Colton K-9 Cop

“I’m not—”

A brisk knock at the door had Bellamy breaking off and turning to see the same woman from the outer office. “Ms. Borne. Here are the details you asked for.”

A large file was passed over the desk and Bellamy saw her name emblazoned on the tab of the thick folder.

Her employment file?

“Thank you, Marie.” Sally took the folder as the helpful, efficient Marie rushed back out of the office.

It was only when the file was laid down that Bellamy saw a note on top. The writing was neat and precise and easily visible across the desk.

10+ year employee.

Steadfast, determined, orderly.

Both parents died in past year.

She was under evaluation here? And what would her parents’ deaths have to do with anything?

Sally tapped the top before opening the manila file. Thirteen years of performance reviews and salary documentation spilled from the edges, but it was that note on top that seemed to echo the truth of her circumstances.

For all her efforts to make a horrible situation right, something had gone terribly wrong.

“Is there a reason you felt the need to pull my personnel file?”

“A matter of routine.”

“Oh? What sort of routine?”

“When an employee is behaving in a suspicious manner, I like to understand what I’m dealing with.”

“Then you’ll quickly understand you’re dealing with a highly competent employee who has always received stellar reviews and professional accolades.”

Sally flipped back to the cover, her gaze floating once more over the attached note. “I also see a woman who’s suffered a terrible loss.”

While she’d obviously registered the note about her parents when the file was dropped off, nothing managed to stick when she tried to understand where Sally was going with the information. “I lost my parents earlier this year.”

“Both of them.”

“Yes.”

“Were they in an accident?”

“My father has been ill for many years, the repercussions of a serious accident. My mother’s health, unfortunately, deteriorated along with his.”

“It’s sad.” Sally traced the edge of the damn note again, the motion drawing attention to the seemingly random action. “Illness like that takes a toll.”

A toll? Obviously. “Dying is a difficult thing. Nothing like the slow fading we see on TV.”

Sally continued that slow trace of the paper. “It’s also an expensive thing.”

“You can’t possibly think—”

“It’s exactly what I think.” The steady, even-keeled woman was nowhere in evidence as Sally stood to her full height, towering over her desk like an avenging cobra. “And you think it, too. You dare to come in here, convinced you can blackmail this company into giving you money for some concocted lie of immense proportions.”

“You can’t think that.”

“I can and I do. And I want you to pack your office immediately. Security will escort you there and off the premises.”

“But I—”

Sally pointedly ignored her, tapping on her phone to summon Marie. When the woman scrambled in, Sally didn’t even need to speak. Marie beat her to it. “Security will be here momentarily.”

“Excellent.” Sally shifted her attention once more, her gaze fully trained on Bellamy as she pointed toward the door. “Don’t expect a reference.”

Dazed, Bellamy stood and moved toward the exit. The meeting had been nothing like what she’d expected. Surreal at best, even as she had to admit it was fast becoming a nightmare.

Lone Star Pharmaceutical had been her professional home for more than thirteen years and in a matter of moments, that home had been reduced to nothing more than rubble and ash.

Chapter Two

Donovan glanced around the large, welcoming, airy living room of the main Colton ranch house as his mother settled two glasses of iced tea on the coffee table. She’d already bustled in with a tray of his favorites—cheese and crackers, a bowl of cashews and a tray of gooey Rice Krispies Treats—and had topped it off with her world famous sweet tea.

Perhaps that was a stretch, but she had brought her tea to every gathering ever held in Whisperwood. Someone had even asked him about it at work one day, rumors of his mother’s special recipe having reached as far as Austin. Donovan reached for his glass and took a sip, more than ready to admit every sugary drop deserved its near-reverent reputation.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She glanced down at Alex, her smile indulgent as she pet his head. “Glad you’re both here. Though to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Alex and I had a job that finished early. I thought I’d come over and visit before heading back to Austin.”

“I’m glad you did. Our last dinner ended too early. And I—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Memories of his last dinner with his family still stuck in his gut and Donovan avoided thinking about it. He loved them—he always had—but he couldn’t be who they wanted him to be. And he’d long past stopped trying. Their definition of family was different from his and he’d spent a lifetime trying to reconcile that fact.

And was coming up damn short, truth be told.

He reached for a handful of cashews and ignored the guilt that poked beneath his ribs with pointy fingers. He was here, wasn’t he? That had to count for something.

Even if his presence was grudging at best.

“He’s so good.”

His mother’s words pulled Donovan from his musings and he glanced over to where she’d settled Alex’s head onto her lap, his gaze adoring as he stared up at her. “All this food and he hasn’t even looked at it.”

“Oh, he’s looking. Don’t let him fool you.”

“But he’s so good and doesn’t even attempt to make a play for anything. Remember Bugsy. That dog could find food if you wrapped it in plastic and buried it in the back of the pantry. He’d find a way to get to it, too.”

Unbidden, memories of the small, crafty mutt they’d had when Donovan was in high school filled his thoughts. Bugsy was a good dog—as friendly as he was tenacious—and his forays into the Colton pantry had become the stuff of family legend. “He didn’t miss much.”

“I always assumed all dogs were that way, but Alex is amazing. He hasn’t moved an inch.”

“He’s a formally trained police dog. It wouldn’t do to have him nosing into pockets at crime scenes or roaming through the pantry on home visits. He’s trained to sniff out bomb materials and illegal drugs.”

“Yes, he is. A dangerous job for a brave boy.” Her attention remained on the dog but Donovan was acutely aware the comment was meant for him.

“When the bad guys stop being bad guys, he can slow down.”

“I suppose so.” His mother patted Alex’s head. “But for the record, I am all for a dog being a dog. I did enjoy documenting some of Bugsy’s escapades.”

“There aren’t many like him.”

“Remember that Christmas he ate all the cookies? Oh boy, was that dog sick.”

Donovan remembered that holiday—along with the mess the dog vomited up in the barn later that morning—but true to form Bugsy had been back in business in no time. The wily dog raided the bacon and black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day, barely a week later.

“He was a character.”

The shift to a safe topic put them back on neutral ground and they fell silent again, his mother’s soft smile focused on Alex and the large black head snuggled in her lap. She might not be his biological mother, but Donovan had always known he’d gotten his love of animals from Josephine Colton. Her gentle nature and genuine pleasure with the furry or the feathered had always been a hallmark of her personality.

His mother had never met a stray she didn’t love or an animal she couldn’t whisper sweet nothings to. And since he’d been a stray himself, Donovan had innately understood the value in that personality trait.

“Dad keeping busy?”

“As much as the doctor allows. Your father is frustrated he can’t do the things he used to.”

“There’s no shame in asking for help.”

His mother sighed, trouble flashing in her warm brown eyes before she dropped her gaze back to Alex. “There is, apparently, when your name is Hays Colton.”

“He comes by that one honestly, don’t you think? In fact, I’d say he comes from a very long line of stubborn Coltons, starting with Uncle Joe and working his way down.”

The words were enough to vanquish the spot of trouble in her eyes and she smiled at that. “For someone who claims they can’t remember the names of so many aunts, uncles and cousins, you sure can pull them out readily enough when making a point.”

“The beauty of a large family.” An adopted one, Donovan added to himself. He’d managed to hold those words back this time. Coupled with the fact that he and his mother were having a cordial afternoon, Donovan figured he might actually get out of his childhood home without offending anyone or causing a fresh bout of tears.

Because, try as he might, there wasn’t any amount of love or extended family or years-old shared stories that could change one fundamental fact: Josephine and Hays Colton weren’t actually his parents.

And while Donovan would be eternally grateful for their care, their upbringing and their name, he’d never quite gotten past the circumstances that had put him in their barn one cold Christmas morning, abandoned and alone.

* * *

BELLAMY MARCHED THE return trip back to her office building from the human resources department. The walk had been long enough that she’d already worked her way through the first stage of grief—denial—and was fast barreling toward number two.

Anger.

How dare they? Or how dare she? Despite the reputation that had spread quickly about Sally Borne’s competence since her arrival at LSP, Bellamy still couldn’t get over the woman’s gall. Nor could she see past the horrifying thought that Sally thought she was somehow responsible for that awful note.

“Are you okay, Ms. Reeves?”

She turned at the sweet voice of Gus Sanger, doing his level best to keep up with her long strides through the above-ground corridors that connected the buildings.

“I’m fine.”

“I’ve known you a long time, young lady. You’re not fine. And that was no simple visit to HR.”

“It’s a private matter.”

“Meetings in HR usually are.” Gus tugged at his ear, but kept pace next to her now that they’d slowed a bit. “I’ve known you since you were small. Your parents’ store was a key stop for me every morning on my drive to LSP and more often than not, you’d find your way behind that counter, fixing me a coffee and a muffin. You’re a good girl, Bellamy Reeves, and whatever that private matter was about, you don’t deserve an escort off the grounds.”

The tears that had prickled the backs of her eyes intermittently since leaving Sally’s office spiked once more but she held them back. She’d cried enough tears for a lifetime the past six months and refused to shed the same emotion over a situation that she hadn’t caused, nor was she responsible for.

“Thanks, Gus.”

“I don’t care what HR says about me watching you like a common criminal. You go back to your office and take a few minutes to pack up. I’ll wait for you in the lobby. It’ll give me a chance to get some coffee.”

“But what if HR catches you? Won’t you get in trouble?”

Gus waved a hand. “If HR has a problem with me, they’re going to have to go through Sutton. He may have his moments, acting like a damn fool ladies’ man, but he and I went fishing in Whisperwood Creek when we were both seven years old. Been fishing there off and on ever since together. No one’s firing me.”

Bellamy smiled at the image—the grizzled Gus and the erudite Sutton Taylor, casting lines off the side of the creek. The “ladies’ man” comment was a bit bold, even for Gus, but Bellamy was hardly unaware of Taylor’s reputation.

“You’ve known each other a long time.”

“A lifetime. All it would take is a few words to him and we can fix this.”

“No, Gus.” She shook her head before gentling her tone at the sincere offer of help. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, but I need to take care of this myself.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll find a way to fix this. To fix it all.”

Gus nodded before using his badge to open the door to Bellamy’s building. “Okay, then. I’ll get my coffee and wait here. You take your time.”

“Thank you.”

A large staircase rose out of the lobby toward the second floor and Bellamy started up the stairs toward her office, another one of her daily concessions to health and wellness. The hallways were even emptier than when she’d left for Human Resources—had it really only been an hour?—and she passed a few pockets of conversation and could hear one of her colleagues talking in muted tones from inside his office.

What would they tell Andrew?

She liked her boss. They’d worked well since she’d been put on his team two years prior and she’d like to tell him in person what was going on. Share her side of the story. But he’d already departed a few weeks early for the holidays, taking his family on a long-planned trip to Hawaii.

The fleeting thought of texting him faded as she imagined what she’d even try to say.

Sorry to bother you on vacation. I just got fired because we’re tampering with the flu vaccine supply chain here at LSP.

No way.

Even if she did want to bother him, what would he do from four thousand miles away? What she needed to do was take stock and evaluate what had happened. Then she could decide the best course of action. She was a well-respected employee at LSP and a member of the community. She’d find a way through this.

Even if Sally’s comments at the end had taken a toll. Bellamy’s father’s accident and subsequent financial troubles weren’t exactly a secret. She’d even had to sell the family business—the long-standing corner store her father had opened in his twenties—to pay for his medical bills.

No matter how sympathetic or understanding people might have been, it wasn’t a far leap to think they’d believe Sally’s innuendo.

It’s sad.

Illness like that takes a toll.

It’s also an expensive thing.

Each miserable word had stamped itself in her mind and Bellamy was hard-pressed to see how she’d come out in the best light should Sally decide to spread those rumors.

On a resigned sigh, she reached for the box Gus had handed her before departing for his coffee. Thirteen years, and she was left with a brown box and the few items she could stow inside.

The photo of her parents out front of the store—one of her favorites—came off her credenza first, followed by her calendar, a silly glass elf she’d purchased a few years before and the small radio that was still playing Christmas songs. She added a personnel file she’d kept her records in, a handful of cards given from coworkers through the years and, last, a few copies of the email she’d printed for herself.

Although she suspected even the affable Gus would have to take back any files she attempted to remove from her desk, she did a quick sweep of her files to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.

And saw the framed photo of her sister, Maggie, she’d shoved in the bottom drawer. A dazzling smile reflected back at her, the remembered warmth there stabbing into Bellamy’s heart.

She missed her sister. Desperately. And far more than she probably should, even as she blamed Maggie for all that had gone wrong over the past five years.

Her sister’s abandonment had stung, but it was the cold shoulder Maggie had given her at their parents’ funerals that had hurt the most. When had her bright, beautiful, vibrant sister become such a cold witch?

The urge to toss the photo into the garbage, along with a few of the folders that held out-of-date information or pamphlets on some of their older drug introductions, was strong, but in the end familial loyalty won out and she shoved the frame facedown on top of the small pile of items in her cardboard box. If she was going to toss the picture, she could do it properly at home, not in a snit in what was soon to be someone else’s office.

Shaking off the personal reminder of her relationship with her sister, Bellamy finished placing the last few items in the box. The printouts of the email that had started it all were the last to go in and, on impulse, she took the printouts from the box and secured them in her purse. “At least I have something.”

The copy wasn’t much but it did have a time and date stamp on it, and if she were able to secure a legal representative who could subpoena the company’s electronic records, she might be able to prove the fact the email had been sent to her and was not a result of her own tampering.

With a hard tug on the closure of her purse, Bellamy stopped herself and fell into her chair.

Subpoena? Electronic records? Legal representation?

How had she gone from a fiercely loyal employee to someone ready to instigate legal action in a matter of minutes?

The vibration of her phone caught her moments before the ringer went off, her best friend Rae’s name and picture filling the screen. She toyed with not answering when the overwhelming urge to talk to someone who believed her struck hard.

“Hey there.”

“What’s wrong? You sound upset.”

Bellamy smiled despite the horrible weight that had pressed on her chest since leaving Sally Borne’s office. The quick response after a simple greeting was straight-up Rae and at that moment, Bellamy couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Well. Um.” The tears that had threatened on the walk back tightened her throat once more. “I’m packing my office.”

“What? Why?” The noise of the Whisperwood General Store echoed in the background, but nothing in the noise could dim Rae’s concern. “Who would do that? You’re one of their best employees.”

“As of a half hour ago, they began treating me like Enemy Number One.”

“What? Wait—” Rae broke off, the din in the background fading even as she hollered at someone to come help her at the counter. “Okay. I’m in my office. Talk to me.”

Bellamy laid it all out—the email, the walk to HR and the weird meeting, even Gus’s kindness in letting her have a few minutes.

“Gus’ll give Sutton Taylor what for. Why don’t you let him?”

“I need to process this. Something’s going on and the faster I figure out what it is, the faster I can get my job back.” If I even want it.

The thought was so foreign—and such a departure from who she’d been for the past thirteen years—Bellamy nearly repeated the words out loud.

Was it possible the damage of an afternoon could remove the goodwill of nearly a decade and a half?

“Who do you think did it?” Rae’s question interrupted the wending of Bellamy’s thoughts.

“I wish I knew. It’s dangerous, Rae. If it’s a joke it’s a horrific slander on the company. And if it’s true—” Bellamy stopped, barely able to finish the thought. “If it’s true, it’s a problem beyond measure. We serve the public good. We can’t take that good away from them, especially in flu season.”

“I’ve already had a few people in complaining about it. I’m tempted to drag on a surgical mask each morning before I open up.”

Rae would do it, too, Bellamy thought with a smile. That and a whole lot more, she had to admit.

“Look, Rae. I need you to keep this to yourself until I understand what’s going on.”

“Bell, come on, you have to tell someone.”

“I will. But. Well. Look, just don’t say anything, okay? Please promise me.”

The quiet was nearly deafening before she heard her friend acquiesce through the phone. “Okay. I’ll hold my tongue for now.”

“Thank you. Let me get my feet under me and I can figure out what comes next.”

“So long as it entails a visit to the police at some point.”

Since her thoughts hadn’t been too far from the same, Bellamy had to admit Rae had a point. “I’ll call you later. I need to finish packing up and get out of here. Even with Gus’s willingness to give me time, the dragon in HR is going to expect me off the grounds.”

“Okay. Call me later.”

They hung up with a promise to do a good raging girls’ night, complete with margaritas and a gallon of ice cream. It couldn’t erase her day, but as promises went it was certainly something to look forward to.

Bellamy glanced down at her box, her meager possessions all she had as evidence of her time at Lone Star Pharmaceutical.

Securing the lid, she took a deep breath and pulled her purse over her arm.

She’d already lived through the loss of her family, both through death and through abandonment. She would survive this.

Resolved, Bellamy picked up the box and walked out of her office. She refused to look back.

* * *

THE MID-DECEMBER AFTERNOON light was fading as Bellamy trudged toward her car. She’d snagged a spot in the far back parking lot, beneath an old willow that she loved for its sun protection and the added benefit of more daily steps, to and from the front door. Now it just seemed like more punishment as she put one foot in front of the other, her box completing the professional walk of shame.

Thankfully, the parking lot was rather empty, the impending holiday and the general spirit of celebration and success at LSP pushing even more people than she’d expected to knock off early.

Gus had been kind when he met her in the lobby, his expression sorrowful as he took her badge and her corporate credit card. Sally Borne hadn’t shown up for the proceedings but her office lackey, Marie, had been there to take the badge and credit card before bustling off back where she’d come from.

It was unkind, but Bellamy hadn’t been able to dismiss the image of a small crab scuttling back to its sandy burrow the way the woman rushed off.

And then it had just been awkward with Gus, so she’d given him a quick kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, promising to visit with him in town at the annual tree lighting in the town square the following week. She’d already committed to Rae that she’d go and she’d be damned if she was going to hide in her home like the same crab she’d mentally accused Marie of being.

Shifting the box in her arms, Bellamy laid it on her rear bumper as she dug for her keys. After unlocking the car, then pressing the button for her trunk, she juggled the box into the gaping maw of her sedan, only to fumble it as she attempted to settle it with one hand while her other held her purse in place.

A steady stream of expletives fell from her lips when a brisk wind whipped up, catching the now-loose box lid and flinging it from the trunk.

“Damn it!”

The temptation to leave the lid to fly from one end of the parking lot to the other was great, but she dutifully trudged off to snag it where it drifted over the concrete. She might be persona non grata but she wouldn’t add litterbug to the litany of sudden crimes she’d apparently perpetrated against LSP. Nor would she put someone at risk of tripping on it inadvertently.

Box lid in hand, she crossed back to the car, dropping into the driver’s seat and turning on the ignition. The car caught for the briefest moment, then rumbled to life. She put her foot on the brake, about to shift into reverse, when her gaze caught on the rearview mirror and her still-open trunk.

Resigned, she opened the door once more and crossed back to the trunk. That damn cardboard box stared up at her, the lonely receptacle of her professional life and—finally—she let the tears she’d fought all afternoon fall.

Lost job. Lost family. Hell, even a holiday that was shaping up to be a lost cause. All of it seemed to conspire against her until all she could see or think or feel was an overwhelming sense of loss.

Frustrated, Bellamy stepped back and slammed the lid.

Instantly, a wall of heat flared up, consuming her before she felt her body lifted off the ground and thrown across the parking lot.

* * *

DONOVAN WAS MIDWAY down his parents’ stone-covered driveway when the call from Dispatch came in. He answered immediately, responding with his badge number and his location.