by Tasha Black
“Yes, my friend,” Lobo told him. “We will fix everything. We have to.”
20
Veronica
Veronica sat on the sofa in the main room of the women’s suite, watching Brooke spoon out scrambled eggs onto paper plates. The smell of it almost made her feel faint.
Veronica was utterly drained. She wasn’t hungry. She was despondent. Brooke didn’t understand at all.
“You’re going to eat something,” Brooke announced firmly. “You’re going to have a cup of coffee. And we’re going to take inventory of what you still have going for you.”
“Nothing,” Veronica said. “I have nothing going for me. I have no job. Biscuit is gone…”
“You have a job, you’re just suspended,” Brooke corrected her. “And if Henderson’s still letting you take care of the dogs, I don’t see how the suspension hurts you.”
“He canceled the training,” Veronica said, hating the way her voice broke on the last word. The training session had been so important. “And I’m not being paid.”
She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.
“I’ll spot you for a while,” Brooke said gruffly.
“Thank you,” Veronica whispered.
God, it was good to have true friends.
Veronica opened her eyes in time to see Brooke hold out the novelty mug they’d bought Veronica for her birthday. K-9 Cops Do It Doggy Style was emblazoned on the side of it.
“That mug is so ridiculous,” she said for about the hundredth time.
“Shut up and drink it,” Brooke said, handing her the mug.
Veronica obediently took a sip.
The coffee was piping hot and strong. As the warmth hit her belly, she felt a bit better in spite of herself.
“Eat this,” Brooke said, putting the plate of eggs in front of her.
“What am I? Alice in Wonderland?”
“Very funny,” Brooke said. “Now eat it.”
Veronica chased a bite around the plate with her fork.
“I know you love that dog,” Brooke said. “But spoiler alert, you were definitely going to outlive him either way. And the department can’t afford to keep on a dog that attacked… sorry, allegedly attacked someone.”
Veronica winced. She appreciated Brooke’s wording, but it sounded almost like even her roommate was siding with Percy.
Oddly, that wasn’t the biggest betrayal on her mind.
“How could he do it?” she wondered out loud.
“Biscuit?” Brooke asked. “I thought you said he didn’t do it.”
“Lobo,” Veronica said, hating the way her mouth caressed his name.
Brooke shifted in her seat, a torn expression on her face.
“Look, I know it’s not what you want to hear right now, but he’s a good guy,” Brooke said. “He did it because he knew you would do something stupid and risk your job over it.”
“That wasn’t his decision,” Veronica said.
“Conan said he was despondent last night,” Brooke said. “He cares about you, Veronica.”
“If he cared about me he would never have let them take Biscuit,” Veronica said.
“Biscuit being taken was inevitable,” Brooke said. “I’m sure Lobo wanted to save you from feeling responsible. Conan is a great judge of character. He said Lobo is as fiercely loyal as they come.”
“You sure value Conan’s opinion,” Veronica said, a little more harshly than she probably should have.
She felt bad immediately when she saw Brooke’s face go fire engine red.
“He’s a good sparring partner,” Veronica muttered.
Oh boy.
Veronica had never seen Brooke blush over a guy before. She decided to leave it alone.
As soon as she stopped thinking about Brooke and Conan, the awful truth hit her all over again.
Biscuit was gone.
“I can’t believe they put down a dog that would have been a hero. And all on the word of a weasel like Reeves,” Veronica sighed, hugging herself.
“Don’t pour a forty out for him just yet,” Trinity said, walking in the door with way too much of a spring in her step.
“Why not?” Veronica asked.
Trinity perched on the edge of the couch.
“The SPCA logs every intake and euthanasia,” she said.
“How did you know that?” Veronica asked.
“I don’t think I should answer that question,” Trinity said brightly.
Trinity was an IT genius. Things like firewalls and security protocols didn’t mean much to her.
“And?” Brooke asked.
“Officer Biscuit hasn’t been logged,” Trinity replied.
“So they haven’t offed him yet?” Brooke asked.
“They haven’t even seen him yet,” Trinity said. “They have no record of him at all.”
Veronica’s heart soared at the news.
But before she let it get too far, she was brought back down to Earth by the obvious question.
If Lobo hadn’t taken Biscuit to be put down, then where the hell were they?
21
Lobo
Lobo and Biscuit walked until they came to a park.
Although Lobo hadn’t been exactly sure where they were going, he recognized the leafy enclosure as a good place to stop and think. Besides, it had colorful benches for sitting on and shady trees to give them a break from the hot summer day.
They entered the opening in the fence and went to sit under a vast maple.
Lobo pulled a thermos from his backpack and poured out a glass of water, which he held out to Officer Biscuit.
His canine companion carefully transferred its contents to his gullet with his long tongue. When he was finished, he flopped down in the shade, seemingly content.
Lobo refilled the cup and took a drink himself.
On the playground, children of all shapes and sizes ran and played. Lobo had never seen a child up close before, but he was quite taken with their funny high-pitched voices and colorful clothing.
Nearby, the mothers tended to baby siblings or jabbed at their telephones.
One sat at a nearby bench, feeding her infant from her left mammary.
Lobo leaned forward to get a better look. He was most impressed at this fine skill. It was incredible to think that this clever female had turned her own lunch into a meal for the tiny person in her arms. Humans were amazingly resourceful creatures.
The woman looked up at him.
He nodded at her with a smile of admiration.
“Ugh, pervert,” she said, flouncing off to another bench.
Officer Biscuit lifted his head and pricked up his ears.
“I must ask Veronica what that word means,” Lobo said to Biscuit.
He thought that to pervert something was to distort it in some way, but that didn’t make any sense in the current context.
Biscuit huffed and put his head back down.
“I know you are tired, Officer Biscuit,” Lobo said. “But we have to help Veronica. I’m going to share your feelings, now, ok?”
He pushed out with his mind and heart, searching.
The woman with the baby - the one that he had inadvertently offended - created a wash of discomfort in the air that seemed to be spreading somehow instead of dissipating.
He opened his eyes and saw that she was whispering to two of the other mothers.
He had really caused a commotion, though he still did not know why.
Lobo was momentarily derailed with a very human sense of mortification.
No, Lobo, help Veronica, he told himself firmly.
He focused his energy on Biscuit again.
After a hard push, he felt the straightforward emotions of the dog once more.
Tired.
The feeling was tinged with a sort of wistfulness Lobo equated with his first days in his human body, when he most sharply felt the loss of freedom he’d possessed as a floating gaseous mass.
Could Officer Biscuit be h
omesick?
Lobo tried again to share his own emotions with his friend. He summoned up the feelings he wished to instill in Biscuit, then propelled them from himself.
Patience, encouragement.
Biscuit flopped his tail against the grass.
Wow.
Lobo was just preparing to enter Biscuit’s mind again, when the dog leapt to his feet and dashed toward the opening in the fence.
At first Lobo was utterly confused.
Then he saw it.
A very tiny human was ambling toward the opening in the fence, and the street beyond. Its head seemed too large for its body and it wobbled and lurched as wildly as Lobo and his brothers had when they first learned to wear their bodies.
This nestling was too young to go for a walk in the street by himself. Even Lobo knew that.
He stood quickly, scanning the park for the mother as he did.
None of the parents seemed to have noticed.
Lobo took off for the child just as Officer Biscuit began to bark his alert.
Found. Found. Found.
Biscuit was delighted to be using his training.
He lay on his belly between the child and the opening, barking triumphantly.
The baby, undeterred, tried to walk around him.
Officer Biscuit crawled forward on his belly to block the baby’s new path.
Found. Found. Found.
“Randy,” a woman’s voice screamed.
Lobo turned to see one of the moms dashing toward the baby.
Baby Randy turned, his smile dissolving into tears as soon as he saw the fear on her face.
“Don’t run away from me,” she cried, scooping him up and snuggling him to her chest.
Randy thrust his little face into the nape of her neck.
“Your dog stopped him?” the woman asked Lobo.
“Yes,” Lobo said.
Biscuit grinned and wagged his tail proudly from his position on the ground.
Other parents and children had begun to gather.
“How did he know to do that?” the mom asked. “To block him off and bark like that. He’s super smart.”
“He is a trained officer of the law,” Lobo said. “Search and rescue is his specialty.”
“Wow,” another mom breathed.
“What’s your dog’s name?” a little boy asked.
“His name is Officer…”
It suddenly hit Lobo that they were supposed to be undercover. What if word had gotten out that Biscuit was on the lam? He couldn’t go around telling all of these people the dog’s real name, no matter how nice they seemed.
“Lobo,” he finished, saying the only other name he could think of quickly. “His name is Officer Lobo.”
He prayed for the wherewithal to think up another name before anyone could ask his.
But the child appeared to be satisfied with just the dog’s name. He flopped down on the grass next to Biscuit and crooned to him, patting his back while Biscuit panted indulgently.
“He is such a good boy,” the lady who had been nursing her baby remarked, her earlier misgivings clearly forgotten. Maybe a ‘pervert’ was some kind of bad dog…
“Oh, wait, I think I have a treat in here somewhere,” one of the only dads said, shifting his daughter to his other hip to search inside a big bag he wore on his shoulder.
He pulled something out and held it out to Biscuit.
What happened next was confusing.
The man leaned forward with the treat in his hand.
Biscuit reared back in fear, his ears down, panting frantically.
And Lobo was drawn into the stream of Biscuit's memory, pulled under swiftly, as if by a drowning creature.
* * *
Nighttime in the kennel.
Nothing but the scent of the sleeping pack and the restful sounds of their breathing.
The sharper odor of a man approached. Biscuit rose at the sound of familiar footsteps. The twist of a knob and the creak of the door to Biscuit's kennel.
The man stood silhouetted by the moonlight behind him. He seemed enormous, though Biscuit knew he was not even as tall as Alpha Veronica.
“Biscuit,” the man said flatly.
Biscuit knew something was wrong when he heard his plain name, with none of the extra lilting syllables he was used to when Alpha Veronica couldn’t sleep at night and came to visit him. When she rubbed his belly she always crooned his name in a long and melodious way.
“You’re a problem dog,” the man said.
Biscuit did not understand any of those words except ‘dog’. He cocked his head expectantly. The human would explain.
“I’m here to fix you,” the man continued.
The short clipped syllables had Biscuit's suspicions rising as sure as a knock on a door.
“Come here, buddy,” the man said, his lips pulled back in a smile that looked more aggressive than kind.
But Biscuit was obedient. He had heard and understood ‘come’ so he went. Anything less would be an insult to his kind and proud generations of submitting canine will and instincts to man’s wider reasoning.
As soon as he did, the man reached out with something.
A bad thing.
The bad thing touched his neck, cool and hard, just above his collar.
Then there was the sudden smell of lightning in the air and white-hot pain was dancing through his whole body. His haunches went rigid and he was unable to express his agony with so much as a whine.
From out of the shadows of the kennel came movement.
This was different.
This was not part of his memory.
This was something new.
Biscuit watched as his new friend, Lobo, leapt to the front of his mind, taking the place of the bad thing.
The pain receded.
Encouraged, Biscuit decided to bring out another memory.
Perhaps his friend could fix that one too.
The fear was still so raw he could hardly bear to think of it.
But his friend Lobo was by his side.
Lobo was loyal and pure of heart. He knew the ways of man and the ways of dogs.
He would help Biscuit if he could.
Biscuit thrust them both forward into a more recent memory.
* * *
Morning in the kennel - bright beautiful morning, breakfast in his belly, and birds singing in the sky. The furthest possible moment from the next time the man would come in the night to hurt him with the bad thing.
But, impossibly, the sour scent of the man who tormented him returned, even though it was too soon for their training session.
Biscuit whined in anxious anticipation.
The man approached his kennel, the latch turned and the door opened.
Biscuit retreated to the far corner.
But this time, the man didn’t call him close or chase after him.
He pulled something else out of his pocket.
Not the bad thing that smelled of lightning.
A new bad thing.
The scent of fear poured off the man in waves.
Biscuit heard a horrible moaning sound and realized it was coming from his own muzzle.
“Fuck,” the man spat. Then he thrust the new bad thing into his own hand.
When he pulled it out he screamed.
The coppery tang of blood filled the air.
Almost immediately he heard a voice, closer than it should have been.
“Hello?” It was the voice of Alpha Veronica’s beta, the great warrior woman, Brooke. “Veronica?”
“Fuck,” the man whispered again. He tried to shove the bad thing in his pocket, but it didn’t want to cooperate.
Brooke’s footsteps approached.
The man managed to shove the bad thing into the straw bedding of Biscuit's kennel just as Brooke’s face appeared above the door.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“The DOG,” the man hissed, pointing at Biscuit.
Biscuit began to c
ringe low in the corner.
Then he felt his friend Lobo’s hand on his neck, firm and warm, bringing him back to the present.
Lobo fell out of the unpleasant memory. The sunlight was too bright and the fresh air almost burnt his lungs.
Percy Reeves.
He had done horrible things to Biscuit, and then blamed the loyal dog for the injuries he had caused to himself.
“Are you okay?” Randy’s mom asked him, bringing him back to his senses.
The man had dropped the offered treat onto the ground and turned away.
“Oh, yes,” Lobo said. “I was only thinking.”
“Okay, well take good care, okay?” she said.
“Yes,” Lobo agreed. “We will. And you as well.”
“Wait,” yelled the mother with the nursing baby. “Let me get your picture.”
Before Lobo could argue, Randy’s mom placed Randy on the ground next to Biscuit. She put an arm around Lobo, and there was a click as the other mother’s telephone took a photograph.
“Thank you,” Randy’s mom said again, sweeping up her baby.
“You are most welcome,” Lobo assured her. “But we have to go now.”
He grabbed Biscuit's leash and made a hasty retreat for the opening in the fence.
They had to clear his partner’s name and bring Percy’s wrongs to light. There was no time for socializing.
22
Percy
Percy Reeves gaped at the SPCA check-in girl, incredulous.
“I’m really sorry we don’t have your dog,” she said, her blue eyes watery with sympathy. “Please fill out the form. We will definitely call you if we find Triscuit.”
“His name is Biscuit,” Percy heard himself say.
“Oh,” the girl said. “Biscuit. I’m so sorry.”
“And he’s not my dog,” Percy said. “He bit me. He was supposed to come here to be put down.”
“Oh.” The girl looked shocked.
“Can you look him up that way, please?” Percy asked through gritted teeth.
“No, there hasn’t been a dog put down here,” she said, without consulting her computer.
