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W here is he?

Plains City, South Dakota Police Detective West Cole peered through the foggy night as he drove his undercover SUV through town. His new K-9 partner, a female beagle named Peanut, was tucked in her rear compartment, her nose pressed against the screen. He murmured words of encouragement to the brown and white dog, knowing she still missed her previous partner, Kenyon Graves. Kenyon had been killed three months ago in an explosion set by the gun-trafficking ring they’d been investigating. Thankfully Peanut had been spared, and he’d taken over as her K-9 handler to use her expertise to sniff out illegal weapons.

His chest tightened painfully as he thought of his best friend and colleague. Losing Kenyon had been devastating to the entire Plains City Police Department, but especially to him, as he and Kenyon had been very close. Since that terrible night, West had focused all his time and energy on getting justice for his friend. Not to mention Kenyon’s three-year-old twin sons, who were now orphans.

Orphans with a home, since Raina McCord, Kenyon’s childhood friend, had been named as their legal guardian. He was glad to know the boys were in good hands, yet West fully intended to find the gun traffickers to make them pay for their crimes. For Kenyon’s sake, and for the rest of their department. These monsters had caused enough damage. The violence in their city would only escalate more than it already had if they didn’t get these weapons off the streets.

And soon.

Yet they had very few leads. Which was why he was here, patrolling the area of the city where he’d caught Petey Pawners last year. He’d arrested the guy for illegal possession of a firearm, but unfortunately, Petey was already out of jail. It wasn’t a stretch to assume Petey had gotten his illegal weapon from the traffickers.

A weak link? Maybe, but it was all he had. And West was determined to find him.

The shifting fog made it difficult to see well, but he wasn’t giving up. He drove past the Plains City Pizzeria and caught a glimpse of a large and boxy shadow behind the restaurant.

A vehicle? His curiosity peaked as he doused the headlights and made a loop around the block. He parked a good thirty yards away from the pizzeria and reached into the glove box for his binoculars.

It took a moment to focus on the man lugging something large and heavy out of the back door of the pizzeria and into the back a dark gray truck. From what he could tell, there were other boxes in the back, too. There was no label on the truck, making him doubt it was food items being moved out of the building at ten o’clock at night.

Adjusting the lenses on the binocs, he thought he saw the initials SD on the outside of one of the boxes. South Dakota? Or something else? Maybe a city somewhere? Before he could look further, the man stepped back, turned and reached up to close the back door. West caught just enough of the guy’s profile to identify him as Petey Pawners.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Up to your old tricks, huh, Petey?” He felt certain the guy had been lured back into the criminal world. Yet there was the very remote possibility Petey was doing a legit truck driving gig.

He considered calling for backup or getting out to investigate with Peanut. Her keen nose would alert to the scent of gunpowder and gun oil. But before he could move, Petey jumped up behind the wheel of the truck. The lights came on, and the truck rolled down the street, away from the pizzeria.

Were there guns in the back of that truck? Determined to find out, he quickly shifted into gear and eased away from the curb to follow. He didn’t turn on his headlights, despite the danger of driving in the fog without them, unwilling to attract Petey’s attention.

He wanted to know where Petey was delivering the boxes. And who might be waiting for him on the other end of the line to receive the goods.

In his opinion, if Petey was involved in the gun running organization, he was likely a low-level player. If this was a gun shipment rather than food being transported out of town, West wanted to find someone higher up in the criminal organization. Yet he needed to be careful, as it was likely Petey was armed.

Along with anyone he might be meeting up with.

He lifted his hand to his radio to call dispatch. “This is Detective West Cole. I’m following a dark gray truck heading northwest on highway twenty-four with unknown cargo in the back. The vehicle is being driven by Petey Pawners, a possible suspect in the gun trafficking case. I may need backup.”

“Roger, Detective. Please keep us apprised of your situation,” the dispatcher calmly replied.

“Ten-four.” He ended the call and flicked on his headlights. He was far enough behind Petey that he didn’t think the guy would notice. Not to mention, the truck was heading out of town and into a rural area of the state where deer and other wildlife were known to abruptly leap across the road.

As he followed Petey, he thought about the Plains City Pizzeria’s role in this. He was going to feel like an idiot if there were pizzas in the back of the truck, but his gut told him otherwise. Petey had moved as if the box was heavy, and there were other boxes of similar dimensions inside the truck, too.

Not pizzas. He felt sure of it.

If he’d been a few minutes later in his patrol, he might have missed the entire thing. Had God been watching out for him? Maybe. But since Kenyon’s death, he wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with the heavenly Father.

Was it possible Henry and Martha Anderson, the owners of the pizzeria, were involved in whatever was being stored in the back of the restaurant?

One of the employees?

Or had Petey and the rest of the criminal enterprise managed to use the storage area of the pizzeria without anyone being the wiser?

Despite knowing Martha and Henry for years, he had no way of knowing for sure. Money could be an incredible motivator. Most people in the Plains City area were far from rich. And the rise in inflation had hit hard.

Petey increased his speed. West did the same, keeping at least four to five car lengths between them. The fog lifted a bit, which was both a blessing and a curse. He checked the road signs, his heart sinking a bit as he realized Petey was heading in the general direction of the Black Hills.

Out of the darkness, bright red and blue lights of a patrol car from the right blinded him. He lifted a hand to ward off the glare, glancing to the right-hand side of the road. To his horror, a Plains City squad white sedan with black doors shot out of a hidden driveway, cutting directly between his SUV and Petey’s truck.

No! He didn’t want Petey pulled over!

He reached for his radio to alert the patrol officer, but it was too late. The squad car had closed the gap, and Petey was already pulling off to the side of the road in compliance to the red and blue flashing lights.

Hesitating, West slowed and considered his options. He quickly doused his headlights and pulled off the road a few yards behind the squad. Then he grabbed his binocs again, to see what was happening.

Petey hadn’t been speeding, so he wasn’t sure what had caught the officer’s attention. Maybe a burned out headlight? If so, maybe Petey would simply accept the ticket for whatever infraction he’d committed and continue on his merry way.

His gut clenched with dread. No, that wasn’t likely. Petey would know his name and driver’s license would be run through the system, his previous gun conviction a bright red flag for the officer to see.

Not good. He couldn’t let this officer approach Petey alone. West quickly slid out of the SUV, having turned the dome lights off earlier, then released the back for Peanut to get out, too. The beagle wasn’t a guard dog, but he didn’t want her to be trapped inside the SUV if things got dicey.

When he caught sight of a pretty female officer getting out of the squad car, his chest tightened with tension.

Trisha McCord was a seasoned patrol officer with the Plains City Police Department, but she had no idea what she was walking into. He walked swiftly forward with Peanut keeping pace at his side, hoping he could reach her before this situation went sideways.

The driver’s window lowered, but Petey didn’t make any effort to get out of the truck. West held his breath as Trisha approached the driver’s door, her hand resting on the butt of her gun.

“Sir?” Her voice held a note of authority. “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.”

There was no response from inside the truck. The tiny hairs on the back of West’s neck rose in alarm. In the rearview mirror he caught a glimpse of Petey’s right hand coming up holding what appeared to be a weapon.

“Gun!” He sprinted forward as the sharp report of gunfire rang out.

Patrol Officer Trisha McCord ducked and returned fire at the driver’s side window. Then quickly pressed herself up against the side of the truck as more gunfire erupted.

What on earth was going on?

Several more rounds erupted, and the truck at her back lurched to the side. The tires. Someone had shot out the truck tires. Likely the same person who’d alerted her to the gun the driver had in his hand, just in time to avoid being hit.

Good. She wasn’t alone in this. Yet the situation was still fluid. Trisha edged along the side of the truck toward the driver’s window, holding her service weapon in both hands.

“Get out of the truck! Now!” she shouted.

Still no answer. Fearing a trap, she inched closer expecting the driver’s door to open at any moment, revealing an armed man.

More gunfire blasted, but this time the sound came from behind her. No, it was the other side of the truck! She whirled in time to see the windshield of her cruiser shatter beneath a barrage of bullets.

She’d never been in a gunfight like this, despite her five years on the job. She swiftly moved along the side of the boxy vehicle, running into a tall blond man she belatedly recognized as Detective West Cole. He’d come to back her up, not that she’d called for assistance. Maybe he’d been nearby and if so, she appreciated his alerting her to the guy’s weapon. She gestured to the passenger side of the truck with the tip of her gun.

He nodded in understanding. On cue, they split up, she headed back up to the front of the truck where the lone headlight shone through the night—the reason she’d pulled the truck over in the first place—while West covered the back.

As she rounded the front of the truck, she saw two dark shadows running into the woods. Two men had been in the truck, not one.

And they were getting away!

Without hesitation, she sprinted after them. “Stop, police!” she shouted. But the two men ignored her.

The woods along this stretch of the road were dense. She could barely see the half-moon glowing in the sky above the bare tree branches and towering evergreens. How far were they from the Black Hills? She wasn’t sure.

She heard footsteps coming up alongside her and knew West had accompanied her on the foot chase. She didn’t slow her speed but was relieved not to be alone with the two armed perps.

Another crack of gunfire had her diving to the ground. She heard the muffled thud near her right flank as West did the same. For long seconds she listened intently. Hearing nothing, she lifted her head, scanning the area ahead for signs of the fugitives.

Where were they?

She rose up on her hands and knees, then glanced over as West Cole joined her. “Stay down,” he whispered.

He wasn’t staying down. “No. We can’t let them get away.”

“I don’t like it, either, but it’s dark and they could be meeting up with others.” His voice was a low rumble near her ear. “We don’t know how far away the suspected meeting point is. I think we should head back.”

“Suspected meeting point?” She wasn’t following.

“I’ll fill you in. But trust me when I say there may be more bad guys out there.”

She hated the idea of giving up, but he made a good point about the fact there could be additional perps waiting in the wings. The darkness of the woods certainly didn’t help. If she and West used their flashlights, they’d be easy targets for the gunmen.

That wasn’t an option.

Suppressing a sigh, she nodded. “Okay. We’ll go back.”

As she turned on her hands and knees, a wet nose touched her cheek, startling her. Peanut, the brown and white beagle that used to belong to Kenyon Graves but was now assigned to West. She let out a soundless sigh. She should have known he’d have brought his K-9 partner with him.

She and West stayed low moving across the cold earth until the dark gray truck and her damaged squad car were in view. Then they both rose and ran the rest of the way.

“What were you thinking?” West snapped as he abruptly turned to face her.

“What are you talking about?” She glared at him. “I had to follow. Why would I let them get away?”

“Not that. Pulling the truck over in the first place!” He sounded exasperated. “I tailed that truck from the pizzeria. I wanted to see where the delivery was heading. Then you fly out of the brush with your red and blue lights flashing to pull them over.” He was working himself up as he spoke. “And nearly got killed for the effort!”

“How was I supposed to know you were tailing them? Did you put out a BOLO on the truck? Ask for backup?” She had her radio on and knew he had not.

“I was going to, but didn’t have time,” he shot back.

“Yeah, well, that truck was missing a right head lamp so I had little choice but to pull it over.” Fed up with his attitude, she stabbed her index finger into his chest. “I did my job, Detective . Maybe if you would have communicated better, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Me?” His voice rose incredulously. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Yeah, well I didn’t know you were here, either.” She forced herself to step back, drawing in a deep breath. Obviously, she’d ruined his intent to get key intel on whatever illegal cargo was being transported in the truck. Which had not been her plan. But he was also being unreasonable. What cop wouldn’t pull over a truck without a headlight?

Deep down, Trisha knew she was being overly sensitive, having spent the past year trying to prove she could balance the needs of her six-month-old son, Gabriel, with the demands of her job. She was doing fine since her divorce.

Or so she’d thought.

Lately, she’d been assailed by doubts. The night before, she’d had the weird sense that someone had been inside her house. No proof, just a faint hint of cigarette smoke. Her babysitter, Laurel, didn’t smoke, but maybe Laurel had invited a friend over?

Whatever. This wasn’t the time to let her imagination get the better of her. She needed her job to raise her son.

“Okay, you’re right.” West abruptly threw his hands up in the air. “I get that you had to pull the truck over. I was behind it the entire time. I had no idea one headlight was out.”

She nodded, somewhat mollified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interfere.”

“You didn’t. Well, you did, but what’s done is done.” His expression was resigned. “Let’s go see what’s inside.”

If that was his idea of an apology, it was sorely lacking. But she didn’t argue because she was curious about what was being transported in the truck, too.

The one he’d been smart enough to disable, as much as she hated giving him credit for that.

West walked over and opened the back doors. She glanced down to see Peanut sitting near the rear of the vehicle, in her alert stance. Trisha knew the K-9 was trained to search for both gunpowder and gun oil.

She moved closer as West examined the outside of the boxes. She saw the white printing on each of the boxes. “What does SD and ND refer to?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’m guessing South Dakota and North Dakota.” He used the tip of his knife to pry open the box closest to them.

Then he let out a low whistle. “Peanut was right. Guns.”

She peered inside, sucking in a harsh breath at the long guns stacked carefully into the crate. Her blood ran cold. “Those are Sterling MK6 semi-automatic weapons.”

“Yep.” He reached over to open another box. “And here are several Bushmaster assault rifles.” He opened yet a third box. “And a whole variety of handguns.”

She swallowed hard, trying not to imagine these weapons being used to commit crimes. “How many do you think are in here?”

“I’d say fifty total.” West shook his head. “I guess the night isn’t a total waste. We were able to prevent these weapons from getting into the wrong hands.”

“Thanks to you.” She had to admit she was grateful for his timely arrival. If he hadn’t been there, the outcome may have been much different. Then she frowned. “You followed the truck from the pizzeria?”

“Yes. I was too far back to know what was in the boxes, or to use Peanut to see if they contained weapons. As soon as I saw Petey with the gun, though, I knew my gut instinct on the cargo was right on point.”

“Petey?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Petey Pawners, I arrested him last year for possession of an illegal firearm. I happened to pull up behind the pizzeria in time to see Petey loading the last box. Although I did not know there was a second man in the truck.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll call this in.”

She nodded, stepping back as he did so. She stood and gazed in the general direction the two gunmen had taken.

Were they still out there, waiting for a chance to return for the guns? The gun trafficking crew had already killed their teammate, Kenyon Graves. His death had sent them all reeling, and Kenyon’s good friend, her sister, Raina, now had custody of his twin boys.

She felt certain the same men who’d set the explosion would not hesitate to kill any other police officer who got in their way.

The image of her six-month-old son flashed in her mind. She’d go home to him tonight.

This time.

It didn’t pay to dwell on the downsides of her chosen career. She liked being a cop. Was good at being a cop.

But it was clear the danger wasn’t over.

And worse, their two suspects had gotten away.