Race Against Time (30 page)

“I—”

She glanced over and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Get it over with.

“I don’t want to race this weekend.”

I could see the surprise flash across her face.

Please, don’t ask questions
.

She stared, as if searching my eyes.

What did she see? I looked down to my feet.
Don’t let her read your expression
.

She nodded. “Okay. Sit.”

I obeyed. But what would I say? I couldn’t explain . . .

“What’s this about?” She folded her hands and placed them on the desk. Then paused. “Are you scared something will happen?”

“Sort of.” I kept my gaze on my sock-covered feet. Best not open the door of conversation.

“What’s that mean?”

I sighed. “I’m just worried. That’s all.” I closed my eyes. “And I don’t want to race this weekend.”

She kept looking at me. Didn’t say a word. I could almost feel her stare burn a hole through me.
Just stay focused.

“Please, Mom. Don’t make me race.” My voice cracked.
Get it over with
. . .

“
Make
you race? When did I ever have to make you race?”

I could tell her that it was when I started getting mysterious notes. I could have said that it was since I had witnessed a murder . . .

But I didn’t. Couldn’t. Not without risking her life. I kept silent. Hoping.

Praying.

God, if You care, show me now . . .

No! You can’t give Him another chance.

“Okay. If that’s what you really want. I have to admit I was worried, and unsure how to approach the subject. I just don’t want to squash your dreams. Not again.”

I nodded. Didn’t—couldn’t—look up. I stood. Then walked toward the door.

Something inside me crushed. Like my heart began collapsing. What had I done?

“Zoya.” Mom walked up and touched my shoulder. “You’re not doing this because of me, are you?”

I held my breath.

She sighed. And waited. “Is this what
you
want?”

Nod. You have to nod
.

I did.

Then walked into the hall.

Why was this so hard? Why was
life
so hard?

Andie met me at the top of the steps. “Hey, wanna check on the dogs?”

Again I nodded. Distraction . . . Distraction . . . Distraction . . .

As we put on coats and boots, I could see Mom watching us.

Don’t let her read your expression . . . Keep going . . .

I knew I had to keep going. I knew that was the right thing to do.

But was it?

We walked outside. The air was cold, almost threatening. As was everything now. I pulled my jacket up to cover my nose. Couldn’t wait to get into the barn.

Stop it, Zoya. Just keep going . . .

We were soon there. I felt so . . . strange. What was wrong with me? What had happened?

The past couple weeks came flooding back. Was that why Andie seemed so worried all the time? Was it because I had changed for good? Did she think I would stay like this forever?

Did
I
think I would stay like this forever?

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

I
had
changed. For the worse.

But how could I fix it? How did I find that peace, that sense of normality, I’d had before?

One answer came.

God.

Could I let Him in? I wanted to . . .

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go check on Eklutna.” Andie walked outside without another word. Had she seen my doubt? Did she know what was going on inside of me? No. How could she?

But couldn’t she hear the screaming in my head?
Andie, don’t leave me! Don’t leave me alone!

I could do this. I could.

I walked around in the barn, thinking. Something in my boot squished. I took another step. Something was inside it.

My brow furrowed.

I looked down, then bent over to take it off. Once it was off, I held it upside down.

A piece of paper flittered out.

Go away. Run. Or you’ll never see your mom again.

I stared at the tiny piece of shriveled up paper.

How . . . ?

They caught the shooter . . . he was gone. Permanently. So how was he still giving me notes?

I clutched it to my chest. Eyes closed. Heart pounding.

God, why? Why are You doing this? I can’t handle this!

The little voice inside me screamed.
“Leave. And don’t
ever
come back.”

DETECTIVE SHELDON

10:16 a.m.

Another body. The shooter.

Dave paced the office floor. Papers, files, photos cluttered his desk.

What was he missing?

The FBI had already moved passed the murders. Something else—something bigger—took their attention.

He trusted his instincts, and they told him it was all connected.

One big question remained: Who was the mastermind?

CHAPTER THIRTY

SEAN

February 2

Naltsiine Kennels

11:14 a.m.

He’d almost finished cleaning up the kennel when Andie and Zoya arrived, Dasha and Sasha on their heels.

The dogs full of yap and bouncing through the snow. Andie all jabber and animated hand-motions. Zoya . . . quiet and sad.

He placed the shovel inside the tool shed. How could he reach the little girl who’d gripped his heart like no one ever had?

Her face seemed devoid of emotion, but Sean saw past all that. So much sadness. So much fear. All stuffed down.

It broke his heart.

“Hey, Sean!” Andie waved, grabbed Zoya’s hand, and dragged her over.

“Well, if it isn’t the two prettiest girls in Alaska. How are you two?” He kept his tone light. But every time he tried to catch Zoya’s gaze, she stared at the ground.

“We’re good. Just a little bored. Wanted to check on the dogs.” She leaned in and whispered to Sean behind her hand. “It usually helps cheer her up.”

Zoya’s eyes darted around the woods.

Sean whispered back. “Good idea.” He wrapped an arm around Zoya’s shoulder. “How’s my Sunshine doing? Looking a bit peaked today, I’d say.”

She gave him a weak half grin in return. “A little. Maybe.”

“Not sleeping well?”

“Not really.”

“Does it help to know they’ve caught the murderer?”

She shrugged and stared out beyond the fence.

“You know, maybe talking about it will help.” He sat on one of the logs they used in the kennel as benches, patting the space beside him. “Andie and I are here to help. We’re both great listeners.” He winked at Andie.

Andie immediately caught the hint and sat on his other side. She leaned her head toward Sean’s and smiled. “See? We’re all ears.”

He watched Zoya’s shoulders slump. Like the weight of the world began to bear down upon her. She paced in front of them, tapping out a rhythm on her leg with her gloved hands. “I don’t think you can understand.”

“Try us.”

She opened her mouth then shut it. Opened it again. And just when Sean thought for sure she was about to spill her guts, she shut it again. Frowned. And he could almost feel the walls come up again.

Lord, help!

That’s when it hit him.
This
was the reason he’d struggled so long and hard with anger. It wasn’t about him. It was about this. This moment. This place. And this sweet, young girl.
Lord . . . You’re amazing
.

He turned to Andie. “Hey, did you know the Bible says it’s okay to be angry?”

Andie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yep. But it says in your anger don’t sin.”

“Oh, yeah, like righteous anger, huh? I’ve heard Pastor say something like that.”

Sean nodded. Zoya fiddled with a stick in the snow but stayed close, eyes on the ground.
Lord, please help her hear
.

“So . . . don’t sin.”

He turned back to Andie. “Right.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t let the anger make us hurt someone?”

“Or make us hurt ourselves. Because if we let anger go on too long, dig in too deep, pretty soon that voice is so loud inside us that we can’t hear God’s still small voice. He’s still there, talking to us, speaking truth to our hearts, but we can’t hear Him.”

“Wow. That’d be awful!”

“It is. I know that because I’ve been there. I let my anger at my father grow so strong it got between me and God. And God’s not going to force His way in where He’s not welcome. That’s not how He works. But He’s always there. Always. Waiting for us to welcome Him in. Gently prodding. Quietly speaking to us.”

Andie leaned back, her serious gaze fixed on him. “I hadn’t ever thought of it like that. But you’re right. Whenever I’m mad, all I can hear is the negative thoughts screaming in my head.”

Insightful girl. “Screaming is right. Every time I allow that rage to boil up, it’s like screaming, sometimes almost shrieking in my head. How on earth can we hear anything else once we’ve allowed the angry voice to reign?”

He risked a look to Zoya. She stood still, eyes trained on him. She opened her mouth—

Dasha and Sasha started barking up a storm.

Zoya’s attention snapped to the fence around the kennel.

So much for her opening up. Maybe she at least heard his words.

Andie hopped up and went over to the dogs. “It’s okay, Zoya. They’re not worried about a human. Remember, the shooter’s gone.” She pointed to their beautiful huskies. “Look. They’re sniffing around Morphine’s neck and barking.”

The fear on Zoya’s face disappeared and she turned her attention to Andie and the dogs. “What is it, girl?” She petted Sasha’s neck.

Sasha barked and yipped and yapped at Zoya like she was carrying on a conversation.

Sean had never seen anything quite like it. “She’s very intelligent, isn’t she?”

Andie tried to calm Dasha. “Yeah, and hyper. And protective.”

“So why are they barking?”

Andie shook her head. “I’m not quite sure . . .”

They all turned to watch Zoya. She listened to Sasha and watched her movements. Sasha continued to bark and kept pushing her nose onto Morphine’s neck.

Zoya talked low and soothing to both dogs as they jumped around. Morphine appeared uncomfortable. Sasha perturbed.

“What is it, Sasha? Show me, girl. What’s got you all upset?” Zoya continued her soft words and petted both dogs.

Sasha shoved her snout into Morphine’s neck again, pushing Zoya’s hand closer.

Zoya probed the spot, leaning in closer. “Sean, come here.”

He approached.

“Look. There’s something on Morphine’s neck. It’s really small, but the place looks infected.”

As he gazed over Zoya’s shoulder, he saw what Sasha had found. “Let me get the first aid kit.” He ran over to the shed, grabbed it, and headed back to the dogs. Opening it up, he searched the contents. Then he pulled out a magnifying glass and tweezers.

“Let me take a closer look. Andie, will you hold Dasha and Sasha? Zoya, I need you to hold Morphine still.” The girls obeyed and together they worked over the leader of the Painkiller Litter.

The girls’ curiosity kept them pressed close as he examined the wound. Sure enough, below the dog’s winter coat was a tiny red welt. Fiery red and swollen.

“I’m going to grab an alcohol swab, keep him steady.”

“Okay.” Zoya tightened her hold.

After wiping down the area, Morphine jerked in his grasp, shaking his head as fast as he could. Sean and Zoya worked to steady him. Clearly the dog was bothered by the tiny area on his neck.

“It’s okay, boy. Let me clean this up and we’ll be all done.” Sean tried to wipe the spot again, when Morphine barked and snapped. The wound popped open and blood and pus oozed out.

“Steady, Morphine.” He turned to Andie. “Would you go get Anesia, please?”

“Yes, sir.” She dashed away.

“Zoya, I’ll straddle his back end, and you hold his head. Looks like something might’ve gotten under the skin and it’s infected.”

His young helper nodded.

Maybe he should wait for Anesia, but he couldn’t leave the poor dog like this. He might not be all that experienced, but he could at least try. Holding the magnifying glass up to the spot, he wiped down the tiny spot again and applied pressure. When he lifted the gauze, a tiny corner of something poked out of the wound.

Sean leaned in closer with the magnifying glass. It didn’t appear to be glass or a splinter. He used the tweezers to pinch the edge. With a gentle tug, he pulled the obstruction loose.

Zoya gasped.

Morphine wiggled out of their grasp and shook his head. He sat on his rear and barked at Zoya seeming content with his circumstances.

Sean turned the tiny piece of plastic back and forth under the magnifying glass. All the puzzle pieces scrambled in his head. It didn’t make sense.

But one thing was sure. They’d found another macrochip.

Implanted in one of Anesia’s prize dogs.

ZOYA

1:23 p.m.

Cole bent over Mint Chocolate Chip and stroked her head. “Good girl. Stay calm.” She wiggled and squirmed within his grasp. Her whimpers made me feel like my heart jammed into my throat.

Poor thing. I hoped she was okay. None of the other dogs we’d checked so far had gotten seriously infected in the incision area, but Mint Chocolate Chip looked like she might have.

Who had done this to the poor little things?

I shook my head. People. Nobody had a heart anymore.

I petted Sasha, who stood beside me like a body guard. “Good girl.” I couldn’t believe it when they had found the chips. Those two were smart.

Anguish twirled in the pit of my stomach.

Go away. Run. Or you’ll never see your mom again.

I closed my eyes. A habit now.

Stop thinking about it!

Anger churned in my gut. They had gotten that close. In our barn. To my dogs. How far would they go? Was I putting my family, the dogs, Sean in danger?

The note haunted me. Haunted my thoughts. Haunted my heart. What would they do to Mom if I did stay? Could Sean or Cole save her? Could the FBI save her? No. If they had gotten this close without us even suspecting . . .