CHAPTER 1
Wednesday morning – early
Kate Killoy hated being in jail. She looked out onto her dog’s exercise yard at her dozen hairy, arctic pups playing in the falling snow and sighed. Then, picking up her camera as a distraction from her captivity and resting her elbows on the banquette table, she focused on Quinn. He was playing King of the Mountain on the huge wooden cable spool. Snow swirled as the other eleven Sams challenged him, their excitement growing as the storm increased. This was Samoyed weather, and they loved it. Arctic dogs, whirling snow, a perfect shot. She focused in close as Dillon, the puppy’s sire, leaped up behind him, knocking the puppy off, and barked his bragging rights. The close-up caught his joy at the win.
These Samoyed dogs were the focus of her world. Her father and grandfather had both loved the breed; raising and showing them for many years. The only girl in a family of five children, she was also the only one who didn’t adhere to the family’s passion for math. Kate’s passions, to the exclusion of other interests, as she grew up, were the dogs and knitting. When both her grandfather died, followed soon after, by her father, Kate inherited the kennel, the dogs, the training barn which also held her knitting studio, the kennel manager’s cottage, and fourteen acres of woods. This became her entire world until she fell in love and married.
Smiling, Kate moved her lens, seeking another shot. Taking photos was her most recent distraction from being grounded. Trying to explain to the male members of her household that the word pregnant did not mean helpless was a waste of time, breath, and energy. A movement at the front window of her kennel halted her shifting lens as she slid it to the right. She zoomed in on the familiar figure standing and staring out at the snow. His face, though looking in her direction, did not acknowledge her. It was his expression that froze her hand and made her gasp. Her portrait of Salvatore Mondigliani, her kennel manager, would be one of pure despair.
Lost in thought, she jumped as her phone rang, and glanced at the screen, seeing it was Harry. She let out a breath of relief. “You’re alive and safe,” she greeted her husband. “I worried. Where are you now?”
“I am where I’ve been for the last hour and seven minutes. I’m stuck a hundred yards from the entrance to the rest stop right before the Sturbridge exit on the Mass. Pike. A tractor-trailer kept its load upright when it jackknifed in the snow, but flipped its cab. From what I can get off the police scanner, the driver is alive but injured and the tow truck is inching its way the wrong way up the Sturbridge exit to get to him. Exit traffic’s halted. They’re going to have to flip the cab before anything moves.”
“You’re not exactly having fun. How did your Boston meeting go?”
“It’s right up there with this traffic for the most frustrating part of the day. The idiot’s company is going to be robbed blind because he convinced himself his employees are all saints. He wouldn’t listen to my evidence. I’ve been beating myself up for giving this guy even five minutes of my day. Oh wait, a hole just opened up. Yes, I can get into the rest stop. Fantastic! There’s a cup of coffee, extra-large with my name on it, waiting as soon as I park.”
“I’m certain that coffee is shouting, ‘Harry, come get me!’ But while you’re restocking your caffeine supply, and giving yourself more of a buzz, get yourself some food. Until the crane flips the cab, nobody’s going anywhere so you’re better off spending the time scarfing down a delicious meal in a warm comfortable rest stop, rather than sitting in traffic banging your head against the steering wheel.”
“I always bang it against the headrest—it’s softer.”
“Smart. That mega brain of yours always comes up with the best solution.”
“Well, not according to my now former client. He thinks I don’t understand people. Hum, that’s odd. What’s he doing here?”
“He, who?”
“Oh, just someone I met at that company. The boss’ golden boy.”
“Well, you and Prince Charming go get some warm food in your stomachs, and when your scanner says the crane has flipped the cab—head home.”
“Will do, and you remember—no shoveling snow. I know you are perfectly capable, but humor me. I don’t want you slipping on the snow and endangering both you and the munchkin in your belly.”
“Yes sir, no shoveling, ice skating, snowshoeing, skiing, or building igloos.”
“That’s my girl. I’ll see you as soon as I get there. Love you.”
“Love you, more.”
The call ended. Kate turned back to the window. Much to her surprise, Sal still stood there. Lifting her camera, she focused on the man. His stance was rigid, and she saw his fist grip a piece of paper. As she moved the close-up lens toward his face, a chill gripped her. Whatever was on that paper, it wasn’t good news.
###
Sal didn’t need to read the words on the paper. He knew them by heart. The postmarked envelope was from Washington, DC. As with the others, someone had typed this on plain white paper using a manual typewriter. The message never changed.
He walked to his desk, reached into the bottom drawer, took out a metal box, unlocked it, and placed the letter inside with all the other threats. He locked the box and stuck it back into the drawer of the desk. He didn’t need to look hard at the letter. It was a duplicate of the others, fifty-four threats—one a year. Only this year, it wasn’t the same. This time, the address was to him here, at Kate’s kennel. Did that mean the threat now included his boss and her family? He rolled his chair back from his desk and stood so he could again see out the window at the front of the kennel. This time, he looked across the yard toward the home of people he cared so much about.
###
Kate had just lifted her camera once more when her phone buzzed with a text. Delivery in five minutes. Can unload, but can’t set up. No time. Must be fast to beat this storm.
She set down the camera and raced for the living room. The notebook with all the details of the furniture delivery lay on the sofa table where she’d left it, thinking they would postpone the scheduled arrival of the furniture. All was ready, the rooms labeled, the lists made, markers sitting ready to mark each box. She quietly cheered and did a happy dance. At last, three months after they moved in, the second floor of the house would contain more than her old worn double bed, which she’d taken apart and stored in a closet last night. Five bedrooms now stood empty and waiting.
As she waited for the truck, she heard the kitchen door open and the sounds of men’s voices coming from the area of the coffee machine. She walked back into the kitchen and heard Sal and their kennel assistant, Roger grumbling about the weather and filling their thermal mugs with strong coffee.
“Katie, you’re going to have to do without me for a while,” Sal said. “I don’t want to leave the kids to handle plowing out that long driveway of theirs without help, especially with Sarah pregnant.”
Sarah was Sal’s daughter-in-law and a friend of Kate’s whose young German Shepherd Kate had shown to his championship. It was through Sarah that Kate had met Sal. He’d recently retired from many years as chief-of-police in a suburb of Springfield, Massachusetts. Luckily, Sal hated retirement and became Kate’s kennel manager, helping her expand the dog training facility to include police dogs.
“That seems to be the theme of the day. I just got off the phone with Harry and had to swear I would not shovel or plow snow since I’m carrying his child.”
“Where is he? I expected him home yesterday.”
“Apparently, he had a problem making his client believe there might be a snake in Eden. After giving it one more try this morning, he’s headed home, but he’s stuck behind a tractor-trailer with an overturned cab. By the time he got off the phone, he was in the rest stop right before the Sturbridge exit, planning to wait out the road congestion with a hot meal. It will probably be a couple of hours before we see him.”
Sal frowned and stayed back while Roger left to head back to the kennel. Looking hard at her, he said, “Kate, do me a favor and don’t ask why.”
“Okay, if it’s important.”
“It is. I want you to promise that if you’re alone over the next week, you’ll have Dillon and Liam at your side.”
“What’s wrong? Can’t you tell me?”
“Hopefully, nothing. Just humor me, please.”
“Okay. I promise.”
They both looked out the window and spotted the big truck pulling in with the furniture.
“What’s that?” Sal asked.
“That, believe it or not, is all the bedroom furniture for the second floor. It was just my luck that this was the scheduled delivery day. I purposely made it for mid-March to avoid snowstorms.”
“You forget that the biggest snowstorms come in spring to New England. They’d better get unloaded and back on the road or they might spend this storm parked in your driveway.”
“Then I’d better get cracking. You be careful with that plowing.”
As she headed toward the living room, she glanced back over her shoulder. Sal stood in the doorway, staring at her. She almost stumbled as she saw his face wearing an expression of abject terror.