Back in April, their chief, Jordan Jameson, had been found dead under strange circumstances. He’d been murdered, but the death had been staged to look like a suicide. His administrative assistant, Sophie Walters, had discovered a suicide note, supposedly from Jordan, the morning of the scheduled graduation. Soon after, his body had been found. But they all knew Jordy had not committed suicide. The whole department was on a mission to find out who’d killed him. But a few key officers were not on the case. Jordan had three brothers in the K-9 Unit, and though they were naturally more driven than anyone to find the killer, the Jamesons had been assigned to other cases to avoid conflicts of interest.
No one had forgotten how Gavin had complained about being passed over as chief when the position had been given to Jordan. He and Jordan went way back but they hadn’t been close in years. Differences in style going back to their days in training at the Police Academy. Ancient history, but Gavin had learned the hard way not to air his grievances—not with so many Jamesons around to remember every angry word he’d uttered about losing out on the promotion.
They’d both graduated and become police officers. Jordan had gotten married to a good woman who was now pregnant and a widow. Gavin had worked with him, practically side by side, and watched him prosper but had always wondered why Jordan managed to stay one step ahead of him. Now Jordan was dead. Gavin’s resentment seemed silly and frivolous. The guilt of that ate at him.
When Jordan became chief, Gavin voiced that resentment. Just another thing between them. Then, shortly after his death, Jordan’s position had been given to his brother, Noah Jameson. Gavin had complained again, blurting out his feelings without even thinking. So much for not airing his grievances. After that, Jordan’s brothers and the department had unofficially deemed him a person-of-interest in Jordy’s death. Unbelievable. He’d been easily cleared—he’d been on duty working a big fund-raising event in Manhattan the night before Jordan had disappeared and his roommate had verified he was home the next morning when Jordan went missing on a jog—but things might not ever be the same.
“Hey, Sutherland, want a bottled water?” Brianne asked.
“Sure, Hayes. Bring it.”
Gavin tamped down his resentment about not being promoted, then said a prayer for patience and acceptance. He had to take the high road on this and see things through by helping to find the real killer. He might not have been Jordy’s buddy like in the old days, but he sure hadn’t killed the man. Now he worked twice as hard as anyone in the department to show his worth. So here he stood on a national holiday, hot, tired and wishing he was out on a boat somewhere.
Brianne headed toward him, her auburn hair caught up in a severe bun. He’d noticed her hair when she’d had it down. Straight and sweeping her shoulders in a soft sheen of deep red. That fire-colored hair matched her fierce determination to prove herself since she was one of only a few female K-9 officers in the city that never slept.
Brianne’s partner, Stella, was also in training with the K-9 handlers. The gentle yellow Lab had been pregnant a few months ago when she’d arrived in New York, a gift from the Czech Republic. She’d given birth to eight puppies that had all been farmed out to various officers and their families for socialization and possible future training as either K-9s or service dogs.
Brianne had taken on the job of training Stella in the basics, hoping to someday use her in bomb detection. They’d already started practicing—sniffing explosives, getting a treat and then doing it all over again. Once the dog learned she’d be rewarded for finding that particular scent, they’d move on from sit–stay–pay training to seek–find–reward. Stella now trained at the center and soon she’d be training doing the same thing Tommy specialized in—searching out bombs. Brianne had a way with animals from what he’d heard. Her smile had a way of calming him, Gavin had to admit.
“Thanks,” he said now as she handed him the ice-cold water, her lips pursed in professional determination.
“I’ve been along the perimeters of the park,” she said, her golden-brown eyes moving over a thousand faces, her heart-shaped face glowing with a sheen of perspiration. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Hot and humid and crowded. Can’t wait for the show.”
Gavin smiled at the droll sarcasm and gulped down half the water. Then he poured some in his hand for Tommy to drink. The spaniel lapped it up and wagged his tail. Brianne had already done the same with Stella.
Scanning the area again, he said, “I think the crowd grows every year. Standing-room only tonight.”
Brianne wiped a hand across her brow. “Stella keeps fidgeting and sniffing. She needs to get used to this.”
“Give her time. She’s a rookie like you.”
Brianne gave him a mock frown. “And you got stuck with me today.”
He didn’t mind that but he grinned and played along. “I drew the short straw.”
Or at least it felt that way at times, but not today. He’d had a thing for Brianne Hayes since he’d noticed her on her first day of K-9 training. But he’d never acted on his feelings because they worked together and because this job demanded his full attention. They mostly picked on each other and flirted in a playful way. Fine by Gavin. He’d dated off and on but most women couldn’t handle his long hours or dark moods.
“I drew the short straw,” she shot back. “I’d rather be sitting on my tiny back porch with the sprinkler wetting my feet. But Stella and me, we can handle you.”
As if she’d heard them talking about her, Stella stopped and lifted her nose into the air, a soft growl emitting from her throat.
Brianne held tight to the leash. “Steady, girl. You’ll need to contain that when the fireworks start.”
But Stella didn’t quit. The big dog tugged forward, her nose sniffing both air and ground.
Gavin watched the Labrador, wondering what kind of scent she’d picked up. Then Tommy alerted, going still except for his wagging tail that acted like a warning flag, his body trembling in place, his nose in the air. A whiff he recognized had hit his odor receptors and sent an alert to his somatosensory cortex so he could process the smell. And it had to be a familiar smell.
“Something’s up,” Gavin whispered to Brianne. “He’s picked up a signature somewhere.”
Brianne whispered low. “As in a bomb scent?”
“That’s his specialty.”
Gavin checked her to make sure she wouldn’t panic. Instead of panic, he saw something else in her eyes. Apprehension and anticipation. Brianne’s adrenaline faintly shouted at him.
Stella’s, too. The rookie knew enough training to expect a reward soon.
“This can’t be good,” Gavin whispered, watching the crowd. A mass of people side by side. With a bomb nearby, full-out chaos would hit. They’d have to work quietly and quickly to get this situation under control. “We need to verify and contain.” He did a sweep of the area. “If we find something, we need to call for backup immediately, okay?”
She nodded and did her own scan of the area.
“We’d better get to work,” she said as they both let their partners take the lead, guiding them in a rush through the crowd. “We might not have much time.”
It didn’t take long to find what the dogs had alerted on. The man Gavin had spotted earlier wearing the plaid cap and carrying a black backpack.
He wasn’t carrying the backpack now.
Gavin leaned toward Brianne. “We need to keep an eye on that man up ahead. Don’t let him get lost in the crowd. You follow him, and Tommy and I can search for the backpack.” Hurrying ahead, he reached for his radio to alert the other NYPD officers in the