Roscoe impacted him, knocking him back against the desk. With one fierce paw, Roscoe scrambled furiously in the kid’s pocket. With a hard swipe, Roscoe flipped a bottle out of the pocket onto the ground, where it shattered.
The dog immediately dropped and started rapidly licking up the liquid. It took the scent a second to reach Scott, but he recognized vodka when he smelled it. Millie was already trying to scramble through the officers to get to the dog.
“Damn it, Roscoe!” Scott muttered. He jumped onto a desk and followed Roscoe’s path to get beyond all the people crowding forward. Roscoe looked up, licked his lips, and shot through the legs of a uniformed officer, dodging left and right, knocking people over.
“Roscoe!” Tate yelled.
Millie ran around the other side, slipping on papers and going down.
“Millie,” Scott bellowed, turning and heading for her. She grabbed the edge of a desk and pulled herself to her feet, paperclips stuck in her hair. Scott’s irritation flashed to anger. “Roscoe!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
The entire room stilled. Roscoe tried to halt on another desk but couldn’t and ended up springing onto a copy machine. His paw hit the red button and the thing instantly started spitting out paper. Scott moved for him. Roscoe took one look at Scott’s face and somehow jumped up and nearly backflipped to land on another desk—the one with the cookies. He devoured half of them, and just as Scott almost reached him, he turned and leaped toward the doorway.
A woman came out of nowhere and caught him in a flying tackle, wrapping both arms around the dog and turning so she landed on her back and skidded several feet, holding the animal but not hurting him. They came to a stop. Silence landed hard for several moments.
It took Scott a second to recognize Detective Buckle, Tate Bianchi’s partner, with her long arms wrapped around the dog. Roscoe settled in, flattening himself on her, and licked from her chin to the top of her head.
“Roscoe,” she snapped, rolling him to the side but keeping her hold on him. Wearing jeans and a green blazer now covered with cookie crumbs, she stood and pulled the dog up with her. Her gaze caught on Scott. “Are you kidding? What are you doing bringing him here?”
“Sorry.” Scott winced as he bounded down from a desk and reached for the dog.
Roscoe panted happily and licked crumbs off his fur. His doggy gaze caught on Buckle’s three-inch-heeled boots, crafted in black leather. He gingerly licked one.
“Oh no, buddy. I’ve heard about you and high heels,” Buckle said. She looked at her partner. “You invited the dog in?”
Tate blanched. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
Scott cleared his throat. “Excellent tackle, Detective Buckle.” The woman looked like a model at six feet tall with brown hair, lighter brown eyes, and an extremely stubborn chin.
She sighed. “Sorry, everybody. Pizza’s on Tate this Friday.” With that, she dragged Roscoe into the conference room.
Scott reached Millie and tugged a couple of paperclips from her hair. “Are you okay?”
“That dog,” she said. She brushed dust off her clothes and followed Detective Buckle. Tate Bianchi leveled a look at Scott, but there wasn’t much he could do about the situation, so he went after the women and waited for Tate to do the same. They sat at the table.
“It’s always an adventure,” Detective Buckle said, smiling and showing one crooked tooth that made her intriguing.
“Hi, Buckle,” Millie said. “Haven’t seen you for a while.”
Detective Buckle wiped Roscoe’s kiss off her chin. “I agree. Things have been good with you and the team?”
“Yes. We still have a pot going as to what your first name is.”
Buckle laughed. “I don’t think even Tate knows it.”
“Oh, I know it,” Tate said grimly, sitting down and reaching for his file folder. “Back to business.” He tapped on a file. “We can’t find Julie Dearth. Her phone must be off, and she hasn’t used a credit card for a couple of days.”
“There was a small amount of blood at her apartment near the door,” Buckle said quietly. “We’re canvassing the neighbors, but nobody has seen anything.”
Fury lanced through Scott so quickly his throat hurt, feeling as if he’d swallowed a lit briquette. “She filed for divorce from Werner Dearth, and we’re talking millions upon millions in the property settlement.” He shook his head. “The guy’s dangerous and he is a criminal.”
“Do you have any proof of that?” Tate asked.
Scott glanced at Millie.
Millie wished they had proof. “The Homeland Defense Department is investigating him, but I don’t know the status of the case. I’ll find out later today and let you know.”
“Investigating him for what?” Detective Buckle asked.
