Chapter 4 - Number One
Claire and Noah were moved before dark.
I hated every second of it.
A protection team escorted them to a secure department-owned residence outside the city.
No personal phones.
No routine.
No school.
No home.
No normal life until Derek Vale was found.
Noah pretended he thought it was exciting.
Twelve-year-old boys do that when they know adults are afraid.
He packed his gaming console and asked whether the safe house had good Wi-Fi.
Claire saw through him.
So did I.
Before they left, Noah crouched beside Titan.
“You’re coming too, right?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Titan stays with me.”
“That guy wants Titan.”
“Exactly.”
Noah’s face changed.
“You’re using him as bait?”
“No.”
Claire gave me a look that said she knew that answer was not entirely true.
I crouched in front of my son.
“Titan and I are working.”
Noah hugged him.
Hard.
Titan endured it with his usual dignity.
Then Noah whispered into his fur.
“Don’t get shot.”
That sentence followed me long after the protection vehicle disappeared.
Back at headquarters, Walter’s flash drive had been copied and isolated.
The files told us more than I wanted to know.
Every one of Rainier’s fourteen venomous reptiles had been illegally sold.
Collectors in Nevada.
Arizona.
Oregon.
California.
Two overseas buyers.
Derek had spent months buying or stealing them back.
Why?
Walter’s records didn’t explain.
But there was something else.
Photographs of Number One.
The file was encrypted.
Maya worked with the federal analyst to open it.
When the image appeared, she stopped breathing.
“What?”
No answer.
“Maya?”
She turned the screen.
King cobra.
Huge.
Black-olive scales.
Raised hood.
The photograph showed it beside a measuring board.
Thirteen feet, four inches.
“Tell me that thing isn’t somewhere in Seattle.”
Maya didn’t.
She scrolled.
Medical history.
Female.
Adult.
Captured illegally in Southeast Asia years earlier.
Eventually seized.
Transferred between facilities.
Rainier had received temporary custodial authorization during a legal dispute.
Number One had a distinctive injury.
Last six inches of tail missing.
“That matters,” Maya said.
“How?”
“If we find a cobra with an intact tail, it isn’t Number One.”
I stared at the image.
“How dangerous?”
“It’s a king cobra.”
“I understand that part.”
“No, you understand movies.”
She faced me.
“A large king cobra can deliver a significant quantity of neurotoxic venom.”
“How fast?”
“Depends on dose, bite location, treatment.”
“Minutes?”
“It can become critical quickly.”
“And if it’s released somewhere crowded?”
“Panic may hurt more people than the snake.”
Walter’s warning.
Indoor location.
People dead before responders understood.
Ramirez entered.
“We found something on the city map.”
He spread a copy across the table.
The locations marked beneath Centennial Park were not random.
Each corresponded to a major public event occurring within the next two weeks.
Green Lake charity run.
Discovery Park school field trip.
Seattle Civic Center public-safety conference.
A children’s festival.
A hospital fundraiser.
Derek had chosen crowds.
Cameras.
Visibility.
“What happens next?” I asked.
Ramirez pointed to Tuesday.
“Public-safety conference.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Who attends?”
“Mayor.”
“Police leadership.”
“Fire.”
“Emergency management.”
“Wildlife officials.”
Maya stared at him.
“Wildlife officials?”
“Yes.”
“Derek blamed regulators for shutting Rainier down.”
I looked toward the marked location.
“A room filled with every agency he hates.”
Ramirez nodded.
“And media.”
There it was.
Derek didn’t merely want people injured.
He wanted the fear seen.
Broadcast.
Shared.
The same way Titan’s park video had gone viral.
My phone rang.
Secure line from the safe house.
Claire.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“How’s Noah?”
“Trying to convince an officer to let him order pizza.”
“Sounds normal.”
“He’s scared.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
“He thinks you’re going to die.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t promise things you can’t control.”
Silence.
Then Claire asked:
“Why your dog?”
“What?”
“Why is this man interested in Titan?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Yes, you do.”
I looked through the glass wall into the K9 area.
Titan was lying beside his water bowl.
Waiting.
“Because Titan saw something first.”
“What?”
“Maybe the snake.”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“That doesn’t explain months of photographs.”
She was right.
The pictures had been taken before Centennial Park.
Derek had been watching us before Titan saved Sophie.
Why?
That question became more important by the minute.
I returned to the photographs from the underground chamber.
Dates.
Locations.
Titan at the precinct.
Titan during community demonstrations.
Titan working narcotics searches.
Then one picture caught my attention.
Taken six months earlier.
Port of Seattle.
Titan and me beside a row of freight containers.
I remembered the operation.
Customs requested K9 support after drugs were suspected inside imported furniture.
Titan alerted.
We found cocaine.
Three arrests.
Routine.
Except the photograph showed something in the background.
A ViperLine truck.
I enlarged it.
Maya leaned closer.
“That’s Derek’s company.”
“What was he doing at the port?”
Ramirez requested the old case file.
Customs manifests.
Vehicle entries.
Security footage.
ViperLine had been scheduled to collect a shipment of exotic reptiles that morning.
But they never collected it.
Why?
Because Titan’s narcotics alert triggered a full security shutdown.
Every outbound vehicle was inspected.
The ViperLine truck left empty.
The reptile shipment was later seized.
Documentation fraudulent.
Maya stared at the record.
“What species?”
The file listed harmless captive-bred reptiles.
But photographs from the seizure showed concealed containers beneath them.
Two venomous snakes.
Illegal imports.
The operation had been referred for federal investigation.
No arrests.
The company behind the shipment dissolved.
Derek probably lost hundreds of thousands.
And Titan caused the search.
Six months ago.
“The dog sees first,” I whispered.
Derek had blamed Titan before Centennial Park.
The park incident wasn’t when Titan became his enemy.
It was confirmation.
My phone buzzed.
Rachel Mercer.
I almost didn’t answer.
“Sophie okay?”
“Yes.”
Her voice sounded uncertain.
“But she remembered something.”
“What?”
“The man who gave her the key.”
“Walter?”
“Yes.”
“She says he said something about Titan.”
I sat straighter.
“What exactly?”
Rachel put Sophie on.
“Hi, Officer Cole.”
“Hey, kiddo.”
“Is Titan there?”
“Always.”
“Can he hear me?”
“He’s a dog, Sophie.”
“So yes?”
“Probably.”
She giggled.
“What did Walter tell you?”
She became serious.
“He asked me if Titan was the police dog from the harbor.”
The port.
My pulse jumped.
“What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“What else?”
“He looked scared.”
“Did he say why?”
“He said, ‘If that dog is here, maybe there’s still time.’”
I looked through the glass at Titan.
Walter knew him too.
Everyone in this nightmare seemed to know my dog except me.
“Sophie, did Walter say anything about Number One?”
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
“Anything about a snake?”
“No.”
A pause.
“But he gave me something else.”
I stood.
“What?”
“I forgot.”
Rachel’s voice came in.
“Sophie found it in her coat pocket.”
“What is it?”
“A little folded paper.”
“Read it.”
“It just has numbers.”
“What numbers?”
Rachel read them.
GPS coordinates.
Maya entered them immediately.
A location south of Seattle.
Abandoned industrial land near the old Rainier facility.
We moved within twenty minutes.
The property had once been a veterinary quarantine annex.
Windows boarded.
Doors rusted.
No power.
Titan alerted at the rear entrance.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and old disinfectant.
We searched.
Empty cages.
Broken heat lamps.
Discarded paperwork.
Then Titan stopped outside a cold-storage room.
Growled.
Tactical officers opened it.
No person.
No snake.
Just a video camera sitting on a chair.
Red light blinking.
Recording.
Beside it sat an envelope.
FOR COLE.
Inside was another note from Walter.
Derek is planning something larger than the park.
I overheard him say Tuesday.
Number One is part of it.
He believes Titan can identify the transport scent now.
That makes your dog dangerous to him.
But Derek is not the only person involved.
Do not trust the first official who offers to take control of the investigation.
Ramirez read it twice.
“What official?”
Before anyone could answer, my radio crackled.
“Officer Cole, urgent traffic for you.”
“Go.”
“We found Walter Pike.”
“Where?”
“South Tacoma.”
“Alive?”
Pause.
“Barely.”
Walter was inside an abandoned storage unit.
Hands bound.
Severely dehydrated.
Three cracked ribs.
Deep cut along his left arm.
But alive.
At the hospital, he regained consciousness shortly before midnight.
His first word was not Derek.
Not police.
Not water.
“Titan.”
I leaned toward the bed.
“What about Titan?”
Walter’s eyes opened.
He recognized me.
“You brought him?”
“He’s outside.”
Relief passed across his face.
“Good.”
“Walter, where is Number One?”
His expression changed.
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Derek took her.”
“When?”
“Saturday.”
“Where?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“What happens Tuesday?”
Walter tried to breathe deeper and winced.
“Cameras.”
“What?”
“He kept saying cameras.”
“The Civic Center?”
Walter looked confused.
Then afraid.
“No.”
“What?”
“That’s where he wants police.”
My stomach tightened.
“It’s a decoy?”
Walter nodded weakly.
“He wants you all looking there.”
“Then where’s the real target?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Walter’s eyes closed.
“Flowers.”
Maya leaned forward.
“What flowers?”
“Derek said…”
Walter struggled.
“Put it with the flowers.”
His heart monitor quickened.
A nurse stepped in.
“That’s enough.”
“One more question.”
“No.”
Walter grabbed my wrist.
Surprisingly strong.
“Officer.”
I looked at him.
“Number One…”
“What?”
He swallowed.
“She isn’t the worst thing Derek brought back.”
May you like
Then the monitors began screaming.
---
