Pierce
Dale Mayer
PIERCE
The K9 Files, Book 2
Dale Mayer
Table of Contents
Title Page
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
About Zane
Author’s Note
Complimentary Download
About the Author
Copyright Page
About This Book
Just because helping out is the right thing to do doesn’t make it easy …
Pierce is on the hunt for Salem, a K9 military dog that belonged to Pete, a veteran, who can no longer look after himself or the dog. So the dog has been handed from owner to owner—until she’s become too much to handle—and now the law is involved. No one has Salem’s best interests in mind … and they definitely don’t have Pete’s either. Pierce is about to change all that … whether they like it or not.
Hedi, a young deputy, has lived in Arrowhead, Colorado, all her life and knows Pete and Salem but was helpless to do much when greed overtook his friends and family. She recognizes in Pierce the same qualities that Pete has, and, by Pierce’s actions alone, she knows a corner has been turned. She also understands the locals won’t take it lying down, and this means war …
Pierce served his country overseas for many years, and seeing another veteran in trouble makes him realize the fight isn’t over, even after life in the navy ends. In fact, this battle has just begun. But … this one … Pierce will finish. And he plans to win.
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Chapter 1
Pierce Carlton took the next exit onto Highway 14, heading to Fort Collins. He wondered what he’d gotten himself into by agreeing to look for Salem, a black female German shepherd who might or might not be missing.
In theory, handlers and dogs weren’t supposed to get too attached. Pierce had snorted the first time he’d heard that because how could one not?
Still, this dog was last seen in the community of Arrowhead outside of Fort Collins. Hence Pierce’s stop here. If he remembered right, a small café was along this main boulevard that had absolutely the best apple pie you could buy. He pulled up to the café called Marge’s. If ever a name could make you think of apple pie, it was a name like that. He went in and smiled. Right in front of him was a large glass case with lots of what looked to be homemade baked desserts.
His stomach growled.
A portly woman walked toward him. “Well, that’s a sound I like to hear.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Please don’t tell me that you can hear my stomach from all the way over there,” he joked.
She smiled and nodded. “My ears are trained for that. Come on in and take a seat. We’ll get some food in that belly.”
But he didn’t want to leave the glass case in front of him. “What’s the deal with all these treats?”
“Well, they’re for sale,” she said. “Is that what you mean?”
“Are they fresh-baked? Home-baked? Or brought in from a city somewhere?”
“I bake all my own pies here,” she said proudly. “I’m Aunt Marge.” She held out a big beefy arm and a rotund muscly hand.
He gave it a good shake and knew she did the baking herself from the strength of those arms alone. “So is there real food too, or do I just eat apple pie for the entire meal?”
“Nope, you’re gonna sit down and have a good-size burger and some fries, and then we’ll give you a piece of pie to top it off.”
He hadn’t been terribly hungry when he walked in, but just the sound of that made his mouth water. Obligingly he went to the table she pointed out and sat down. Within seconds he had a hot cup of coffee in front of him.
“What brings you into our town?” she asked.
“What makes you think I’m not a local?” he asked, looking around. “I heard you have the best pies around, but I haven’t been here in many years.”
“This is a small community. I know every person who lives here. The rest are mostly passing through.”
“Well, if they know about all those baked goods under that glass,” he said, “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if everybody goes out of their way to come here.”
She chuckled. “Enough that I make a fine living,” she said with a smirk, and she disappeared into the kitchen in the back. He could hear her talking to somebody and wondered if this was a mom-and-pop place. She came back out soon with cutlery and a glass of water. “You never answered my question.”
“I’m tracking down a dog,” he said.
“Purebred? For breeding?”
Surprised by that line of questioning, he shook his head. “No, she’s a War Dog, shipped home with her handler. He had to have multiple surgeries, then ended up in a rehabilitation center and wasn’t able to leave. Since he couldn’t live on his own, the dog got lost somewhere in all that.”
“Pete Lowery,” she said abruptly.
Startled, he looked up at her. “Sorry?”
“Are you looking for Pete Lowery’s dog, Salem?”
Pierce frowned, pulled out his phone, checked the notes and said, “Yes, I am.” He twisted to look at her. “Do you know where the dog is?”
“It attacked somebody,” she said, staring at him hard.
He didn’t know what she was looking for, but her gaze searched his as if to see which way he would go on the issue. His heart sank. “Seriously?”
She nodded, her face grave. “I’m not sure what happened, but she bit a man in the leg,” she said. “She might still be at the police security yard, locked up. There was some talk about putting her down, but I haven’t heard the outcome on that.”
“Who could I talk to about it?”
“You’ll have to speak to the sheriff,” she said. “Give him about a half hour, and he’ll probably pop in here for coffee and pie.” And, with a smirk, she left again.
Pierce slowly stirred his black coffee to help it cool and wondered what would make a dog like that attack someone. Most likely a scenario where the dog was cornered and felt threatened or somebody she cared about was threatened. Pierce frowned, thinking about that until Aunt Marge returned with a heaping plateful of a burger and fries. Curious, he asked, “Do you know the story behind the dog attack?”
“Something to do with Pete’s brother, I think,” she said. “Ross said two guys were just talking to him, and apparently the shepherd took a dislike to one of them and attacked him.”
“Dogs often see a threat we don’t quite understand,” Pierce said.
“I don’t know all the details,” she said with a shrug, walking to the counter, returning with mustard and ketchup.
He nodded his thanks, picked up a fry and crunched it. He loved crispy fries. And these were hot and tasty. He dumped ketchup on his plate and plowed through the fries. When he was almost done with them, he picked up the burger and slowly ate the beefy sandwich.
The meal was excellent. He’d come back just for the food. Aunt Marge returned once more, refilled his coffee and his water, but she didn’t stop to talk this time. A couple other customers came and went, so the work was steady but not terribly busy. Pierce was about done with his burger, putting the last of it into his mouth, when a sheriff’s car drove up. Pierce wondered at the timing. The sheriff was a bit early today apparently. Aunt Marge greeted him as he sat down and poured him a cup of coffee, then pointed at Pierce and said, “He needs to talk to you about Salem.”
The sh
eriff snorted. “If there was ever a dog that deserved a bullet, it’s her.” He looked straight at Pierce and said, “If you come to collect her, you’re too late. Somebody already stole her from the yard.”
Aunt Marge gasped. “What? Now who’d do that?”
Peirce studied the sheriff’s face. “Any idea who or when?”
“A couple months back,” he said. “And, no, we have no clue who. Cut the fence and let her free. Hope they took her out back and put a bullet between her eyes. That’s all she’s good for.”
Aunt Marge nodded in agreement. “So true. Last thing we need around here is dogs attacking innocent people.”
Or rather people attacking dogs, Pierce thought to himself. But no use getting into that discussion here and now. Not until he knew the full story. But two things he did know: men attacked others without provocation, and dogs only attacked out of need.
Pierce highly doubted the dog would get an honest hearing with the sheriff though. That man had already made up his mind.
Hedi Miller stepped into the diner, surprised at the odd silence around her. She caught Aunt Marge’s gaze, whose face lit up with a beaming smile.
“There you are,” she said, rushing toward her, arms open.
Her hug felt a little too effusive, her eagerness a little too grateful for her sudden arrival. Only it wasn’t a sudden arrival. She’d been following the sheriff for the last ten minutes down the highway. But, when she pulled in just after him, she stopped to write down her notes. She was in a tough position. She was a deputy and loved her job, but the sheriff was getting harder to work with each and every day.
She walked to the counter and sat down on one of the stools.
“What can I get you, Hedi?” Marge asked, rushing behind the counter.
“How about a piece of that apple pie?” Hedi said with a grin. “If it wasn’t for those fresh-baked pies, I don’t know how often I’d make the trip.”
“A lot of other good stuff is here too,” the sheriff called out behind her. “And, if you weren’t so uppity, you could sit at my table.”
Her shoulders stiffened at his comment. Anybody else would have just let her sit wherever she wanted. But the sheriff was all about control, all about being the dominant alpha. Guess he hadn’t read the most recent research that said there really was no alpha male in a pack. Still, the sheriff wouldn’t share the leadership anyway. It was all about being the one.
She turned and glanced at him. “I was just going to have a piece of pie,” she said quietly, “and then head on back to the Johanson place.”
“What’s going on there?” he asked. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
She shook her head. “No.” She spoke in the same quiet tone. “No, I’ve told you lots. Same damn shit day after day.”
“Well, you can’t put too much worth into what that wife of his says.”
“This time the kids were calling,” she snapped, and she heard Aunt Marge’s hard gasp. She turned to look at her. “Aunt Marge, you know what situation those kids are living in?”
Marge’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded.
“And you also know there’s very little I can do about it,” Hedi added softly.
Behind her the sheriff just snorted. “Nothing’s wrong with Jed,” he said. “He likes the bottle a bit too much. If he’d knock that off, it would all be fine.”
“But the fact of the matter is, he doesn’t knock it off,” Hedi said. “And it’s getting to the point that he’ll do something serious that none of us can walk back from.”
The sheriff waved his hand in a dismissive manner, as if to knock her nose back where it belonged. She just glared at him.
A sound on the other side of the café had her turning to see a stranger stand up. Aunt Marge rushed toward him. “Oh my, I forgot to give you the pie.”
“No,” he said, “you gave it to me. It’s just my plate is so clean, you can’t tell what I had.” He picked it up and handed it to her.
Hedi watched, her gaze locked on the stranger. “Sorry, we’re not usually so public with our dirty laundry.”
He nodded his head but stayed quiet. He picked up his backpack, walked up to the till and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. Aunt Marge gave him change, but he just waved his hand and said, “Keep it. It was the best burger I’ve had in a long time.” He turned to look at the apple pie in front of Hedi and smiled. “I have to admit it was pretty darn good apple pie too.”
“Aunt Marge is a hell of a cook,” Hedi said with a big smile. “She’s got a big heart to match too.”
He chuckled. “I can see that.” He walked out the door, letting it slam behind him.
Behind her she heard the sheriff say, “Arrogant asshole.”
“What did he do?” Hedi asked curiously.
“He was asking about the dog that escaped from the fenced lot,” the sheriff said.
She stilled, searching his face. “Why?”
“He’s looking for it,” Aunt Marge said hurriedly. “He didn’t like that it had escaped.”
“Was released, kidnapped, stolen,” the sheriff snapped. “We didn’t lose it, and it didn’t escape. Somebody stole it, and good riddance.”
Hedi glanced at Aunt Marge.
She just shrugged in a philosophical way. “I can’t say I’m sorry she’s gone. Obviously the dog was dangerous.”
Hedi didn’t say a word; she just inclined her head. She picked up a bite of apple pie and popped it in her mouth. Eating was a great excuse for not talking. She polished off her pie and then rose, throwing back the rest of her coffee. She walked to the register and left a five-dollar bill. “Thanks, Aunt Marge, as always.” And, without saying another word to the sheriff, she headed for the door.
On the way out, she heard the sheriff sniff. “Damn women,” he muttered.
Aunt Marge hushed him. “You know she can hear you.”
“I don’t give a damn if she does or not,” he snapped. “We shouldn’t have women deputies. You know that.”
“Hey, times are changing,” Aunt Marge said. “Girls have better opportunities now than just running little restaurants and baking pies.”
“That’s where they belong. You do what you do, and you’re the best at it,” he said in admiration. “And I do what I do because I’m the best at it.”
“But that doesn’t mean she can’t be a good deputy,” Aunt Marge argued. “You know she’s always there for whoever needs her. She’s the most conscientious of any of your deputies.”
“Only because she’s a woman,” he said. “That’s what makes her conscientious. It’s a genetic thing. She should be staying home and raising babies. But she hasn’t even got a damn boyfriend anymore.”
Hedi stood on the front step and heard the sheriff push his chair back. She moved toward her car so he wouldn’t know she had been listening. On the way she saw the stranger sitting in a big truck, the cab door open.
She walked to him. “What’s this about you looking for Salem?”
At the sound of her voice he turned to study her. His eyes were a deep dark chocolate color with thick eyelashes. His face was lean and tanned, as if he worked outside.
“Is there a reason why you’re looking for her?” she asked again.
“Are you asking professionally?”
“Deputy Hedi Miller, and…” She frowned at that answer. “Should I be?”
He gave a negligent shrug. “A friend is worried about the dog. I was asked to come and track it down. She was a War Dog and deserves a hell of a lot better than being locked up in a fenced yard for somebody to steal.”
Inside, she felt her heart beat a bit harder. “So are you here for the dog or against the dog?”
He pushed the door open wider and twisted in his seat so he could look at her. “I’m here to save the dog.”
Perfect. She gave him a smile. “In that case maybe we should talk.”
He glanced back at the restaurant. “Not now. We got company.”
“We’re not handing out no information no how,” the sheriff said.
Hedi just smiled. “It’s public knowledge. We picked up the dog. He could ask anybody, but he might as well get the truth from us.”
“Don’t you have something to do? Go chasing after those kids who are always whining.” He got into his vehicle, turned on the engine and reversed out of the parking lot, taking off down the highway, back to his office. His tires spit out rocks behind him.
She turned toward the man, still sitting in the truck. “He’s not quite as bad as he looks.”
“I’ve met lots like him,” the man said, his voice hard. “And they’re a hell of a lot worse than they look.”
Chapter 2
Hedi winced at that because really the sheriff was worse than that. She was just trying to make light of his behavior. “Look. I don’t know what happened to the dog, but she went missing about two and a half months ago. I came in one morning, and the wire had been cut. The dog was long gone.”
“So somebody helped her get out of there, huh?”
She nodded but kept her face neutral. “It appears that way.”
“I understand Salem bit someone.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels. “Yes, she did. And, if there was a man who deserved it more, I haven’t seen him.”
A funny light filled the stranger’s gaze. “That’s what I would have expected,” he said. “It’s not the dog’s fault then, is it?”
“In this case, I don’t think it was the dog’s fault,” she admitted. “But you won’t get anybody else to agree.”
“What about Ross, Pete’s brother?”
“You’re free to go talk to him,” she said. “It doesn’t mean he’ll be sober enough to give you any lucid answers though.”
“How about you give me a map of how to get there.”
She walked to her cruiser, pulled out a notepad she always kept close by, and he hopped out of his truck. When the door slammed, she turned to look at him. “We’re here,” she explained as she drew the directions. “You go up to the second set of lights down that road, take a left, another left and a right. “There’s a ten-acre piece of property, no dogs, at least not now, and you’ll find them there.”
