Page 2 of Scent of Peril

“Wrong answer.” She gestured toward Teddy. “Teddy alerted on the scent of drugs.”

Logan frowned, then rushed forward to look around the interior of his plane. She stayed back, not sure she was ready to go anywhere with him.

Then he turned, his expression grim as he held up a black glove. “My last charter passenger must have left this behind.”

She walked forward to see it for herself. “You’re saying that guy may have been carrying drugs?”

Logan glanced at Teddy. “Your dog seems to think so. That’s the reason I was up over the mountains in the first place. I dropped this guy off at a small landing area that wasn’t too far away from the location where I spotted the tail fin. It’s not like I search people who pay for transportation. He didn’t appear to be under the influence or anything.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Cheyenne.” Logan frowned. “I have his name written down, but he paid in cash.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t find that suspicious?”

A flash of anger darkened his eyes. “No, I didn’t. Those who can afford to charter a private plane often pay in cash. There’s no crime in hiring a plane. Doug paid me in cash back in January when he needed help. This is my business, remember? Besides, as I said, he seemed okay. Had a bunch of hunting and fishing gear.”

“Hunting in April?” she scoffed. “Not likely.”

“Wild turkey hunting is legal in April,” Logan said. “And fly-fishing opens in April. Look, it’s not my job to quiz these guys on their plans. He paid for a plane ride, and I flew him to his destination. End of story.”

“Except it’s not the end of the story,” she shot back. “Teddy alerted on drugs. That means your guy could be up to no good.”

Logan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know that now. What do you want me to do? Call the local police?”

She thought about that for a moment. They could alert her brother-in-law, Doug Bridges, about their suspicions. Doug was a former DEA agent who now worked for the Wyoming StateDepartment of Criminal Investigations. The other option was to alert the game warden for the area. His name was Eddie Marsh.

“Jess, we don’t know this guy is a criminal,” Logan said. “He could have a legit prescription for pain meds. Or maybe he was carrying a small stash of weed.”

“You’re right.” She knew she was overreacting. Maybe because of the way Ella had overdosed all those years ago. She hated the idea of drugs being so accessible. But Ella had made the decision to take them. A choice that had proven fatal. Jess shook off the depression. “Okay fine. Let’s go. But I hope you don’t hear from that guy again. He may have a legit prescription, or he may not. This could be some new way of transporting drugs from one area of the state to the next.”

Logan hesitated, then nodded. “I agree. I’ll be too busy to take him on another trip.”

A flash of guilt hit hard. This was Logan’s livelihood. She had no right to ask him to turn down paying clients. Especially not during the colder months of the year when there were fewer tourists flocking to the area.

Still, turkey hunting and fly-fishing in April seemed a stretch. Spring might be in the air, warming the daytime temperatures to a balmy forty to fifty degrees, but during the night the temps dropped like a rock.

“Are you ready?” Logan sounded impatient.

“Yes. Get in, Teddy.” She waved to the plane. She decided against rewarding her K9 for his alert since there was no way to prove the dog had actually scented drugs. After the dog gracefully jumped into the plane, she followed suit.

But as Logan went through his checklist for takeoff, she made a note to let Doug know about Teddy’s alert when they returned. Better to play it safe.

Especially if the guy was up to no good.

Logan started the plane engine,glancing at Teddy who wore earmuffs like a pro. He’d seen the Sullivan K9s in action on many occasions, but this was the first time he’d been on the receiving end of an alert.

Had Craig Benton, his last charter client, been transporting drugs? At the time, the guy hadn’t seemed like someone who would be involved in that sort of thing. But now he kept seeing the roll of cash the guy had pulled from his pocket. Benton had peeled ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills from the roll, handing them over without hesitation.

A drug dealer? Or just a rich guy looking to spend time in the mountains?

He turned his attention to flying the plane. He radioed the closest tower, located at Yellowstone Airport, to confirm his flight plan.

“Roger, two-five-seven, you’re good to go,” the dispatcher said.

“Ten-four,” he responded. Sensing Jessica’s gaze, he glanced over. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that every time we fly, I think of my parents heading home from Billings.” She waved a hand toward the Bighorn Mountains looming ahead. “I still don’t understand why they crashed.”

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