In the mall, Jessica and her son spent a relaxing morning, picking up a few items she needed for Danny. She walked into the dollar store to get a few crafty things, and then, with her bags attached to the stroller, she slowly meandered her way home. She stopped at a grocery store, picked up a little milk, a few eggs, and some grapes, then headed home. At least inside the mall she’d managed to get rid of that eerie feeling.
But now that she was on her way home again, out of the public eye, she felt it all again. As if somebody were watching her. She kept glancing around but couldn’t see anything. Nobody drove by. Nobody was outside walking.
“Danny, I’m losing it,” she joked.
He just gurgled happily. But soon he shifted, nearly falling asleep.
“When we get home, it will be naptime,” she promised.
He mumbled something, but it was unintelligible. She reached between the handles of the stroller and gently stroked her son’s blond hair. He was almost asleep. They were about a mile away from the house, and, as she walked, her phone rang again. Fearing that it was another prank call, she was surprised that it was her sister. “Hey, Lisa. How are you?” she asked in an attempt at her happy-go-lucky voice.
“Mom told me how you feel like you are being watched,” she said. “Did you go to the police?”
“Mom told me not to,” she said in a dry tone.
“You should have gone there in the first place, right after the fender bender and that man threatening you,” Lisa scolded her. “There’s absolutely no reason not to.”
“I was afraid it was George,” she said.
“And?”
“You know he’s got cop friends everywhere,” Jessica said. “I figured it would get back to him, and nobody would believe me.”
There was silence on her sister’s end of the phone. “I guess that’s possible,” Lisa said, in grudging acknowledgment. “But it’s pretty shitty to have to worry about that at this point.”
“I know,” she said, “but what are my choices?”
“If anything else happens,” Lisa said, “you have to go to the police—no matter what.”
“I will,” she said. “Unfortunately I think he’s making prank phone calls to me all the time too.”
Her sister gasped in horror. “That louse. When will it get bad enough for you to do something?” she shouted.
“Well, that’s why I was talking to Mom,” she said.
“And that’s the worst thing you could have done,” Lisa said. “All I’ve heard all morning is how, if you’d stayed married, you wouldn’t be in this position.”
“How very convenient for her,” she said in a dry tone.
“Exactly,” Lisa said.
“You know what George was like. He threatened me a lot.”
“And yet you never told us,” her sister complained, her voice softer now. “You know we would have helped you.”
“It’s just as well that we separated and filed for divorce,” Jessica said firmly. “He didn’t want his son, so that was an easy answer.”
“Says you,” she said. “But what about what the attorney said? That George wants his son now?”
“It doesn’t matter what he said,” she said fiercely. Then she lowered her voice, so Danny wouldn’t hear. “No way in hell is George touching my son.”
By the time Greyson was done tracking the entire area, the best he could figure was the dog had kept going through the woods, not out in the open space on the sidewalk. Greyson had walked four miles without seeing any new signs of dog hair or any new paw prints. He did see several people walking dogs, and he’d stopped to talk to them, showing them a picture of the dog in question.
“Hello. This is Kona. I’m looking for her,” he said with an easy smile. The older couple walking the small Yorkie had stopped to look at the picture, then frowned and shook their heads. “We haven’t seen that dog at all,” the older man said. “Who do we call if we do though?”
Greyson quickly pulled out a Titanium Corp business card, jotted down his cell number on the back, handing it to him. “If you see the dog, please let me know.”
“Is it dangerous?” the woman asked anxiously.
“It’s a very well-trained War Dog,” he explained. “I wouldn’t approach her if she shows any sign of not being happy. Just call me right away. I’ll come right over and pick her up.”
“Tsk, tsk. It’s not the happy ending we’d like to see for any animal that’s been in service,” the older man said.
They walked away, leaving Greyson standing here with his hands on his hips, wondering who else to talk to. Then he remembered the detective. He pulled out his phone with the photo of the card and the detective’s phone number, then quickly dialed. Once he introduced himself, the detective said, “I figured you guys would have been here a few weeks ago.”
“Paperwork,” he said. “And somehow this animal fell through the gaps.”
“Got to call you back,” the detective said in an urgent tone.
Greyson walked several more blocks, checking out the undergrowth, but just enough time had gone by that Greyson could be tracking any kind of animal at this point. The hair he had seen definitely matched the Malinois he was tracking, but he wasn’t finding anything now. He turned and headed back on the long walk toward the shelter. He passed several other people and stopped to ask them if they’d seen the dog.
When the detective returned his call, Greyson asked for an appointment to see the detective, as Greyson headed back to his grandpa’s truck.
“I can meet you now if you want.”
“That’s great. I’m about fifteen minutes out,” Greyson said. “I’ll be there soon.”
In truth, he was more than fifteen minutes out because he wasn’t back at the vehicle yet. But he picked up the speed of his walk and made it back to his truck in ten. With his GPS set, he quickly pulled out of the rescue center’s parking lot and headed to the police station. He was five minutes late and figured that was still pretty close to being on time.
When he walked in, a detective stood at the doorway, looking at him. Greyson held out his hand and smiled. “Greyson Morgenstein,” he said.
“Detective Boris Shear,” the man replied. He led him inside and motioned toward an empty chair in the small office.
Greyson sat down and began, “What can you tell me about the missing War Dog?”
“I think that’s my line,” the detective said drily.
“I mean, what have you found out about the dog?” Greyson asked, with an airy wave of his hand. “Obviously the US government is very concerned.”
“And yet you’ve been weeks getting here,” the detective said, the corner of his lips curling up.
“Well, I just arrived,” he said, “because the file was given to me yesterday. So I admit the wheels of government turn pretty slowly at times, but I’m here to rectify that.”
“But not everybody moves just because you say so,” the detective said. He reached over, grabbing a file. It was damn slim. He opened it up. “All I have is a signed receipt of the airport handlers, saying they accepted the dog. It was taken to the shelter. I don’t even have a picture of the dog from the shelter or where it was kept. Just notes from the next morning, saying the dog was gone.”
“Any theories or suspicious behavior?”
“I think they were assuming somebody let the dog out.”
“But that would mean somebody must have been in the shelter in order to have done that, which would make it an inside job,” he said.
The detective lifted his gaze and stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, “there’s no outside access or gate to the run where the dog was kept.”
Silence. “Interesting,” he said, sitting back. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Did you go to the site?”
“I did,” he said, “and I saw the pen and run from the inside.”
“So you didn’t get into the run then?”
The detective shook his head.
“That’s how you would have seen that there’s no gate on the outside,” he said.
“So, what do you think happened?”
“I think the dog jumped,” Greyson said honestly. “They are well-known for scaling six feet easily.”
The detective shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of that,” he said. “This is a military War Dog. He’s dangerous, and he shouldn’t be out on the loose.”
That isn’t what Greyson wanted to hear at all. He leaned forward. “She’s very well-behaved and certainly isn’t aggressive without reason.”
“How about hunger?” the detective snapped back. “Just because you say it’s well-trained doesn’t mean it is. And just because you say it’s well-mannered and well-behaved doesn’t mean it is. This dog has been missing for weeks now. For all you know it could have been eating other dogs and cats in the neighborhood.”
“I highly doubt it, or you would have reports to substantiate missing pets,” Greyson said calmly. “Would she have taken a rabbit or a bird because she needed to? Yes, absolutely she would have. The same as you and I would.”
“When does a bird or a rabbit become a small child?”
“You haven’t been worried about Kona eating pets and children all this time,” Greyson said. “Why now?”
“I was assuming the dog was stolen.”
“For what purpose?”
“Maybe somebody heard about the dog? Maybe somebody thought they could use it for breeding?”
“All War Dogs are fixed,” Greyson said calmly. “So, if they thought they would breed it, they would be wrong.”
“But they may not have known that when they took it,” he said. “For that matter, they may still not know it.” The detective frowned. “So, it would be a rude awakening. And what happens if they turn on the dog because they’re upset now?”
“The dog would defend herself against a certain amount of abuse, but she’s in a very strange circumstance now, and her orderly and regulated life has been burst wide open,” Greyson said. “That doesn’t make her a mad, foaming-at-the-mouth dog that’s dangerous.”
“It doesn’t make it a cozy pet that everybody will want to keep either,” the detective said, glaring at him.
“And what is it you think she’ll do?”
“How do I know?” he said.
The detective’s attitude didn’t improve over the next ten minutes, when they sorted out what options they had for finding the dog.
“I’m expecting somebody to turn him in,” the detective said in a surly note. “Most likely after he’s attacked somebody.”
“Once again, it’s a female, and her name is Kona. I hope you’re wrong,” Greyson said, standing up. “That would be the worst-case scenario.”
“It would, indeed,” the detective said, standing up as well. “So why don’t you try and find her before she kills somebody?”
“Kona is a valued US veteran, still technically government property until in proper civilian care. So treat her accordingly.” Although the detective had never asked who had assigned this matter to Greyson, he left a Titanium Corp business card with his cell phone number on the back, placing it in plain sight on the detective’s desk. Then Greyson gave a clipped nod and walked back out.
His visit with the detective had been less than fruitful and only added pressure as he realized the detective had no love or respect for the dog and was already expecting it to be a scenario gone bad. That attitude wouldn’t help at all. Greyson stepped outside and stood beside his grandfather’s truck. It seemed so odd to be here with his grandfather’s rig, but it made sense at the time. He had some money for expenses, but he wasn’t getting paid for this mission-of-mercy job. It was another one of those contribution to society jobs. And he was fine with that; he just wished he could do something that would help Kona.
Just then his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and read a text message from Badger.
Kona seems to be a happy coincidence in naming and landing in Hawaii. Any luck on your end?
Rather than trying to text back, he quickly hit Talk, and, when Badger answered on the other end, Greyson filled him in on what the detective had just said.
“That doesn’t sound very helpful,” Badger exclaimed. “The last thing we need is to have law enforcement gunning for the dog.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ll start canvassing the entire neighborhood that I walked. There will be several hundred houses, but I’m not sure what else to do.”
“We’ll run down the rescue center and see if anything pops. No pops on the address you gave me earlier either. Sending you the deets anyway. Oh, and the truck license plate comes back as stolen.”
“Huh. Not good. We need to report that to the police. While you’re at it, can you run down the police report for the fender bender that happened?” Greyson said. “That’s the only odd thing in this scenario.”
“Only?” Badger said with humor. “We’ve got a War Dog that was supposed to go to Denver and ended up in Hawaii. Then it escapes from a rescue center, and now you’re thinking it has something to do with a fender bender?”
“What if the dog felt like someone was being threatened? Think about the road-rage scenarios that often happen. Look. I’m not saying that’s what happened here,” he said with a note of caution. “But what if the dog thought somebody was being attacked because people were arguing or something?”
“That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?” Badger said doubtfully.
“It’s all a bit of a stretch at the moment,” Greyson said. “Another option is that the dog bolted because of the noise. In which case she’s skulking around in the dark, trying to survive and wondering what happened to her world.”
“Also not a good scenario,” Badger said, his tone firm. “Let me see if I can find anything on the fender bender. Also I have no notes on the dog having noise issues.”
“Right,” he said. “I feel like I need to go back to the damn center where the dog was, see if the front desk lady remembers anything else about the fender bender.”
“Did the woman go outside?”
“Yes, she did, although she didn’t say a whole lot about it.”
“I suggest you go grill her again and see if she can share more.”
“Will do,” he said. “At least if I could talk to the people involved in the accident,” he said, “maybe they saw the dog. If they didn’t, then we’ll know that’s the wrong direction to pursue.”
“I hear you,” Badger said. “We’re on it on our end. Let us know if you get any updates.”
With the call ended, Greyson hopped into his grandfather’s truck and headed back to the animal rescue. A look of long suffering came over the receptionist’s face when she saw him again. She didn’t get up but crossed her arms over her chest and relaxed back into her chair. “Now what?”
“So you heard the fender bender on the same day Kona went missing,” he said. “Do you know who was involved?”
“How would I know?” she said in exasperation. “I went outside because I heard the yelling,” she said. “But, other than that, I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t remember you mentioning yelling before,” he said, leaning across the counter. He hoped it was a nonthreatening position, but his size often made others feel insecure. This woman didn’t look like she was at all intimidated though. In fact, she looked the opposite. Bored.
“I probably didn’t,” she said. “Why would I? It’s not like it would have had anything to do with the dog.”
“And yet, the banging of the two vehicles as they hit might have been enough to scare the dog out of the pen.”
“That fence is six feet high,” she said. “Surely she’s not jumping that.”
He stared at her in surprise. “Shepherds are well-known for jumping six feet from a standstill. How is it the dog wouldn’t have gotten out? I’m surprised you put her in a run with a fence like this.”
Immediately she went on the defensive. “We don’t have dogs that jump here,” she snapped. She bounced to her feet. “Now look. If you have any more accusations, maybe you should remember that we were willing to take the dog after the screwed-up circumstances brought her here. We aren’t the guilty party here.”
“I get that,” he said, “and I’d be happy to not have to come back just to ask you more questions, but that still doesn’t help me find who was in that accident.”
“What difference does it make?” she asked curiously. “It’s not like they would have had anything to do with the dog.”
“They might have though,” he said patiently. “They may have seen something too.”
She thought about it, shrugged, and said, “Well, the one was a young woman in a silver car. The other guy was in a truck.”
“And he was yelling at her?”
“Well, there was yelling,” she said, “but I don’t know if it was them or if it was the people stuck in traffic behind them.”
“Did you recognize any of them?”
“Well, Joe was a couple cars back. He was laying on the horn all the time. But then he’s always on the horn all the time,” she sneered.
“And who is Joe?”
“Joe Hinds,” she said. “He lives up the road about four houses.”
“Four?” he asked, looking out the window. “Which way?”
“Right,” she said. “His name is on the mailbox.”
“Let me see if I can talk to him,” he said. “And thanks.” He gave her a brief smile, then turned and walked out the door. He heard her mutter something behind him but got the gist of it. Something to do with good riddance and hoping he never came back. Unfortunately, until he got to the bottom of what happened to Kona, Greyson would be back. No way he would give up on finding Kona.