Because after a long dry spell of not being an investigative reporter, all of a sudden, a story had dropped into his lap.
Coincidence? It didn’t feel like it. He hadn’t given up investigative reporting because he felt done with it. More like it was on hold. Now that he’d been presented with a mystery to solve, a story to pursue, he could admit the vague restlessness he’d been experiencing lately would only be addressed by diving into the reason a body had turned up in the Dark Canyon Wilderness.
Something about the whole situation made his blood rush, the way it used to when he was on the verge of breaking a story wide open.
Officer West had more than a little to do with that too.
“Let’s run the advanced recovery sequence,” he told Dancer, pushing thoughts of fierce female officers aside. For the moment. “Hunt.”
Dancer moved with fluid precision through the complex scenario they’d set up, following the scent trail Noah had laid earlier. This was the kind of work that had earned them their reputation—deliberate, technical and precise. The dog paused at a junction of crossing trails, nose working the air before confidently choosing the correct path.
“Nice work,” Noah murmured. He should be taking notes. The article he was supposed to be writing was all about these advanced discrimination techniques. Instead, his mind kept overlaying the search grid from yesterday’s recovery, mapping how the victim’s position related to the natural terrain.
The laptop waited on a nearby table, his article notes a jumble of false starts and trailing thoughts. He pulled it open while Dancer took a water break.
Advanced scent discrimination requires a careful balance of instinct and training. The handler must—
Must what? Follow the evidence? Trust their gut when patterns emerge?
The case of why a dead woman had ended up buried under a pile of rock had all the hallmarks of something bigger. His cursor blinked as his old instincts rose to the surface. He had a whole folder of articles he’d written about similar cases. Young women found in remote locations, staged to look like accidents.
“Got a minute?” Steve from the K-9 unit interrupted his dangerous train of thought. “We could use your expertise with Kelly’s new shepherd. He’s struggling with scent differentiation.”
“Sure.” Noah closed the laptop before he could fall deeper into that research hole, actually grateful for the distraction.
The other handlers were good guys, completely dedicated to their specialized training routines. He needed to focus on his day job until he had time to really dig into the story forming in his mind. There was actual work to do, the kind that paid the bills, but not if he slacked off chasing a few leads that didn’t exist yet.
Kelly, a newer freelancer from Telluride, stood with her young shepherd in the complex trails area they used for discrimination training. The dog had potential—great nose, solid work ethic—but Noah could see the tension in his body language. Whatever was throwing him off had been building for a while.
“Walk me through what’s happening,” Noah said, shifting into teaching mode. Complex search problems were his sweet spot—when he could focus on them. Dancer sat at attention, always ready to demonstrate proper technique.
“He keeps losing the trail,” Kelly explained, frustration evident in her voice. “Does great with simple tracks but fails when we add crossing patterns. Gets distracted by older scents.”
Now this was familiar ground. Noah pulled out training aids from his vest. “Let’s break it down. Dancer, show them the sequence.”
His partner’s ears perked up. They’d developed this demonstration over years of working with new teams. Noah laid out scent articles in a pattern, explaining each step. “The key is building their confidence with discrimination. Let them work it out instead of trying to force the issue.”
Dancer moved through the sequence with practiced ease, showing how to work crossing patterns without losing the primary scent. The shepherd watched intently, and Noah could practically see the wheels turning in the younger dog’s mind.
Kelly shifted closer than strictly necessary as Noah demonstrated the pattern layout. Her light floral perfume invaded his space.
“You make everything look so easy,” she said, her smile bright and wide.
She’d been dropping hints for weeks that she’d like to get coffee sometime. Honestly, he couldn’t put his finger on why he hadn’t taken her up on it. Kelly’s long brown hair curled up at the ends, and she always wore subtle makeup that accented her eyes perfectly, as if she’d spent a long time in front of the mirror perfecting her look.
In short, exactly his type. Beautiful. They had K-9 handling in common. And it would be easy. Not a lot of effort on his part.
Maybe that was the problem. Falling into a casual relationship with a pretty woman who would do all the work didn’t sound very appealing.
He wanted passion. Fire. Explosions. A reason to wake up every morning and an even better one to draw him to bed each night. He wanted intense.
Sabrina’s fierce blue eyes appeared in his mind’s eye again, and just thinking about her put a hum in his gut. Poor Kelly couldn’t hope to compare.
Dancer moved through the sequence with practiced ease, showing how to work crossing patterns without losing the primary scent. The shepherd watched intently while Kelly used the opportunity to brush against Noah’s arm as she asked another question about scent discrimination.
His phone buzzed. Excellent.
He bobbled it out of his pocket like a stupid, eager teenager when, normally, he ignored the thing. Real interaction floated his boat most days, but right this second, he was thrilled to have a distancing mechanism. “Apologies, let me get this.”
