Page 1 of Chasing a Kidnapper

ONE

Where is he?

Plains City, South Dakota Police Detective West Cole peered through the foggy night as he drove his undercover SUV through town. His new K-9 partner, a female beagle named Peanut, was tucked in her rear compartment, her nose pressed against the screen. He murmured words of encouragement to the brown and white dog, knowing she still missed her previous partner, Kenyon Graves. Kenyon had been killed three months ago in an explosion set by the gun-trafficking ring they’d been investigating. Thankfully Peanut had been spared, and he’d taken over as her K-9 handler to use her expertise to sniff out illegal weapons.

His chest tightened painfully as he thought of his best friend and colleague. Losing Kenyon had been devastating to the entire Plains City Police Department, but especially to him, as he and Kenyon had been very close. Since that terrible night, West had focused all his time and energy on getting justice for his friend. Not to mention Kenyon’s three-year-old twin sons, who were now orphans.

Orphans with a home, since Raina McCord, Kenyon’s childhood friend, had been named as their legal guardian. He was glad to know the boys were in good hands, yet West fully intended to find the gun traffickers to make them pay for their crimes. For Kenyon’s sake, and for the rest of their department. These monsters had caused enough damage. The violence in their city would only escalate more than it already had if they didn’t get these weapons off the streets.

And soon.

Yet they had very few leads. Which was why he was here, patrolling the area of the city where he’d caught Petey Pawners last year. He’d arrested the guy for illegal possession of a firearm, but unfortunately, Petey was already out of jail. It wasn’t a stretch to assume Petey had gotten his illegal weapon from the traffickers.

A weak link? Maybe, but it was all he had. And West was determined to find him.

The shifting fog made it difficult to see well, but he wasn’t giving up. He drove past the Plains City Pizzeria and caught a glimpse of a large and boxy shadow behind the restaurant.

A vehicle? His curiosity peaked as he doused the headlights and made a loop around the block. He parked a good thirty yards away from the pizzeria and reached into the glove box for his binoculars.

It took a moment to focus on the man lugging something large and heavy out of the back door of the pizzeria and into the back a dark gray truck. From what he could tell, there were other boxes in the back, too. There was no label on the truck, making him doubt it was food items being moved out of the building at ten o’clock at night.

Adjusting the lenses on the binocs, he thought he saw the initials SD on the outside of one of the boxes. South Dakota? Or something else? Maybe a city somewhere? Before he could look further, the man stepped back, turned and reached up to close the back door. West caught just enough of the guy’s profile to identify him as Petey Pawners.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Up to your old tricks, huh, Petey?” He felt certain the guy had been lured back into the criminal world. Yet there was the very remote possibility Petey was doing a legit truck driving gig.

He considered calling for backup or getting out to investigate with Peanut. Her keen nose would alert to the scent of gunpowder and gun oil. But before he could move, Petey jumped up behind the wheel of the truck. The lights came on, and the truck rolled down the street, away from the pizzeria.

Were there guns in the back of that truck? Determined to find out, he quickly shifted into gear and eased away from the curb to follow. He didn’t turn on his headlights, despite the danger of driving in the fog without them, unwilling to attract Petey’s attention.

He wanted to know where Petey was delivering the boxes. And who might be waiting for him on the other end of the line to receive the goods.

In his opinion, if Petey was involved in the gun running organization, he was likely a low-level player. If this was a gun shipment rather than food being transported out of town, West wanted to find someone higher up in the criminal organization. Yet he needed to be careful, as it was likely Petey was armed.

Along with anyone he might be meeting up with.

He lifted his hand to his radio to call dispatch. “This is Detective West Cole. I’m following a dark gray truck heading northwest on highway twenty-four with unknown cargo in the back. The vehicle is being driven by Petey Pawners, a possible suspect in the gun trafficking case. I may need backup.”

“Roger, Detective. Please keep us apprised of your situation,” the dispatcher calmly replied.

“Ten-four.” He ended the call and flicked on his headlights. He was far enough behind Petey that he didn’t think the guy would notice. Not to mention, the truck was heading out of town and into a rural area of the state where deer and other wildlife were known to abruptly leap across the road.

As he followed Petey, he thought about the Plains City Pizzeria’s role in this. He was going to feel like an idiot if there were pizzas in the back of the truck, but his gut told him otherwise. Petey had moved as if the box was heavy, and there were other boxes of similar dimensions inside the truck, too.

Not pizzas. He felt sure of it.

If he’d been a few minutes later in his patrol, he might have missed the entire thing. Had God been watching out for him? Maybe. But since Kenyon’s death, he wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with the heavenly Father.

Was it possible Henry and Martha Anderson, the owners of the pizzeria, were involved in whatever was being stored in the back of the restaurant?

One of the employees?

Or had Petey and the rest of the criminal enterprise managed to use the storage area of the pizzeria without anyone being the wiser?

Despite knowing Martha and Henry for years, he had no way of knowing for sure. Money could be an incredible motivator. Most people in the Plains City area were far from rich. And the rise in inflation had hit hard.

Petey increased his speed. West did the same, keeping at least four to five car lengths between them. The fog lifted a bit, which was both a blessing and a curse. He checked the road signs, his heart sinking a bit as he realized Petey was heading in the general direction of the Black Hills.

Out of the darkness, bright red and blue lights of a patrol car from the right blinded him. He lifted a hand to ward off the glare, glancing to the right-hand side of the road. To his horror, a Plains City squad white sedan with black doors shot out of a hidden driveway, cutting directly between his SUV and Petey’s truck.

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