Page 16 of Trap ’N’ Trace

“You’ll make sure?” Paulson took a step closer, trying to get in Dayne’s face. Good luck with that. The man was at least five inches shorter than Dayne’s six-four. “Don’t forget, Feeb, she’s my witness.”

Remy inserted herself between them, growling low in her throat as she glared up at the detective. When Paulson leaped back, Dayne couldn’t prevent the not-so-tiny smirk quirking his lips.

“Easy, girl.” He leaned down to rest his hand on Remy’s head. To Paulson, he said, “She’s also an FBI witness.”

Paulson gave Remy a cautionary glance. “How do you figure that?”

“Retired or not, Becca Garman will always be FBI, so like it or not, you just got yourself a new partner for the duration of this investigation. Remy, let’s go.” He didn’t miss the look of resentment on Paulson’s face.

Tough shit, dude.

Two minutes later, he parked behind two police cruisers in the castle’s driveway. Rain still fell but had finally begun to ease.

He gave Remy a quick chin rub, then grabbed the bag of Angus’s toys he’d retrieved from where he’d dropped them outside the Haven. The kibble, unfortunately, was a soggy mess that he’d disposed of in a dumpster. He left the SUV running with its heat vents directed toward the kennel so his K-9’s thick coat would start to dry. He didn’t like leaving Remy in the vehicle, but her coat was a mess and she smelled exactly like what she was. A wet dog.

The window on one of the cruisers rolled down, and he badged himself to the young cop. “FBI Special Agent Andrews. Is your partner inside?”

“Yeah.” The cop, who looked no more than fifteen but had to be at least twenty-one, jerked his thumb to the house. “But I’m not sure for how long. His wife just went into labor. It’s their first kid. We’re trying to get a replacement so he can leave.”

Dayne grinned. Two of his best friends, Matt Connors and Nick Houston, had recently become fathers and they were happier than pigs in shit. “I’m going in. Notify your partner, will ya?”

“Ten-four.”

Dayne understood the other cop needing to hightail it to the hospital. If he and Britt had married, they might have had several kids by now. He’d have walked through fire and brimstone to be at her side for every birth. But Britt had taken off and never looked back.

At the top step, a red light lodged in a corner of the roof caught his eye. A security camera. Tomorrow, he’d do a thorough inspection of the entire system. Maybe he’d even call Kade for an assist.

Before hiring on with Homeland Security, Kade Sampson had been a security system specialist. Kade was a master at installing systems while Dayne was an expert at getting past them, a trade he’d learned as a kid on the streets of Newark. If they hadn’t gone the law enforcement route, they could have started their own company and made a mint.

He assumed Kat had long since gone to bed. Not wanting to wake her by using the church organ doorbell, he knocked softly. Another cop, this one in his early thirties and wearing a pin that said T. Morales, answered the door with a cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Honey, I’ll be there as soon as my relief shows up.” Morales closed the door after Dayne stepped inside.

Angus bounded into the foyer, his ears flapping against the sides of his head. In his mouth was the same gnarly chew toy. Dayne knelt and scratched the puppy’s ears. He emptied the bag of toys on the floor, expecting Angus to dive right in. Instead he maintained a firm grip on the ratty one in his mouth, ignoring all the other options, which included a black puppy Kong, a rope with a ball on one end, and a blue stuffed animal with bulging yellow eyes, the species of which was unidentifiable.

“Congratulations.” He stood when the cop pocketed his phone. “Your first?”

“Yeah.” Morales grinned, but the smile quickly morphed into a frown as he glanced at his watch. “My wife will have my balls on a platter if I don’t get my ass to the hospital ASAP.”

Angus scampered off.

“When’s your replacement due?” Gurgling sounds floated into the foyer, the kind made by a coffeepot.

“They won’t say.” Morales dragged a hand down his face, looking desperate.

Dayne’s only experience with kids was with his niece and nephew, but that didn’t make him immune to the cop’s predicament. “How is Ka—Miss Vandenburg—doing?”

“She’s okay, I guess. She’s upstairs, but still awake.” Something buzzed, and Morales pulled out his phone and began reading a text.

Angus bumped his toy against Dayne’s knee. He tugged it from the puppy’s mouth and tossed it for him to chase after.

He followed Angus into an enormous library paneled in dark wood. Three more crystal chandeliers, each the size of a small Chevy, dangled over his head. He didn’t know much about rugs, but the floor was littered with them. Thick red and blue ones. The rugs alone probably cost thousands.

The place really was over the top. There had to be at least thirty rooms but no big screen or beat-up leather chair for watching baseball and football.

His boots clumped as he walked into another room that made his heart sing. A full-size pool table took up most of the room. No dart board on the wall, though. Instead every inch of wall was covered with paintings of men and women glaring down at him. Kat’s ancestors?

Dayne arched a brow. He didn’t know who his own father was, let alone any of his ancestors. Hell, he’d barely known his own mother.