The Wedding Plot--A Mercy Carr Mystery by Paula Munier

Author:Paula Munier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I love her, and that’s the beginning and end of everything.

—F. SCOTT FITZGERALD

Troy and the dogs were in the captain’s Range Rover with the air-conditioning on high, waiting for Mercy. He got her text and cursed the uniform who’d abandoned his post and Purdie or Harrington or whoever up the chain of command had decided that St. George or Hahn or whatever the perp was calling himself now didn’t need protection. As far as Troy was concerned the guy was definitely guilty of something and should be in police custody.

He called Thrasher, but the call didn’t connect and went straight to voice mail. He tried his radio but that didn’t work, either. No surprise there, since the captain was probably still in the woods tracking down the bikers who’d shot at them. He left his boss a message with dispatch and turned to the dogs. Susie Bear was asleep in the back seat. Elvis had commandeered the front passenger seat and had not taken his eyes off the hospital entrance, the last place he’d seen Mercy before she disappeared into the building.

Troy drummed a train beat on the dashboard. That got both dogs’ attention.

“Okay, boys and girls, we’re going in.” He wished he had a couple of Susie Bear’s orange-and-black “Search and Rescue” har- nesses which might help him convince the receptionist to let them past the front desk. But they were in his truck. “Try to look professional.”

Which would be no problem for the Malinois, who always looked like he was working, even when he wasn’t. As opposed to the Newfie, who always looked like she was meeting her BFFs for a drink. Life was a party for Susie Bear, at home, at work, and everywhere else.

He clipped on their leads and let them out of the Range Rover. The dogs heeled nicely on his left as they headed to the entrance.

They were stopped right inside the door by a nurse built like a bouncer. Tiffany, if her name tag was to be believed.

“You can’t bring those dogs in here.”

Troy flashed his badge. “I need to see one of your patients. Frank Hahn. Brought in for a gunshot wound last night.”

“You can’t bring those dogs in here,” she repeated.

“These are working dogs.”

“They aren’t wearing service dog vests.”

“Look, Tiffany, I just don’t have the vests with me right now. My vehicle was … It’s a long story. Call Captain Thrasher at the Vermont Fish & Wildlife Department. He’ll confirm.”

“The only canines allowed in here are service dogs.”

Troy pulled out his wallet and retrieved Susie Bear’s official Search & Rescue ID card. “Here.”

Tiffany uncrossed her impressive arms long enough to regard the ID with disdain. “This says search and rescue dog. Not service dog.”

He placed his hand between Elvis’s ears, which were at this moment perked at a very aggressive angle. The shepherd had taken a dislike to Tiffany. Or maybe he was just reflecting Troy’s own growing frustration with the woman. “Elvis served as a bomb-sniffing dog in Afghanistan. His handler was killed in action.

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