behind her cabin story, which caused the teen to hunker down again, fury heating the mocha in those thickly lashed eyes.

The ire wasn't directed at Ruger but at the bastard who'd shot him and taken off. "Some people shouldn't be allowed near a dog—ever."

Oddly, Ruger responded to the young man this time. Or perhaps that cautious sniff wasn't surprising after all. The Shepherd had to feel the rest of the emotions within the teen kneeling on the moss, gazing at him. She was surprised when Ruger rewarded the kid's open wonder with a lifted, muddy right paw and a polite shake.

"Awesome." Brandon beamed as he stood. "I want to be a vet."

"That's fantastic." With a patient, pup-side manner like his and a lot of hard work, he'd make a great one.

The teen's father, not to mention the holder of those thirty years of Air Force experience, stared at the reconstructed section of her collarbone as he stepped forward. "You didn't aggravate those old war wounds, did you, Chief?"

She stopped rubbing, lowering her hand as she shook off his concern. "It's my fault. I wasn't paying attention. I took a tumble in the river on the way here." Her wet clothes and the persistent, chilly breeze weren't helping.

Topher cocked his head toward the mill. "So, that's a yes on the hot shower offer?"

"Absolutely." For her and Ruger. "I'll just—"

She swallowed the rest as her phone trilled from inside the zippered pouch at the small of her back. A weird mix of excitement and dread spiraled in at the ringtone. That wasn't the tone she'd assigned to Arash. It belonged to her new boss.

"Gentlemen, excuse me." She included all three in her nod as she stepped away, slipping her right hand beneath the Mylar to unzip her pouch again.

She didn't need to call Ruger to heel. The Shepherd was already beside her, keeping pace on her left as she moved far enough out toward the bend in the river to answer the State Police captain's call in private. A necessity, since whatever Leahy was about to say would not be for public consumption. At least not yet.

According to the hands on the dive watch strapped to her wrist, it was six forty-five in the morning on a sleepy Saturday. This call would be all business.

And there was an excellent chance it involved murder.