Rescue on Gooseberry Bay: Canine Courier

Book 1: Rescue on Gooseberry Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Mystery

Synopsis

A stray dog, a murder, a microchip worth killing for, a mysterious past, and the ongoing search for answers to the secret that started it all.

Bexley Cosgrove has a soft spot for abandoned animals after being abandoned herself as a young child. She knows she owes her life to the dog who found and rescued her, so as an adult, Bexley has committed her life to rescuing as many dogs and cats as possible.

In book 1 of a new spinoff series set in picturesque Gooseberry Bay, Bexley finds a dog hiding on the car deck of the ferry that runs between Seattle Washington and the peninsula where the small town of Gooseberry Bay is tucked onto the shoreline of a beautiful deepwater inlet. When Bexley can’t find the dog’s owner, she takes him to Bainbridge Island where the main facility of the rescue she runs with best friend, Denver Marshall, is located.

When Bexley discovers that the collar the dog was found wearing holds a secret at least one individual believes is worth killing for, she calls upon her friends in Gooseberry Bay to help her find the answers she’ll need to solve a murder and ensure the dogs safety.

 

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Release date: April 15, 2025

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (1) escapist/easy read (1)

Sample

Chapter 1

Dark eyes framed by even darker lashes strategically tracked my whereabouts as he watched
in wait for the perfect moment to make his move. I could sense his fear as I slowed my breath
and moved steadily forward. He bared his teeth in warning, so I retreated just a bit. “Hey, there.
I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m hoping you’re not planning to hurt me.” I squatted down so
that I was no longer towering over him. My heart pounded as I pulled a piece of freeze-dried
liver from my jacket pocket. “Are you hungry?”
The dog bared his teeth again, leaving no doubt in my mind that while he might be hungry,
survival was foremost on his mind.
I froze and considered my next move. The dog appeared to be a mixed breed. If I had to
guess, Rottweiler mixed with Labrador. He was black with brown accents and sported a boxy
head and broad chest. The snarling canine appeared to be fit, with strong legs that looked like
they’d have no trouble outrunning my petite form should I choose that option. I sensed that,
while the large dog wasn’t usually aggressive, he was frightened and would do what was needed
to protect himself.
“I realize you have no reason to trust me, and I totally understand that your instinct is to
protect yourself with your overly large teeth.” I chanced a friendly smile as I tucked a lock of my
long red hair behind an ear and adjusted my position just a bit. “You’re certainly an attractive
dog. Striking actually. And those teeth. Wow, those are really quite impressive.” I rested my
weight on one knee while I kept my other foot on the deck, ready to jump back if necessary. “But
here’s the thing. We’re on a ferry that won’t dock for another forty minutes, so even if I allowed
you to run off, there really isn’t anywhere to go. If you got away from me, I suppose you could
find another hiding place, but you’d still be alone. I know what it means to be alone. Really
alone. I suppose being a lone wolf has its perks, but honestly, I wouldn’t have chosen that
lifestyle if I’d had a choice.” I held out my hand with the freeze-dried treat. “I’m offering you a
choice.”

The dog didn’t approach, but he did look interested, and he did stop growling. I supposed
that was something. I could sense that he wanted to trust me but needed time to come around to
my way of thinking, so I continued to speak to him in a steady but firm voice.
“Given that we’re on a ferry, I’m going to assume you have a human somewhere on the
vessel. Did he leave you in the car while he went upstairs for coffee, and might you have escaped
while he was away?”
Now that the dog had stopped growling, I reached forward and set a small handful of the
freeze-dried treat on the deck just beyond his reach. He glared at me with suspicion and then
took a single step forward. He ate the treats I’d offered and then looked toward my hand as if to
inquire whether or not I had more.
“I have more,” I confirmed, squinting into the dark hiding spot the dog had chosen. “Doing
what I do, I’m always packing.” I reached into my pocket and grabbed another handful of the
treat. I set it on the deck right in front of where I was squatting down, requiring the dog to come
within reach of me, although I didn’t make a grab for his collar at this point. Remembering just
how large his teeth actually were, I was pretty sure that making a grab for his collar would never
be a good idea.
Having devoted my life to animal rescue, I felt a deep connection to all the animals I’d
rescued, but somehow, this rescue felt different. At this point, there was no way that I could
know this dog’s story, but I sensed he had one.
I had paused to consider my next move when my cell phone rang, letting me know I had a
call. The noise seemed to startle the dog, who retreated just a bit, so I quickly pulled my cell
phone from my pocket and answered. “Hello.”
“Is this Bexley Cosgrove?”
“It is.”
“This is Clementine Willard returning your call regarding court records related to your time
in the foster care system.”
I watched as the dog slid onto his belly, still watching me closely but appearing to have
relaxed a speck. I hoped that meant he was getting used to my presence and would allow me to
lure him back to my van once my call was complete.
“I’m an animal rescue worker and am in the middle of rescuing a rather large and frightened
dog right now, so I really can’t talk. I am, however, very interested in any and all information
you may have related to my entry into the foster care system. I’m most interested in learning
about my life before I was placed in my first foster home. Can I call you back once the ferry
docks?”
“That would be fine. I’ll be here until five.” With that, she hung up.
Who knew that getting answers related to your own infancy and childhood would be so
difficult. It had been more than a quarter of a century since I’d been found alone with no one but
a stray dog to protect me, so I supposed any records related to that day might be buried.
Returning my attention to the dog, I considered my strategy. At this point, the dog and I
seemed to be alone on the car deck since it was a beautiful spring day, and many commuters had
left their vehicles to head up to the passenger deck, where they could enjoy the sunshine and

crisp sea breeze. I took the ferry often, several times a week some weeks, and usually would
have enjoyed my time on the top deck as well, but I’d made the decision today to wait out the
hour-long ride in my van where it was quiet, and I could think about my day and consider my
next move. It was likely that I would never have found the dog if he hadn’t run past my van on
his way to his current hiding place beneath the stairwell.
“So what do you think? Are you ready to come out?”
The dog just looked at me, his brown eyes staring suspiciously into my blue eyes.
“I understand your hesitation. I really do, but I promise that I only want to help.”
I heard a loud bang that I supposed was more of a ping followed by a grind. The noise had
likely come from the engine as the ferry picked up speed, but it had startled the dog, who
retreated even further into the small space where he’d chosen to hide. At this rate, I was never
going to be able to lure the dog into the safety of my van before the ferry docked, and his chance
at escape increased tenfold.
I rested my weight on my knees as I considered whether or not to leave the dog long enough
to run back to my van for a slip rope. On the one hand, it would be a risk since the dog might
move while I was away, and if he moved, I might not be able to find him again, but on the other
hand, I was getting nowhere doing what I was currently doing. I was about to get up and head
back to my van on the off chance that the dog would stay put when my cell phone dinged. It was
a text from my best friend, Denver Marshall, asking me how it went. I knew he was referring to
my attempt to gain answers about my past.
I texted back. It went as expected. Denver and I both knew that what I expected was a total
failure to achieve any of the objectives I’d set out to accomplish, but I had to try. I’m trying to
lure a dog out of a tiny crawl space. I’m not sure where he came from. Maybe one of the cars on
board. He seems terrified, so I hope to get him into the van and then try to find his owner. I’ll
call you after we dock.
Once I sent the text, I returned my attention to the dog. “That was my friend, Denver,
checking in with me.” It seemed that hearing my voice soothed him, so I kept talking. “I was in
Seattle today, trying to learn something about my life before being found alone when I was
around four.”
The dog perked up his ears and tilted his head. I definitely had his attention.
“Denver, who is not only my best friend but also a product of the foster care system himself,
had warned me that I was likely going to need to make peace with never having my answers.
Even though I knew he was right, I felt I needed to at least try, hence the trip today.”
I could feel the ferry change speed again. I took the ferry often enough to know what that
meant.
“Okay, here’s the thing. The ferry is going to dock in about twenty minutes. It will be much
better for you if you’re tucked safely into my van before everyone comes down and the vehicles
parked on this deck begin to deboard.” I turned my body just a bit and pointed toward my van.
“See the van with the logo of the dog curled up on a dog bed in front of a roaring fire. That’s my
van, and it’s as comfy inside as the logo would indicate.” I looked back toward the dog. “While I
don’t have an actual fireplace inside my van, I have a dog bed and a lunchbox with a roast beef
sandwich inside. If you come with me, it’s all yours.”

The dog looked me in the eye, but this time, instead of suspicion, I saw hopelessness. I also
noticed blood on his paws.
“Are you hurt? I can help you. Please come with me.”
I carefully stood up, showing the dog the last of the liver in my pocket, and then I took a
small step toward the part of the deck where I’d left my van. I slowly blew out a breath as the
dog followed me. I kept walking, hoping he’d stay with me, and as luck would have it, that was
just what he did. When I got to the van and opened the sliding door to the cargo area, the dog
hesitated. I showed him the sandwich, and that seemed to do the trick. The dog got into the van,
and I gave him the meat.
“I need to let the crew know I have you, and then I’ll be back to check you for injuries.”
Based on a casual visual inspection, I didn’t see any discernable wounds, but the blood had come
from somewhere. Since there was an air conditioning unit in the back of the van that ran on an
independent battery, much like a motor home, I turned it on so the dog would have fresh air, and
then I went up to the engine room to notify the crew that I had the stray. They announced over
the public address system that the dog had been found and the owners could find their furry
friend inside the Forever Home Pet Rescue van on the lower car deck. After I’d shared my exact
location with the ferry personnel, I headed toward my van. It was as I passed an unmarked white
panel van with a small window in the back and a sliding side door on the side that I noticed
bloody paw prints on the deck. Looking in through the open driver’s side window, I gasped.
I could hear the dog I’d locked in my van barking, but I knew I needed to do something about
the very dead body in the white panel van I was standing next to, so I called nine-one-one and
explained the situation. The nine-one-one operator asked about the killer, to which I responded
that I had no idea who might have killed the man or where he might currently be located. The
nine-one-one operator asked about the license plate number, which I rattled off, and then she
instructed me to wait in my van with the doors locked. The nine-one-one operator assured me
that she would notify the ferry captain and the local authorities on Bainbridge Island since that
was where we were headed.
Once I’d returned to my van, I slipped into the cargo area with the dog, who seemed happy to
see me. I sat down on the floorboard with him and hoped the killer wouldn’t find us. The dead
man in the van had been sitting in the driver’s side seat with blood running from his neck down
his body and onto the floorboard. It looked fresh. The ferry hadn’t made any stops since loading
in Seattle, which meant it was likely that the individual who killed the man was still aboard.
After curling up on the floorboard in my windowless van, I listened for movement outside.
The dog laid beside me and placed his head on my lap.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t specifically know what happened or how you ended up
where I found you, but the whole thing must have been terrifying. No wonder you didn’t trust
me.”
The dog rolled over onto his side, which allowed me to slowly run my hands over his body as
I looked for injuries. Based on a cursory examination, it appeared that the blood on the dog had
been transferred to the dog from the man in the van.
“So, who are you?” I asked the dog, who seemed healthy and wore a collar, although the
collar had no tags. “And what happened to the man you boarded with?”

The dog just looked at me.
The driver’s side window had been open when I’d walked by, and it appeared that someone
had reached in through the window, likely grabbing the man from behind the neck while running
a sharp blade across the front of his throat. There had been a lot of blood, although I wasn’t sure
how much since I hadn’t entered the vehicle. Since the dog I’d found had blood on his paws,
he’d likely been in the cargo area of the van when the attack occurred. I wasn’t sure how he’d
gotten out. He might have climbed over the driver and jumped out the open window. I suspected
that made the most sense, but until someone had a look at the situation inside the van, I supposed
I couldn’t know for sure.
I continued to run my hands over the dog’s muscular body as I considered all the possible
scenarios. I was deep in thought when I heard voices outside my van. I almost jumped out of my
skin when someone knocked on the van’s door. The dog began to bark, teeth bared.
“It’s ferry security,” a male voice said.
“I’ll be right out. I have the victim’s dog in here with me. Since he’s pretty skittish, I’ll climb
up into the front and exit through the passenger’s side door so the dog doesn’t get out.”
The man said that was fine, so I climbed over the two dog crates I’d secured behind the seats
in anticipation of transporting two dogs from the main rescue facility on Bainbridge Island to the
Gooseberry Bay adoption center. Once I’d climbed over the crates, I scooted into the passenger’s
side seat, opened the van’s door, and climbed out.
“I guess the nine-one-one operator called you,” I said once I’d walked over to the man.
The security guard informed me that the ferry crew had been called by law enforcement and
were told to wait to pull up to the dock until they were given the green light. The ferry would be
met by law enforcement, and no one would be able to get on or off until an investigation into the
death of the man in the unmarked white panel van had been conducted. I asked about the dog I
had with me, and the security guard I spoke to suggested that I keep him with me for the time
being.
The man asked me a few questions and then instructed me to return to my van and wait there.
At least I had a cooler with water and snacks, and I’d used the restroom at the ferry terminal
before boarding, so I should be fine there for a while. The dog seemed relieved to see me after I
climbed back inside. He even wagged his tail when I sat on the floorboard and welcomed him to
sit with me.
“So what now,” I said to the dog. “If I had to guess, I’d say that we might be here for a while
since the ferry can’t dock until law enforcement boards and looks around.”
The dog laid beside me and closed his eyes. Now that he felt safe, he’d apparently decided to
nap. I pulled my cell phone out and hoped for cell service. I knew I could get service on the
passenger deck, but I wasn’t sure about the service availability below deck. One bar. Not a lot,
but maybe enough.
I tried Denver’s number.
“Hey, Bex. Have you docked?”
“Not yet. Possibly not for a while.” I explained the situation.

“Wow. That’s terrible. Are you okay? Are you safe?”
“I’m fine. I’ve locked myself in my van with the dog. I can hear ferry personnel outside my
van scurrying around to secure things there, too.”
“If the man in the van had his throat slit after the ferry left the terminal in Seattle, that means
it’s possible, even probable, the killer is still aboard.”
I looked toward the windshield, which, other than the windows in the driver’s and
passenger’s doors, was the only window in my van, trying to make out the identity of the men
who passed by in the distance. “I’ve considered that the killer is likely still aboard, which is why
I’ve locked myself in the van. Since the ferry has stopped and is waiting for law enforcement to
arrive before continuing to the dock, I think law enforcement realizes that. At this point, all I can
do is wait and hope they can figure out what’s going on sooner rather than later.”
“And the dog? Is he okay?”
I glanced at him and smiled. “Sleeping like a baby.”
“That’s good. The poor thing must be traumatized and is going to need to be handled
carefully. I hope the authorities don’t dispatch animal control to take possession of the dog.”
“No one has mentioned animal control, and unless someone tells me otherwise, I intend to
keep him with me and bring him to the rescue. In fact, why don’t you call Lexi and ask her to
stop by after work.” Lexi Hamilton was our veterinarian. Even though she had her own practice
on the island, she generously donated many hours to the rescue. “Tell her I’ll call to confirm
once I get out of here, so she doesn’t waste her time stopping by if the authorities confiscate the
dog, but as I said, at this point, I plan to keep the dog with me.”
“I’ll have Cassie prepare a pen.” Cassie Gibson was a teenage stray I’d rescued from the
streets three years ago, who now worked for Denver as his right-hand woman.
“No, don’t do that. I’ll keep the dog with me rather than settling him in the kennel. He’s been
through so much today that I thought we’d give him a bath, have Lexi look him over, and then he
can settle into my cabin with me.”
“So you’ll stay on the island?”
I juggled lots of responsibilities and divided my time between three different residences. My
original plan had been to travel to the main rescue facility on Bainbridge Island, pick up two
dogs who were ready for adoption, and transport them to the adoption center in Gooseberry Bay.
But after what had occurred on the ferry, I decided to change things up a bit.
“For tonight,” I said. “My original plan had been for us to go over the budget Ophelia, Gina,
and I came up with and then head to Gooseberry Bay with the two rescues we’ve marked for
adoption.” Ophelia Everly and Gina Jones ran our adoption center in Seattle. “I know Poppy and
Willow will be waiting to settle them in, so perhaps you can call and let them know the transfer
has been delayed a day or two.” Poppy Hancock and Willow Washington ran the adoption center
in Gooseberry Bay.
“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll call the Gooseberry Bay adoption center after I speak with
Lexi. Today is surgery day, so she likely won’t be by until close to seven.”

“Seven is fine. At this point, I have no idea how long it will take for me to get out of here.” I
could hear people boarding the ferry, most likely from a boat that had recently tied up alongside
us. “I need to go. It sounds like the authorities are here. I’ll call you back when I have a better
timeline.”
“Okay. And be careful. The idea of you being trapped on the ferry with a killer terrifies me.”
“I’m staying put in the van. I’ll be fine. Hopefully, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
With that, I hung up. The dog had awakened and lifted his head when the group I suspected
was from the local police department gathered on the boarding ramp. I couldn’t hear everything
that was being said, but I did hear enough to indicate that they planned to process the body of the
victim and then search for the killer deck by deck. A deck-by-deck search of every nook and
cranny was going to take a while, and, to be honest, I had no idea how they’d identify the killer,
who had likely blended in with the other passengers by this point unless, of course, they
somehow knew who they were looking for.
“So what’s your name?” I asked the dog. While I certainly didn’t expect him to reply, talking
to the dog seemed to calm him. He’d begun to show signs of anxiousness when the men outside
the van could be overheard discussing strategy. “You seem like a cool dog, so I suppose you
might have a cool name. Maybe Dexter.” He looked at me but didn’t respond. “Cody, Finely,
Gus.”
Again, no response. Again, not that I expected the dog to answer.
“Jack, Digger, or Rex.”
The dog began to pant, but panting made it appear like he was smiling.
“Maybe a musical name like Beethoven or Sinatra.”
The dog licked my cheek.
“Do you like Sinatra? Or maybe Elvis. Or Bowie. Or even Jagger. I guess they’re all good
names.”
The dog put one of his paws on my lap.
Given that the dog was used to responding to something I’d never be able to guess at this
point, I thought a simple name would be best.
“How about Jax? It’s simple and easy to remember.”
The dog barked once. I took that to mean he approved of the temporary name.
“If you’re wondering when we might get out of here, I’m sorry to say I really have no idea.
Soon, I hope.”
The dog tilted his head. It really looked like he was trying to understand what I was saying. I
could see that the dog was intelligent. I just wished he could tell me what happened to his owner
and why someone would want to kill him. To slit a man’s throat seemed so personal. It wasn’t
like death by gunshot, where the killer could carry out his mission without actually touching his
victim. To slit a man’s throat required the killer to get up close and personal. Somehow, that
made it seem all that much worse.

I leaned my head against a large dog bed propped against the side panel of the van. It had
been such an exceptionally long day. I’d gotten up early to begin my search for answers, only to
end the day without even one piece of information I didn’t already have.
“Life is frustrating and so complicated at times,” I said as the dog laid his head on my lap
again. I ran my fingers through his fur. “I’m tempted to sit here and tell you just how bad my day
has been, but then I look at the blood on your paws and realize you had a much worse day. I’m
sorry about whatever happened to your owner, assuming the man in the van was your owner.
There’s no way to figure that all out now, but I want you to know you are safe with me.”
The dog licked my hand, closed his eyes, and drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Chapter 2

It took almost three hours for law enforcement to process the crime scene. Once the scene
was processed, they allowed the ferry to dock. They then removed the body and secured the
unmarked white panel van before they allowed passengers who had been interviewed to return to
their cars. Each car was stopped, and a follow-up interview was conducted as the vehicle left the
ferry. Of course, there was only one way for cars to load and one way to unload, so the
deboarding process could take a very long time, depending on where you were in the mix.
Luckily for Jax and me, I’d boarded early, so we were near the front of the crowd to unload.
The drive from the ferry terminal to the rescue was beautiful, and I never really grew tired of
it. Denver and I had worked hard to build the rescue from a few pens in the barn that came with
the thirty acres Denver’s friend, Orville “Bucky” Buckingham, had left him when he died, into a
multifaceted rescue facility with both indoor and outdoor dog and cat areas designated for
housing, training, and play. Denver and Cassie were in charge of admitting all new rescues.
Along with their volunteers, they’d groom them, have them checked by our veterinarian, and
train and socialize those needing training and socialization. When they’d done what they could
for each new arrival, the Forever Home Pet Rescue’s staff would turn the dog or cat, puppy or
kitten over to me, and I’d find them foster homes to live in while they waited for their forever
families.
Some fosters were adopted right away, while others had an arduous time for one reason or
another. The fosters who needed more exposure to find their perfect long-term situation were
moved to one of our adoption centers. We currently have two adoption centers, one in Seattle and
another in Gooseberry Bay. While we had discussed expanding to add a third adoption center in
Bremerton or possibly Tacoma, the success we had experienced with the first two centers had
allowed us to find families for enough of our rescues so that the urgency to expand had
temporarily been relieved.
Denver was outside cleaning the play areas when I pulled up with Jax. While the dog had
been totally chill now that we were safely away from the ferry, I wasn’t sure how he was going

to do in a new environment, especially a new environment with so many dogs and cats, so I
clipped a leash to his collar before letting him out of the van.
“Good looking dog,” Denver said after giving me a hug and then squatting down to greet Jax.
“He is a good-looking dog. He appears to be a Rottweiler mix. And now that he’s not
terrified and hiding in a crawl space, he also seems friendly.”
“Is the collar his?”
“It was on him when I found him. No tags, however. Since the man in the van, who I assume
was his owner, was already dead when I discovered him, I suppose we should keep him off the
adoption list until we get the rest of the story.”
Denver scratched the dog behind the ears, which earned him a look of adoration.
“I’m just about done out here,” Denver informed me. “Let’s give him a bath and look him
over for injuries. Lexi will be by in about half an hour. She called a while ago to let me know she
was running behind schedule but would be here.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” I said before telling Jax to heel, which, surprisingly, he did,
and then we followed Denver to the grooming and medical building. I wasn’t sure how he would
react to being given a bath, but when Denver instructed him to enter the tub, he did so without
hesitation.
“This dog definitely belongs, or belonged, to someone,” Denver said. “He’s too well-behaved
to have been a stray his whole life.”
“It did seem as if he’d been with the man on the ferry who’d ended up with a slit throat. I
would think that they should have identified the guy by now. When we’re done here, I’ll make a
call and see what I can find out.”
“That would probably be a good idea since it seems at least possible that the dog has a family
who must be worried about him.”
Denver was right. Just because the man on the ferry wouldn’t be missing his dog, that didn’t
mean that the man hadn’t left behind a wife or children who’d be looking for their furry
companion.
Since Jax seemed fine with Denver, I decided to make my call while he took care of the bath.
The detective I spoke to informed me that Titus Porter, the man who’d been found dead in the
van, had recently moved to Seattle from Portland, Oregon. The detective wasn’t sure why Titus
was on the ferry to Bainbridge Island, but he did confirm that the man was currently single, so it
was unlikely he had a wife or children looking for the dog. Of course, there might be an ex in the
mix, but so far, no one has come forward to ask about the dog. The detective informed me that
my name and number were included in the report, and he assured me that he’d call me if that
situation were to change.
I assured the detective that the dog would be safe with me and that he didn’t need to worry
about finding someone to take him if no one ever claimed him. He thanked me for that and then
hung up. I’d hoped to hear more about the reason the man may have had his throat slit, but the
detective didn’t seem to be of a mind to share that sort of information. I supposed I understood
where he was coming from. It was early in the investigation, and I felt sure the detective didn’t
want to say anything out of turn.

“So what did the detective say?” Denver asked after I returned to the bathing area to find Jax
getting a rub down with a large fluffy towel.
“Not a lot, but he did verify that the man on the ferry was single, which likely means no wife
and kids unless he was single due to a divorce. He also informed me that no one has come
forward looking for the dog so far. I told him that we had him at the rescue here on Bainbridge
Island and that we’d keep him with us for as long as was needed. He made a note in the file, and
that was that. I hoped I’d be able to ask about the murdered man, but the detective didn’t seem
inclined to discuss that.”
“I guess you can ask Avery to look into things.”
Avery Carmichael worked for the FBI. She was a good friend who owned the penthouse in
Seattle, where she’d given me a bedroom in exchange for time spent in the cottage I leased on
Gooseberry Bay.
“Avery is in Alaska. I’m not sure what she’s doing in Alaska since I ran into Ryker, and he
mentioned that she wasn’t in Alaska acting on behalf of the FBI, but she seems to be looking for
someone.”
Dante Ryker was an agent for the Seattle office of the FBI, as was Avery. He was part of a
four-person team that included his boss, Special Agent in Charge Lake Bristow, his partner,
Agent Blade Branson, and Avery. When Avery had first moved from a black ops unit of the CIA
to the FBI, a fifth agent had been assigned to the office, but she’d since retired due to a
complicated on-the-job injury.
“Maybe she’s up there doing something for Ezra,” Denver suggested, referring to Ezra
Reinhold, a civilian crime fighter Avery sometimes worked for.
“Maybe,” I agreed. “Avery didn’t volunteer any information when she left, and I didn’t push.
Either way, she’s unavailable to help with this.”
“Maybe we should ask Ainsley or even Parker to help,” Denver suggested as he gave the dog
a treat once the bath and subsequent rubdown was finished.
“Maybe.” Ainsley Holloway was a private investigator who lived in Gooseberry Bay, and
Parker Peterson was a news reporter who divided her time between Seattle and Gooseberry Bay.
“If either one is around when I arrive on the peninsula tomorrow, I’ll talk to them about the
situation. In the meantime, it sounds as if Lexi has arrived. At least someone has.”
“I heard the truck in the drive as well.”
Lexi had volunteered at the rescue since we’d opened its doors, and Denver and I both felt
incredibly grateful for her dedication. She never charged us for her services and was always
willing to stop by on her way home or sometimes during her lunch hour. I wasn’t sure how we’d
be able to do what we did without her.
“How did Cassie do on her research paper?” Lexi asked as she drew blood she planned to
send to the lab.
Cassie was the first, and so far, the only human Denver or I had rescued. She’d been fifteen,
alone, and living on the streets of Seattle when I’d found her. She seemed like a good kid who’d
just had a rough time, so rather than turning her in when I caught her picking pockets, I invited
her to come and live with Denver and me on Bainbridge Island. I had a soft spot for Cassie, as

did Denver. Like Cassie, Denver and I had picked more than our fair share of pockets as teens.
And, like Cassie, rather than being bad people, Denver and I were just lost kids who’d fallen
through the system and had no other way of surviving. We’d found our way out of the pit of
despair we’d started in, and I knew that Cassie would as well with the right help. And as it turned
out, I was right about her. Cassie fit right in with the other strays we’d rescued and had quickly
proven herself to be worthy of being Denver’s right-hand woman. It was because of Cassie that I
was able to spread my wings and open the adoption centers. Cassie had come to live with us
three years ago, and in those three years, Cassie had earned her GED and applied for and was
accepted as a student at a nearby community college.
“She did well. In fact, I’m pretty sure she got an A,” Denver answered. “You know how
modest Cassie is. She never wants to brag about her accomplishments, but she couldn’t conceal
her huge smile when I asked her about it.”
“Good for her,” Lexi said as she ran her hands over Jax’s body. “That girl has a bright future
ahead of her.”
I had to agree with her having a bright future, although I’d miss her deeply if her future took
her away from us.
“So, how is he?” Denver asked about the dog.
“He seems fine,” Lexi replied. “The blood you found on his paws must have been from the
human he was with since I haven’t found a single abrasion on his body. He seems healthy and is
obviously used to being handled. I’m drawing some blood just to be safe, but as long as the test
results come back clean, I think that it will be fine to integrate him with the other dogs. Given the
situation, I don’t imagine you plan to foster him out at this point.”
“I plan to keep him with me for at least a few days,” I said. “I’ll be here overnight, and then I
plan to head to Gooseberry Bay for a week or so. He can hang out with me in the cottage unless I
get a call from the detective in charge of the murder case letting me know that he has family
looking for him.”
“That all sounds fine. I’ll call you with the blood test results either way.”
Lexi headed home, and Denver and I headed to the main house, where he and Cassie each
had a bedroom suite. Denver was such a nurturer. He was only seventeen years older than Cassie,
but he acted like a proud dad most of the time. Of course, I was pretty sure that Denver’s
decision to take on the parental role was acceptable to Cassie since she was about as alone in the
world as one could be when I found her. Now she was part of a family with Denver and me, and
speaking as someone who’d spent most of her life longing for a family, I knew how important
that could be.
“So tell me about your trip,” Denver said once he’d set large bowls of chili on the table next
to smaller bowls of green salad.
“Cassie isn’t going to be home for dinner?” I asked, realizing that Denver had only cooked
for two.
“She has a study group tonight. There are six of them, and they usually trade off whose house
they meet at. Last week, they met here, and they are meeting at Stacy’s this week.”
“Is Stacy the tall girl with the long blond hair I met a few weeks ago?”

“That’s Faith. Stacy is short with curly brown hair. She’s new to the group, so I doubt you’ve
met her.”
I took a bite of my chili. “I guess I haven’t spent much time on the island lately. With two
adoption centers to oversee, it seems as if I’m always moving from one place to another. I am
happy to hear that Cassie is settling into the college life.”
“She’s doing just fine. She’s studying hard, getting good grades, and making friends. We’ve
done good raisin’ her,” Denver said, exaggerating a fake southern drawl for the last sentence.
I smiled. We had done well raising Cassie. I supposed that Denver had done most of the
raising this past year, but in the beginning, I spent much more time on the island and helped
Cassie acclimate to her new life.
“So, about your trip,” Denver inquired.
“It was a bust,” I admitted, aware that he was referring to my journey to Seattle to find
answers about my past. “I guess I knew deep down inside that it would be, but I still hoped.”
“The not knowing is hard.”
I nodded. Denver and I first met when we’d both been assigned to the same foster home. I
was eleven at the time, and he was thirteen. I was placed in my second long-term care foster
home after the couple who ran the first long-term care foster home I’d been assigned to decided
to retire, and Denver was on his fifth foster family in eight years. For me, the move from the
foster home where I’d been living since I was found alone on the street as a four-year-old was
traumatic, while Denver had moved every couple of years after entering the system as a five-
year-old after his father killed his mother. For him, one more move was nothing other than
another day in a flawed system.
The home Denver and I had been assigned wasn’t one of the bad ones, but it was much too
crowded. The couple who cared for us were kind, and based on what I witnessed, they seemed to
be good people, but with seven fosters and three biological children to care for, the couple was
stressed most of the time, and the home appeared to be a constant state of chaos.
I needed more. I needed stability. I needed love and attention. When the couple who’d raised
me since I was four retired, I felt abandoned by the only parents I remembered. The hole left in
my life was unimaginable, and if Denver hadn’t come along to fill it, I’m not sure what would
have happened to me.
“Were you able to speak to anyone who knew anything?” Denver asked.
I answered. “The woman I most wanted to speak to was unavailable when I showed up at her
office. She did call me back, but she called while I was in the middle of rescuing Jax. I asked if I
could call her back, and she indicated she would be in her office until five. I called at four-thirty,
but she’d already left. I guess I can try again tomorrow, but according to another woman who
worked in the same office who I did manage to speak to, the reason that no one can tell me
anything about my life before I was found under a bridge as a four-year-old, is because no one
knows anything. As you and I have already discussed, I was found curled up with a stray dog
who seemed to have been looking out for me, but no one could ever determine where I’d come
from. Even though my photo was posted all over the place at the time, and an attempt to identify
and locate my parents was taken seriously, every lead ended up in a dead end.”

“I guess we did already know all of that.”
“We did.” I nibbled on a piece of lettuce. “I guess I’ll try calling the woman at the courthouse
again tomorrow, but, at this point, I’m not holding out much hope.”
Denver put a hand over mine. “I’m sorry, Bex.”
“I know. And I appreciate that.” I looked at him with compassion. “Not knowing is driving
me nuts, but I suppose not knowing isn’t the worst thing.”
He nodded.
I couldn’t imagine how it must feel to know that your abusive father had killed your mother.
Denver tried to downplay the whole thing, but I knew he still had nightmares about what he saw
on the day that changed his life forever. While my memories of my life before entering the foster
care system seemed to be hidden behind partitions in my mind, Denver’s memories of the hell he
lived in during the first five years of his life were clearly etched in his memory and strengthened
by the nightmares he had to this day.
“Did the applicant looking to adopt the Collie we recently cleared for adoption pass the
background check?” I asked, effectively changing our conversation to something less emotional.
“Yes, with flying colors. The woman’s going to be by tomorrow to finalize things. I’ll do a
home visit to confirm that everything she’s told us is on par with the application. If I don’t find
any problems during the home visit, Lily will go to her new home that same day.
“I’m so happy that worked out. Lily is an awesome dog, and the woman who wants to adopt
her seems perfect for her.”
It could be frustrating and even heartbreaking when our attempts to rescue the dogs and cats
we set out to save didn’t work exactly as we hoped. But then there were times like this, where
everything came together perfectly and reminded me why we did what we’d chosen to do.
“They are a good match,” Denver agreed. “And while I was chatting with the woman who
wants to adopt Lily, she told me about her neighbor who she thought would be interested in the
two kittens dropped off at the rescue two weeks ago. I confirmed that they were ready for
adoption, and she came by to meet them. She filled out an application, which looks good, so I
plan to visit her home tomorrow as well.”
I knew Denver was referring to two brothers, Dean and Sam. They were pure black kittens,
approximately eight weeks old, who had been surrendered two weeks ago by the woman who
owned the mama cat.
“That’s wonderful. I’m glad the boys will be adopted together.”
After we’d eaten, Denver, Jax, and I headed out to check on the dogs and cats currently
residing at the rescue. We tried to move the dogs and cats we had cleared for adoption to foster
families or one of the adoption centers as quickly as possible so that the number of animals at the
main rescue facility at any one time was usually minimal. Since there were a few aggressive
dogs and feral cats who would likely live out their lives at the main rescue facility, Denver,
Cassie, and the volunteers worked hard to help them work through their behavioral issues, and
they gave them all the love they could tolerate right here on the island.

“Do you remember that kid who came to the foster home about the same time you did?”
Denver asked me as he cleaned one of the sleeping units that had become soiled. “He was seven
or eight and had a huge chip on his shoulder.”
“Chip,” I said. “Everyone called him Chip because of that chip on his shoulder. I don’t
remember his actual name, but I remember the problems he caused for all of us.”
Denver laughed. “He was a handful. I was sure he was going to end up in prison before he
even made it to adulthood, but I ran into him the other day, and it turns out that he did just fine.”
I raised a brow. “He did?”
Denver nodded. “After Chip was kicked out of the foster home he lived in with us, he went
into a group home, where he met an older kid on the verge of aging out of the foster care system.
I guess this kid had been having an even harder time in the system than Chip had experienced
growing up. When this older friend left the group home, he snuck Chip out and took him with
him.”
“So he kidnapped him.”
“Yes, I guess he did. The older boy was eighteen, and Chip was only nine at the time, but
they’d bonded, and at some point, I guess they decided they wanted to be a family. Anyway, they
lived on the street picking pockets and that sort of thing for a few years. They’d been barely
getting by until they tried to pick the pocket of this rich guy as he walked back to his car after
spending the evening at a bar with friends. The rich guy had trained in martial arts and subdued
the boys fairly easily. Once he had them on the ground, he asked them why they were doing what
they’d obviously tried to do, and Chip started to cry. The kindhearted man took them home, got
the rest of the story, and adopted both boys. After he had his attorney straighten out the mess
caused when Chip took off with his older ‘brother,’ he sent them both to school. Chip is a social
worker now.”
“Wow! That’s such an amazing and uplifting story. Things might have turned out very
different for both those boys if the Good Samaritan hadn’t stepped in.”
Denver agreed that both boys would likely have ended up in the criminal justice system if the
paths they’d been on since they were children had not been interrupted.
Denver and I had just finished the evening chores and had returned to the house when Cassie
got home.
“Bex!” She tossed her backpack on a chair and then crossed the room to give me a hug. “I
wasn’t sure you’d still be here when I arrived. I thought you only planned to pop in, talk to
Denver, and quickly pop out again.”
“I was, but then something happened.” I looked down at Jax as he sat beside Denver,
patiently waiting for Cassie to notice him. “Cassie, this is Jax.”
Her grin grew wider. “He’s gorgeous. Is he a stray?”
“I’m not sure of his entire story yet.” I then explained how we met, what I discovered, and
what I knew about the investigation.
“Wow, that’s terrible.” Her smile faded. She wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck. “The
poor thing. He might be an orphan.”

“He might be,” I agreed. “But if he is, we’ll take care of him. How was your study group?”
“It was good.” She glanced at Denver and then back toward me. “Are you going to stay the
night?”
“I am.”
“Would it be okay for me to come over so we can catch up on everything?”
I glanced at Denver. Chances were that Cassie needed to talk woman to woman, which I
understood. Denver was great, but he was still a boy.
“I’d love to catch up. Go and put your stuff away and come over. Jax and I are heading there
now.”
The cabin I used when I stayed on the island was relatively small. There was a small
bedroom and a tiny bathroom. The main living area consisted of a kitchen that was more of a
kitchenette and a small seating area large enough for a short sofa and a small table. It wasn’t
much, but I wasn’t here that often, so it made sense that Denver and Cassie would take the
bedroom suites in the main house while I claimed the cabin.
Since I didn’t keep food in my cabin, I didn’t have anything I could offer to Cassie, but she
anticipated our needs and brought cola and popcorn.
“So what’s up?” I asked after we were settled.
“Nothing’s up. I just wanted to ask how you were after today. Finding that man dead in his
van must have been horrible.”
I paused, thinking back to the sandy-haired man with deep brown eyes that seemed frozen in
time with a look communicating the shock he must have felt, and then answered. “Honestly,
when I first saw the man sitting there in his van with blood running from his neck, down his
body, and onto the floorboard, I was more shocked than horrified. I knew I needed help, so I
focused on calling nine-one-one. Once I’d done that, I focused on doing what the emergency
operator told me to do, and then when law enforcement arrived, I focused on answering their
questions. It wasn’t until I arrived at the rescue that the reality of what had happened this
afternoon finally began to sink in. And even during all that, Jax needed tending to, so I guess my
focus was on him.”
“And now?” Cassie asked.
“And now, I feel a bit shaky.” I reached out and took her hand in mine. “But I’ll be fine.
Talking about it actually helps. I didn’t even realize I was feeling shaky until you asked.”
She squeezed my hand. “Do you want to talk about it some more?”
“No. Not really. In fact, I’d prefer a diversion.” I sensed Cassie had something else on her
mind, so I asked her to share something from her day or week with me.
“Do you remember Brady Fairfield?” she responded.
“He’s the boy who broke your heart last year when he asked you to the spring fling at the
high school but then changed his mind and canceled at the last minute.”
She nodded. “I really wanted to go to that dance, but since I wasn’t a student at the high
school, I couldn’t go on my own. When he asked me to attend as his guest, I was ‘over the

moon’ happy. Then the jerk bailed on me for no good reason, which made me so angry that I
swore I’d never speak to him again. And since he moved away right after graduation and I didn’t
run into him during his visits home, I managed to keep that promise to myself. But he’s back
now. I guess that job he moved to San Francisco to pursue after he graduated didn’t work out as
he hoped.”
“Did he move back in with his aunt?”
She nodded again. “He did. At least temporarily. I ran into Brady a few days ago, and we
started talking. He apologized for bailing on me the way he did and explained that he’d been
going through a lot at the time and had treated everyone very poorly. He wanted to make it up to
me and asked me to lunch. At first, I said no, but then he promised that there were no strings
attached and he wanted to do something for me as a way to apologize. Eventually, I agreed. We
met at the Burger Barn today since I had a break between classes, and he was in Bremerton for
an interview for a job. We had a nice time. He asked if I wanted to go out again, and I told him I
needed to think about it.”
“And have you? Thought about it?”
She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what to think. The guy was a real tool last year, and
based on his performance back then, I’d decided he wasn’t worth my time. But he was so nice
and funny today. He seemed like a totally different guy. Should I take a chance and have dinner
with him, or should I protect my heart and tell him I’m busy?”
I took Cassie’s hand in mine. “I guess that’s up to you. It sounds as if the guy might only be
here on the island while he figures out his next move. If you become involved with the guy, will
you end up with a broken heart when he inevitably leaves?”
“I want to say no, but he did a real number on me the last time he bailed on me. My instinct
is to tell him that I’m too busy for a dinner date this week or any other week, but I am the sort
who believes in second chances, so I hate to merely turn him down without a good reason.”
Cassie was the tender-hearted sort, which meant that she was the sort to easily be hurt. I
wanted to protect her from that, but she was eighteen now, and she needed to learn to navigate
her own life, so I was hesitant to tell her what to do one way or the other.
“Have you talked to Denver about this?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. You and I both know that all Denver will tell me is to focus on
school and not get distracted by boys. He’s such a dad.”
I smiled. Denver was such a dad, but I knew that meant more to Cassie than she’d ever
admit.
“If you aren’t sure, maybe you should just put the guy off for a while. Give yourself time to
think about it. Maybe you can tell him this week isn’t good, but you’d be open to revisiting the
idea of having dinner with him once things slow down a bit. Then, after thinking it over, if you
decide that you want to go out with him, you can miraculously find a spot in your schedule to do
so, and if you decide you don’t want to go out with him, you can merely tell him that your life
really is too busy for dating at this point.”
She hugged me. “Thanks. That sounds like a good idea. When Brady brought up dinner
today, I felt trapped, which probably means I wasn’t that interested, but I wasn’t sure how to turn

him down gracefully. But stalling to give myself time to think things over sounds like a good
plan. I’ll text him when we’re done here.”
“I’m happy to help, and just so you know, you can always call me if you need to talk. You
don’t need to wait until I’m here.”
“I know. And that means a lot to me.”
After Cassie left to do her homework, I logged into my computer. I was curious to see if there
was anything in the local news about the man who was found dead on the ferry today. It wasn’t
every day that a murder occurred on the ferry, so you’d think that the local news stations or
online newspapers would have reported something.
After logging in, I was able to confirm that a few headlines reported that a man had been
murdered on the ferry from Seattle to Bainbridge Island. The man’s name was not provided,
which wasn’t surprising at this point in the investigation, nor was the dog mentioned, which I
figured was a good thing since bringing attention to Jax and his temporary residency at the
rescue would likely land reporters looking for a story on our doorstep.
Other than a sentence or two about the details surrounding the murder, such as that the man
had been found in the driver’s seat of his vehicle, no other information had been released at this
point. I thought about my friend, Parker, and figured that if anyone had more information
regarding the situation, it would be her, so I called her with the idea of leaving a message if she
didn’t answer.
“Hey, Bex,” she answered after the first ring. “What’s up?”
“I called to see if you knew anything more than what is available online about the man who
was found dead on the Seattle to Bainbridge Island ferry today.”
“I know a bit. I know you planned to head to the island today. Were you on the ferry where
the body was found?”
“I’m the one who found him.” I then explained how I found the dog and how that led me to
look for the dog’s owner, which was how I discovered the man’s body.
“Wow. I had no idea. I was just assigned the story an hour ago and haven’t even had the
chance to look at the notes Alfred provided.” Alfred Sutton was Parker’s boss at the Seattle
News. “I just got home and had, in fact, planned to dig into it while I choked down my
microwave dinner.”
“I don’t know much, but I can tell you what I do know,” I offered.
“I’d appreciate that. I want to record this conversation if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s fine,” I assured her.
I spent the next half hour answering the questions Parker threw at me. I didn’t know much,
but I did seem to know more than Parker did at this point. Parker figured that since the man was
killed on the ferry between Seattle and Bainbridge Island, the killer likely boarded in Seattle, and
it would be in Seattle where she felt she’d be most likely to pick up a lead. When Parker was in
Seattle, she lived with Avery and me in the penthouse condominium owned by Avery. She was
there now and asked if I’d have time to meet with her the following day to review everything
again. I’d planned to head to Gooseberry Bay tomorrow, but I supposed I could delay that by a

day or two and head back to Seattle before traveling to Gooseberry Bay. I knew how important it
was to Parker to be the first one to catch a lead when there was a breaking story to report on. And
while I didn’t think I knew anything more than I’d already told her, I also knew that Parker had a
way of asking the right questions to get her witnesses to remember details they hadn’t even been
aware they’d noticed in the first place.
“I can come back tomorrow. Should I meet you at the condo?”
“I think that would be best. Since I’m uncertain how my day will unfold, maybe we can talk
again in the morning.”
“That works for me. Did Alfred know anything interesting that we haven’t already
discussed?”
“Not really. Alfred was handed the lead, but he’s already working on the Thadius Lysander
story, so he didn’t do anything with the lead relating to the murdered man on the ferry before
handing it off to me.” I knew that Thadius Lysander was a self-made billionaire purportedly
linked to a Columbian drug cartel. Even though multiple federal agencies comprised the task
force set on proving Lysander’s involvement had expended a lot of effort, to this point, no one
had found any evidence to support the rumors most accepted as fact. It wasn’t Lysander’s
involvement in the drug trade that had been making the headlines as of late; however, it was his
involvement with a grassroots rebel alliance operating out of South America that had set up a
base of operations right here in Seattle. “I’ll dig around a bit now that I have the case file in front
of me. I should know more by the time we talk tomorrow.”
After I hung up with Parker, I decided to turn in for the evening. Jax had been out just an
hour ago, so he should be fine until morning. I changed into my pajamas, turned the lights out,
and called him onto the bed. I smiled when he settled in next to me. It had been a while since I’d
slept with a warm body beside me. I had to admit it felt nice. I’d toyed with the idea of taking on
a man, dog, or cat to curl up with at night, but since I moved around so much, being single and
untethered seemed the most efficient way to go.
Hearing the sound of Jax snoring next to me lulled me to sleep, and once sleep came, it came
soundly. It wasn’t until the dogs in the kennel began barking that I drifted back toward
consciousness. I turned and looked at the bedside clock. It was only four-thirty and much too
early for Denver to be up and about unless something was wrong. I put my jacket on over my
pajamas and slipped a pair of rubber boots on my feet. I told Jax to stay where he was and
headed toward the kennel. By the time I arrived, Denver was already there.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Denver cradled his shotgun across his torso. As far as I knew, he’d never once fired the
weapon, but he liked to keep it handy in case he needed to scare off a predator, whether that
predator was a human or an animal. “It looks like someone broke in.” He walked me over to the
door at the back of the kennel. The lock had been tampered with.
“Are the dogs okay?”
He nodded. “I took a quick look around. Everyone is accounted for, and no one seems to be
injured.” He looked around. “I’ll hang out here in the kennel until the dogs settle down.” He
jiggled the broken lock. “As long as I’m here, I’ll grab my tools and fix this lock. Why don’t you
go back to bed.”

“No. Since I’m awake, I’ll head back to my cabin and get dressed, and then Jax and I will
meet you back here.”
Denver had settled all the dogs by the time I left to return to my cabin. Jax about bowled me
over in his attempt to make sure I was okay when I entered the cabin, but once he realized that I
was unharmed, he began sniffing around in the kitchen, looking for his breakfast.
“You won’t find breakfast in there,” I told the dog. “I’m going to get dressed, and then we’ll
head to the kennel to hang out with Denver. He has all sorts of yummy doggy treats.”