Hiding Crimes

Book 10: A Sam Mason K-9 Dog Mystery

by L.A. Dobbs

Genres: Animal Cozy Mysteries; Police Procedurals

Synopsis

When you have a secret past, it's only a matter of time before it catches up to you.

Officer Wyatt Davis thought he left his old life behind—until a sinister message forces him into an impossible choice: betray his own values or let the people he cares about suffer.

But Wyatt isn't the only one haunted by the past. Someone else in town is running from old ghosts—a fierce survivor with secrets of her own.

As a dangerous federal agent watches his every move and unexpected alliances begin to fracture, Wyatt doesn't know who to trust. Wyatt knows that sometimes those who seem like good guys turn bad, kind of like the new mayor of White Rock, Henley Jamison.

Meanwhile, Jo and Bridget are settling in with Pickles, but they still refuse to believe their sister will never be found. Bridget and Kevin's relationship is growing stronger—but so is the storm brewing around them.

And when a new dog arrives who seems to share an instinctual bond with Lucy that hints they may have a shared past, it becomes clear - the past never stays buried.

At least, not for long.

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Release date: March 2, 2026

Publisher: Leighann Dobbs Publishing

Print pages: 192

Sample

CHAPTER ONE Wyatt Davis stepped onto his porch, coffee in hand, ready to start the day. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. The morning was quiet, save for the rhythmic tap of a woodpecker somewhere in the trees. Sunlight slanted through the branches, still weak, not yet warm. His Dodge Charger sat at the edge of the gravel driveway, streaked with dirt from the last rain. Hopefully, it would start today. It had been acting up—stalling, slow to turn over. He’d mentioned it to Sam a few days ago, and Sam had laughed, told him to get rid of the thing before it left him stranded. Wyatt had shrugged it off, but the truth was, he liked knowing his car was there when he needed it. He liked being able to get up and go. Now, standing on the porch, he hesitated. Something was off. It took him a second to place it. The trunk. It wasn’t latched all the way. His stomach tightened. He always locked his car. Always. Setting his coffee on the railing, he stepped off the porch. Gravel crunched under his boots as he walked toward the car, hands sliding into his jacket pockets. Maybe he hadn’t shut it properly last night. Maybe the latch had loosened somehow. A breeze rolled through the trees, and something shifted in the air. Faint at first. A hint of something metallic. Then it hit him. Blood. Wyatt’s jaw flexed. He exhaled slowly through his nose, keeping his steps steady as he reached the car. His fingers found the trunk lid. Hesitated. Then he lifted it. The smell thickened instantly. His eyes locked on the inside of the trunk, his breath stalling. A shoe. A pant leg. Unmoving. His pulse slammed into his throat. His brain took half a second to catch up. A body. He caught a glimpse of dark denim. A wrinkled shirt. Wyatt slammed the trunk shut. His phone rang. The sound cut through the silence like a gunshot. Sam. He pulled the phone from his pocket, exhaled slow, answered. “I know you said your car is giving you trouble,” Sam’s voice was easy, casual. I’m rolling past your place, heading to deal with Nettie Deardorff. I could really use someone with me. Want me to grab you?" Wyatt’s fingers tightened around the phone. His pulse was still hammering, but his voice came out even. "Yeah." He swallowed. "Give me a minute." He hung up and stared at the car. Someone had been here. Someone had put that body in his trunk. And they wanted him to find it.

 

CHAPTER TWO Sam pulled up to Wyatt's place, where the officer waited at his usual spot at the end of the driveway. The morning sun filtered through the pine trees, casting long shadows across the gravel. He’d picked Wyatt up a few times since his car had started acting up. Sam didn’t mind, it was a chance to check in with one of his officers before the day began. But something felt different this morning. The passenger door opened before the Tahoe fully stopped. Lucy, curled up in the back seat, lifted her head as Wyatt climbed in. She immediately stretched forward, pressing her nose against his shoulder with an unusual whine. Sam had grown used to Lucy's morning greetings - usually a happy bark followed by attempts to lick whoever was closest. This quiet concern was new. Wyatt gave her a distracted pat, his attention fixed on his phone screen. Through the windshield, Sam saw nothing but forest. No houses, no power lines, just the rutted track of Wyatt’s driveway swallowed by pines. "Something important?" Sam asked, pulling back onto the road. The Tahoe's tires crunched over gravel before finding asphalt. A light mist still hung in the air, typical for spring mornings in White Rock. It would burn off by mid-morning, but for now it gave the town an ethereal quality. "Messaging my mom," Wyatt replied, fingers moving across the screen. "She's been sick. Nothing serious." Lucy pushed her head further into Wyatt's arm, her ears forward and alert. She'd been extra protective of Wyatt since his hospital stay, but this felt different. Sam had learned to trust Lucy's instincts - those instincts had saved their lives more than once. "That's rough," Sam said, steering them past Brewed Awakening, where Jo would be picking up their usual morning coffee. The familiar scent of fresh-brewed coffee drifted through the Tahoe's vents. "She okay?" "She'll be fine." Sam let that settle as they drove through town. The morning fog still clung to the fields along Old Mill Road, and the spring air carried the scent of fresh-cut grass. They passed Harry Woolsten's house, where the retired chief was already out in his workshop. His wife's campaign to keep him busy seemed to be working - he'd taken up woodworking lately, though Sam had his doubts about the birdhouses Harry kept giving everyone at the station. Lucy stayed pressed against Wyatt's shoulder, her usual playful morning demeanor replaced by something more watchful. She'd been like this once before, Sam remembered - the day they'd found that witness hiding in the old mill. She'd known something was wrong before any of them. "She's been glued to you since you got in," Sam observed, turning onto River Road. The pavement here was still rough from winter damage, making the Tahoe bounce slightly. Wyatt finally looked up from his phone. "Huh?" "Lucy," Sam nodded toward the dog. Through the rearview mirror, he could see her pressed against Wyatt's shoulder, ears still forward. "Won't leave you alone." "Guess she missed me." Wyatt shrugged, setting his phone face-down on his thigh. "She's got good instincts," Sam said lightly, then changed the subject. "Anyway, brace yourself. Nettie Deardorff called again." Some of the tension eased from Wyatt's shoulders. "Already?" "Yep." Sam took the turn onto Old Mill Road, where the morning fog created halos around the streetlights that hadn't yet switched off. "Apparently, Henrietta's been chasing Bitsy around the yard." "Henrietta?" "The chicken." Wyatt turned to face him. "You're telling me a goat is afraid of a chicken?" "That's what Nettie says. Called three times this morning already. Says Bitsy won't come out from behind the tractor, and Henrietta's strutting around like she owns the place." "That makes no sense." "Does anything with those two?" Sam chuckled, remembering all the calls they'd had to Nettie's place. The time Bitsy had gotten stuck in the kitchen after figuring out how to use the doggy door. The great escape when both animals had somehow worked together to open the gate, only to be found grazing in a neighbors flower garden. A small smile crossed Wyatt's face. "Will those two ever get along?" "If they did, I'd be out of a job." Sam grinned, steering the Tahoe onto Nettie's long driveway. The gravel here was fresh, probably from where the spring rains had washed out the old surface. "Though I have to admit, this is a new one. Usually it's Bitsy causing the trouble." Lucy huffed and settled deeper against Wyatt's side, her tail giving a slow wag. Wyatt reached back to scratch her ears, but his other hand drifted back to his phone, though he didn't pick it up. The driveway curved past Nettie's old barn, its red paint faded to a soft pink in places. Sam could see fresh tracks in the gravel - probably from Nettie's nephew Tommy, who'd taken to checking on her each morning since her hip surgery. Good kid, that one. Kept an eye on things without making his aunt feel like she needed watching. Sam let the silence stretch for a moment, then said, "Hey." "Yeah?" "You know you can tell me if something's wrong, right?" Their eyes met briefly before Wyatt looked away. "I know." The Tahoe rolled to a stop in Nettie's yard. Through the windshield, they could see an angry chicken chasing a very distressed goat in circles around an old oak tree. The scene might have been funny if not for Nettie standing on her porch, hands on her hips, looking thoroughly done with both animals. But as Sam watched Wyatt reach for the door handle, he couldn't shake the feeling that this peaceful spring morning was just the calm before a storm. A feeling that only deepened when Lucy let out another low whine, her eyes fixed not on the chaos in front of them, but on something, or someone, in the tree line beyond. ...