He circled her waist from behind and kissed her cheek. “I think she’d love to hear from you. And you might just make a go of your business after all.”
Chapter Fourteen
ROSS AND ELISABETH spent Monday night at his house. The boys had all slept on the floor—at least most of the night. They awoke Tuesday morning with Ranger sprawled across the bottom of the bed. Elisabeth didn’t seem to mind. In the morning she crawled down to the end of the bed and hugged Ranger before she even hugged Ross.
They got up early and took care of her animals together, which gave Ross a chance to check out the piglets. Pigs were hearty animals, and even though Kennedy was a runt, he was eating well and growing without issue. Elisabeth was relieved to hear that he’d be just fine, even if small. She’d called Ross’s mother before he left for work, and his mother, not realizing Elisabeth had spent the night with Ross, called him a few minutes later to gush about how nice it was of her to call. Tonight Emily was meeting with Elisabeth about the kitchen renovations. They’d gotten along so well at his mother’s that he had visions of Emily becoming a staple in Elisabeth’s house. He was thinking about his mother’s phone call when his phone rang Tuesday afternoon.
Every time he got a call from Walt Norton, the director for the Pup Partners program in Denton, he hoped that nothing had happened to one of the dogs. Luckily, they’d had only one situation where an inmate had to be removed from the program. He’d used the dog to manipulate visitors to bring things to him. What those things were, Ross wasn’t privy to, and the dog had been unharmed. While Ross believed in the program and had been thrilled with the results for both the inmates and the dogs, the worry lingered in the back of his mind.
“Hi, Walt.”
“Hey, Ross. I hope I caught you before you headed this way.”
“Is there an issue?” He leaned back in his chair and glanced at the clock.
“I don’t think I’d call it an issue. More of a miracle, I think. I got a request earlier today from Trout. He’d like to know if he can get a stuffed animal for Storm. He seems to think the dog is lonely.”
Ross leaned back in his chair and thought about Trout and how close he must feel to Storm to be requesting something to make him feel more comfortable. Beneath that hulking exterior was a caring heart—even if he had killed a man. It made Ross wonder even more about the man Trout had been before he’d made the choice to kill.
“It’s actually not such a crazy idea. Sure, I can pick one up on my way there. Walt, can you tell me any more about Trout than what I read in his file?”
“Have you Googled him yet?” Walt’s voice grew serious.
“Yeah, I did. But what’s your take on him?”
“He’s either brilliant or an idiot. I’m not one to judge.”
Two and a half hours later Ross and Trout were finishing Storm’s training and Ross was doing a quick exam on Storm. He opened Storm’s mouth and checked his teeth, buying time, and hoping to get Trout talking. Ever since he and Elisabeth made love, he’d been thinking about the future. He’d always wanted to have children, and Trout was a reminder of how wrong things could go for a kid. Ross wanted to understand Trout and the decisions he’d made.
Trout sat with his elbows on his knees, neck bowed, one hand fisted inside the other.
“I brought you the toy you requested for Storm.”
Trout turned his head and his hands stilled. “Thanks, Doc.”
Ross ran his hands down each of Storm’s legs. Touching was good for Storm. Getting used to being handled was key to service-dog training.
“What made you think of a toy? Oh, and I got a toy he couldn’t chew through. He can choke on stuffed animals, so you want to be careful with the items you allow in his crate.”
“Choke.” He nodded.
“There’s a button on it that makes a heartbeat sound, too. It should calm him.”
“A heartbeat.” He nodded, and his eyes filled with worry. “I don’t want him to choke, Doc. You’re sure this one is safe?”
He was amazed that Trout was talking to him, but the dog seemed to be a safe subject. “Positive. You had a dog as a kid, right?”
Trout turned his head the other way. He rubbed his palm over his fisted hand. Ross checked Storm’s ears, realizing that he’d struck a chord with Trout.
“How’d you come to the decision that Storm was lonely at night?”
Trout’s head shifted back in his direction again, his stare cold and vacant. Ross waited him out and held his stare for a full minute before Trout’s enormous shoulders rose in a shrug.
“Television show.”
Ross nodded. “Good call. My gir—” He caught himself. One rule of thumb was never to talk about your personal acquaintances with the inmates. “My friend mentioned that moving the crate closer to your bed at night might help, too.”
Trout nodded.
“What kind of dog did you have as a kid?”
Trout clenched his jaw, remaining silent.
Trying to talk to Trout about his past was proving to be just as difficult as Ross thought it might be. He finished checking each of Storm’s paws, then took the toy from his bag and handed it to Trout.
Trout smiled, momentarily flashing those dimples Ross had caught a glimpse of last week. “Thanks, Doc.”
“Did you ever give your dog a toy when you were a kid?”
Trout drew his brows together again. His jaw clenched tight, and when he lifted his eyes to Ross again, they were full of rage.
Ross drew his shoulders back and held his stare once again. Instinct told him to treat Trout like a grizzly, look away, walk silently away, but the man in him held him in position.
“Trout?” He didn’t know why he felt compelled to try to figure out what had made Trout go from being valedictorian to a murderer, but he needed to understand it. He wanted to understand him.
Trout looked down at Storm. “My dog cried at night. My m—” He looked away, narrowed those angry eyes, and stared down at the floor as he spoke. “Someone said he was lonely. Gave him a toy and he slept fine. Dogs get lonely just like people.”
Ross caught the stifled mention of his mother, and in that second, Ross saw Trout not as a murderer, an inmate, or a dog handler, but as a son. A boy who for eight years had a mother who probably loved him, who cared for him, took care of his skinned knees and washed the dirt from his face. The records he’d seen hadn’t indicated abuse from Trout’s mother. She wasn’t a drinker. She didn’t do drugs. She was a mother, and this three-hundred-pound man had been her little boy—and she’d been murdered right before his eyes.
A guard came through the door and Trout clenched his jaw tight again.
“We done?” Trout grumbled.
“Trout. What happened to your dog?”
“Carver happened to him.” He looked down at Storm. “Let’s go.” The dog fell into step beside him.
Thomas Carver was the man who’d murdered Trout’s mother.
ELISABETH WAS MAKING cookies for Ross’s dogs and cookies in anticipation of Emily’s visit to discuss the kitchen renovations when her cell phone rang. She hadn’t spoken to Ross this afternoon, and she hoped it was him. She tried to ignore the disappointment that washed over her when she didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this Elisabeth?” a woman asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Cherry Macomb. I live on the outskirts of town, and I heard that you pick up dogs for grooming. What do you charge for that?”
Her pulse quickened. “How did you hear about me?” She quickly tried to assess if she could commit to picking up any more dogs, and considered what a reasonable fee for Trusty versus Los Angeles might be.
“My neighbor Sally buys her vegetables from Wynchels’ and she said their dogs looked like brand-new dogs. Clean, fluffy, like they’d been to a salon, and Wren told her that you did it. Can I make the same arrangement?”
“Yes, absolutely.” She remembered what Wren had said about the bows. “How do you feel about bows?”
“I love them!”
They made arrangements for Elisabeth to pick up Contessa, a two-year-old shih tzu, on her way to the Wynchels’. As soon as she hung up the phone, Emily arrived.
Emily hugged her like they’d been friends forever. She’d come straight from the office and was wearing a nice pair of slacks with a low-cut white blouse and a pair of strappy black sandals. She looked fashionable, comfortable, and pretty, with just a hint of eyeliner and blush.
“Your house smells like a bakery.”
“That would be the banana-nut cookies I just made.” They headed into the kitchen.
Emily inhaled and sighed. “Do you need a taste tester?”
“They’re for you. I love to bake, and your visit was a great excuse.”
“Thank you.” She reached for a cookie.
“Wait. Those are puppy cookies. It’s this tray.” She pointed to the banana-nut cookies.
“I almost forgot you had a pet bakery.” Emily raised her brows. “No wonder my brother’s so into you.”
Elisabeth wasn’t sure how to respond.
Emily rolled her eyes. “Ross adores animals, and so do you. A match made in heaven.”