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Search and Detect

By Terri Reed

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ONE
Singing with gusto, Zoe Jenkins stood at her kitchen counter with a plethora of paleo-friendly ingredients spread out before her. The rhythmic banging of a plastic spoon against a plastic tray underscored Zoe’s melody. Nine-month-old Kylie’s chubby little legs and arms waved happily from her high chair, a vision in soft pink in the middle of the cheery yellow kitchen.
A sharp contrast to the weather outside.
The day was gray and chilly. Late fall in Wyoming could bring snowfall and freezing temperatures. So far, the weather had been holding at gloomy.
But life was good right now. Zoe’s business was taking off, and she had Kylie. What more could she need?
The whisper of loneliness and quiet anxiety of raising a child alone stirred within her, but she wouldn’t give them any ground, too afraid if she gave in, she’d end up weeping on the floor.
She wiped her brow with her forearm as she stifled a yawn. A glance at the clock confirmed it was nearly time to put Kylie down for her morning nap. Today Zoe would take advantage and rest, too.
Fatigue pulled at her. She was definitely burning the wick at both ends. In addition to being a single mom, she worked part-time at the Elk Valley Community Hospital as a registered dietitian helping patients with specific dietary needs. She also ran her own special dietary needs catering business out of her home. To top it off, she was spearheading the upcoming Elk Valley High School multi-generation reunion.
Raising her daughter alone meant juggling multiple responsibilities.
But it was better this way. There was freedom in being alone.
Again, a whisper of discontent knocked at her consciousness. She ignored the annoying sensation.
She’d learned not to rely on anyone except God. A familiar bubble of anger clogged her throat. She quickly took several calming breaths and forced the hurt and resentment back into its cage deep in her heart. Being dumped by her ex-husband five days after Kylie’s birth had been a low blow.
Best to concentrate on the fact she had a growing clientele who kept her busy. She created delicious meals and delivered them to her clients’ doorsteps, which allowed her to work mostly from home and be with Kylie.
As she handed Kylie a slice of banana, Zoe’s gaze snagged on the stack of flyers for the upcoming reunion. There was still so much to do.
Her small committee had been working for months to put this event together. Despite the fact there were those in town who thought having a reunion with the Rocky Mountain Killer still on the loose wasn’t a good idea.
But the town needed to heal.
She’d been mourning her brother’s death for ten long years. Seth had been one of the RMK’s first victims.
It was time to honor those they’d lost and bring the town back together.
Or maybe she just needed this event to heal from her own heartache.
Kylie fussed, her cherub face scrunching up, a clear signal she was ready to be released from the high chair.
“Okay, sweetie pea,” Zoe said. “I just need to fill one more box and then it’ll be naptime.”
She wrapped the prepared meal she’d made in cellophane and placed it inside a white catering box. She shut the lid, smiling at the sight of her business logo. A bright green Z above the words The Au Courant Chef—Zoe Jenkins. She set the box in the refrigerator next to several others. Later today she would bag the boxes up and drive them over to her client, Mayor Singh.
The trill of her landline startled her. She stared at the instrument sitting on the other end of the counter. Who would be calling her on that phone?
On the advice of her pediatrician, she’d had a landline installed after Kylie was born. Dr. Webb had said he always recommended one to new parents. Cell phones could run out of battery and be unavailable in the case of an emergency. However, a landline would always provide 911 with a physical address of where to send emergency personnel. She didn’t have an answering machine set up and didn’t intend to. She wanted the landline for calls out, not in.
Probably spam.
She ignored the ringing.
The phone went silent but started up again a few seconds later.
The insistent noise hammered at Zoe, grating on her nerves.
She quickly washed her hands. By the time she turned the water off the phone had gone silent again. She breathed out a sigh of relief.
After packing the rest of the ingredients into the refrigerator, she moved to release Kylie from the high chair.
The ringing started up for a third time.
“Someone is sure persistent,” Zoe said aloud. She stared at the phone. Unease slithered down her spine. Would they just keep calling until she answered? That would seriously mess with naptime.
With a growl of frustration, she grabbed the receiver. “Hello?” She couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice.
There was a brief silence then a stream of distorted maniacal laughter, like from a creepy recording of a horror movie, filled her ear. Zoe held the phone away from her as the unnerving sound continued.
“Ugh!” Zoe slammed the receiver down.
Prank call.
The world had turned upside down, and someone thought it would be funny to harass her on the landline. Someone needed to get a life.
Unsettled and beyond annoyed, Zoe picked Kylie up from the high chair and hugged her close. Singing a soothing tune, hoping to keep them both calm enough to nap, she carried Kylie to the nursery at the other end of the long hallway on the opposite side of the house.
The nursery was filled with fanciful motifs in bright cheery colors. Framed castles and unicorns and fields of flowers covered the walls. A white crib with bright pink and yellow bedding, a changing table painted in teal blue, and a comfy rocking chair in cream with a floral print pillow sat beneath the window. A comfy and cozy space. The room brought Zoe joy. As did her daughter.
At the changing table, she continued to sing as she prepped Kylie for a nap.
A loud boom, low and deep, ricocheted through the house, rocking Zoe back on her heels. The entire house violently shook. Shock and fear exploded within her. She clutched a wailing Kylie to her chest and dove to the floor, covering her baby with her body.
Oh God, spare us.
*
“Where are we on locating—” The sound of a distant explosion rattled the windows and raised the fine hairs on the back of FBI Special Agent Chase Rawlston.
He stood at the head of the conference room table in the Elk Valley Police Department for a task force meeting. The space had become the headquarters of the Mountain Country K-9 Unit. Sitting around the table were several of the men and women from various law enforcement agencies that made up the team tasked with locating and stopping a serial killer they’d dubbed the Rocky Mountain Killer.
The reign of terror had begun right here ten years ago in Chase’s hometown of Elk Valley, Wyoming. Three young men, all recent grads of the high school, members of the Young Rancher’s Club, had been murdered on Valentine’s Day. Lured to a barn and shot dead. After that, the case had gone cold and a decade passed. But several months ago, murders in nearby states had the mark of the same killer. —the victims were men originally from Elk Valley and connected in some way to the Young Rancher’s Club.
The door to the conference room banged open and an Elk Valley police officer filled the open space. “There’s been an explosion at a residence downtown.”
Chase started moving while he said to the team, “Grab your gear and your K-9s. We need to find out what happened.”
Everyone scrambled from their chairs to head to their assigned desks. Heart hammering with dread at the thought of the possible loss of life, Chase hustled out of the conference room ahead of the team.
“Could this be the RMK?” Deputy US Marshal Meadow Ames asked. Tall and fit from running, Meadow hailed from Glacierville, Montana, but was in Elk Valley to help with the RMK case. She, like several of the other team members, was staying at the Elk Valley Château until they closed the case.
“Not his MO.” Detective Bennett Ford replied. Before joining the task force, Bennett had been with the Denver Police Department and still resided in Colorado but was also in town to help with the case. He was now married to the sister of one of their prime suspects. Chase had no doubt the strain on Naomi Carr-Ford was immense knowing that her brother, Evan Carr, was a wanted man.
But Evan wasn’t their only suspect. The task force had discovered Ryan York had both means and motive. The man had a Glock 17 registered to him. A gun that could have fired the 9mm bullets used by the RMK. Matching slugs had been found at all the crime scenes, though investigators had never found the murder weapon. Chase had his sights set on Ryan as the culprit.
But both men had gone into hiding.
“He’s changed his MO once already by stabbing a note into his latest victims’ chests. Why not use a bomb?” Elk Valley Officer Rocco Manelli pointed out as he hustled by. The local police officer who had followed in his father’s footsteps had been a big asset to the task force. Rocco’s father had been in on the original investigation into the Rocky Mountain Killer before dying of a heart attack with the case unsolved. Rocco had a personal interest in helping to bring RMK to justice.
Chase grabbed his flak vest and sidearm. His K-9 partner, a seven-year-old golden retriever named Dash, jumped up from the bed in the corner of the office clearly eager for some action.
“You ready to work?” Chase asked the dog. They had been partners since Dash was two years old. And Dash was trained in explosives detection, apprehension, and protection.
Chase quickly leashed the K-9 and they headed out of the police department. The wail of sirens assaulted his ears. Smoke rose in the air, a dark plume that signaled destruction and stirred memories Chase had fought to lock away.
A deep grief slammed into him, nearly making him stumble as he and Dash ran several blocks toward the scene. He pushed thoughts of his late wife and child aside. He needed to stay focused and on his feet. Main Street in Elk Valley was slippery on this wet and cold late October day.
The temptation to pray, to ask God for there to be no casualties was strong, but Chase couldn’t bring himself to do it. The chasm was too wide between him and God. And filled with hurt and sorrow.
With the team close on his heels, Chase skidded to a halt and drew in a sharp breath. The air was tinged with acid smoke. The left side of a small Cape Cod–style house located on a tree-lined street just off the main drag running the length of Elk Valley had been destroyed. Dash pulled at his lead and Chase followed. Dash led him toward the back northwest corner to what would have once been the kitchen and alerted. Some kind of incendiary device had been used.
Chase reeled Dash’s leash in. He didn’t want the dog to get burned by the flames licking at the sides of the house.
Concerned that there might have been occupants inside at the time of the explosion with no opportunity to escape, Chase redirected Dash toward the front door. Locked. Chase stepped back and then planted his foot with enough force against the door to bust the lock and send the door swinging open.
“Search,” Chase said to Dash.
The golden retriever darted to the end of the lead, pulling Chase toward the far end of the house. Keeping a hand on his weapon, Chase stayed close to Dash as the dog moved straight to a room at the end of the hall that was quickly filling with insidious, dark wisps of smoke. A nursery. His stomach clenched. He fought back a sharp stab of grief.
A young woman lay crumpled on the floor beneath a chunk of the ceiling that had fallen. He could hear a baby crying.
His heart contracted painfully in his chest. Was the mother dead? Swiftly, he pushed aside the piece of plaster. “Ma’am?”
The woman didn’t move. The baby continued to cry, its pitiful wails muffled by the mother, whose dark brown hair fanned out, shielding her face.
With his heart beating in his throat, Chase knelt to touch the woman, hoping to find a heartbeat. Dash sat and whined as if he too were worried.
The moment Chase’s fingers made contact with the woman’s throat, she screamed and scuttled away from him, taking her child with her.
On his haunches, Chase raised his hands and stared into the dark, panicked eyes of a beautiful woman, clutching a baby girl to her chest. “Whoa, easy now. I’m with the FBI. I’m here to help.”
The woman blinked, seeming to come out of her frantic state. She stared at Dash then back at Chase. “What happened?”
“Your kitchen exploded,” Chase told her. He held out his hand. “Let’s get you and the baby out of here.”
The woman tilted her head as she stared at Chase. “I know you.”
Chase had the sensation that he knew her, too, only he couldn’t put a name to the face. But in a small town, everybody seemed to know everybody.
“You can trust me,” he said.
She cocked an eyebrow. He thought for a moment she was going to resist, but then she held out her hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. The baby pointed at Dash, babbling something that sounded like doggy.
Tamping down the swell of emotions rising through him, Chase tugged the woman and her child out of the room. Placing a protective arm around her shoulders, he guided her out of the house the way he’d come in. The smoke was thickening as more of the house caught fire.
The woman gasped at the sight of the destruction to her home. But he hustled her away before she could ask questions. He didn’t have answers, and they needed to let the fire department get in and investigate.
Two paramedics rushed forward.
“They were in the house,” Chase told them.
“We’ll take care of them,” the female paramedic said as she took hold of the woman and child, guiding them toward the ambulance bay.
Protective instincts surged. Chase wanted to accompany them, but he knew his place was not at their side. He turned his focus to the smoldering house.
“Do you know who that is?” Officer Ashley Hanson—now Officer McNeal—asked as she came to a halt next to him. Beside her stood her K-9 Ozzy, a black lab specializing in tracking.
Chase stared at the local cop who had been thrust onto his task force by her FBI honcho father. Chase hadn’t been totally on board with the idea of a rookie being a part of the team, but she’d proven herself, and now Chase was thankful for her presence.
“I don’t. But I should. Right?”
“Zoe Jenkins.”
Chase’s stomach dropped. The sister of Seth Jenkins. One of the three RMK victims from ten years ago. Along with his friends Aaron Anderson and Brad Kingsley.
It made sense that Zoe would recognize him considering he was the head of the task force created to uncover and capture the RMK. But he’d never met her; other members of the team had interviewed her as part of the investigation. She was familiar, though, whether because he’d seen her photo in the RMK file or that they’d both grown up in Elk Valley.
“Do you think the RMK is out to get her because of her brother?” Ian Carpenter asked. A former sheriff’s deputy who’d spent time in the witness protection program, Ian had been recruited to join the task force, and he and Meadow were now engaged.
“We don’t know that the RMK is in Elk Valley.” Chase knew that the killer had traveled to Utah where one of his targets—the main target—lived now, but Trevor had eluded the RMK and was now in a safe house with his fiancée, a member of the task force. The RMK would not give up, though. That much Chase knew.
He saw the fire chief heading toward the house.
“Do a canvas of the area to see if anybody saw suspicious activity in the last day or so,” Chase instructed the team.
He and Dash took off toward the fire chief.
“Heard you rescued a woman and child from the house,” Fire Chief Fred Hawkins said.
“This wasn’t an ordinary fire,” Chase told the man. “Dash alerted. Northwest corner. I’m sure you’ll find an incendiary device. I want it when you’re done with your investigation.”
“You got it.”
“Good. I’ll send my tech around to collect the evidence.”
The fire chief nodded and went back to work. Chase gazed at the house, then turned slowly, searching the area for any sign of someone too interested in the results of his handiwork. Residents all up and down the street had come out of their homes. Who had it out for Zoe Jenkins? Was this the work of the RMK? But that would mean the killer was back in town.
His gaze zeroed in on Zoe and her child settling into the back of the ambulance. A rush of concern hit him square in the chest. He and Dash hustled over. He climbed into the back and sat next to the paramedic without preamble.
“What are you doing?” Zoe asked.
“I need answers.” Chase wasn’t about to let Zoe Jenkins out of his sight. If the Rocky Mountain Killer was after the sister of one of his early victims, this might be the break they needed.

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