“Sure, all dogs do.” Tyson brightened, more relaxed talking about animals than the judge. “They’re not as good as a bloodhound but they can hold their own. In fact, Czar—that’s the red and tan dog chewing the bone—earned all three levels in the AKC scent tracking trials.”

  “Impressive,” Nikki said, her gaze on Czar. “He seems interested in something beside the barn. Should we go over?”

  “Sure. The dogs love tearing around the woods. Care for a walk?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. She missed her hikes with Gunner and this would also give her a chance to look around. Tyson shot toward the barn with such enthusiasm it was obvious he had nothing to hide there.

  “Let’s try the woods on the other side,” she said. “Where there’s more shade.”

  Tyson changed direction without any hesitation. The dogs and pig followed, in a cohesive pack, delighted about a run in the woods. One of the younger dogs gave an excited yip but other than that, their movement was quiet and efficient, marked only by the sound of crackling brush.

  It was an odd group. Tyson appeared totally in his element, calling cheerfully to Czar and the other dogs while ordering the pig to go home. His bitter expression, so evident when he spoke about the judge, had disappeared, leaving him looking much younger.

  “Let’s hope Porker turns back,” he said, grinning over his shoulder at Nikki. “The last couple weeks he’s been gaining weight at almost two pounds a day, and my daughter, Katarina, will be annoyed if he burns it all off.”

  He went on to talk about the benefits of the 4-H program and how Katarina was also using Porker for a secondary school project. Apparently cleaning up after the dogs was her job, but the pig had more or less taken over that duty. And Katarina was delighted.

  “Now not all swine will eat dung,” Tyson added. “But Porker isn’t picky. He loves that most of my dogs are on a raw food diet.”

  He launched into the pros and cons of various diets and breeds before Nikki had a chance to steer the subject back to the judge. Tyson’s opinions were interesting though and she was keen to learn more. Her mother had been allergic so they’d never owned pets of any kind, and Nikki felt she had a lot of ground to make up. Considering Tyson’s flexibility about their direction of walk, he had nothing sinister to conceal. Besides, back in her apprentice days it had been drummed into her psyche that investigators learned more if they just took their time and went with the flow.

  So she relaxed and listened and simply enjoyed the pleasure of a companionable dog walk.

  Forty minutes later, they had circled the property and emerged from the woods on the west side of the kennels, a totally stress-free walk for both humans and canines. She helped him lock up the dogs, patting them goodbye and remembering all their names except for the small one with the rust-colored tail. The sparkling water bowls and overall cleanliness of the runs was most impressive. Whether it was Tyson’s, Katarina’s or Porker’s doing, these Dobermans had a healthy and caring home.

  And the visit had been more fun than work. She’d even told Tyson a bit about Gunner. While it had been bittersweet to have other dogs frolicking at her side, she now knew more about the cutthroat world of dog shows...as well as the names and addresses of all the breeders the judge had allegedly blackballed. She’d also had the pleasure of observing the Dobermans’ strength and obedience, and why Tyson abhorred the practice of ear cropping.

  “Thank you for your time,” she said, opening her hatchback and making room for Tyson’s three cardboard boxes. “I really enjoyed the visit.”

  “Maybe you can come out with your Shepherd,” Tyson said. “I’m sure Gunner will be running around again. Dogs are amazingly resilient.”

  He was one of the few people who showed much optimism, and she gave him a grateful smile as she moved around to the driver’s side. It was then that she spotted the teenage girl standing on the porch.

  “Hey, Katarina,” Tyson called, his arms wrapped around a bulging cardboard box. “Come meet Nikki. She’s with the police.”

  Nikki didn’t bother to correct him. She was too busy trying not to stare. Katarina was stunningly beautiful with shiny brown hair and pink, pouty lips. She wore faded jeans and an oversized T-shirt that read: Doberman Security. She didn’t look much older than fourteen. And she was heavily pregnant.

  “Hi, Katarina,” Nikki said. “Nice kennel you have here.”

  “Thanks. I try to keep it clean. Did you meet all the dogs? And Porker?”

  “Sure did. Good luck with your project.”

  Katarina shuffled to the top of the steps. “Yes, but it sucks that he’s doing so well and the weigh-in dates have changed. It gives everyone else time to catch up.”

  Nikki made a sympathetic sound but she couldn’t remember what Tyson had said about the 4-H dates. Perhaps she hadn’t listened, not wanting to think too closely about the end game for the friendly pig. Besides, she couldn’t linger if she were to be on time for the Tanner appointment, especially considering the state of these roads.

  “Is that Judge Kirby’s stuff?” Katarina’s voice rose as she stared into the open hatchback. “Are you going to help me collect my last pay check? I put my time sheet in one of the boxes so the police could see all my hours.”

  “You worked for Judge Kirby?”

  Katarina gave a mournful nod. “Scrubbed his crates, washed and walked his dogs, did all the grunt work. But he never paid me for the last show.” Her voice rose an octave. “And it was a three-day weekend.”

  “How long did you work for him?”

  “Two years, off and on.”

  Nikki edged toward the bottom of the steps, close enough that she could smell Katarina’s floral shampoo. “Is the judge’s kennel close by?” Nikki asked. “Did you go there after school?”

  Katarina gave an impatient headshake, her shiny hair swinging over her shoulders. “No. It’s close to San Francisco but we often went to the same shows. He brought a lot of dogs, and he and his wife always needed help. So, are the police going to help me get my money?”

  “I’m a private investigator,” Nikki said. “I’m not with the police. But their focus is finding out what happened to Judge Kirby. It’s not about employment matters. Did you contact the judge’s wife? She’d probably know your hours better than anyone else.”

  Katarina crossed her arms, her expression sullen. She looked a lot like her father when he’d first talked about the judge. “His wife is too upset to talk to me,” she muttered.

  “That’s understandable. She’s going through a tough time. But does she have a kennel manager? An assistant? There must be someone who knew how hard you worked.”

  “Forget it. This whole thing sucks.” Katarina turned, yanked open the door, slamming it with a note of finality.

  Tyson joined Nikki at the bottom of the porch. If he was surprised by his daughter’s abrupt disappearance, he didn’t show it.

  “There,” he said, rubbing his hands in satisfaction. “Now everyone can see what was going on. The judge didn’t care about the dogs, only about lining his own pockets and lording it over everyone else. I don’t know who killed him and I can’t prove he took kickbacks. But I think plenty of people had axes to grind.”

  “Yes,” Nikki said. “I think you’re right.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Nikki eased her car to a stop as soon as she was out of sight of Tyson’s house then dictated the details of her visit into her phone. Police appreciated a comprehensive report and she wanted to note everything while the observations were fresh, and correct. She’d worked part-time as a clerk in an investigator’s office and, at the age of sixteen, had learned the hard way that one never knew when notes would be relied on in court.

  Next, she called Justin. His phone went directly to voicemail. She left a brief message then pressed back against her headrest, sickened by her suspicions. She liked Tyson and didn’t want him to be guilty of anything. In fact, she’d nearly driven away viewing him as a victim.

  But was Judge Kirby the father of Katarina’s unborn baby? Would that be sufficient motive for Tyson? He’d been very blunt about how much he despised the process of ear cropping and the unnecessary pain it caused the puppies. According to social media, the judge hadn’t been a nice man. Some reports had labeled him a womanizing egomaniac. Yet killing the man and cutting off his ears?

  The thought made her grimace.

  Her cell buzzed and she grabbed it, anticipating Justin’s return call. But it was Sonja.

  “I just listened to your message,” Sonja said. “You’re cancelling coffee again? I assume you’re helping that woman from yesterday. Thought you would.”

  “You did?” Nikki straightened so fast her knee slammed the steering wheel. She rubbed her leg, calming her voice. Ever since Sonja proved she truly had psychic ability, Nikki tended to read too much into her words. Still, maybe she knew something.

  “So, did you pick up something when you spoke to my client?” Nikki asked, hopeful but cautious. “Do you know where Billy is? Is he safe?”

  “Actually our conversation was more about the wisdom of waiting outside your office. I know she doesn’t like dogs. She views them as a farm animal, not worth feeding unless they have a purpose. That was the reason I wasn’t sure you’d take her case.”

  “You could sense all that?”

  “No, she told me,” Sonja said, laughing.

  “Oh.” Nikki sighed, her disappointment escaping in that single word. It would have been wonderful if Sonja could confirm Billy was safe and sleeping in the woods. Nikki’s more rational side believed that good investigative work always trumped a psychic. She always felt a little uncomfortable with her friend’s spiritual side. Still, Sonja had been right before.

  “Well,” Nikki said, keeping her voice light. “Maybe you could do some of your hokey pokey stuff and help me out?”

  “Are you paying me?” Sonja asked. “Because I don’t believe you’ll charge Mrs. Tanner for much more than your expenses. And unlike you, I don’t work for free.”

  Nikki gave a reluctant smile. She had no compunction about billing law firms for her work, but people like Mrs. Tanner brought back aching memories of her own family’s struggles. And she knew big-hearted Sonja would understand.

  “You’re right,” Nikki admitted. “There won’t be much money in it. But how about I buy you dinner if you help me find Billy?”

  “It’s a deal. But how are you feeling? You’ve met with his grandmother. What do your instincts say?”

  “That he needs help.” Nikki spoke so quickly it surprised her.

  Clearly it surprised Sonja too. She didn’t speak for a moment. “Well, there’s your answer,” Sonja said. “I think you’re finally opening up and listening to your inner voice.”

  Nikki didn’t think she had much of an inner voice. She was more of a black and white person. Any extrasensory perception came from Gunner. And he was out of action, for now.

  “I’m heading to the Tanners,” she said. “What if I picked up an item of Billy’s? Could you look at it for me? Run your magic?”

  “It’s not magic.”

  “Well, it’s magic to me,” Nikki said. “And I mean that as a compliment.”

  “That’s progress, I suppose,” Sonja said. “Make sure to bring me one of Billy’s favorite things. And for payment we’re going to an expensive restaurant, not Vinny’s where you get everything for free. The restaurant won’t even have to be dog friendly, at least not for a couple more weeks.”

  “What do you mean?” Nikki gripped her phone a little tighter. “Are you saying Gunner will be well enough to come home soon? Do you see that?”

  “I see that you’re worrying about him,” Sonja said. “Worrying unnecessarily. I have to go now. A client wants to book a widows’ party where they all talk to their dead husbands. Those are always interesting.”

  Nikki cradled the silent phone for a long moment, warmed with relief. Sonja had been a loyal friend ever since she’d rented the office space next to Nikki. Other than Justin, she’d been the first person to meet Gunner. Sonja kept homemade dog treats in her office, housed an assortment of rescue animals on her little farm—including Nikki’s pony—and totally understood Nikki’s love for Gunner. So her statement that Nikki was “worrying unnecessarily” had to mean something good. Sonja was the best psychic Nikki knew.

  Sonja was also the only psychic she knew, but right now it helped to hear encouraging feedback. Her friend would never have said anything if she wasn’t optimistic about Gunner’s prognosis. And that lifted Nikki’s spirits considerably. Even the narrow country road seemed less desolate. She eased her car onto the cracked blacktop and continued east, smiling as she drove.

  When her phone buzzed minutes later, she was still floating in good humor.

  “You sound happy,” Justin said. “Did you break my case?”

  The fact that he didn’t seem to be joking gave her another lift. Justin always had faith in her abilities. He’d been her biggest supporter ever since she was a kid working for him at a local riding stable. Recently he’d turned into much more than a friend, and of course, he’d given her Gunner. For that alone, she’d be forever in his debt. And she’d love to help blow open the case.

  “I might have found something,” she said. “Did you know Tyson’s teenage daughter worked for the judge at dog shows?”

  “Not until I listened to your message. Wait a moment.”

  She heard him tell someone about putting a rush on prints. When he returned to the phone, his voice was a bit impatient. “It’s doubtful the daughter had anything to do with abducting the judge,” he said. “And slicing off body parts. Our profilers suggest a non-Hispanic white male, blue collar, physically strong—”

  “She’s pregnant, Justin.”

  Justin blew out a breath, slow and thoughtful. “And her father fits the profile and already is bitter. Think he did it?”

  “Not really. He definitely blamed the judge for his struggling business. Says it’s already improving. But I don’t see him as a killer. I’ve been wrong before though.” And recently.

  “That was different,” Justin said quickly. “You were too close. I’ll get out to Tyson’s place,” he went on. “Have a chat with him.”

  Nikki didn’t envy the man. Justin’s “chats” were never fun. It had been a while since Justin had turned that searing stare on her, but when he did, she wanted to babble every thought in her head.

  “How long were you there?” Justin asked.

  “A couple hours,” she said. “He showed me his kennels. We took the Dobermans for a hike. Beautiful dogs.”

  “Well done. I knew you’d be the best person for the job.”

  His praise surprised her. It also left her feeling guilty since they both knew the job would be used to reduce Mrs. Tanner’s mileage. “I only picked up some boxes,” Nikki said. “It was a coincidence I even met Katarina. She stepped out of the house just as I was leaving.”

  “That’s my point. I don’t have any officers interested in dogs. Or beautiful, observant ones that Tyson would want to spend time with.”

  “So I wasn’t hired just so you could send a paying gig my way?”

  “No,” he said.

  She digested that for a moment, somewhat deflated. “That’s good...I guess. I thought you were being nice.”

  “I’m not that nice.”

  “Right,” she said. “I have to go. I’m almost at the Tanners’ house.”

  “Wait,” Justin said, his voice rich with humor. “Are you going to the K9 center or will you be coming home tonight?”

  Home. The fact that he didn’t call it his house smoothed the fact that he hadn’t hired her to be nice. And of course, she didn’t want special favors. She just needed to know that he cared.

  “Yes, I’ll be sticking around until I find Billy.”

  “Good,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Smitty gunned his truck down one of the few straight stretches and checked the time. He met Ray Gibson by the farm gate every third Saturday. Today though, he was a few minutes late.

  He pulled onto the rutted gravel at the bottom of Ray’s narrow driveway. Ray wasn’t in sight and, as usual, the gate was locked.

  Ray worked for the county, picking up animal carcasses from the side of the road. He also provided temporary refuge for animals removed from neglectful owners, and Smitty liked to help him whenever he could. Five years ago, someone had tried to reclaim a pair of abused hogs. Now a high steel mesh fence protected the entrance, keeping the property safe from trespassers. Smitty had helped pour the concrete.

  He grabbed the coffee he’d brought. Stepped out, lowered his tailgate and carefully set down the two cups.

  “Morning,” Ray said, his voice soft and gentle.

  Smitty glanced around. He hadn’t even heard the man approach. “Good morning, Ray. Got the hay you wanted.” He gestured at the alfalfa bales. “And your coffee.”

  “Is that the kind of hay you feed Radar?” Ray asked, resting his hip against the tailgate and gratefully accepting the coffee.

  Smitty nodded. Ray always showed keen interest in his horse and in all of the organization’s rescue animals. A month ago, the gentle man had sobbed when Smitty told him about a dog that had died after being found tethered to a railing. His owner had neglected to leave the animal food or water while on a hot date that had extended into a Tuesday.

  “So Radar’s healing well?” Ray asked.

  Smitty nodded, taking a long sip of coffee, now lukewarm and easy to drink.

  “What percentage of his back was burned?”

  “Too much,” Smitty said, his hand tightening around the cup. He wanted to enjoy his weekend off. Not talk about Radar’s back and agonize if the horse would be able to carry his weight again. Possibly Radar would do better with Lara. She was much lighter and would be delighted to have her old partner back. She’d been so cooperative about working with the new mounts that she deserved to have her pick.

  “Don’t worry,” Ray said. “The person who did it will be punished.”