The next few days kept Sean busy training with Angel. At night, when he took her home with him, she managed to settle down with Freya and avoid tearing up Zoe’s house, much to his relief.
The progress Patrick had made was the most astounding of all. Sean wasn’t sure whether to give the credit to Angel or Freya or the day care, particularly ten-year-old Maisy West. The few times he’d spotted her father in the distance and thought about praising the girl, however, the man hadn’t looked approachable.
“Tell me about that guy, West,” Sean said when he and Zoe were straightening up the kitchen after supper. “Why does he look mad at the world all the time?”
“Probably because he is.” She sighed. “His wife was killed as the result of a home invasion. It’s possible the perpetrators were after him, instead. I don’t doubt he blames himself. I feel sorry for Maisy. She’s kind of lost both parents at once.”
“Well, she’s sure been good for my son. I can’t believe how well he’s walking.”
“Speaking of Patrick, where is he?”
Sean slipped the last slices of pizza onto a plate and refrigerated it. “Watching TV with the dogs while we do the dishes.”
“Um, I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean? Of course he is. That’s what they’ve done every evening.”
She gestured with her chin since her hands were in soapy water. “Then where did she come from?”
Freya was peeking around the corner as if hoping he’d drop leftovers. There was no sign of Patrick.
Scowling, Sean ran past the dog so rapidly she edged her way to Zoe and sat at her feet, apparently waiting for orders.
“Did you find him?” Zoe was drying her hands when Sean returned.
“No. He’s not in the living room or the hall or the bathroom.”
“Well, he can’t have gone far. Has he run off before?”
“Run?” Sean was incredulous. “He can hardly walk. How can he possibly be gone?”
“Calm down. We’ll find him. He can’t be far away.”
Sean’s trembling had returned, this time without flashbacks, and he raked his fingers through his short hair. “Not on his own, he can’t. What if somebody kidnapped him?”
“With the dogs in the same room? Highly unlikely.”
“Then what? Where is he?”
“I suspect he’s using his newfound ability to walk better to explore the house. Let me get Freya’s working harness on her and we’ll do a professional search.”
Sean knew he was being unreasonable but couldn’t help shouting at her. “Why are you smiling?”
“Sorry,” she said, although she continued to look pleased. “I’m just in my element right now. I’m not worried. I know the dog will track him down.”
“Fine. You do this your way. I’m going to keep looking.”
“If there is a scent trail, the less you muddle it, the better,” Zoe said. “But suit yourself. You’ve both been all over the house, anyway.” She held Freya’s leash and straightened. “Wait a second. Where’s Angel?”
“How should I know? She’s always on the move.” His scowl deepened, his fists clenching.
“There’s a good chance she followed Patrick,” Zoe said. “You stay here while I conduct my search.”
“In a pig’s eye. I’m coming with you.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Pausing long enough to lay a hand lightly on his forearm, she waited until his gaze met hers before she spoke. “Intense emotional reactions can affect everyone, including service dogs. I know it’s hard for you to control your feelings. Everybody has trouble sometimes, particularly when a loved one is involved, but I’m going to ask you to really try this time. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”
“You’re wasting time.”
“If I thought Patrick was in real danger, I’d already be on my way. Calm down and think rationally. The doors are locked. He can’t have gotten out. And neither dog barked, so we know nobody broke in.”
It took every ounce of Sean’s strength to stand there and listen, to comprehend and consider that she might be right. Deep, slower breathing did help some. “All right. I’m as calm as I’m going to get. Can we go now?”
“Yes. Freya, find Patrick.”
Tail wagging, tongue hanging out, the Belgian Tervuren looked up at her human partner as if asking for further instructions.
“Patrick.” Zoe grabbed the boy’s sweater off the back of the sofa and held it down for the dog to sniff. “Find.”
Sean stepped aside as the pair passed. Zoe was not the only one who looked happy. The dog seemed just as pleased to be working. She entered the hallway, made several course adjustments, then headed for the room Zoe had given to her guests.
“I already looked in there,” Sean insisted.
Zoe wasn’t deterred. Neither was the K-9. She snuffled around the bed, then raised her head and made a beeline for the closet.
“They’re in there,” Zoe told Sean. “Open the door.”
Ready to do battle because he didn’t believe Patrick could have walked that far unassisted, he grasped the knob. Turned it. Heard muted giggling just as he jerked on the door, then froze. There they were. His son and Angel. Sitting on the closet floor and wrapped in the blanket they’d shared in the living room. Patrick’s eyes were sparkling. The dog was alternately panting and licking the boy’s cheeks as if agreeing that they had pulled off a great trick.
“How did you get in there?” Sean shouted.
Patrick’s grin faded, and his eyes began to glisten. He not only lowered his head, he buried his face in the border collie’s black-and-white ruff.
Sean immediately dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, son. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not mad. I was just so worried I yelled without thinking first.” He opened his arms. “Come here.”
Although the child moved slowly, he did go to Sean. So did Angel, which made the otherwise poignant moment more comedy than drama. Patrick had his arms around his daddy’s neck, holding tightly. Angel was determined to kiss every face within reach.
Keeping one arm around his son, Sean looped the other over the dog’s shoulders to help hold her still and avoid her wet tongue. Sort of. There was no way to keep her under full control, and, truth to tell, he didn’t care if she showered him with doggy affection. She had not only followed his handicapped son, she had stayed with him despite the other dog’s absence.
She might be too easily distracted as the trainers had reported, but she was loyal. And instinctively protective. No matter how hard he had to work to transform her into a good service dog, he was determined to succeed.
A shiver shot up his spine as his thoughts expanded on the premise. Would she be effective enough against enemies when her natural gift was for friendship? Should he ask for a more formidable-looking dog like a German shepherd or a Doberman, instead?
It didn’t take long to reason that the likelihood of being assigned to a dog like that were slim and none. If Angel had not been available when he’d arrived at the training center, chances were he’d have been turned away. Therefore, she had been meant for him. For Patrick.
What he disliked most about that conclusion was the inference that a higher power may have arranged their pairing. Undoubtedly Zoe thought so. And perhaps the other trainers did, too. But that didn’t mean he had to agree with them.
Trouble was, he was wondering if he might be wrong and they might be right. The fact that his enemies had driven him to Desert Valley, to the help he so desperately needed, was enough to upset his preconceived notions. Add to that the amazing assets that had awaited him here and you had a real conundrum.
Sean scooped up his son and carried him into the living room, where he settled with him on the sofa, pretending to watch TV while his mind sought answers that probably didn’t exist.
Angel plopped down at his feet and rested her chin atop the toes of his shoes. All Sean said was, “Good girl.”
Zoe gave man and boy a few moments alone before joining them. “Mind if I sit here, too?”
“Of course not.”
She’d locked up her regular sidearm and was able to comfortably collapse next to them on the couch. “Long day.”
“Yeah. Especially this last part.”
Nothing could have kept her from smiling at the pair. “You should be thankful, you know.”
“I know. It’s just so unbelievable. A month ago he was barely able to stand. He was unresponsive for weeks before that.”
“Kids are resilient. I understand the water in the pool hadn’t been heated. That was in his favor, too.”
“So they tell me. The younger the child and the colder the water, the less lasting brain damage is done.”
“Right.” She produced a small electronic tablet and laid it in her lap. “I thought, if you’re up to it, we could go over a few things. We need to figure out who is upset enough with you to want you dead.”
“Beats me.”
“Let’s start with the families of the comrades in arms you visited after you returned to the States. Where did they live?”
“One was in Chicago. One was in Minneapolis. The other survivor had moved with no forwarding address. The folks in Chicago did talk to me, although they certainly didn’t welcome me the way I’d hoped. It wasn’t my fault the Humvee hit an IED. All I was trying to do was get to the airport so I could fly home to Patrick.”
She saw his arms tighten around the drowsy child. “I could try to track down the soldier who moved as well as check on the backgrounds of the others if you like.”
“Okay. Gentry was the family I couldn’t find. Smiths were in Chicago. Yarnells were from Minneapolis. They were the ones who acted the most upset.”
“I’ll have Chief Hayes put out a few feelers and see what he can come up with. How about your late wife’s connections?”
“Those are a lot hazier. And far more likely to be with criminals. She was deeply involved in drugs.”
“Do you know if there was an investigation after she overdosed? I’d think they’d at least look into identifying her supplier.”
“So would I. Her parents, however, apparently pulled some strings to keep the whole thing hush-hush. No doubt they were embarrassed by Sandra’s poor choices.” He blew out a noisy sigh. “Including me as a husband.”
Mulling over the information, or lack of it, Zoe finally asked, “Is it possible they just want control of Patrick?”
“Only an outside chance,” Sean said flatly. “As I’ve said before, they could always sue for custody. I’m actually kind of surprised they haven’t. Which reminds me, you and I haven’t seen an attorney yet.”
Her body moved imperceptibly as her mind retreated. “I think you should hold off on that. It’s not that I don’t want to help out, it’s just that I suspect you’ll find somebody special before long and build a new family. I don’t want to stand in the way.”
Waiting, barely breathing, she willed him to encourage her, at least by including her in the pool of eligible mates. He did not. Staring at the television, he acted as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Not speaking was more telling than denial. Silence told her that Sean was willing to view her as a buddy and accept her assistance in a pinch, yet not expand that image to include a lifelong commitment.
Okay. She got the picture. It hurt all the way from the roots of her dark brown hair to the tips of her toes, but she understood perfectly. They were friends, period.
That would do. It would have to.
Companionable stillness enveloped Sean. Patrick had fallen asleep in his lap, so he had no qualms about bringing up Christmas plans. Anything but face the touchy subject Zoe had tried to discuss.
“Do you want me to get a tree and ornaments, or will it create too much excitement for the dogs?” he asked.
“I’ve given that some thought. I’ll pick up a small one and put it on the table in the kitchen. That way they’ll know it’s off-limits.” She sighed. “What about presents for you-know-who? I have no idea what to buy him.”
“You don’t have to give him anything.”
“I want to. He’s a real sweetheart. Why wouldn’t I give him something for Christmas?”
“I just don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“In that case, I’ll cross you off my list. Patrick is getting presents.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get huffy.”
“Huffy? You want to see huffy, you just try to stop me from making this the best Christmas he’s ever had.”
Sean partially let go of the boy in order to raise one hand in surrender. What in the world was wrong with Zoe? She was usually so even-tempered and levelheaded. “No argument here,” he said. “I was just trying to make things easier for you.”
“I love Christmas, okay? If I were home in Mesa, I’d have my whole apartment decorated, even the cactus in front of my picture window. I do it every year.”
“And instead, you’re stuck here with us.”
“I’m not stuck anywhere, Murphy. I’m here because I choose to be, and you’re staying in my house by my invitation, so don’t go imagining me as some suffering martyr. I’ll buy some decorations that I can easily take home afterward. You can pick up anything else you want. It makes no difference to me.”
Eyeing her and sensing continued animosity, he decided it was best to merely nod. He’d never been big on a lot of tinsel and colored lights. Hadn’t even had a tree since childhood. Sandra’s parents, Alice and John Shepherd, had always gone overboard on fancy decorations, and she had dragged him to their house whenever he was home on leave around holiday time. They hadn’t done all the work themselves, of course, and the result had always been so perfect he’d found it off-putting.
Finally he ventured a comment. “Do you think we could talk a couple of your police friends into shopping with us? I’d feel safer if others were along.”
Zoe nodded and arched an eyebrow. “That’s a good idea. I’ll ask Dalton or Tristan if they’re available.”
“I know about West. Who did you say the other guy was?”
“A former soldier who recently married one of the local school teachers. He’s been raising his teenage niece, too. You and he have more in common than some of the others.”
“Have you told him about me?”
It surprised him to hear her say, “No.” The reasons were even more impressive. “I hadn’t asked you if I could share your story with anybody except the dog trainers, so I didn’t. If you want to make it public, that’s up to you.”
He knew he was staring when she said, “What?”
“Nothing. I just figured the whole town knew by now.”
“Gossip can spread fast in a close-knit community, but they didn’t learn any secrets from me.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Zoe got to her feet and stretched, arms over her head. “Turn off the lights when you decide to go to bed.”
“Good night.” Sean wanted to say so much more. To tell her what she’d meant to him, now and in the past. To compliment her on her expertise and choosing a career of service. To thank her again and again for opening her home to him and her heart to his son.
His cheeks warmed when he pictured himself thanking Zoe with a hug as she left him. Instead, he gently eased the boy off his lap and laid him on the couch, then made the rounds of windows and doors, rechecking the locks before doing it all a second time. Yes, he was paranoid. That was only crazy if nobody was after him. He knew the danger remained, just as he knew his nerves were balanced on a knife-edge between self-control and sheer panic.
Every time he peered out into the darkness, he thought undefined objects moved. Shifted. Inched closer. Then he’d blink and the supposed danger would vanish.
He flicked off the kitchen lights and paused at the window over the sink. Moonlight cast parts of the yard in darkness while gleaming off bare rocks and crags in the distance.
A shiver shot up his spine. Instinct pushed him back into the interior shadows. Held him there. Made him wonder if his mind was playing tricks as it often did.
Then he saw a pattern of light and dark pass across the bare floor. It lingered only for a second. Was this for real? Was someone watching? Waiting for him to make a mistake?
Edging closer to the window frame, Sean held his breath and continued to scan the yard for intruders. Nothing presented itself, not even a passing nocturnal animal.
He left all the interior lights off to keep from highlighting himself, then once again made the rounds of all the windows. His musings progressed from a heightened sense of danger to an assurance that his damaged mind had been responsible for the fright.
“All right,” he mumbled, sighing. “So there was nothing there this time.” That didn’t matter. He was not about to let down his guard. Not if folks called him crazy for the rest of his life. Which, hopefully, would be a good long time.