On the Scent: A laugh out loud pet detective rom com!

Angela Campbell

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HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013

Copyright © Angela Campbell 2013

Cover Photographs © shutterstock.com

Angela Campbell asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

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and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © July 2013

ISBN:9780007543052

Version 2017-09-28

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Angela Campbell: About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

BONUS MATERIAL

Something Wicked

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

About the Author

Angela Campbell

I read my first romance at 16 and immediately attempted to write one, too. Many attempts (and a couple of decades) later, I finally published my first novel. A mild-mannered newspaper reporter with more than 15 years experience as a general assignment reporter, features editor and graphic designer, I have also worked as a production assistant in TV and film. I now live in the Southeast with my rescue cat. Learn more about my books at www.angelacampbellonline.com.

Thank you to my BFF, Cindy, for encouraging me to follow my dreams. Thank you to my best friends in fur, Dusti, Valentino, Sunny and Ginger, for inspiring the characters who stole this story. Thank you to my amazing critique partners, Jennifer, Pamela and Cynthia, and the many beta readers who offered me their time and feedback. Finally, thank you to Charlotte Ledger for recognizing the potential in this story and helping me bring it to the world.

For the rest of you, please remember to spay and neuter your pets. There are lots of homeless animals at shelters in need of good homes. Please consider adopting one!

Chapter One

“Check this out, bro.” E.J. lowered his voice as he stepped closer. “There’s a real dog out here to see you.”

Zachary Collins paused mid pull-up and clenched his jaw. Dammit, didn’t E.J. know anything about office etiquette? Last thing they needed was a complaint about rude employees to the Better Business Bureau.

“Not appropriate, E.J.” Zach huffed as he lifted his chin up over the bar he’d mounted in the doorway to his office’s private bathroom. His left arm began to tremble beneath the strain. “What’s she want?”

Nine.

Ten.

Done.

He dropped to the floor, shook the slight tingle out of his left hand, and reached for the towel draped across his chair. E.J. leaned back against the closed door and shrugged. “Dunno. She just asked for you.”

He’d known putting E.J. at the reception desk was a bad idea. The kid was too rough around the edges. Too ignorant of the job.

Wiping the sweat from his neck, Zach made his way to his desk. The security monitor on his computer screen showed him the side profile of a dark-haired woman sitting in the waiting room.

Dog? Not from what he could see.

As though she sensed she was being watched, she shifted and looked directly into the corner camera mounted in the lobby. She stared for a minute before she looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching in her lap.

Shit.

It was her.

Zach swore and pounded a fist on his desk. He reached for his phone. “Isn’t Brian around? Kellan?” He punched in his partner’s extension, only to get Brian’s voicemail.

“Sure, but—” Beside him, E.J. tugged at the necktie Zach had insisted he wear and shuffled on his feet. “The lady specifically asked for you and said she’d take her business elsewhere if you weren’t available.”

Slamming the phone back in the cradle, Zach stepped into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face before hurrying to change into his respectable white button-down shirt and black slacks. “Did she say why she wanted to see me?”

The young man scrunched his face. “Nah, man. Just said it was important.”

I’m-here-to-serve-you-papers important? He hoped not.

“Is she alone?” He ran a hand through his thick hair. Not too damp.

“There ain’t nobody with her, but—”

“Send her in.”

Deodorant. Where the hell was his deodorant? He splashed on a dash of cologne instead and hurried to his desk.

Zach’s name might headline the private security agency—hell, his name was the agency—but he took a hands-off approach to handling cases these days. He liked the easy ones. Ones that could be done behind a computer or with a phone call here and there. He’d lost his desire for adrenaline rushes six months ago, right after—

No. Don’t even think about it.

He had no need for that shit anymore. He was strictly in business management now. Safe and easy. That was his new work mantra.

Unfortunately, this woman was not going to be safe and easy for him, and he didn’t have to be psychic to know that.

Reaching for the bottle of antacids in his drawer, he popped one in his mouth. He kept them there for when the bill collectors came snooping around. Or fans, who hadn’t forgotten him yet.

His door opened, and Zach blinked in surprise when a short, stubby-legged, long-snouted golden retriever with beady eyes came trotting into his office. Some kind of mixed breed, or maybe a genetic experiment.

A smile got the better of him. Now that was a cute mutt.

The dog slowly maneuvered its chunky body over to where Zach was standing, wrapped its front paws around Zach’s leg and started humping.

“Hey!” Zach tried to jostle him off, but the little guy was stronger than he looked.

“Oh, geez, I’m so sorry.” The woman appeared in the doorway, her green gaze wide. She clapped her hands and yelled, “Costello! Down, boy. Down!”

The dog immediately obeyed.

“I’m so sorry. He got away from me.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. She grabbed the leash the dog had been trailing behind him. When she straightened, she held out her other hand. “My name is Hannah Dawson. Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time, Mr. Collins.”

His vision blurred as his heart thumped a wild beat against his chest.

Just. Stay. Calm.

It took all of Zach’s training not to react as he accepted her handshake. His body jerked in surprise when a furry white and black head popped out of the bag beneath the woman’s arm. The cat let loose a loud yowling meow and took a swipe at his hand.

What the—?

Hannah wrenched back. “Oh, no I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s got into them.”

Uh…

“Abbott, behave.” She zipped the top of the pink mesh bag, leaving a pair of yellow eyes peering at him from behind a see-through front. A growling sound came from the carrier when the woman sat it on the ground.

This was weird, and for Zach, that was saying a lot. In his five years of running Collins Security Firm, he’d never felt so caught off-guard by a situation.

“Miss Dawson?”

She looked at him and nodded.

“Perhaps we could reschedule this for another time when you can leave your—” Zach squinted down at the dog, who was panting happily with its tongue hanging out of its mouth “—pets at home?”

And he could arrange for Brian to meet with her instead. Sweat gathered at the back of his neck. He didn’t need this. Not now. Not her.

“Oh, but I can’t. I can’t go anywhere without them. I can’t even go to the bathroom on my own anymore.” She threw up her hands and looked like she was near tears. “That’s why I need your help. That’s why I’m here.”

She had no idea who he was.

Every muscle in Zach’s body relaxed at that realization. Even so, he skimmed her profile to reassure himself she wasn’t playing him for a fool. Not much had changed. She was in her early thirties, but she looked younger. Long, straight black hair, average height but slim. Well-dressed.

Why the hell was she here if she didn’t know who he was?

She lifted her pretty face, and the vulnerability he saw in her glistening green eyes had him second-guessing his decision to send her away. This woman wasn’t vindictive or crazy. She was desperate.

He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Sinking into the chair across from his desk, Hannah buried her face in her hands and groaned. She spread her fingers and looked at him. “I seem like a freak, don’t I?” Glancing around his office, she lowered her hand and began petting the dog. “I’m not crazy. I’m just…stressed.”

Nodding, he sank into his cushy office chair. “Before you get too far, I should warn you that our prices aren’t cheap. I offer a free consultation on referral, but—”

“I can pay for the consultation,” she interjected. “And I can afford your services.” She glanced down at the dog. “Actually, they can afford your services. They’re the ones who will be hiring you.”

Another one he hadn’t heard before.

Before he could speak, she snatched the newspaper lying on his desk, turned to a page close to the front and pressed it down in front of him. She tapped the top headline.

Secret heiress leaves $10 million to her cat, dog.

“That’s Abbott, the cat, and Costello is the dog.” She gestured to each animal as she said their names. A picture of the dog and cat posing with an elderly woman accompanied the article. “And if you’d like to take a few minutes to read this, I don’t mind waiting.”

Zach picked up the newspaper and focused on the article, trying to keep his expression rigid, give nothing away. Not easy, since most of the information he read surprised the hell out of him. The elderly heiress had kept her fortune a secret, leaving a trust fund in her animals’ names. A nurse who’d cared for Ellie Parham in her final years had been tasked with minding the ridiculously rich cat and dog.

He guessed the reason Hannah Dawson was here was because she’d become a target for every wacko and get-rich schemer in the region. Her coming to their agency today seemed like an awfully big coincidence, though. How much did she know? What had the old woman told her?

“If you don’t mind my asking, Miss Dawson, why did you choose our firm?” He watched her expression for a nonverbal giveaway.

“I recognized your name. From your TV show,” she clarified, although it wasn’t necessary.

A surprising demographic of people watched reality television—especially the true crime channel that had aired The Psychic Detective until its cancellation six years ago. That this woman had seen his show both surprised and pissed him off. He didn’t like to be reminded of his past.

Shit.

Ten million dollars. Left to a cat and dog. How could he not want a slice of that? There was a past due notice for the office’s lease sitting on his desk right now that could be taken care of by the end of the week with profit from a client like Hannah. He could stop losing sleep for worry of not making payroll.

His mama’s voice whispered through his mind in a childhood memory from Sunday school. Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap, Zachary.

If Hannah Dawson figured out the connection between them, she might pull her business, maybe file a lawsuit against him, expose the psychic detective for the sham he’d been. That was a headache he didn’t need. The smart thing would be to refer her to another agency and cut ties now.

No.

They needed the money too much. It was a risk he’d have to take.

Zach held the folded newspaper up with one hand. “So you’re the unnamed nurse mentioned in this article?” His glance fell to the pink carrier beside her. “And this is the richest cat and dog in America?”

“I think they might be the richest cat and dog in the world, but who knows?” She flashed an endearing smile as her fingers brushed through the dog’s mane of fur. “In her will, Miss Parham named me as their caregiver and also left me a considerable amount of money. She knew I would take care of them—or die trying. It’s that die trying part I’m a little worried about.”

Zachary stood and perched on the edge of his desk before leaning forward. “I’m listening.”

She took a deep breath. “Ellie passed away about nine months ago, but the newspaper didn’t pick up on her will until four weeks ago. Some baseball player died, and a reporter came across Ellie’s records in probate while researching that man’s wealth. Anyway, people started calling Ellie’s number and showing up at her place, looking for a handout, so I moved. Yesterday someone broke into my new house and tried to kidnap the boys. That person—”

He held up a hand. “The boys?”

“Sorry. That’s what I call the cat and dog.” She gave her dog a pat on the head before resting her hands in her lap. “Anyway, the person probably would’ve succeeded, but Costello is…quite heavy for such a short dog. Plus, he can be aggressive when he realizes something is wrong. He bit a piece of the man’s pants off before I grabbed my baseball bat and chased the guy away.”

“I see.” She was beautiful and gutsy. He liked that. “How do you know they were there for the cat and dog?”

Her fingers tugged and pulled at each other. “He’d left a ransom note on the table. It said I would be contacted about paying one million to get the animals back alive.” Her eyes glistened, but she blinked away the tears. “I called the police after making sure the boys were safe.”

He frowned. “What’d they say?”

She shrugged. “Not much. I overheard one of the officers saying to the other one, ‘What’s the big deal? Nothing was taken. It’s just a cat and dog. We’ve got better things to do with our time.’”

He rubbed at the tight muscles in his neck.

“Can you help me, Mr. Collins?”

Good question. Could he?

Hannah eased back in her chair and watched Zachary Collins closely, but if this sexy-as-sin man had known her late employer, he was doing a fine job of not giving the fact away.

His face still scrunched, he stood up and moved back to his chair. “Collins Security specializes in helping people safeguard their home. I can get one of my people to come out to your place, arrange an alarm system and teach you some safety precautions.”

Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t. Do. It. I mean, really. As if she hadn’t already tried all of that. “I came to your firm because I’m looking for more help than that.” She bit her lip. “And because I would like to hire your services as a psychic.”

There it was. The woman who thought all that supernatural mumbo jumbo was baloney wanted to hire a freaking psychic.

Good grief, had it really come to this?

She expected him to ask, “Why?” but Zachary simply sat back in his chair, rested one ankle on his opposite knee and created a triangle with his fingers. His penetrating gaze never wavered from hers.

“You want me to communicate with the animals?”

A rush of air escaped her lungs. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, wondering if she should tell him everything or stick to the story she’d rehearsed on the way over here. “Like I said, I’m familiar with the show you did several years ago, and even though your website didn’t advertise your services as a psychic, I thought —”

“—that I could get inside their heads and tell you what they want from you? Are they happy? That kind of thing?” Not exactly, but she would use the excuse. Hannah nodded.

Lord, she almost hoped he wasn’t psychic, or else he’d see right through her and know exactly why she was here.

Ellie’s attorney had relayed to Hannah a cryptic message from the will. These animals are the key to my past. Only they know the truth. When you’re ready to hear it, they’ll tell you.

O-kay. Tell her what? Better yet, tell her how?

Mixed in with the instructions Ellie had left for Hannah had also been a brief scribbled note and a clipped article from a magazine. When I die, hire this man to help you. The torn and tattered old article had been a brief story previewing an upcoming season of The Psychic Detective. A publicity shot of Zachary Collins with his thick, dark hair, square-jawed masculinity, and eyes so blue they’d reminded her of the Georgia sky on a sunny day had taken up most of the page. His charisma in print had packed such a wallop, it was easy to understand why the man had been cast in his own TV show. Who the heck cared if he was psychic or a detective? The man was gorgeous.

Hannah had assumed he was only an actor, but Zachary Collins was a legit investigator. His website announced he’d opened an agency in Atlanta a little over five years ago. Licensed, bonded, and he’d come highly recommended by the Georgia Board of Private Detectives and Security Agencies when she’d called this morning.

Okay. Psychic plus detective. Hannah wasn’t stupid. Ellie had obviously thought this guy could communicate with Abbott and Costello and—what? How had Ellie known Hannah would need protection? Because of the money?

“I was hoping you could use your, you know, psychic abilities or whatever it is you do, to help me talk to the boys. Is there anything they need to tell me?” She shrugged and tried to look sheepish as she waited to see if he’d pass her test and freak her the heck out by saying something along the lines of “Abbott said to tell you that Ellie had a detailed journal describing her life as a Mexican drug lord hidden in the floorboard of her bedroom.”

Hannah needed that kind of proof to believe this guy could read minds, furry, human or otherwise.

His cobalt eyes captured hers, and whoa mama, she practically melted in the chair from the intensity of his stare. Tugging the collar of her shirt away from her neckline, she squirmed in her seat and looked away.

“I don’t communicate with animals, Miss Dawson,” he said. “My psychic abilities aren’t specialized to pet readings.”

“I understand that.” She might as well be panning for gold when it came to figuring out why Ellie had wanted her to hire him—well, other than the old woman had lost her mind—but the only thing different about him from the other private investigators she’d researched was that he claimed to be psychic. “I’d hoped you might be persuaded to try, or perhaps you can recommend someone who does talk to animals? I’ve got the money. I can pay whatever it takes.”

“I read people, not animals, but—” He seemed to hesitate. His eyes held hers. When he finally leaned forward and turned his gaze to the dog stretched out on his office floor, the tension she’d been feeling for the past few days loosened its grip on her muscles. “I sense that they’re still grieving. They miss their former owner, but they are quite happy with you. I’d dare say grateful.” He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid there’s really not much else to tell you. Animals are pretty simple-minded creatures. People tend to think they’re much smarter than they really are.”

Oh, really? Hannah crossed her arms and studied him to see if he was feeding her a line of BS. Costello knew exactly when eight o’clock was each day without looking at a clock—it was his feeding time—and Abbott could open doors and cabinets like it was nothing.

Oh, no. This man was obviously a quack. Zachary Collins had one helluva poker face though. She snuck a look down at the bag containing the cat. Abbott had also awoken her when the person trying to kidnap Costello had been wrestling with the dog.

The cat’s yellow eyes peered up at her with a sardonic expression. Almost as if the animal was thinking, Are you buying this crap?

She focused on Zachary again. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” Smiling, Zachary leaned forward. “As I said before, I have a couple of qualified men who can help you secure your home. If you’re looking for a bodyguard to provide around-the-clock protection, I can arrange that, too.”

Around-the-clock what? Lord have mercy, that sounded expensive.

Abbott’s loud meow drew her attention. She straightened her shoulders and focused on the reason she was here. “They really aren’t telling you anything else?” Anything about Ellie I should know?

Zachary seemed to stare at the wall, his eyes unfocused and glazed. “I’m sorry. Like I said…”

“Simple-minded. Right.”

Well, crap. She was back in what-the-heck-do-I-do-now territory. How did a person find a legitimate psychic, if such a thing existed?

Costello made a low growling sound as he began to wiggle around on the carpet. The dog’s stubby paw batted at her foot playfully. His tongue lolled to one side, and he panted. So maybe Zachary Collins had a point. Still, she’d thought it might be worth a try. She’d never felt so desperate for help in her entire life, and that was really saying something.

She felt so alone in all of this.

Someone had broken into her home, after all.

“Do you think I need a bodyguard?” The thought of someone following her around twenty-four hours a day kind of creeped her out.

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you involved with anyone?”

She felt her shoulders tense again. “No. Why?”

“Any friends who could stay with you?”

Her best friend might, but Hannah didn’t want to inconvenience anyone, especially Sarah, who was studying hard to earn her IT certification. “No.”