The Search

by Nora Roberts

  “I didn’t grow up in the city. My family’s in construction.”

  “Okay, but doesn’t that mean planting buildings?”

  His lips quirked. “You could say. But my dad’s policy was to buy a tree or a shrub for any new house he built. So I plugged in a few.”

  “That’s nice. Your dad’s policy, that’s nice.”

  “Yeah. Nice gesture, and good business.”

  He hefted the dogwood, lowered the root-ball into the hole. “That’s about right.” Crouching, he opened the burlap around the root-ball to expose it.

  Together they dumped in topsoil and peat, mixed it.

  “Shouldn’t we cover it more?” she asked when Simon stopped.

  “No, just to the height of the root-ball.” He lifted a bucket. “You want to deep-water, and do that about once a week unless we get a good rain.”

  It had been fun, she thought, planting a tree with him in the cool morning air. “Once a week, check.”

  “I didn’t get mulch. Figured it was going in the woods and I could just use pine needles. You’ll want to mulch it.”

  “Okay.” She stepped back. “I’ve got a dogwood tree. Thank you, Simon.”

  “We had a deal.”

  “And you could’ve picked up a pine and stuck it in the hole from the stump. This is lovely.”

  She turned to kiss him, a friendly gesture, but he moved in and made it more.

  “We’ve got some time before school starts,” he told her.

  “Hmm, that’s true.” She tipped up her wrist to check the time. “Not a lot. We’d have to be pretty quick and pretty motivated.”

  “You’re the former track star. You be quick. I’ll be motivated.”

  He smelled of the soap from his shower twined with a touch of healthy sweat from the effort of digging. He looked rough, and ready. And the long, hard kiss beside the sweet young tree had stirred her to aching.

  Why wait? she asked herself. Why pretend?

  “It might be a good way to celebrate a tree planting. Why don’t we—”

  She broke off as she heard tires on gravel. “Apparently someone else is early,” she began, then saw the patrol car. “Oh God.” Reaching down, she groped for Simon’s hand.

  Davey pulled up behind the truck, got out. “Nice-looking tree,” he said, and took off his sunglasses and hooked them in his shirt pocket. He gave Simon a nod as he walked toward them. “Simon.”

  “Deputy.”

  Davey reached out to run a hand down Fiona’s arm. “Fee, I’m sorry to have to tell you, but they found another one.”

  The breath she’d held came out with a jump. “When?”

  “Yesterday. In Klamath National Forest, near the Oregon border,” he said before she asked. “She’d been missing a couple days. A college student, Redding, California. So he moved west and a little south for the abduction, then drove over a hundred miles to . . . bury her. The details are the same as the others.”

  “Two days,” she murmured.

  “They’ve got a couple of feds going in to push on Perry, to see if they can pull anything out of him, if there’s anything to pull.”

  “He’s not waiting as long between,” she said. “He’s not as patient.” She shuddered once. “And he’s heading north.”

  “He’s targeting the same victim type,” he reminded her, then set his teeth. “But goddamn it, Fee, after that newspaper thing, I’ve got some concerns.”

  “He knows where to find me if he wants me.” Panic wanted to beat its wings in her throat. And panic, she reminded herself, solved nothing. Nothing.

  And still those wings fluttered.

  “If he wants to finish Perry’s work, a kind of homage, he can find me. I’m not stupid, Davey. It’s something I considered when I knew there was going to be an article.”

  “You could move in with Sylvia or Mai for a while. Hell, Fee, you can stay with Rachel and me.”

  “I know, but the fact is I’m as safe here as anywhere. Safer, maybe, with the dogs.” Her sanctuary. She had to believe it or the panic would win. “Nobody can get near the house without me knowing.”

  Davey glanced toward Simon. “I’d feel better if you had more than the dogs.”

  “I’ve got a gun, and you know I can use it. I can’t uproot my life on the possibility he may decide to come here in a week, a month, six months.” She dragged a hand through her hair, ordering herself to stay sensible. “He’s not as patient as Perry,” she repeated, “and he’s following someone else’s pattern. They’ll catch him. I have to believe they’ll catch him. Until they do, I’m not helpless.”

  “One of us is going to check in with you every day. We take care of our own, even when they aren’t helpless.”

  “That works for me.”

  Simon held his silence until he and Fiona were alone. “Why don’t you go visit your mother for a while?”

  “Because I have to work. And I do have to work,” she added. “I have a mortgage, a car payment, bills. I’ve had to juggle like a circus clown to manage the time and money for a long weekend off.” She picked up the shovel to put it in the back of the truck. “And what happens if he doesn’t go after some other poor girl for weeks? Do I just put everything on hold because of a maybe? I won’t be stupid and I won’t be careless.” Because it made her feel strong and capable, she hauled up the sagging bag of peat. “But I will not let this ruin my life. Not again. And I won’t be taken. Not again. Not ever again.”

  “You leave your door unlocked. Half the time you leave it open.”

  “Yes, that’s true. And if someone they didn’t know tried to get within twenty feet of the house, or me, the dogs would stop them. But you can believe I’ll be locking up at night now, and my nine millimeter’s going in the drawer next to my bed.”

  It took him a minute. “You have a nine millimeter?”

  “That’s right.” She tossed the bag of topsoil after the bag of peat. “Greg taught me how to shoot, how to respect a weapon. And after . . . after I started going to the range regularly until I was proficient. I’m probably a little rusty, but I’ll fix that. I’ll fix it.” The words came out too fast, too fast, and she fought to slow them. “I’ll take care of myself. I need my life. I need my home and my work, my routine.”

  She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I need it.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He glanced toward the dogs. They looked like happy, friendly, lick-your-face-off types. But he remembered the low growl from Newman when he’d tussled a little with Fiona in the kitchen. “Why don’t you cancel your classes for the day?”

  “No, no. Some of them are already on the ferry, or heading in. Besides, routine. It keeps me centered.”

  “Is that what does it?”

  “Apparently. The tree’s still pretty,” she said, calmer again. “It’s still a nice morning, and I still have work to do. It helps.”

  “Then I’d better move my truck.” He opened the door. “Teach him something else.” He lifted his chin at Jaws. “Like how to get me a beer out of the fridge.”

  “Not altogether impossible. But we’d better nail down the basics first.”

  ROUTINE DID HELP, and part of that routine was people, and their dogs. She listened, as always, to clients relating progress, or the lack of it. She listened to problems, and arranged her lesson for the day around them.

  She used the first few minutes for walk, heel, sit to get both handlers and pups settled in.

  “Some of us are having problems with jumping, so we’re going to take that discipline first today. Puppies jump on us because it’s fun and because they want our attention, and they’re so cute we give in to them, even encourage it, rewarding bad manners—and behavior that won’t be so cute in bigger dogs as they grow. Annie, why don’t you tell us what happened the other day.”

  Annie from San Juan Island gave her collie mix an apologetic glance. “My niece came to visit with her little boy. He’s three. Casey was so happy to see them, she ran over and jumped
on Rory. She knocked him down and he hit his head. He wasn’t really hurt, but he could’ve been, and it scared him. She didn’t mean it.”

  “Of course not. Casey’s a friendly, happy dog. Energetic. I imagine most of us have had something like this happen. Or at least scratched legs, dirtied pants, shredded hose.”

  “Bruno’s always tearing up my panty hose.” Jake, all 220 pounds of him, got a laugh at the remark.

  “We’ll fix that for you, Jake. Like everything else, it takes consistency, firmness and understanding. Do not reward your dog when it jumps. No attention, no smiles, no petting. I find the best command is generally ‘Off.’ Using the ‘Down’ command can confuse them, as we want to use this to get them to lie down. I’m going to use Casey to demonstrate. Go ahead and take her off the leash, Annie.”

  She called the dog, who raced over and, as Fiona expected, rose up on her hind legs to jump. Fiona stepped forward, countering the balance. “Off !” Casey’s feet hit the ground. “Good dog. Good girl.” Fiona offered a treat and a rub.

  “Obviously it’s going to take more than once, but the dog will learn. The instinct is to step back when a dog jumps, to take their weight. But by stepping forward, the dog can’t get its balance. You use the step and the command—both firm—and when your dog has all four feet on the ground again—not before—you offer praise and reward.”

  She demonstrated again. “You and everyone in your family have to get on board with this. The discipline can’t come from just you. Don’t let your kids encourage jumping because it’s fun for them, too. Call her back, Annie, and repeat what I just did if she jumps. Step forward, say ‘Off !’ Then reward.”

  Fiona nodded in satisfaction as the routine played out. “Okay, let’s spread out so everyone can work on this. We move on to how to teach your dog not to jump on others next.”

  She walked around, offered advice, encouragement. People needed praise and reward, too, she knew, so she doled them out.

  She ended the class with a second round of sit and stay.

  “Good job, everybody. I’ve got a tip for you this week since spring’s coming: some of you might be planning a garden or have one already started. I just blogged about this, so you can refer to that if and when you need a reminder. You’ll be unhappy if your dog digs up your petunias or tomatoes. Dogs dig for several reasons. Sometimes it’s just because they like it. Sometimes because they’re bored. Regular play, exercise and attention can discourage digging, but not always. You’re not always going to be right on hand when that digging urge strikes. So, fill the holes.”

  She got a moan out of several students.

  “Yeah, it’s an irritating cycle initially. But a lot of young dogs will get discouraged when the hole they’ve dug keeps getting filled. What’s the point? Also offer alternatives to digging. Playtime, a walk, a chew toy. Distract. But because some will just, well, dig in, I advise you to put a few additives in the dirt you replace. Chili pepper’s a good deterrent, and so is dog poop. Seriously. Sometimes a dog digs to find a cool spot. If you have enough room you might designate some shady spot in the yard for him to dig and clear and hang out in when it’s hot.

  “Last, those of you who have no plans to breed your dog and haven’t already made arrangements for spaying or neutering, it’s time.”

  She didn’t lecture on the subject. Yet.

  As her students began heading out, she strolled over to Simon. “I saw your face.”

  “That’s because it’s right here, on the front of my head.”

  “The look on your face when I mentioned neutering.” She gave him a poke. “He’ll still be a guy. Balls don’t make the man.”

  “Easy for you to say, sister.”

  “And what are you going to say the first time he catches a whiff of some sexy bitch in heat and runs off to bang her?”

  “Score?”

  She poked him again. “And following those instincts, he could get hit by a car on the road, get lost. Now, do you really want to add to the stray and/or unwanted dog population? The number of dogs put to sleep every year just so yours keeps his balls and scores?”

  “He’s more into dead fish than sex.”

  “For now. Responsibly neutering him will help his behavior. Odds are he’ll be somewhat calmer.”

  “Most eunuchs are.”

  “You force me to give you literature.” She picked up the ball Peck dropped at her feet, winged it. Then watched the car cruise down her drive. “They timed it.”

  “Who?”

  “I expect Davey let some people know about what happened. That’s Meg and Chuck Greene, from my unit. First class is over, and I don’t have another today until this afternoon. So here they are to see if I need company.”

  She seemed touched rather than annoyed, and Simon took it as his cue to go. “I’ve got to take off.”

  “Oh, don’t be rude. Wait two minutes so I can introduce you. You didn’t bring Quirk and Xena,” Fiona called out.

  “We’re having a people day,” Meg called back.

  They got out of opposite sides of the car, met in front of the hood and joined hands before they crossed over. Stopping, Simon noted, to greet the dogs.

  “Who’s this handsome boy!”

  Simon watched as Meg, a breezy-looking woman he pegged as late forties, stepped into Jaws’s excited leap.

  It worked, he had to admit. They’d have to practice.

  “That’s Jaws. Meg and Chuck Greene, this is Simon Doyle, Jaws’s human.”

  “Simon!” Meg stuck out a hand, then grasped Simon’s in both of hers. “I bought a set of your stacked tables from Sylvia. I love them. I’ve been hoping to run into you.”

  “Meg and Chuck live over in Deer Harbor. Chuck’s a retired cop, and Meg’s one of our lawyers. Simon was here when Davey came by,” Fiona added. “And I’m fine.”

  “We needed to check the cabin,” Meg told her. “We’ve got somebody coming in over the weekend.”

  “Uh-huh.” She didn’t buy that for a minute. “Meg and Chuck have a pretty cabin in Moran State Park they rent out.”

  “Since we were so close, we just came by to see if we could talk you into meeting us for lunch. We thought we’d grab an early one at the Rosario.”

  “Meg.”

  “And we’re entitled to look after you.”

  “Thanks, but I’m going to stick close to home today. You can pass that on to the next shift.”

  “Where’s your cell phone?” Chuck asked her.

  “Inside.”

  “I want you to start carrying it with you.” The tap he gave her nose spoke of affection, and authority. “I don’t think you’ve got a thing to worry about, but use that common sense you’ve got so much of. Carry your phone.”

  “All right.”

  “Are you spending any nights here?” Chuck asked Simon.

  “Chuck!”

  “I’m not talking to you,” he said to Fiona.

  “Not yet.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt. You do custom work, don’t you?”

  “Are you talking about sex or wood?”

  There was a beat of silence before Chuck roared out his big laugh, then slapped Simon on the back. “Maybe we’ll talk sex over a beer sometime. On the wood, Meg’s been after a new china cabinet. Can’t find anything that suits her. This one’s too big, that one’s too small, the other one’s not the right wood. If she could tell you what the hell it is she wants and you make it, I’d stop hearing about it.”

  “We can talk about that. You’d want to show me the space.”

  “If you’ve got time this afternoon, after three.” Chuck reached in his wallet and pulled out a business card. “Home address is on there.”

  “Okay. More like four.”

  “That’ll work. Well, come on, Meg, let’s get this party started. You?” He pointed at Fiona, then kissed her cheek. “Put your phone in your pocket.”

  “Yes, sir, Sergeant Greene.”

  “You take care, Fee. We’ll see you this
afternoon, Simon.”

  They walked back to their car as they’d walked from it. Hand in hand.