Page 1 of K-9 Confidential

CHAPTER ONE

There had to be something here.

Charlie Acker shoved a stack of folded clothes to the other side of the dresser. The flashlight shook with the tremors in her hand. Unstable. “Come on. Come on.”

Her fingernails scraped against cheap wood. Nothing in this drawer. She moved on to the next and the one after that. Coming up empty. Facing the rest of the bedroom, she took in the four-poster bed neatly made up with handmade quilts and crocheted throws. The bed itself had been carved by hand when her sister was old enough to sleep on her own. Charlie’s heart squeezed too tight in her chest at the thought of her father giving it away to someone else. But that was how it worked in Vaughn, New Mexico. Nothing really belonged to the individuals living in this town. Everything was done for the benefit of the family.

“Talk to me, Erin.” Charlie lowered the flashlight to keep from attracting outside attention. No matter how much she wanted answers, she couldn’t risk exposing herself to the people of this town. Bad blood tended to stain more than anything else.

Her little sister had been dead for two days. Already buried in the family cemetery, but there were still pieces of her here. In the knickknacks Erin had collected as a kid sitting on the bookshelf, even that gross old snail shell she’d picked up while weeding rows of corn when she’d been around five years old.

Charlie closed the distance between her and the nearest nightstand. In truth, she and Erin hadn’t talked in years, but she’d known her sister suffered as much as she had after what they’d done.

After what they’d helped their father do.

There was no reason for her sister to start talking now, but that didn’t mean Erin hadn’t left something behind for Charlie to find. Because no matter how many years they’d gone without staying in touch, Erin had never given up on her. And no matter what anyone said, Charlie knew the truth. Erin hadn’t died in a hunting accident, as she’d read in the papers.

Her sister had been murdered.

And she was going to find out why.

She slid onto the edge of the bed, careful not to let the box spring protest from her added weight. The nightstand drawer stuck on one side as she tried to slide it free. Her heart rocketed into her throat as she stilled. Listening. She wasn’t supposed to be here. If the family—if her father—caught her within town limits, he’d make sure she never walked out again. Though her final resting place wouldn’t be in the family cemetery. Not unless he’d reconsidered labeling her a traitor. Henry Acker: judge, jury and executioner. Had he been the last person Erin had seen before she died?

She couldn’t think about that right now. Charlie pulled a handmade bound journal from the depths of the nightstand. Loved, worn, soft with oils from her sister’s hands. A ribbon marked her sister’s last entry, and she set the flashlight on the nightstand at the perfect angle to wash across the pages. Thick, uneven pages pried away from each other as Charlie opened the journal and read the perfect cursive inside. It was all too easy to imagine Erin sitting right here, penning her final entry. Her sister would’ve taken her time. She would’ve made sure to document everything about her day to give an accurate picture of life in Vaughn at this very moment. Acting as historian had been Erin’s job. Just as stocking and inventorying food and supplies and taking care of the house had been Charlie’s growing up. And their eldest sister… She didn’t want to think about that right now.

Tears burned in Charlie’s eyes as a lavender flower—compressed between the pages—slipped free. Erin’s favorite. There had to be a dozen in this journal alone.

She swiped a hand down her face. She was wasting time. Her father could realize she’d broken in any second. Shoving off the bed, Charlie knocked into the nightstand.

The flashlight hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud.

A creak registered from somewhere else in the house. “Who’s there? You’re trespassing.”

Heavy footsteps charged down the hallway. Growing louder with every step. Erin’s bedroom door rattled. At least she’d thought enough ahead to lock it, just in case. But now she was out of time.

“Damn it.” Charlie backed toward the window she’d come through. She’d broken her only rule for coming back into this house. She’d let emotion distract her.

“You have three seconds to identify yourself.” Her father’s voice drove through her in a mixed battle of love and fear. “One. Two.”

She clutched Erin’s journal as she threaded a leg through the window. The flashlight rolled out of reach. She’d have to leave it.

The door crashed open.

It slammed against the wall.

A massive outline filled the doorframe, rifle aimed at her. “You’ve got a lot of nerve breaking into my house—” His booming voice caught. The gun wavered for just a moment as cold gray eyes narrowed on her through the darkness. “Charlie?”

Her fight-or-flight response pulled her through the frame in a panic. Gravity dragged her down, and Charlie hit the ground. Hard. Air knocked from her chest as she lost her hold on Erin’s journal.

Those same heavy footsteps echoed from inside the house.

She had to get up. She had to run. Oxygen suctioned down into her lungs as she heard the front screen door scream on its old hinges. She clawed into the frozen ground to get her bearings and pushed to her feet. Stumbling forward, she scooped up the journal and pumped her legs as fast as she could.

A gunshot exploded overhead.

A warning shot.

It singed her nerves to the point her skin felt as though it were on fire. Spotlights flared to life as she ran down the dirt driveway. Wire fencing corralled her on either side to the end, and she cut to her left at the end. Her feet failed to absorb the impact of her boots against asphalt as she raced toward the neighboring farm where she’d left her car.

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