Page 54 of Smoky Mountain K-9

Carter broke every traffic law on the books on his way to Mara’s with the aid of his lights and siren. Maverick barked from the back, sensing his handler’s worry. The noise drowned out the sound of dispatch calling all units to Mara’s house, so he cranked up the volume. He wanted to hear if someone reported anything new. He wasn’t the closest unit to her.

“Dammit!” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Leaving her alone had been stupid. After the other incidents involving her, he should have known she’d still be a target. But all he’d been able to think about was how the last time people he cared about were in danger, it was he who got them killed. How he hadn’t done his job and kept them safe. History was repeating itself. He’d messed up again, and Mara might pay the price. He couldn’t let that happen. All that mattered now was that he got to her before something happened. To make sure she was safe.

He swung around the corner into her neighborhood, screeching to a halt at the end of her driveway. Another unit—from the city police—was parked in front of the neighbor’s. The officer had the door open and one foot on the ground, radio in his hand as Carter emerged from his car.

Maverick’s barking increased, but Carter left him in the cruiser. Until he knew what they were dealing with, he didn’t want the dog stumbling into something that could get him and others killed.

Rounding the hood of his car, he waved at the officer. “I’m going to find a way in.”

“What?” The officer popped out of his car, frowning. “We should wait for the bomb squad.”

“We should. But I’m not.” Ben could suspend him; he didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving Mara alone in that house a moment longer than necessary.

Carter clicked on his flashlight and jogged toward the structure and down the side of the garage toward the rear. With every step he took, he checked for more triggers and devices. Skills he hadn’t used in years came back with ease as he looked for anything that could signal a hidden explosive. Reaching the back door, he scanned the ground, then the doorframe. It looked clear. He lifted a booted foot and kicked in the door.

Wood splintered, and the door flew inward, crashing into the wall, then bouncing back. Carter drew his weapon, keeping it at his side. Mara hadn’t said anyone was in the house, but he wasn’t about to be caught unaware.

He put up his free hand and pushed the ruined door out of the way, then walked inside. With long, determined strides, he walked through the kitchen. After a quick glance in the living room, he headed down the hallway to the master bedroom.

“Mara?”

The bathroom door flew open. Mara darted out in a blur. Carter caught her against his side, a heap of relief flooding him at the knowledge she was safe.

“Oh, baby. Are you okay?” He pulled back to look into her face. “You’re sure you’re not hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine. Just scared. Get me out of here.”

Carter nodded. He could feel the fine tremor running through her body. “The back door was clear. Let’s go back that way.” He took her hand and retraced his steps. In moments, they were jogging around the side of the house and out front, where the police presence had increased. Two county cruisers and another local unit now flanked his car and blocked the street. Neighbors also stood on their lawns, watching the commotion.

He eyed the throng of people, spotting Ben. Letting out a sharp whistle, Carter headed that way.

“Townsend, I ought to suspend your ass.” Ben crossed his arms and glared.

“Go for it. I wasn’t leaving her in there.” Carter held Ben’s stare. He wasn’t sorry.

Jaw working for a long moment as he stared at Carter, Ben finally dropped his arms, his expression clearing. “Don’t do it again.” He turned his attention to Mara. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

Carter looked at her, wanting to hear more of the story himself.

“I went out with Brooke tonight. To Big Jimmy’s. We had a beer, about three glasses of soda, and danced for a few hours. When I got home, my garage door wouldn’t open, so I went through the front door.”

“What was wrong with the garage door?” Carter’s gaze strayed to the garage.

“I don’t know. Neither the button on my mirror nor the remote that came with the house would work. I figured there was something wrong with the motor.”

“Okay,” Ben said. “What happened next?”

“As I walked over the threshold, my foot caught on something, and I tripped. When I glanced back, there was a piece of what looked like fishing line fluttering. I thought something had blown onto my porch and I just got my feet caught in it. But when I reached down to pick up the line to throw it away, it was caught on something behind the welcome sign.” She pointed at the board leaning against the house on the porch.

Carter sucked in a breath. “You pulled on it?” Dear God, but she was lucky to be alive.

She nodded. “Not hard. It’s fishing line; I figured it would slide free. When it didn’t, I turned on the light and moved the sign, and that’s when I saw the canister.”

“What color was it?” Carter asked.