Seeking The Truth
Her investigation could prove fatal...
In this exciting True Blue K-9 Unit installment
By secretly investigating the New York City K-9 Command Unit chief’s murder, reporter Rachelle Clark puts a bull’s-eye on her back. Single dad and K-9 unit officer Carter Jameson thought Rachelle was reporting on police-field-dog trials—not his brother’s death. Though he’s not happy about her true purpose, the danger is real...and he and his trusty German shepherd must save her.
TERRI REED’s romance and romantic suspense novels have appeared on the Publishers Weekly top twenty-five and Nielsen BookScan top one hundred lists, and have been featured in USA TODAY, Christian Fiction Magazine and RT Book Reviews. Her books have been finalists for the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award and the National Readers’ Choice Award, and finalists three times for the American Christian Fiction Writers Carol Award. Contact Terri at terrireed.com or PO Box 19555, Portland, OR 97224.
Also By Terri Reed
True Blue K-9 Unit
Seeking the Truth
Military K-9 Unit
Tracking Danger
Mission to Protect
Northern Border Patrol
Danger at the Border
Joint Investigation
Murder Under the Mistletoe
Ransom
Identity Unknown
Buried Mountain Secrets
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
Seeking the Truth
Terri Reed
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-09689-8
SEEKING THE TRUTH
© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Version: 2020-03-02
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From the dark tunnel came the roaring sound of the subway train.
Jostled by the crowd, Rachelle swam against the current, but the tide of humanity pushed her toward the yellow safety boundary painted on the platform floor. Frowning, she held on tight to her purse and tried to shimmy her way through the crowd.
The flat of a hand on her back startled her, and she jerked just as she was shoved hard, causing her to misstep and propelling her to the very edge of the platform. She lost her balance, her arms windmilling.
Terror ripped a desperate scream from her as she plummeted off the platform and onto the tracks.
TRUE BLUE K-9 UNIT:
These police officers fight for justice with the help of their brave canine partners.
Justice Mission by Lynette Eason, April 2019
Act of Valor by Dana Mentink, May 2019
Blind Trust by Laura Scott, June 2019
Deep Undercover by Lenora Worth, July 2019
Seeking the Truth by Terri Reed, August 2019
Trail of Danger by Valerie Hansen, September 2019
Courage Under Fire by Sharon Dunn, October 2019
Sworn to Protect by Shirlee McCoy, November 2019
True Blue K-9 Unit Christmas by Laura Scott and Maggie K. Black, December 2019
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ve enjoyed this story of Officer Carter Jameson and his partner, Frosty. Together, they made a dynamic team perfectly suited to protect and fall in love with reporter Rachelle Clark. Carter and Rachelle both had issues from their past they had to overcome before they could let down the walls around their hearts.
Writing this story against the backdrop of New York City was a treat. I lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan as a young adult and the experience was one I treasure. Combining my love of the city with K-9 dogs and handlers was a special joy for me. Plus, working with such a wonderful group of authors and editors is always a blessing.
The next book in the series, Trail of Danger by Valerie Hansen, will be released September 2019—you won’t want to miss it.
You’ll be able to find the whole continuity series on www.Harlequin.com.
Blessings,
Terri Reed
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
—Jeremiah 29:11
To the men and women of the NYPD who protect and serve the vibrant city of New York.
To my fellow authors, Lynette, Dana, Laura, Lenora, Val, Sharon, Shirlee and Maggie—thank you for your support and patience with me.
To my editors, Emily Rodmell and Tina James—I so appreciate all you do for me and the books.
And to my faithful friends Leah Vale and Jessie Smith for reading every word and believing in me.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Introduction
Dear Reader
Bible Verse
Dedication
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
Extract
About the Publisher
ONE
The smell of sweaty bodies, garbage from some unseen refuse container and the musty odor of grease from the subway rails lay heavy in the stale August air. Noise bounced off the ceramic tiled walls covered with a dinosaur motif, unique to the 81st Street and Museum of Natural History subway station on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.
The place was crowded due to the Central Park Walkathon. People of all ages and ethnicities mingled on the side platforms. Most wore the green shirts of the walkathon, but there were many other obvious tourists, what with it being late summer, along with local subway passengers.
Officer Carter Jameson kept vigilant for any sort of trouble as he and his K-9 partner, Frosty, an all-white German shepherd, moved from the uptown platform to the downtown platform and back again.
A family of three stepped into his path. The father held an adorable curly-haired toddler in his arms.
“We need to get to the South Street Seaport. Is this the right train?” the mother asked.
“Doggy!” the little girl squealed, her arms reaching out for Frosty. She nearly tumbled out of her father’s arms to reach the dog.
The father stepped back, securing his hold on the child. “The dog is working. We can’t pet him.”
Carter appreciated the father’s words. “We are working, but we can take a short break if she’d like to pet him.”
He looked down at Frosty and gave the hand gesture to sit, which Frosty immediately obeyed. “Play nice,” Carter said, giving the dog the verbal signal that at this moment he was off duty.
Part of Carter’s role as an NYC K-9 Command Unit officer assigned to the transit authority was public relations. To let the citizens know they were there to protect and to serve.
“You sure he won’t bite?” the man asked, a wary expression on his face.
“Frosty is used to my six-year-old,” Carter assured him. “She uses him as a horse.”
“That’s a cute name for a cute fellow.” The mother held out her hand for Frosty to sniff. Frosty sniffed, then licked her hand, his tail thumping on the hard concrete platform.
“Doggy!” the girl cried again. The father kept her in his arms but squatted down for the child to rub Frosty’s coat.
From the pocket of his uniform, Carter withdrew a sticker with the NYPD gold shield and squatted down next to Frosty. Holding out the sticker, he asked the girl, “Would you like to be deputized?”
She clapped her hands.
Peeling the back off the sticker, Carter placed the gold shield on her shoulder. “Now you are one of us.”
“Thank you for taking the time with my daughter,” the father said as he rose.
The words warmed Carter’s heart. He worked hard to uphold not only the code of the NYPD to protect and serve, but also his faith. Not that he and Frosty wouldn’t take the bad guys down in a heartbeat, but he’d do so with humility and as much kindness as possible.
Frosty’s attention jerked to something behind Carter. The dog didn’t alert, but his eyes were fixated on whatever had drawn his focus. Carter could feel a presence hovering.
He glanced over his shoulder. His gaze snagged on a pair of red pumps below well-shaped calves disappearing into a gray pencil skirt.
The reporter?
Two hours ago, his brother Noah, the interim chief of the NYC K-9 Command Unit, had called to warn Carter a reporter wanted to interview him regarding the upcoming national police dog field trials and certification competition, which would be held in two weeks. Carter and Frosty were favored to place high in the public demonstration competition.
A burn of anger simmered in Carter’s gut. The way the press had hounded his family the past five months after the unsolved murder of his oldest brother, Jordan, bothered Carter. He had no patience for pushy journalists.
Turning back to the family, he said, “This is the uptown train. The downtown tracks are beneath us. You’ll want to get off at Fulton Street. And then walk toward the water. It’s easy to find.”
“Thank you, Officer,” the woman said.
The father held out his hand, which Carter took. “We appreciate your help.”
The family turned and walked away.
Carter took a moment for a steadying breath. To Frosty, he murmured, “Work.”
The dog’s ear perked up, indicating he knew he was back on duty.
“Officer Carter Jameson?”
The honeyed voice, with just a hint of an accent, tripped down his spine.
Unnerved by the visceral reaction, he arranged his features into a neutral expression and turned around. “Yes. May I help you?”
The beautiful woman facing him was tall with long brown hair that floated about her cream-colored, silk-clad shoulders. Brown eyes framed by long lashes stared at him, and her full lips were spread into a tentative smile.
His gaze swept over her. She was dressed to impress, in her fancy blouse and gray pencil skirt. The red pumps were impractical. Though she had on a sturdy-looking cross-body type purse, not so impractical. The flowery notebook and pink pen in her manicured hand would have delighted his daughter, Ellie.
She tucked her pen behind her ear before holding out her hand while gesturing with the notebook to the newsstand that sat in the middle of the platform. “I’m Rachelle Clark with NYC Weekly.”
He grasped her hand, noting the softness of her skin and the crazy frisson of sensation racing up his arm. “I can’t say that I’ve ever read that particular one.”
There were so many local NYC-centric newspapers and magazines keeping those living in the five boroughs up-to-date on the happenings, Carter couldn’t possibly read them all.
She extracted her hand. “You don’t want to know what’s going on in your own community?”
Tucking in his chin, Carter said. “I didn’t say that.” He narrowed his gaze. “I believe my brother told you I was working.”
She had the good grace to grimace. “True.” Her smile reappeared. “However, he did tell me where to find you, so I took that to mean he wasn’t opposed to me asking you some questions.”
“Did he now?” Carter would have to chew Noah out for throwing him to the wolves, or wolf, in this case.
“How about this?” Rachelle said. “I can follow you around the rest of your shift. Just observe. I won’t ask any questions.” Her accent deepened into a definite Southern drawl. “I won’t say anything. Just think of me as a little shadow.”
Yeah, right. An attractive shadow. Like having her dogging his steps wouldn’t break his concentration. He looked down at Frosty, who looked up at him with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
“We’ll take a break right now,” he said. “You have five minutes.”
“No, no, no. It would do my article so much good if I could see you in action. Even if it’s just for a little bit. Then when you’re off duty, I can interview you.”
Carter rubbed at the tension in the back of his neck. “Like I said, five minutes.”
Her gaze darted to his partner then back to him. “He’s a handsome dog.”
“He knows it,” Carter told her.
She laughed slightly but didn’t reach out to touch Frosty. Carter wondered if she was afraid or being respectful.
He strode away toward a locked closet built into the staircase, fully aware of his “shadow” following. He tried to ignore the hint of lavender wafting off the woman as he brought out water for Frosty, who lapped it up thirstily. He grabbed his own thermos and drank deeply, his eyes on the reporter watching him.
She glanced around. “Was there a race today?”
“For a reporter, you’re not very well-informed.” He barely suppressed his amusement when surprise and a bit of annoyance flashed in her chocolate-colored eyes.
She recovered quickly and said through smiling lips, “I don’t cover sports.”
He couldn’t contain the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A walkathon for diabetes. Hardly a sport.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you expecting trouble?”
Only the kind tall brunettes posed. He shook his head, dislodging that thought. “No. We’re just patrolling as a precaution.”
“Right.” She made a note in that flowery book of hers. “I suppose the walkathon could be a target like last month’s Fourth of July celebration.”
She was correct, but he didn’t comment. No need to give her any more fodder on that score. Two of his fellow K-9 Unit members and their dogs were there when a bomb detonated in a park on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Thankfully, no one was hurt.
“Did that bombing have anything to do with your eldest brother’s murder?”
Carter glanced to her sharply. “Your five minutes is up.”
“No, it’s not,” she countered. She tapped the gold watch on her slender wrist. “I have two more minutes. How close are you to solving your brother’s murder case?”
“I thought you wanted to talk about the field trials?”
Her nostrils flared slightly but her smile didn’t slip. “I do. Are you and Frosty competing?”
“Yes, we are.”
“How many events will you participate in?”
“All of them.”
Her dark eyebrows drew together. “Which are...?”
“Obedience and agility. Articles and boxes, which are timed. Apprehension with gun and without gun.”
She wrote furiously in her notebook. “Could you elaborate on those?”
“Not now.” He tapped her watch. “Time’s up. You can attend the public demonstration.”
A new flood of people rushed down the stairs toward the train platform. Carter carefully watched the throng and Frosty for any signs of an alert as the dog inhaled the air in short little bursts and sniffed at each person as they walked past him.
It was time to take his focus off the reporter.
Carter put their stash away and closed the closet. “Back to work.” He let Frosty lead, his nose twitching in the air.
Awareness shimmied down Carter’s spine with every step. He stopped abruptly and turned to face the woman on his heels. Her pumps skidded on the concrete floor, barely halting her in time to keep from bumping into him.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Her smile turned saccharine sweet. “There’s no law against sharing the same space as you.”
Barely refraining from snorting, he blew out a frustrated breath and stalked away.
* * *
Rachelle hurried after the handsome police officer and his dog. She’d seen him from a distance at Griffin’s Diner, a neighborhood eatery near where she lived in Queens and close to the NYC K-9 Command Unit headquarters, but had never talked to him. Up close the man was downright gorgeous with his dark hair and blue eyes. And fit. She couldn’t imagine wearing all the gear attached to his body on a daily basis, let alone in the dank and stuffy subway.
She was glad to see he was thoughtful of his partner to make sure the dog stayed hydrated. She made a note in her journal. She’d always liked dogs from a distance. Her parents had never allowed pets. Which made writing about the K-9 duo that much more fascinating.
It had taken some fancy talking to get her boss to allow her to write an article about the police dog competition because she’d already been assigned to cover an upcoming celebrity ball, which thankfully had some redeeming value as a fund-raiser for autism awareness.
Her hope with the article about the police dog field trials was to gain some insider information on the K-9 Unit and the unsolved murder of NYC K-9 Command Unit Chief Jordan Jameson.
Five months ago when Chief Jameson had failed to appear for a K-9 graduation, the department had known something was wrong. Their chief wouldn’t disappear without a word. Then a few days later, Jordan had been found dead in what was made to look like a suicide, but evidence had proven Jordan’s untimely death was in fact murder. Someone had killed the man in cold blood and remained at large.
A mystery she wanted to solve in order to be taken seriously as a journalist. If she could shed light on why Chief Jameson was killed, or better yet, solve the case by doing her own investigation...
Her work would be noticed and hopefully picked up by more prestigious media outlets.
She hustled to keep close to Carter and Frosty so she could hear and see what he and the dog were doing as they weaved and bobbed through the swarm waiting for the train. Bodies pressed in around her, the smells of the subway assaulted her senses. Odors she’d yet to get used to, having only been in the city for a year. Her skin itched with the need for fresh air and blue sky. Sweat dampened her blouse, no doubt ruining the fabric. Someone pushed against her, sending her stumbling sideways.
“Hey!” she cried out.
Carter whipped around, his blue eyes meeting hers. She regained her balance, gave him a reassuring nod and headed toward him, dodging a couple of teenagers who were jostling each other.
From the dark tunnel came the roaring sound of the train. People surged forward in anticipation of boarding, each hoping to make it through the doors, in case the train was already full.
Jostled by the crowd, Rachelle swam against the current, but the tide of humanity pushed her toward the yellow safety boundary painted on the platform floor. Frowning, she held on tight to her purse and tried to shimmy her way through the crowd.
The flat of a hand on her back startled her and she jerked just as she was shoved hard, causing her to misstep and propelling her to the very edge of the platform. She lost her balance, her arms windmilling.
Terror ripped a desperate scream from her as she plummeted off the platform and onto the tracks.
* * *
A woman’s scream punctuated the air, loud gasps from the surrounding crowd following. Horror stole Carter’s breath as Rachelle disappeared over the edge of the platform onto the subway tracks.
His heart jumped into his throat, galvanizing him into action. He pushed through the terrified crowd as he called into Dispatch asking for backup and for the incoming train to be notified there was a civilian on the tracks. He prayed the message would be relayed to the conductor in time to stop the train short.
Pedestrians yelled and urged Rachelle to get up. She appeared dazed as she pushed to her knees. Smears of grease and dirt marred her skirt and blouse. Shoving back her loose hair, she lifted her frightened gaze as if looking for help.
Frosty’s frantic barking echoed off the tile and cement. Agitated, the dog paced the edge of the platform. Carter held tight to his lead, afraid the dog would jump onto the tracks to help save Rachelle.
The train wasn’t far down the track. He could hear the strident squeal of the rails echoing down the tunnel. There wasn’t time for her to climb back onto the platform.
He didn’t think there was even time for her to run to the other end of the platform where there was a four-step ladder.
Only one option provided a hope of survival.
He knelt down and cupped his mouth to shout, “Lie down between the rails.”
For a heartbeat, she blinked up at him as if trying to discern his words.
A gust of wind tore down the tunnel, whipping her hair in front of her face and plastering her skirt to her legs. The approaching train would arrive any second. “Hurry! Lie down. Cover your head!”