Page 52 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

It took Bree and Collins ten minutes to run back to the house. The property was lit up with roving flashlights. She’d announced their approach over the radio, so no one shot at them.

A state trooper greeted her. “All buildings are clear. No sign of the missing woman.”

No one had seen Harrison either.

Matt appeared. “Todd is on his way to the hospital. He regained consciousness as they pulled him out of the basement. My sister is in labor. Not an ideal situation, but at least they’ll be at the same hospital.”

Relief weakened Bree’s knees. She told him about Marina. “Now, if we can just find Claudia ...”

Matt pointed to the dog. “If she’s here, Greta will find her.”

Bree hated to make the dog work after being struck with a stick—Greta should be evaluated by a veterinarian.

But Bree had no choice. She reminded herself that the dog was a tool, not a human.

Her purpose in the department was to save human lives.

So Bree made the hard decision, but she didn’t like it.

If Claudia was on the farm, she was well hidden, and the temperature was dropping. If she wasn’t on the farm ... Bree refused to entertain that idea. One step at a time.

Collins had brought one of Claudia’s socks, supplied by Connor.

She held it out to the dog now. Greta gave it a long sniff and began circling around the property.

Head up to sniff the air. Nose down to trail along the ground.

She paced and spiraled. Then her head snapped up, her nostrils working the wet breeze.

When she moved forward, it was with purpose.

“She has the scent,” Collins said.

They followed the dog, who led them behind the house toward the barn, then past it. She hesitated at a tree stump covered with a dark substance. Feathers and an axe on the ground indicated this was where Elaine slaughtered chickens.

A person who slaughtered animals would be accustomed to using a knife.

Then Greta moved on, around the building to where the tractor was parked on the other side. She stopped next to the heavy equipment, sat, and whined.

“Under the tractor!”

“Somebody find the keys!”

Ten minutes later, the tractor keys were located on a rack in the barn storage room. A trooper started it up and moved it forward. It rumbled and shook for thirty feet, revealing the door of a root cellar.

“Be careful opening that!” Bree called out. “We’ve encountered booby traps here.”

The troopers lifted the door and waited. Nothing happened. They lit the stairwell with floodlights.

“Let me.” Bree moved forward. They all understood that she wanted to see the search through, no matter what she was going to find.

She held her breath and approached the opening. “Claudia?”

A weak voice sobbed.

Greta barked and wagged her tail. Bree tested each tread with her weight on the way down, but they all held. She shined her light into the darkness. A woman crouched. Her hands were bound behind her back, and a burlap sack was tied over her head.

“She’s here!” Bree called out as she moved forward.

Setting down her light, she removed the sack.

Claudia Ferguson blinked at her. A tight gag pulled at the corners of her mouth.

Bree worked it loose. Claudia sagged forward, crying, in Bree’s arms. Her skin felt as cold as meat in a locker.

The light jacket she wore was soaked through and no match for the cellar’s chill.

Bree turned and yelled, “She’s here, and she’s Ok . Somebody get a blanket.”

“Thank you. Thank you thank you.” Claudia’s weak and raspy voice was one of the best sounds Bree had ever heard.

“We’ve got you.” Bree helped her to her feet. “Can you walk?”

“I’ll crawl if I have to,” Claudia said, her voice strengthening.

“Dim the lights,” Bree shouted. “I’m bringing her out.”

A collective cheer sounded outside.

Claudia had been blindfolded and in the dark for long hours. Bright lights would be painful.

The crowd of law enforcement officers parted, pointing their lights to the ground, as Bree led her out. Greta rushed forward.

“She found you,” Bree said.

Claudia bent down to wrap her arms around the dog’s neck and sobbed harder. Greta looked over the woman’s shoulder, her gaze meeting Bree’s with uncanny intelligence. Her tail thumped on the wet ground in a happy cadence.

Someone wrapped a blanket around Claudia’s shoulders and led her to a nearby vehicle to get warm.

“More ambulances are on the way,” Matt said.

Bree checked in with Zucco and Juarez. “Elaine is still alive.”

“Good. A quick death would be too easy for her. She needs to pay for what she did. Marina too.”

“Marina isn’t talking. Yet.” But Bree had all the questions. Was Harrison involved at all? Where was he? Where were Marina’s boys?

“I want to be at the hospital when Marina gets there,” Bree said. “She needs to answer questions.”

“She didn’t seem worried about her boys. I suspect they’re safe.”

“I hope so,” Bree said. “On another note, we really need another dog. Turbo would have been a big help tonight. Poor Greta had to do it all.”

“She did good,” Matt said. Collins joined them for the long walk down the driveway. Greta kept pace, but she was limping. Collins loaded the dog into the K-9 unit and headed for the vet.

“Turbo will go to the academy. I’ll make it happen,” Bree said. “I know just how to do it.”

At the end of the driveway, she walked forward to where the press was waiting.

“I’d like to thank my deputies and the state troopers who helped stop Elaine Gibson and Marina Maxwell—and save Claudia Ferguson tonight.

I’d also like to specifically mention K-9 Greta, who went above and beyond to protect her fellow deputies and find Claudia Ferguson.

We would not have succeeded tonight without her. ”

Reporters surged forward.

“Do you have an update on the injured deputy?”

“What is the condition of the killers?”

Bree held up a hand. She wasn’t taking questions that she didn’t have answers for. “I’ll give you more information as soon as I have it.”

She rejoined Matt and they walked toward their vehicle. “And when I do that update, I’ll announce that we’ll be adding another K-9 unit to the department. Let Jager refuse to fund the budget then.”

Matt laughed. “Ask for forgiveness instead of permission?”

“That’s my plan.” Bree would turn Jager’s philosophy right back on her. “But first, we have to find Harrison.”