by Skye Taylor
Columbo met Ben at the door and trotted along beside him as they moved through the entry and into the training room. He bent to ruffle the dog’s fur and whisper in his ear.
“I found out who John was, and we don’t have to worry.”
The dog perked his ears forward, looked up at Ben, and wagged his tail.
“Smart dog,” Ben told him. Although he knew the dog didn’t understand a word Ben said, he made all the right moves as if he did.
“Hey, Boss!” Mike came in from the outdoor runs, bringing the scent of salt air and sunshine with him. “There’s a guy from the Wilmington PD in your office waiting to see you.”
“Thanks.” Ben turned and headed back toward his office. “Now what do you suppose he wants with me?” Columbo whined again. “I haven’t broken any laws that I know of. Except maybe a speed limit or two.” Ben recalled his impatience yesterday after getting past the accident. He’d definitely broken the speed limit then. Might have run a yellow light on the edge of turning red, too.
As he stepped into his office, a uniformed police officer got to his feet.
“Jerry Brady,” the officer introduced himself as he shoved his hand in Ben’s direction.
Ben took the proffered hand. “What can I do for you, Officer?”
“This is going to sound like an odd request, but you were recommended to me,” Brady began.
“Have a seat.” Ben gestured toward the chair Brady had been sitting in when Ben entered and then dropped into his own battered wooden desk chair. Didn’t sound like a belated traffic stop. “Shoot.” Ben shook his head. “Maybe that was the wrong word to use when speaking to an armed officer of the law.”
“Not so far off, actually.” Brady sank back into his chair. “It is about a shooting.”
“Anyone I know?” Ben’s heart raced. Please, God, don’t let it be about Will.
Brady shrugged. “You’ve probably heard about it anyway. You remember about three months ago, there was that robbery at the pier, and an officer was killed?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Ben breathed a sigh of relief. “My brother told me he knew the guy. Ray Hillman, I think.”
“Your brother is the one who recommended I come see you. Ray was a K-9 officer. And we’re having some problems with his dog.”
“What kind of problems?” Ben leaned forward in his chair. Instant sympathy for the dog coursed through him. Folks who claimed that dogs had no souls didn’t know much about dogs. If the dog had seen his partner killed, the dog would be grieving. Same as a human partner.
“He’s been at the police kennels since then, and he’s gone downhill. He doesn’t eat enough, and he’s lost too much weight. Doesn’t seem to take an interest in much. When we give him a chance to get out and exercise, he goes just far enough to do his business, then he’s back in the crate, his head on his paws. It’s breaking my heart looking into those eyes of his.”
It was breaking Ben’s heart hearing about it. “What is it you’re hoping I can do?”
“We asked Ray’s widow if they wanted to adopt the dog, but she couldn’t bear to look at him. Your brother suggested you might be willing to foster Kip here for a while. See if a change of scenery might help him get over Ray’s getting shot.”
“Absolutely!” Ben agreed. He’d need to think about the best way to handle the dog, but he was sure he’d find a way. He began running possible canine companions through his head.
“He’s in the truck,” Brady said, looking immensely relieved. “I’ll bring him in.”
“I’ll go with you.” Ben got to his feet and joined Brady at the door.
As they headed toward the entry, Columbo appeared at Ben’s side.
“Stay,” Ben commanded, holding his hand, fingers down, in front of the dog’s nose.
Columbo sat.
“All your dogs roam the premises free?” Brady asked, stepping out into the yard.
“No, only special ones. Columbo is my number one stud. He thinks he’s the boss.”
Brady chuckled as he approached a pickup truck with the Wilmington PD shield emblazoned on its door and a rack of lights on top that Ben hadn’t noticed on his way out. “I should have such a good looking boss.” He went around to the tailgate.
A big German shepherd with an inky black face lay despondently in a large wire crate bolted to the truck bed. He didn’t react when Brady lowered the tailgate.
“His name is Kip,” Brady said as he stepped back to give Ben better access.
Ben leaned across, unlatched the crate door, and said the dog’s name. The dog lifted his head and gazed at Ben. Ben couldn’t recall ever seeing eyes so sad in all the years he’d worked with dogs.
“Hello, Kip.” Ben spoke softly and held out one hand, palm down, fingers curled under.
Kip whined but didn’t move.
“You want to stay with us for a while, Kip?” Ben kept his voice soft and repeated the dog’s name several times, waiting for the dog to respond.
Finally, after what seemed like an eon, Kip lowered his head and sniffed at Ben’s hand. He whined again and then got to his feet. Ben backed up and invited the dog to come with a hand gesture. Kip jumped down to the ground and sat at Ben’s feet, looking up at him as if waiting for a command. Ben gave him the hand signal to go around and sit at his left side. The dog complied without hesitation.
“Hasn’t forgotten all his training, I see,” Brady said as he reached into the truck bed and retrieved a canvas tote. “His leash and his training toy are here along with the blanket that’s been in his crate. I was going to bring something of Ray’s but decided that might be counter-productive.” He handed the tote to Ben.
“Give me a week at least before you come checking on him. Call if you need daily updates.” Ben took the tote.
Brady stuck his hand out, and Ben took it. “Thanks. He’s a good dog. A great dog. It’s a shame what happened to Ray, and I’d hate for that to be the end of Kip, too. He might never return to police work, but I’d like to think we can find him a good home to retire in, at least.”
“Give it time. He’ll recover. Just might take a while. Right, Kip?” Kip turned his head to look up at Ben.
“Well, I’ve got to say, he’s responded to you with more enthusiasm than we’ve seen since Ray got killed. I guess Will knew what he was talking about when he said if anyone could help Kip, you’d be it. He says you’re even better than that guy on television.”
“My brother tends to exaggerate.”
“You look just like him.” Brady shut the tailgate and moved around to open the driver’s door. “You guys twins?”
“Identical,” Ben said. “Made for some pretty fun pranks when we were kids. He got me into more trouble—” Ben shook his head, then, “But we grew up. Now Will is my hero. Will and my big brother Philip. And my wife. They go out every day and put their lives on the line while I stay home where it’s safe.”
“The police force and the military need men like you just as much as they need weapons and body armor. Never doubt it. If it weren’t for the men and women who train these animals, we wouldn’t have the dogs to do things men can’t. Canines make a huge difference in the way we do our work, and they save lives every day.”
“That’s what Will says.”
“I envy you. From the way Will talks, you’ve got three pretty terrific brothers to my one bitchy sister.” Brady hauled himself up into the truck. “I’ll call in a couple days.” He reached across the seat and plucked a business card from his open briefcase. “In case you need to reach me.” He slipped the card into Ben’s hand. “My cell’s on it. Try that first.”
Brady shut the door and started the engine. Ben and Kip watched as Brady drove down the drive and crossed over Stewart Road and onto Jolee Road.
“Well, Kip?” Ben squatted down to wrap an
arm about the dog’s neck. “Now I’ve got two troubled warriors to worry about.”
Kip licked Ben’s cheek.
MEG TOWEL DRIED her hair as she walked past her bedroom window and glanced out.
Ben and a uniformed police officer stood at the back of a big pickup truck with a light-bar mounted on its roof. Curious, Meg inched closer to the window. It wasn’t Ben’s twin brother, Will. Wrong uniform for one thing. Wrong vehicle for another.
Ben leaned forward and unlatched the gate on a big dog crate. After a few minutes, Ben backed away. A dog leapt gracefully to the driveway and sat down in front of him.
Meg’s heart clenched. The dog was darker than most German shepherds, and his ears were a tad longer. She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. The dog looked just like Scout. He had the same bushy patches of blond-colored fur above his eyes and held himself with the same taut concentration. She knew Ben was speaking to the dog by the way the dog tipped his head, his full attention riveted on Ben’s face. Then the dog stood and walked around to sit at Ben’s left side.
The men spoke for a little longer, and then the police officer got into the truck and drove away. Ben and the dog watched him go for a minute before Ben crouched down and put an arm about the dog’s neck. The dog licked Ben’s face.
Tears stung Meg’s eyes, but she blinked them back.
Was she ever going to get away from her nightmare?
Chapter 5
MEG HAD HER duffle emptied and her gear sorted. Dirty laundry in the washer. Clean stuff refolded and arranged in her dresser. Personal belongings stowed. She adjusted the pillows on the bed and smoothed a wrinkle from the spread, then headed to the boys’ room. In spite of their late start, their beds were made and the room tidy. As she wandered through the rest of their modest home, she found everything was tidy. Ben tended to be a neatnik, but she’d expected more of a mess left behind in the wake of yesterday’s party. She checked again for stray glasses or a forgotten cookie at least, but there was nothing. Even the kitchen was squared away: coffee pot rinsed, mugs drying in the rack, breakfast dishes in the dishwasher.
She didn’t know what to do with herself. She felt unsettled and a little out of place, which was ridiculous. This was her home, for Pete’s sake. What had she done before her deployment?
I spent the days in the kennels, helping Ben train the dogs and keeping the books. Sweat popped out on her forehead, and a wave of nausea hit her. The last place she wanted to be today was out in the kennels. Especially with that dog that just got dropped off.
“Damn you, Scout. You shouldn’t have sat down.”
I should have called him back.
Guilt flooded through Meg, nearly doubling her up. It had been two months. When was this aching wave of grief and self-reproach going to ease up? It hadn’t been her job to call the dog back. She wasn’t his handler. She was home now and surrounded by dogs. She would see them every day, circling the training pens with Ben and Mike or galloping in the field out back, jubilant with freedom from the daily round of lessons or nosing through the salty marsh checking out the scent of any animal that had passed through.
“Get over it,” she ordered herself sternly.
Idleness didn’t suit her, and wandering around a spotless house with nothing to do didn’t help either. Meg decided to make a batch of cookies for her boys.
When was the last time she’d baked cookies? At least a year ago. Probably a lot longer. She began hauling ingredients out of the cupboards and set to work.
By the time the school bus deposited Rick and Evan at the end of the driveway, there were three different kinds of cookies either already boxed up in plastic containers or still cooling on the racks spread out on the counter. The Crock-Pot in the corner by the stove had sweet and sour chicken in it along with the snow peas she’d dug out of the freezer and the water chestnuts she’d found in the cupboard. Meg was punching down a dark round blob of pumpernickel bread dough for the last time, and a coffee cake Ben’s mother had given her the recipe for graced the cut-glass cake plate that had been a wedding gift from Ben’s godmother when the boys burst through the door.
“Yay! Mommy’s home!” Evan dropped his backpack on the floor by the door and flew across the kitchen to wrap his arms about Meg’s waist.
She hugged him in spite of her floury hands and kissed the top of his head.
Rick hung his backpack up on the hooks Ben had installed, surveyed the results of her cooking spree, and then looked at her with a growing smile. “My favorite kind,” he said, scooping a still-warm spice cookie off the cooling rack. He hesitated and looked at Meg with a questioning look in his eyes. “Is it okay if I have one?”
“I made them just for you,” she assured him, wondering at the new maturity he’d acquired while she was gone.
“What about my favorite kind, Mommy? Did you make my favorite kind?” Evan hustled from one counter to the next looking for the double chocolate chippers.
“Would I make Rick’s favorites and not yours?” Meg asked her younger son while ruffling the hair on his head. “Go wash your hands, and I’ll fix you a snack.”
Not quite as mature as he’d seemed a moment before, Rick had already devoured the cookie he’d snagged before asking permission and was reaching for another when he heard Meg mention washing hands. He immediately drew his hand back and moved to the sink where Evan already had a stream of water running.
“Good grief! Have I walked into a bakery by mistake?” Ben halted just inside the back door and lifted his nose to sniff the air. “And my favorite chicken in the pot, too?”
“I wanted to make sure you were all happy to have me home again.” Meg finished smoothing out the bread dough and dropped it into the previously greased pan. She covered it with a clean dishcloth, set the timer, and then paused to push a stray lock of hair out of her face.
Ben lifted his brows expressively. “You didn’t need to go to all this trouble to ensure that.” He grabbed a knife, cut himself a generous slice of coffee cake, and bit into it.
“Now I know where Rick gets his manners from,” Meg said laughing. For the first time since she’d walked into the house yesterday afternoon, she felt lighthearted. She crossed the kitchen and lifted her face to Ben’s to be kissed. He swallowed and complied. He tasted like cinnamon and smelled like the out-of-doors and dogs. Some of Meg’s easy pleasure fled.
“Sorry.” Ben pinched her butt playfully. “I couldn’t help myself. It’s been a while since I tasted anything I didn’t cook myself. And I don’t bake anyway.”
“I refuse to believe your mother didn’t keep you supplied while I was gone,” Meg said, desperate to hang on to the feeling of belonging and normalcy.
Ben set the bundle of mail he’d had tucked under one arm on the corner of the counter and wrapped both arms around Meg. “She did drop off a few things. But we never got to smell them baking.” He got suddenly very serious. “It’s good to have you home, Meg.”
Meg looped her arms about Ben’s neck. “It’s good to be home.”
He kissed her. Not with the pent-up passion of yesterday, but with a gentleness that touched her in a way passion couldn’t.
“Ewwww!” Rick and Evan echoed their joint disapproval as they turned away from the sink, hands still damp, ready for the promised snack.
“Someday they’ll get it,” Ben whispered against her lips before setting her away and retrieving the mail.
Meg put two glasses of juice on the breakfast counter as the boys scrambled onto their stools. “Just two,” she admonished as Evan slid the plastic container with his double chocolate favorites in his direction. “And only one for you, mister,” she told Rick. “You’ve already had one.”
She plucked Rick’s backpack off the hook and began sorting through the papers inside.
“Those are for Dad,” Rick said as Meg be
gan to read through a request for chaperones for an upcoming field trip. “Hey, Dad! Can you go to the corn maze with us again?”
Meg slumped onto an unoccupied stool. “Why not me? I’m home now. I can go. I’d love to go.”
“But . . .” Rick looked at his father, then at Meg. “But Sam asked if Dad was going again. Dad always goes.”
It sounded more like Rick wanted his father to be a part of the adventure, and his friend Sam was just an excuse. It’s not a big deal, she told herself as she handed the papers to Ben.
“But you can come too?” Apparently Meg hadn’t hidden her disappointment well enough. Rick looked to his father for confirmation. “Right, Dad? You can both come?”
“It’s okay, Rick. I haven’t even checked my schedule. I might not be free.”
Meg got up and walked out of the kitchen. Actually, she didn’t have a schedule. For the next thirty days she was on leave. No schedule. Nothing she needed to get done. No one needed her. Not the Marines. Not Ben. Not even the boys.
Chapter 6
MEG READ THE page over and over again and still couldn’t figure out the logic behind Rick’s math homework. She was good at math. It was one of the reasons Ben had enlisted her help with the bookkeeping after he’d made a mess of the kennel ledger. She analyzed the diagram on the example problem. She knew what the answer was, but she couldn’t figure out the method they were using to arrive at it. All this new math was driving her crazy.
“We’re supposed to do this part first.” Rick pointed at the first column of numbers, then at another illustration that made no sense at all to Meg.
“Ignore the picture,” Meg advised. “Just add the numbers. You know how to carry. Right?”
