Loyalty: An Avery Barks Dog Mystery (Avery Barks Cozy Dog Mysteries Book 6) Read online

  LOYALTY

  An Avery Barks Dog Mystery

  Mary Hiker

  LOYALTY

  An Avery Barks Dog Mystery

  By Mary Hiker

  Published By:

  Awesome Dog

  Copyright © 2016 Mary Hiker

  www.maryhiker.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  Cover by StunningBookCovers.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  More Books by Mary Hiker

  The Author

  Chapter 1

  Whew, I thought I was in better shape than this.

  I drew in another breath of the cool morning air, slid the navy blue knit hat off my head and willed my legs to move a little faster. Dried pine needles crunched underneath my new running shoes with each sluggish stride, reminding me to focus on the beautiful forest surrounding me instead of my lack of speed. Meanwhile, my golden retriever-mix, Chevy, sped past and ran another circle around me with no effort at all.

  A smile broke across my face between gasps for air as I watched Chevy prance along the trail. He positioned his face into the breeze to catch every exciting forest scent as the soft fur on his back bounced with each step. Dogs have a way of bringing out the fun in any situation – even the self-induced torture of jogging.

  Running was not my thing, but it was an effective way to take off the few extra pounds I’d gained over the winter. Those extra portions of Miss Millie’s famous chocolate buttermilk cake had done me in…again. Just the thought of the homemade dessert made my taste buds happy. But, it would be oatmeal and berries for breakfast after this four-mile run. Not a bad breakfast by any standards, but definitely not the same caliber as Millie’s delicious cake.

  My mouth was dry with thirst, reminding me that my water bottle still sat on the kitchen counter…right next to the hard-boiled egg I’d planned for my pre-run snack.

  A flutter of concerned chatter broke my thoughts, and I realized we’d completed the loop back to my truck. I paused. Human voices were out of place in this part of the woods.

  I stopped and listened intently since I’d never seen anybody else park in this area before – it was my secret spot. The small grassy area was off a side trail a good half mile from the main trailhead parking and a quarter mile from the main road. I used four- wheel drive down a dirt path to get here and there sure weren’t any signs leading folks back to it.

  “Chevy, come hook up,” I called to my dog, pulling his leash from my pocket as he trotted over.

  I snapped the cool metal clip to his collar, got a tight grip on the leash, and made my way out of the woods to the clearing. A couple guys about twenty years old with expensive mountain bikes were huddled at the edge of the grass studying a trail map.

  I breathed a slight sigh of relief, figuring they were visitors to the mountain trails and got a little lost. I was used to that.

  The guys looked up and the cuter one with curly brown hair that peeked out from under his bike helmet gave me a pleading look. I was used to that too and chuckled under my breath. Lots of folks seemed to need assistance finding their way through this forest and I was happy to help.

  “How far are we from the Little Log Trailhead?” The curly hair guy showed me his old, worn out map while his buddy took a drink of water.

  Chevy strained on the end of his lead to nuzzle the silent one and demand a scratch on the head.

  “About a half mile if you take the trail that way,” I said and pointed back the way I came.

  He flashed a big smile that would melt a college girl’s heart. Good thing I was a good ten years older than him and immune to his charm. Sort of.

  He nodded toward the woods and his face grew serious. “That’s where they found Bennett Meyer’s abandoned motorcycle - at the Little Log Trailhead, isn’t it?”

  “Umm.” My thoughts swirled and I broke eye contact, wondering how he knew about Bennett Meyer. My search and rescue team recently spent several days and nights looking for the young man, to no avail.

  “I go to school with his cousin in Asheville,” he sputtered, glancing over at his buddy.

  Bennett Meyer’s family was offering a five hundred dollar reward for information about his disappearance. That might not sound like much money to some, but it was probably the entire savings account of Bennett’s granny.

  The young man moved to town back in January and was staying with his grandmother to help her out. His broken down motorcycle was found parked at the Little Log Trailhead a few weeks ago and he hadn’t been seen or heard from since.

  Some folks thought he’d run off with Kayla Lee Candler, a girl from the city that liked to drive fast cars and was rumored to sell pot. Others believed he’d gotten lost or injured while hunting and needed rescue. After three days of scouring the mountain, the sheriff called off the search – too early to stop looking in my opinion.

  The only K9 we ran that weekend was Ruby, a flat coat Border Collie with a brand new search certification. She was a great dog and her handler was skilled, but we could’ve used a lot more help out there.

  I figured it wouldn’t hurt for these two guys to keep their eyes open, just in case.

  “Let me get you a better trail map from my truck and I’ll show you where you’re at.”

  I unclipped Chevy’s lead and my stomach grumbled as I turned toward my truck. Once these guys got back on the trail, I’d dig into the plastic baggie of almonds I had stashed under the armrest.

  My dog gave an excited bark and his tail went into overdrive. I looked up and was surprised to see Deputy Don Donaldson’s personal vehicle parked behind mine. The black four-door, full sized truck sported our search and rescue team magnet on the back passenger door as it hung wide open.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, then re-opened them to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. I’d never known Don to hike or hang out in this section of the forest, much less park his truck in my secret spot. Maybe he’d been feeling guilty for missing the Bennett Meyer search mission and was out looking for clues.

  Deputy Don was not only a dog handler on my search and rescue team, he was a good friend of both Chevy and mine. My dog perked up at the familiar sight and scent, bounded over to find his friend, and jumped right in the back seat of the open door. Chevy was ready to go for a ride like he’d done a million times before. Only this time, something different happened, and it was frightening.

  A loud rumble burst through the air as the engine roared to life and was put into drive. Don’s truck did a U-turn and sped off down the dirt path toward the main road, the passenger door swinging shut as it left.

  “Whoa!” The mountain bikers called out in unison.

  I spun around and waved. “It�
��s okay, I know that guy.” Inside I was fuming.

  There were some things you just didn’t do – and that included pulling pranks involving my dog. I dug into the outer pocket on my hiking pack, ripped out my cell phone, and speed dialed Don’s number, letting out a couple derogatory words under my breath.

  Don answered on the first ring, as usual. “Hey Avery, what’s up?”

  “Dude, that’s not funny. Bring my dog back.” My tone was sharp and I didn’t care.

  There was an awkward silence.

  “What are you talking about?” He acted confused.

  I rubbed my forehead. Don sure had a bad sense of humor today.

  “Chevy.” I frowned. “Quit playing around and bring my dog back. And quit driving like a maniac with my dog in your truck.”

  Once again, all I heard was silence on the other end of the line and a lump formed in my throat.

  “Avery, I’m sitting in my recliner, trying to watch the game.”

  Suddenly, I felt light headed and my hands started to tremble. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not.” He turned up the volume on his television so I could hear it blaring in the background. “Listen.”

  Images of what might happen to Chevy flashed through my mind as my heart pounded hard in my chest.

  “Avery?”

  “Chevy just jumped in your truck!” My shout echoed through the cool air. “I’m sure it was yours.”

  “My truck’s in the back yard.” He sounded concerned. “What’s going on?”

  “It was your truck. The team’s search and rescue magnet was stuck on the side door.” Only team members had those magnets to identify their vehicles on search and rescue missions. “Go look in your yard.”

  There was a long, painful silence before an even more painful response.

  “It’s gone,” he said and cleared his throat.

  “Well, whoever took your truck has my dog too!” My stomach turned.

  Every moment of the last ten minutes played over in my mind. Guilt flooded over me and tears flowed down my face. I’d foolishly assumed Don had taken Chevy as a joke and didn’t race after the truck.

  Now, my dog and Don’s truck were both long gone.

  Chapter 2

  My back muscles were in knots as I leaned against my truck and began posting pictures of Chevy on every social media site known to man. It felt like I’d stood in the same spot for twenty minutes, calling the animal shelter, local veterinarians and praying whoever had my dog would turn around and bring him back.

  I figured it might be a good idea to post a picture of Don’s truck too.

  My fingers flew as I swiped the screen on my smart phone, looking for an old picture taken at one of the team trainings. Found it! The process started all over again as I posted a picture of Don’s vehicle to all the same social media sites with the message… My dog was last seen in this truck.

  I yanked open my passenger door and threw my pack inside, focusing on taking action and planning to cruise every road in the county looking for any sign of Chevy.

  The mountain bikers were preparing to set off into the woods.

  “By chance, did you see who was driving the big black truck that just took off?” I called out.

  They pedaled over and skidded to a stop right next to me. The curly haired guy adjusted his helmet. “I thought you knew the guy.” His face looked pale. “Are you okay?”

  “Someone took my friend’s truck.” I handed him the trail map I’d promised. “Did you get a look at him?”

  “Yeah, that dude was kind of crazy.” He glanced over at his silent buddy.

  “Crazy, how?” A small jolt of hope came with the realization he’d seen something.

  The blood slowly came back to his face as he let out a breath and pointed to an area about twenty feet from my truck. “A dude walked out of the woods from over there earlier – not on the trail either.” The rider leaned the bike on his hip. “From the description my cousin gave me, I thought the guy might be Bennett Meyer. I waved at him, but he kind of ducked his head and made a beeline for the truck.”

  My head was spinning, but I, at least, I had something to go on.

  “Where - exactly - did he come out of the woods?”

  He rolled his bike toward the wood line and pointed toward a small opening in the foliage.

  I scribbled my phone number on a scrap piece of paper from my glove box. “Will you call me if you see him or that black truck again?”

  “Will do,” he said, taking the paper from my hand and mounting his bike. “We’ll go check the main trail head parking lot.” He gave a slight smile, pushed the pedal down and headed to the trail, his buddy silently following behind.

  Obviously, there was little hope the truck would return my dog. I held my breath and double checked my phone for any new messages. Nothing. I planned my strategy as I made my way around to my driver’s door. I’d check the roads in the immediate area first, hoping that whoever was driving that truck let my dog out along the road.

  I was sure Chevy blindly jumped in the truck expecting to see Don and instead saw a truck thief that looked like Bennett Meyer. The kid must’ve freaked out knowing I’d come over to the stolen truck to get my dog, and took off.

  A glimmer in the grass caught my attention as I rounded the back of my truck and my search and rescue intuition kicked in, making me stop in my tracks. The flash seemed to be in the same area as the back of Don’s truck had been parked. I detoured over to take a closer look and scooped up a silver necklace with the name ‘Kayla’.

  An eerie chill worked its way up my spine as I dangled the necklace from my fingers and studied it in the sunlight. The style was unique, block lettering but still feminine looking, with a small diamond heart underneath. I wasn’t quite sure if it was actually a real diamond – I didn’t keep up on that sort of thing – but it looked real enough.

  I crouched, my eyes scanning the ground near the necklace as I looked for any clues. Whoa.

  It was plain as day – two parallel lines in the dirt, an inch or two wide, led from the necklace to the wooded area. Drag marks. I pushed back some brush and found a deer path – a narrow path created and used by animals to traverse the woods.

  About fifty feet along that deer path lay a fit looking female with long brown hair, dressed in fashionably ripped skinny jeans and an oversized flannel shirt. I reached down and checked for a pulse. There was none.

  My guess was it was Kayla Lee Candler.

  She might’ve been the last one seen with Bennett Meyer but they sure hadn’t taken a joy ride.

  Chapter 3

  “Chevy!”

  The truck inched along the back roads as I continued to search, keeping myself from crying by staying focused on the task at hand. My phone was within arm’s reach, just in case a ‘ping’ notified me of a dog sighting. My eyes strained, looking for any movement in the fields or ditches I passed.

  I’d probably get a talking to from Don for leaving the murder scene before he arrived, but I needed to be looking for Chevy. He was already annoyed with me for calling him ‘anonymously’ about what I’d found. He’d gone into full-on deputy mode and started up with the questions, so I hung up. For crying out loud, I would’ve called 911 if I had time to answer a bunch of questions.

  Besides, I’d left a bright pink length of surveyor’s tape hanging with the ‘Kayla’ necklace on a tree branch by the deer path after snapping a picture of it with my smart phone. He’d have no problem finding the young lady’s body. The best thing I could do for the girl right now was to find my dog and Don’s truck - they might just have a link to the killer.

  A deputy’s car approached and flew past me toward the murder scene, the driver lifting a couple fingers in acknowledgment as his hand rested on top of the steering wheel – Deputy Don’s signature wave.

  He must’ve parked his deputy’s car at home, I thought as my hand slid around the steering wheel, turning my truck down another side road.

/>   The afternoon sun was falling toward the tops of the trees and I still hadn’t found my dog. A text from my friend Jamie said the internet was hot with people sharing the news and Chevy’s picture.

  The thought of someone kidnapping him made me nauseous.

  I pulled the truck to the side of the road, blowing out a breath as I wiped away tears. I silently said a prayer for Chevy’s safety and fought off nagging thoughts that my dog may have been harmed.

  My fingers found their way to the social media board again, hoping someone had seen something, anything. The messages of support from dog lovers near and far rolling on my social media news feed overwhelmed me and made me smile for the first time since Chevy went missing.

  A post from Miss Millie caught my eye. Don’t forget to check back at your house…Chevy would probably head home if he had a chance.

  Good idea Miss Millie, I thought. My cabin was only two miles from here and he’d have had plenty of time to get back by now.

  My foot stomped the gas pedal, jolting the truck back onto the road and I sped to the house with renewed energy. By gosh, I still had a chance to find my dog by dark.

  Gravel scattered as I pulled in my drive and scanned the porch of my cabin. There was no sign of Chevy, so I got out and ran around back to his favorite sleeping spot, calling out his name. Nothing.

  Not to be deterred, I dragged his crate onto the back porch and put some dog cookies inside. Grabbing a used blanket and canned dog food from the laundry room, I stuffed it all on the passenger seat in my truck. I planned to head back and lay it out at my secret parking spot – he’d smell the food and find the blanket that held my scent if he returned there.

  I jumped in and put the truck in reverse, swung my head around, and noticed a large manila envelope sticking in the screen door on my front porch. Hoping someone had seen Chevy and left a note, I left the engine running and rushed up the steps, pulling the envelope from my front door.

  My heart rate picked up speed when I saw CHEVY written across the front in bold letters. I ripped open the large envelope, being careful not to harm the contents. A letter was stuffed inside. I pulled it out with an excited anticipation that instantly plummeted.