Rookie K-9 Unit Christmas

by Valerie Hansen

  “What did his therapists say?”

  It hurt to repeat the negative opinions. “They felt he had made all the progress he probably would, and it didn’t matter whether I left him there or took him with me.”

  “Then you have no reason to feel guilty.” Zoe smiled. “Right?”

  “Right. All I have to do is get my own act together so I can be a good father to him. If I keep having flashbacks, I may have to relinquish custody—for his sake.”

  “And give it to whom? I remember when your mom and dad were killed in that auto accident during my second semester of college.” She arched her brows. “Surely you wouldn’t consider your wife’s parents after what you’ve told me!”

  “No, no. Never them. They’ve already indicated that their idea of handling his problems is to overlook how much he needs love.” Although he wanted to turn his face away and retreat, Sean remained stoic. “I had no idea how bad things had gotten while I was in the service. Sandra told me she’d gone home to her family’s estate because she was lonely, not because she intended to stay stoned all the time and wanted Mommy and Daddy to watch Patrick.”

  “That’s what happened?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, you asked for a discharge?”

  “It wasn’t that simple. I was on my way to the airport, ready to fly home because of Patrick’s accident, when one of my buddies drove over an IED. The explosion took out half the Humvee and killed two men. I was thrown clear. By the time I got out of the hospital, I’d been diagnosed with PTSD, Sandra had died from an overdose and Patrick was still struggling to recover.”

  “Wow.”

  Sean nodded soberly. “Yeah. My sentiments exactly.”

  “You should be thankful you were able to get him away from your in-laws for this trip. I’m sure they didn’t like it.”

  “I didn’t tell them. They act as though I’m the reason for everything that went wrong.” His jaw set. “Actually, they aren’t the only ones. I had a long layover in Minneapolis during the trip home and used the time to pay a condolence visit to the family of one of the men who’d been with me in the Humvee. They slammed the door in my face. I guess they blamed me since they had no one else around to be mad at.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “As they say, ‘No good deed goes unpunished,’ right?”

  Zoe pulled into the supermarket parking lot, found a space and turned to stare at him. “Could they have been responsible for sending the thugs to harm you?”

  “I can’t see why. Or how.”

  “What about Sandra’s folks?”

  “No. Violence is definitely not their way of handling problems. They have enough money to hire the best lawyers and sue for custody if they want me out of the picture.”

  He saw her hands fist on the steering wheel as she asked, “Do you think they might resort to that?”

  “Unless I can get a grip on my flashbacks and prove I’m stable, it’s a possibility. That’s another reason why I need the help of a service dog. I’ve seen for myself what a difference one of those can make. Guys who were hardly able to leave their houses are working again and leading fairly normal lives.”

  “You managed to drive all the way down here. Are you sure you qualify?”

  “I don’t know whether I could have made myself act if it hadn’t been for Patrick,” Sean said flatly. “Whatever I did, I did for him. And that’s what I’ll keep doing for as long as I’m able.”

  She patted the back of his hand. “I believe you.”

  The grocery store was crowded. Zoe grabbed a cart, wiped it down to eliminate germs and stood back. “There you go, Patrick. All ready.”

  The child buried his face against his father’s shoulder and clung to him.

  “Wait right here,” she said. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  There was no rule against taking her K-9 partner with her anywhere she went. She had left Freya in the car to simplify their shopping trip but could now see that had been a mistake. Freya was Patrick’s temporary service dog, had been since the moment he’d laid a small hand on her back and let her lead him from room to room in the unfamiliar house.

  A working vest identified Freya the way a badge gave Zoe authority. She buckled it on and the dog assumed a more cautious demeanor.

  “Good girl. Heel.”

  Patrick’s face lit with a smile. His eyes twinkled. “Da.”

  “That’s right, Patrick,” Zoe said. “The dog is coming with us. Can you show her how nicely you sit in the cart?”

  She was afraid Sean might balk when it came time to let go. Thankfully, he didn’t. Patrick’s feet slipped through the leg openings, and he grasped the cart handle as if preparing to ride a bucking bronco.

  “Freya will stay right here next to us while we shop,” Zoe said. “Will you help me watch her to make sure she behaves?”

  The child nodded. “Good da.”

  “That’s right. She’s a very good dog.”

  Sean took up a position on the side opposite the dog so they flanked the boy well. Zoe supposed she couldn’t blame him for caution, but some of his choices seemed excessive. Maternal instinct kept insisting that there was no way any child could reach full potential when he or she was kept so close, so guarded, yet she could also identify with the urge to protect Patrick.

  As they worked their way through the store, however, her opinion softened. Sean was gently but firmly requiring the boy to at least try to name whatever food he wanted them to buy. Truth to tell, she would have lost patience if she hadn’t known how important the exercise was.

  “I didn’t think we were ever going to get those tangerines,” she commented on their way to checkout. “You did a wonderful job working through the name.”

  “I watched the doctors,” Sean said. “It seemed to me they were making things too simple until I realized that breaking the words into syllables was the way to go.” He stepped ahead of her and took out his wallet. “Let me get this. Most of it’s for us, anyway.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I know. Humor me.”

  His smile warmed her cheeks enough that she backed off and let him pay. Freya stayed at the rear of the cart as they both bent to unload it. Zoe was concentrating so completely on Sean, it took her a few seconds to notice the dog’s low growl. She grabbed his arm to still him and froze, herself.

  His response was immediate, his voice raspy. “What?”

  “The dog. Look.”

  Instead of facing them, tongue lolling and tail wagging, Freya had turned so that her back was to Patrick and the adults. She was staring past the next person in line and focusing on one of the aisles.

  Zoe rested the heel of her hand on her holster and straightened. “You finish checking out while I go see what’s wrong.”

  “No.”

  The command was so forceful, so packed with emotion, she stopped. He was right. If the dog was sensing danger and had put her back to them, then she was reacting to an unseen threat inside the store. As an off-duty police officer, it was still Zoe’s duty to protect and serve. Should she protect her friends and serve the community by calling the station and reporting a possible problem? Maybe. The trouble was, without any visible threat she’d be out of line to do so. Nevertheless, she made the call.

  Staying on full alert, Zoe kept her eye on her dog and the other shoppers while Sean loaded the bags in their cart and paid the cashier.

  “Ready to go,” he said behind her.

  “Okay. You lead the way. Look for anybody from your past or things that seem unusual. I’ll bring up the rear.”

  “It was dark when I was attacked in my apartment. I didn’t get a good look at either of those guys.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “You know how to judge body language from being in combat.
This isn’t a lot different.”

  She heard him sigh before he said, “Yeah, providing I don’t see an innocent person and read more into their posture than is really there.”

  “Better safe than sorry.” As soon as the automatic door slid closed behind them she moved to shield the boy despite the fact that Freya had settled down.

  Sean noticed. “Looks like the dog is okay now.”

  “Yes. The threat was apparently inside. Go ahead and load Patrick and the food into the car while I stand guard. We’ll leave as soon as a local unit arrives.”

  “How soon will that be?”

  “Hopefully, not long.” She used her cell phone again, then told him, “ETA less than five.”

  “Why didn’t you radio?”

  “Because I’m not actually on duty now.” Waving to an approaching patrol car she stepped away. “Here they are. Be right back.”

  * * *

  Sean watched her jog across the parking lot to speak with the other officers. He’d managed to quell unreasonable fear inside the store and was feeling even less jittery now that they were out. Patrick was already in the backseat, as was the working dog. Some of the plastic grocery bags were piled on the floor while others shared the bench seat with the child and the K-9. Sean was surprised to see Freya sitting quietly instead of wiggling as before and stepping on perishables.

  “Ah, you’re still in uniform, aren’t you,” he muttered. “Of course. You think you’re on duty.”

  At first, he assumed the dog’s ensuing reaction was to his voice. She slowly rose, growling and bristling. The effect of her hair standing up made her look twice as big. And dangerous. But she wasn’t looking at him. Or at his son. Again, she was focused beyond them.

  “Zoe!” Sean shouted.

  She whirled, her hand hovering over her holster. “What?”

  Sean turned to follow the dog’s line of sight. A beefy man wearing a dark vest was walking past in the distance. He could have been anybody. There was no reason for concern. Or was there?

  By the time Zoe rejoined him at her car, the stranger had climbed into a dusty red pickup.

  She touched Sean’s arm. “Did you recognize somebody?”

  “No.” Frowning, he kept watching as the truck pulled away. “It was your dog again. She really doesn’t like that guy in the dirty truck.”

  “She may have picked up the scent of gunpowder or drugs coming from him. Whatever is wrong, I’d trust her opinion over that of almost any human.”

  “Okay.” Still peering at the truck, Sean caught his breath and reached for Zoe’s arm. “Look!”

  “What? What do you see that I don’t?”

  “The passenger,” Sean gasped. “His arm. On the open window. It looks like it’s in a cast!”

  “Why would...?”

  “Because I hit one of my attackers with Patrick’s baseball bat. Remember?”

  “You told me you fought them off. You never mentioned a bat.” She was already running back to direct the patrol car. Those officers jumped into their unit and started in pursuit.

  “Do you think they’ll catch them?” Sean called as she returned.

  A solemn shake of her head was all the answer he got. All he needed. Given the delay starting the pursuit, chances were not good.

  “Sorry,” Sean said. “I shouldn’t have put Patrick in the car. I just thought it would be safer.”

  “It was. It is. I wouldn’t have chased after them in a private vehicle, anyway. It’s dangerous enough with red lights and sirens.”

  He nodded.

  “Believe it or not, we don’t usually go around acting wild like the cops on TV and in the movies. I have yet to take a class on how to jump onto the top of a speeding car and disarm the suspects inside.”

  “No?” Despite the recent fright, he couldn’t help smiling slightly at the mental picture. “That’s too bad. I’d have liked to watch.”

  “Then rent a DVD. I’m not doing any leaping.”

  “Not even to entertain Patrick?”

  “No, but I do have some ideas for him. If we get you into a class soon, I can recommend a local day care. The police chief’s daughter goes there, so you know it’s very safe.”

  Sean had to take a deep breath before trying to answer. “I never thought about having to leave him. I figured he could stay with me. He’ll behave. I know he will. Particularly if he gets to watch dogs.”

  “And not be allowed to play with them? I doubt it,” Zoe said. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have to convince Ellen Foxcroft to put you in her program.”

  “You’re right. One thing at a time,” Sean said. “Let’s go home.”

  “And keep an eye out for that red truck on the way.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He had already buckled up and was braced to keep watch, front and rear.

  Had the would-be assassins really tracked him here? Were they that clever? Was he that careless? He hadn’t thought so, but it was beginning to look as if the danger he’d wanted to escape was still with him.

  If only he knew why somebody wanted him dead. Knowing why might point him to who and he’d know what to do next. There had to be something. There had to be. He needed to survive for Patrick’s sake. Surely God wouldn’t punish an innocent child for the mistakes of his parents.

  If he still believed in the power of prayer, he might reach out. Beg for protection for his son. However, he had prayed repeatedly for Sandra’s redemption and look what the result had been. How could he trust a God who let a child nearly drown? Who deprived the boy of a mother?

  That thought brought him up short. In the case of Sandra’s untimely death, perhaps that was the only thing that had protected Patrick from her drug-induced mania. But then the pool. Why the pool?

  Sean’s mind was whirling, stunned by myriad possibilities, none of which made sense to him. He was a civilian now, ready to take care of his son, but he wasn’t whole, either. How could a loving heavenly Father expect to use an earthly father who was so damaged?

  And then it hit him. Without Patrick, without purpose, there would be no reason to fight anymore. No reason to try to heal. No reason to have come to Desert Valley, to have reunited with the extraordinary woman seated beside him.

  He gazed at Zoe. Right now, he needed her help. Maybe, when all this was over, he’d be able to repay her kindness. He certainly hoped so because now that he had seen her again, he didn’t intend to let more long years pass without keeping in closer touch. If he had not had her to reach out to when his life fell apart recently he didn’t know how he’d have managed.

  Something flashed in the rays of the setting sun, as if glinting off a gun barrel. Sean yelled. Ducked. Unsnapped his seat belt and threw himself over the back of his seat toward Patrick just as a shot rang out.

  Freya closed her mouth on Sean’s shoulder to stop him but didn’t bite hard enough to break the skin.

  Zoe swerved toward the curb. “Anybody hit?”

  “No,” he shouted. “I saw a reflection just in time. Get us out of here!”

  “Hang on!”

  Temporarily steering with one hand, she punched a button on her cell phone. “Trent here. Possible shots fired. We’re almost to my house. It’s the old Peterson place on Second, not far from Sophie Williams’s. We took fire about a half-mile south. Can’t pinpoint the exact location.”

  Sean barely had hold of the buckle on his seat belt when she dropped the phone and fisted both hands tightly on the wheel. Her jaw was set.

  “What did they say?”

  “They’re on the scene. Found the red truck, abandoned, close to where we were shot at. It was stolen. If the guys took off on foot, they were probably our shooters.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I’m
getting you and Patrick back inside where you’ll be safer. They can’t hit you if they can’t see you.”

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Sean said.

  “You didn’t drag me into anything. I walked in with both eyes open. This is what I do. Why I got into this business. What good is all my special training if I don’t use it?”

  He recalled one silly way they used to tease each other in college and revived it, hoping his breathlessness wasn’t too evident. “So, where’s your superhero cape?”

  “At the cleaner’s,” she shot back as she slid the car around a tight corner in perfect control. “I use a badge and a gun, now.”

  Sean sighed. “That’s my Zoe. Saving the world, one friend at a time.”

  He wasn’t happy with the role reversal. Men were supposed to rescue damsels in distress. He snorted quietly. That was not likely to happen when the woman in question was his old friend, Zoe Trent.

  FOUR

  Zoe didn’t slow much as she entered the open garage. If she hadn’t been concerned about the whole situation, she might have laughed when Sean braced himself on the dash with both hands.

  “I’ve been taught defensive driving,” she said. “Don’t panic.”

  “Defensive is one thing. Driving through the back wall of a garage is another.”

  “Ya think?” A soft chuckle erupted. “Don’t worry. I have complete control.”

  “So you say. If you don’t mind, I’ll get out now.”

  “I don’t mind a bit.” She was lowering the mechanized garage door behind them with the push of a button. “This side door to the house isn’t locked. Go on in with Patrick. I’ll bring Freya and the groceries.”

  “You get the dog. I’ll get the food.”

  “Now who’s being bossy?”

  “I am.” He’d already bent and picked up his son when she joined him and asked, “Is there a problem with his motor skills, too?”

  “Some. Why?”

  “Because I thought it would be good for him to walk more. He can lean on Freya again if he needs support.”

  “He falls easily.”

  “And how did he learn to walk in the first place?”