Florida Panhandle
Creed had texted Hannah earlier, so he knew she was in the kennel when he arrived. He let Bolo into the fenced yard to stretch his legs, but the dog headed for the electronic dog door, ready for a meal and rest.
He barely stepped into the warehouse-sized facility when he heard the skittering of nails trying to gain traction on the floor. The Jack Russell terrier raced at him across the wide expanse. Other dogs followed in her wake. Grace slid into his legs. Her backend wiggled so fiercely her tail almost thumped against her head.
“Hey, Grace! Hey guys.” He dropped to his knees and elbows and gave her his face.
As the others arrived and surrounded him, Creed gave up and plopped down on the floor, allowing them to greet him each in their own way. A couple of the big dogs head-butted him from behind. A tongue slobbered in his ear. Noses pushed at his elbow and shoulder. Even Bolo had come over to join the fuss.
Creed’s lap was full, but Grace still managed to hold her own in the center, paws on his chest, reaching up and giving his bristled jaw a tongue-bath.
“You’d think you were gone for a week,” Hannah said from the other side of the kennel, where she continued to fill water bowls. “And don’t believe that excited nonsense from that one,” Hannah pointed at Grace as she came closer to the pile of dogs and man. “That girl has been miserable since you left.”
It had been a longer day than he expected. After leaving Norwich, he had grabbed lunch, then run errands.
“Dr. Avelyn gave her a thorough check-up again,” Hannah told him. “Rye, that girl is ready to get back to work.”
He let her continue licking his chin as his hands reached out to the other dogs, his fingers finding and scratching ears and hind quarters. He made no effort to restrain them or remind them to settle down.
Fact was, this was his favorite place to be. These dogs were his family. Some of them had been through hell before they arrived here. A few of them had gone through hell alongside Creed. None more than Grace. They had saved each other in more ways than he could count. It was no wonder Grace displayed separation anxiety when away from him.
Not a good thing. For either of them.
He knew it didn’t help matters that he was being overprotective.
This was the first time Hannah had weighed in on the topic. Sometimes he just needed Hannah’s reassurance. When it came to the dogs, she usually held back. Let him fuss and worry and plan even when it might be excessive. How many times had she come looking for him in his loft apartment only to find him down below, here in the kennel, fast asleep on a dog bed next to a sick dog or a new, frightened one? And never once did she question what others might consider over-the-top behavior.
“She’s healed and strong, Rye. But you need to be okay with it. If you’re still worried, you know that girl will pick up on it.”
He nodded. He noticed Grace had sat back on her haunches as the other dogs started settling around him, a few of them heading back to their routines. But even though Grace was giving him a reprieve, she knew they were talking about her. Of course, she knew.
Hannah glanced from him to Grace, then her eyes returned with a smile. It was as if Grace had just reaffirmed Hannah’s statement that, of course, she could “pick up” on Creed’s worry.
“Did you find that teenager?” Hannah asked, changing the subject.
“No, we didn’t.” Creed readjusted himself and scooted over so he could lean against one of the support beams. With fewer dogs, he could stretch out his long legs. Grace climbed back onto his lap.
“Bolo picked up his scent, but all we found was his jacket. On a homeless guy.”
“I thought you were searching the woods behind the Red Roof Inn off of Avalon.”
“We were.”
“And you ran into a homeless guy? In the woods?”
“A couple of them, actually. Looks like a few camps back there.”
Hannah shook her head. The problem was a familiar one. Years ago, she helped start the Segway House in downtown Pensacola. It was a community outreach and shelter for teenage runaways, homeless veterans, and domestic abuse victims. But there was never enough room or money. The annual fundraiser took up a chunk of Hannah’s time. Creed didn’t know how she did it all, plus run their K9 scent business.
“What did he say about having that boy’s jacket?” she asked.
“Told us he found it on a discarded mattress. The same mattress Bolo found him on top of.”
Again, Hannah didn’t look surprised.
“Oh, and one of the guys—an older man named Sully—had a dog. A dog with a bone.”
She smiled at that until he added, “Bolo alerted to the bone.”
Then her lips went from a smile to an “O.”
“You think it’s human?”
“Bolo seemed convinced. I guess Norwich will find out soon enough.”
“Sounds like you boys had an adventurous day.”
Grace snuggled down into his lap. He’d take her with him for a swim later. Work out some of the kinks in his back. It was good for her, too, and she loved it. And he did have to admit, lately, she did look stronger.
Hannah went back into the kitchen area. Poured a travel mug of coffee and brought it over to him.
“Thanks,” he told her. Grace’s head weighted his right arm, so he drank with his left hand.
A door opened behind him. All the dogs that had greeted him now raced around him. Bolo and Chance jumped over Creed’s outstretched legs. Hannah gestured to the new person, then started to pour another mug of coffee.
“That’s quite impressive,” Creed said over his shoulder without looking back. “Not many veterinarians get that kind of welcome.”
“It would be entirely different if they were over at the clinic coming to see me.” Dr. Avelyn Parker took her time greeting each dog.
They were excited to see her, but they were happy and excited, not anxious. She was on their turf, inside their home. Here, she never wore her white lab coat. She was dressed in blue jeans, a sweatshirt and hiking boots. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail.
Years ago, they hired the vet on retainer when it made more sense for her to come to their facility instead of them constantly loading up and taking dogs to her clinic in Milton. She still owned a portion of that clinic, though much of her time was spent with their dogs. Especially after Creed built a clinic and surgical center to Dr. Avelyn’s specifications.
Hannah brought her a mug of coffee, too. Dr. Avelyn thanked her, then sat cross-legged on the floor opposite Creed. Hannah sat in an empty spot on the closest dog sofa. The two dogs, already occupying the ends, moved in to cuddle next to her. Down on the floor, Molly, a yellow Labrador plopped her head on Hannah’s foot.
“You’re here late,” Creed told the veterinarian.
“I needed to finish some paperwork.”
He glanced at Hannah. She looked like she already knew what this was about. Dr. Avelyn caught his eyes, as if knowing exactly that he was feeling somehow left out.
She told him, “Hannah said I might be able to catch the two of you together tonight. There’s something I need to talk to you both about.”