“I did. And I’m sorry. It must have been difficult.”

  Smitty’s face hardened. He clenched his fist, absently tracing his fingers over the knuckles of his right hand. Judging from the pink skin, the fire hadn’t left him unscathed. “I got Radar out of the trailer that night. He was so brave. I wanted to chase down all those punks but my horse needed me.”

  “Why was only Billy charged?”

  “He was the only one visible on our camera. He was quick to confess but claimed he didn’t know any of the others. Besides, he was the one who threw the bottle. If he had any priors, we would have crucified him.”

  “His grandmother feels he was crucified by the media,” Nikki said. “She showed me the clippings.”

  There had been considerable press when the police horse had been fire bombed and the news had remained frontline for more than a week. Animal activist groups had jumped on the story, with reactions ranging from heartfelt sympathy to blatant hostility. One extremist group in the UK even suggested Billy be burned too, so that he’d understand the pain he inflicted. And Nikki hadn’t yet seen the blog Lara had mentioned.

  That was another troubling thing about this case. Despite that Billy was a minor, somehow his name had leaked. But he hadn’t disappeared at the height of the turmoil. As Mrs. Tanner had pointed out, it was odd he would run away now, after the furor had subsided.

  Smitty raised the palms of his hands. “Not my fault that details got out. People can find anything if they dig deep and are a little savvy.”

  “Yes, some organizations are surprisingly savvy,” she said. “With a nudge in the desired direction.”

  “If you’re insinuating I leaked his name to the animal rights people, try and prove it.”

  “I’m not interested in proving it,” Nikki said. “I just want to find Billy. It would help if I knew what triggered him on Saturday.”

  “Well, it wasn’t the press or any stupid blog.” Smitty’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “The story was cold. And Saturday Billy seemed normal. He stayed late, picking off some dead skin from Radar’s back. He had nice hands, a gentle touch.”

  Had. Smitty spoke about Billy in the past tense but this wasn’t the time to push. Already the man was glancing over his shoulder, close to walking away.

  “Did you see Billy talking to anyone by the mall?” she asked, keeping her voice companionably soft. “Anything notable?”

  “He was teased a bit when he was picking up manure but only the usual heckling. And that kid was tough. I didn’t want to like him, but I did.”

  That matched with Lara’s comment and Nikki gave an agreeable nod. “So everything was routine up to the point when he left to catch the bus?”

  “That’s right,” Smitty said.

  But his eyes flickered, shifting to the left. Something about the bus?

  “His grandmother said the bus stop was only a stone’s throw from their house,” Nikki went on, watching Smitty’s expression.

  “Generally runaways don’t go home.” His mouth curved in a faint sneer. “That’s why they’re called runaways.”

  She took a calming breath. “But we don’t know if he deserves that label.”

  “Sure he does. I spotted him a few days ago but he bolted when I hollered.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Near Main Street Mall, just past the Cannabis Club.”

  “Are you sure it was him?”

  “Yes,” Smitty snapped. “Obviously he got tired of working for us.”

  “You’re probably right,” Nikki said, making an agreeable sound even though she wasn’t buying it. “Did bus surveillance pick up anything?”

  “We already checked that. He didn’t get on his bus which proves he stayed in town.” Smitty raised his beer in an ironic gesture. “Look, it’s great you digging but it’s best to let the police handle it. With our resources, we’ll find him much quicker than you.”

  “It’s been a week.”

  “Yes,” Smitty said. “And it might take us another couple weeks.”

  “But what if Billy is hurt somewhere?”

  Smitty gave a dismissive grunt and rose from his stool. “I’ve come to learn that these kids are all the same. He’ll show up in his own time. No doubt he’s tired of working his ass off.”

  “But this is out of character,” Nikki said, swiveling around on her stool so she could face Smitty. She didn’t like how he towered over her, but she didn’t want to stand up and show her discomfort. “His grandmother says he’s never disappeared before. Barely missed a day of school. And anytime he stayed out late, he called.”

  Smitty snorted. “Despite his grandmother’s high opinion, that kid isn’t lily white.”

  “But this was his first offence. So he was lily white until the fire. Why did it even happen? Why did he target your barn?”

  Smitty dragged a hand over his jaw as if he’d never considered the reason.

  “His brother, Jack, had been in trouble before,” Nikki went on. “But not Billy. Were you Jack’s arresting officer? Or any of your other mounted officers?”

  “You’re way off base,” Smitty muttered, folding his arms and shifting back a step. “We had no history with Jack. We never even knew about his little street gang. And how does this help find Billy?”

  “Just trying to figure out his motivation. Maybe Billy was trying to get back at the police because of something that happened to his brother. Every bit of information helps.”

  “There was nothing like that,” Smitty said. “And I don’t have time for any more of this shit. You need to leave now. Next time, call the station first.”

  He stomped back toward his cop friends, so determined to escape her questions that he forgot his beer.

  Nikki sighed. Of course she was going to leave the Rusty Nail but not because Smitty had given her walking orders. Out of pure stubbornness she remained seated on her stool, waiting for him to come back and collect his drink. Besides, something felt wrong. So far Smitty had been the first person to quiver her radar. He seemed genuine about liking Billy but he was holding something back.

  There’d definitely been some evasiveness about the bus.

  She waited until the bartender moved out of earshot, then called Billy’s grandmother. “Do you know what time the last bus left the city, assuming Billy was late and missed his regular ride?”

  “The last bus is 8:15,” Mrs. Tanner said. “But Billy didn’t ever take that one. It involved a transfer and a mile walk in the dark. Even though there’s hardly any traffic on our road, some idiots move at a good clip, especially when they’re lost. Oh, no!” Her voice changed from disdain of lost drivers to sheer horror. “Do you think he’s hurt? That he’s lying in a ditch somewhere?”

  “No,” Nikki said quickly. “I only want to check some more bus cameras. The police didn’t spot him on his regular bus. But maybe he found some friends and stayed downtown for a few hours.”

  “Billy wouldn’t do that. He always came home on time.”

  Nikki gave a reluctant smile. The woman was definitely stubborn in her beliefs. “Did he ever mention hanging out around Main Street Mall?” she asked.

  “Absolutely not. The prices are outrageous there. And with schoolwork, chores and community service, he was way too busy.” Her voice rose. “You’re wasting valuable time. And you’re not listening to what I already told you.”

  Nikki pushed on. “Actually someone thought they saw him hanging out at the mall a few days ago.”

  “Then they’re lying.”

  Maybe. Nikki glanced across the room at Smitty. He didn’t seem inclined to come back and get his beer, a pricey non-alcoholic one that he’d barely touched. In fact, he’d just signaled the waiter for a fresh drink. Smitty’s gaze met hers and she gave him a cheery wave. He scowled, shifting his chair so that she could only see his rigid back.

  “Will you call me tonight?” Mrs. Tanner asked. “If you see Billy on a bus video? That would prove he’s not downtown, right?”

  “The offices are closed now,” Nikki said. “But we’ll talk tomorrow. I’d like to come out to your house and have a look around.”

  “Should I send Jack out to check the ditches?”

  “No, Mrs. Tanner,” Nikki said. “We really don’t think Billy was on any of the later buses. It’s just something I want to rule out.”

  “Billy always left the police barn between 5:00 and 5:15. And he never stayed late in town.” Mrs. Tanner’s voice choked. “But at least you’re asking questions. And looking.”

  “I’ll be out around one o’clock tomorrow,” Nikki said gently. “Try to get some sleep.” She waited for Mrs. Tanner to cut the connection then slid off the stool.

  Scooping up Smitty’s deserted drink, she strode to his table and set the bottle down in front of him.

  “See you later, Smitty,” she said, ignoring his slit-eyed stare and the puzzled glances of his tablemates.

  She stepped outside, relieved to breathe fresh air again. The night was cool, heavy with fog. The only light over the parking lot was burned out, leaving the vehicles shrouded in darkness. She scanned both sides of the lot, holding her keys in her right hand, the long vehicle key exposed and pointed like a weapon.

  The parking area had emptied and gaps flanked her car. She appreciated that, was more comfortable being able to see her surroundings in that vulnerable moment when one focused on opening the door.

  She passed behind Smitty’s dusty pickup. Unlike Lara’s shiny truck, this vehicle looked like it had covered some hard miles. The deep-treaded tires and rugged trailer hitch indicated it was a bona fide work vehicle. Perhaps he pulled the police trailer with this pickup. He’d been first on the scene, the officer who had rushed into the trailer and rescued Radar. But since Smitty lived outside the city and was an active volunteer, he obviously used the truck for other purposes. A vehicle could tell a lot about its owner—especially the interior.

  She checked over her shoulder. The door to the bar remained closed, the entrance deserted. Besides, it was doubtless anyone would see her in the dark.

  She stepped onto the back bumper and peered into the truck bed. Spotted four hay bales, a heavy tow chain, and countless squashed paper cups. Clearly Smitty regularly chucked his empty cups into the back.

  Placing her hands over the top of the tailgate, she vaulted lightly onto the back. She scooped up several cups and gave them an experimental sniff. Only coffee. Some cops were closet drinkers but it appeared Smitty didn’t indulge. He even drank non-alcoholic beer on Friday night.

  She tossed the cups aside and turned to leave. But something sticky clung to her foot. She pulled out her phone and ran the light around her feet. A dark stain covered at least eight inches of the truck floor, partially hidden by the hay bales.

  Wetting the tip of her finger, she bent and rubbed at the smear. She pulled her hand away and inspected her finger. Stared a long moment, filled with conflicting emotion. Because the red on her finger was unmistakably blood.

  The bar door opened, spilling light into the parking lot. She dropped behind the tailgate, her heart pounding. But it wasn’t Smitty, just one of the guys who’d been sitting at his table, the young one with the round face. He whistled in the dark as he ambled to his vehicle.

  His car was parked close to Smitty’s, much too close for comfort, and she flattened herself closer to the truck bed, grateful the guy wasn’t driving a pickup. He would have spotted her in an instant. She waited until his vehicle crunched from the lot, using the time to steady her breathing. And her suspicions.

  The blood probably wasn’t Billy’s. There were plenty of reasons why Smitty might have blood in the back of his truck. But right now she couldn’t think of a single one.

  She scooted up to the sliding rear window and peered inside. The cab appeared spotless, well-kept. There was no blinking alarm, only a benign GPS mounted on the dash. She jiggled the window, guessing that even if it had been left unlocked, it would be a tight squeeze. And an illegal search.

  The back window slid open, surprising her. She quit worrying about getting stuck or the legalities and slid through the opening, landing awkwardly on the bench seat.

  She straightened and switched on the GPS, her fingers clumsy with urgency. It seemed agonizingly slow and she checked over the dashboard, her gaze shooting between the door of the bar and the lit screen.

  Smitty’s driving history finally appeared. At first glance his routes seemed typical. A couple airport trips as well as forays north to San Francisco—it looked like he was a 49ers fan—but mostly commutes between his home in the southeast and the police barn. Yet as she dug deeper, an unusual number of secondary roads were displayed. She’d have to check some of the coordinates but it definitely put him within twenty miles of Billy’s home. It didn’t prove much though, just that he liked to drive around the countryside.

  The bar door swung open. Light sliced the night and Smitty’s big shoulders were silhouetted in the doorway.

  She dropped to the floor, her throat drying in panic. He was too close. He’d see her if she crawled out the back window.

  She wiggled over the floor of the cab toward the passenger’s seat, drew in a fortifying breath, then cautiously clicked open the door. The interior light came on and an alarm blared next to her ears, shattering the stillness.

  She slid to the ground, grateful that the piercing alarm muffled her footsteps.

  “Hey, stop!” she called even as she bolted into the darkness.

  She sprinted about twenty feet, pretending to chase an intruder before turning in mock resignation. She didn’t have to pretend to be breathing hard. Her chest was knotted with adrenaline, and admittedly, fear.

  “What the hell?” Smitty bellowed. He hurried around the back of his truck and reached into his pocket.

  “It was kids, trying to break in.” Nikki gestured over her shoulder. “They ran when I saw them. I don’t think they took anything.”

  Smitty found his remote, pointed it at the pickup and the blaring alarm stopped. He swung open the cab door and scanned the interior.

  “Looks like they crawled in through the back window,” Nikki said helpfully.

  “Tight squeeze,” Smitty said, sliding the window shut. He turned, his face shadowed. “What are you still doing here?”

  “I’m going downtown to check for Billy in some soup kitchens. I was just sitting in my car, gathering addresses.”

  “Gathering addresses?” He stepped closer. The guy seemed even bigger in the dark. “Did you want to see something from my truck? Maybe my GPS?”

  She couldn’t make out his expression but he sounded almost amused, as if he was playing with her. As if he knew she’d been the one to squeeze through that window.

  “Not necessary. I have one on my cell. I was just looking at it. See?” She waved her phone and stepped back but nervousness kept her talking. “Guess I’ll leave now and check the usual spots, you know, where runaways go.”

  “You do that,” Smitty said, and now his voice was totally flat. “But you need to be more careful. Next time there might not be any police around to help. A little lady like you, working alone, could get hurt.”

  She gave him a look, pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about and turned away. But it was obvious he knew she’d been snooping. She could feel his hard gaze boring into her back as she walked toward her car.

  Her breathing didn’t settle until she slid behind the wheel. And heard the comforting click of her door lock.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nikki pressed her remote, waiting as the garage door at Justin’s house smoothly opened. She backed into one of the two parking slots and entered the house through the side door. It was quicker to park outside but Justin was a stickler for security. As a high-profile detective, he’d made a lot of enemies. Her career as an investigator wasn’t nearly as illustrious. Gunner was helping though. His keen nose had found her sister and his intimidating presence was proving to be invaluable. Not to mention, he was her best friend. Along with Justin.

  She kicked off her shoes, poured herself a glass of wine and pressed Justin’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  “Something came up,” she said. “And it’s too late to drive back to the K9 center. So I’m at your place tonight.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then: “I’ll be home in forty minutes. Order something from Vinny’s.”

  “Delivery or do you want to pick it up?”

  “Delivery. I don’t want to waste any time.” His chuckle was low and sexy, and made her heart kick.

  Admittedly finding time to spend together was challenging. When Justin was working a fresh case, he was rarely home so she’d been sleeping most nights at the center, two hours away. She wanted to ask if he’d made any inroads on his current case, but he’d already cut the connection, a sure sign he was immersed in his work. However, she had no doubt that he’d be home within the hour. Justin was always reliable.

  She checked his fridge—milk, eggs but little else—then called Vinny’s and placed a huge order. That way Justin would have leftovers available for a few days.

  “I’ll have your food there quickly,” Vinny promised, pausing to deliver rapid-fire directions to the kitchen staff. “How’s the patient?” he asked, returning to the phone and switching from Italian back to English.

  “Improving. He started water therapy today.”

  “When Gunner comes home,” Vinny said, “I’ll make him a special treat. It’s strange not to see the two of you together. But don’t worry. I had a friend with a three-legged dog and he did just fine. Everything will work out.”

  Nikki made an agreeable sound but steered the topic to menu prices and the rising cost of Italian flour, Vinny’s pet peeve lately, and a topic that was guaranteed to distract him. He went on to talk about his take-out service and how he’d started joint advertising with a new restaurant that served real Halifax donairs.

  It seemed she’d barely hung up when the doorbell chimed, announcing a delivery. The surveillance feed showed the guy’s arms were loaded with brown paper bags. Vinny had clearly doubled her order. If Justin didn’t want it in his fridge, she’d take it back to the center. The technicians and trainers were always grateful when she left food in the staff room.