“Did he say where he is and why?”
“No, sir.” The officer on the other end of the line made shuffling-paper sounds, no doubt checking his notes. “Dr. Gunnar said he ‘felt claustrophobic and had to get away.’ He went on to say he’ll be returning to custody shortly.”
“Sounds rehearsed.” Jackson glanced at his clock and did the math. “Why did you wait an hour to notify me?”
“We’re a bit busy here tracking the call.” The deputy marshal finally sounded annoyed. He must have had about the same amount of sleep Jackson had had. “We just got confirmation that the call came from a prepaid phone he purchased here in Phoenix. It may take a few hours but we should be able to trace it. We do know he’s not in the immediate area.”
“A search won’t help you. He’ll have dumped it after that call. Have you checked to see what other calls he made before he called your office?”
“There was only one other. An unlisted number in Virginia.”
“Another burner phone. I need you to keep a tight lid on this. Oh, and if Dr. Gunnar should call again, patch him straight through to me. Only me. Got it?”
When he’d hung up Jackson squeezed his right eye shut, the better to concentrate. Virginia was where Yardley Summers lived. Coincidence? He’d bet a month’s salary it wasn’t.
He smiled when his assistant appeared in the doorway a second time. “Get DEA agent Glaser on the line. The Summers woman has just become a person of interest.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Fine ice particles sifted through the midmorning air. More shards than snowflakes, they stung Yardley’s face as she and Oleg made their way across the field where four inches of white stuff had fallen during the night. Judging by the tinkling sounds of the iced branches of distant trees, the temperature was well below freezing. The sun was up, barely. Its light and potential warmth were being shouldered aside by slate-blue clouds bringing the promise of more snow. Not that the weather was ever a factor in the decision to train at Harmonie Kennels. K-9 teams needed to be prepared to work in all weather, all conditions, at any time.
They weren’t doing endurance today but as her boots crunched through the layer of ice beneath the snow, she wondered how Oleg would handle the change of terrain. Dogs, even well-trained K-9s, were notorious for not wanting to do their poop duty on snowy ground. Often they had to be taken out hourly after the first snowfall until they adjusted to the idea that the only options until the thaw were slick and cold.
She bent and unleashed him then gave his coat a good scrubbing with her gloved hands. “Va porshed.”
Uninterested in her affection, Oleg danced away from her touch after a few strokes and bounded off a few yards, kicking up the fresh snow as if it pleased him. Then he turned, going perfectly still, and gave the distant stand of trees his full attention. She wondered with a shiver of remembered fear if he had known, as she now suspected, that Stokes had been hiding there watching them the day before. If so, she’d failed to pay attention to his alert. She didn’t do that now. Despite the fact that she knew Stokes was in the county jail, she stared at the tree line with her full attention. Nothing stirred in the blue shadows beneath winter-bare limbs that the snow had thrown into sharp relief.
After a few moments more, Oleg turned back and with a sharp high bark bounded toward her and grabbed at the leash dangling from her hand. He was stronger than he looked and almost pulled it out of her hand. He growled and released it before she could correct him. Then he ran behind her and play-attacked her from behind, growling and using his teeth to tug at her coat hem.
As Yardley swung around in surprise, Oleg grabbed her sleeve and tugged then released before he danced away.
“Oleg—” She stopped herself. She didn’t want to give him a hard command because she sensed he wasn’t really attacking her. But he was moving quickly around her, growling and jumping against her as if he was testing her for vulnerable spots. He growled and snarled but did not sound angry. He hadn’t done this before with her.
Yardley suddenly laughed in understanding. He was playing. The snow seemed to have invigorated the Czech wolfdog. He was practically prancing across the frozen earth like a pony.
She tucked the leash away—a serious tool for serious training—and took several strides away, pretending to ignore him.
Oleg stopped, checked the terrain for a few seconds, then came after her, leaping up repeatedly as he soft-mouth-grabbed at her coat from behind.