He did, removing his hat and peering around as he stepped into the living room. "Isn't this the house of Sam Evans?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm his nanny," she said, not liking something in his tone. "So what did you want to know? I gave a full statement to the officers yesterday and forwarded them all the pictures I took."
He didn't ask to sit, and she didn't offer. Getting out a black leather notebook, he stood poised to take notes. "I'd like to hear it all from the beginning myself, miss."
"Oh, okay. Well . . ." She recounted the story for what was the third or fourth time in the past twenty-four hours, making sure to highlight everything about the men and the truck that she could remember. He took some occasional notes, seemingly all business, but there was something about the way he slanted his gaze at her that made Cora uncomfortable.
That just proves that your fight-or-flight instincts were working. She heard Caine's words from the night before, and casually took a few steps back.
"So you never saw the dog inside this truck?" he asked.
"No. He'd gotten out by the time I heard the commotion."
"But how do you know he was ever in the truck, Miss Campbell? Isn't it possible these men had come upon a stray?"
She frowned. "No, because I heard them say-"
He held up a hand. "With the distance between you and them that you described, and the volume of the barking, and the road noise around you, how can you be so certain about what these men said?"
Why was he being combative with her? Almost accusatory, even. "I know what I heard, Sheriff. I was right at the fence. I could see and hear them pretty clearly."
He shifted his stance. "Yet you can't describe the suspects' hair or eye color, whether they had any identifying marks, or tell me the license plate number on the vehicle."
Anger stirred in her gut, and she braced her hands on her hips. "No, but-"
"Would you be able to recognize these men in a line-up?" he asked.
Her shoulders fell. "I don't know." Frustratingly, the answer was probably no.
"How about the vehicle? Would you be able to identify it if you saw it?"
She thought she had a better chance at that. "Probably. The old blue color with the white truck bed cap was distinctive enough, I think."
He flipped his notebook closed and stashed it in his pocket. "I think that's all I need, Miss Campbell." His tone was so dismissive she wanted to scream.
"Sheriff, there's a problem around here with these dogs. I volunteer at the animal shelter and I know for a fact how many abused dogs have been showing up with injuries consistent with dogfighting. Please, you have to help."
"An investigation is under way, ma'am. That's why I'm here." He handed her a card, then turned to the door. "If you remember anything else, let me know. And Miss Campbell?"
She glanced up from the card in her hand.
"Men involved in dogfighting can be dangerous. I'd be careful if I were you."
Chapter 19
When was the last time Slider spent time with the boys like this? He'd picked up some sub sandwiches and drinks and brought the kids to Frederick's farm park, a big sprawling green space on the outskirts of town that combined playgrounds and picnic areas with an operating farm. Visitors could walk through and see all the animals, and watch the farmhands feed and tend them. Sometimes they offered horseback rides or let the kids hold the baby chicks.
Slider wasn't sure he could name the last time Sam and Ben had been so happy alone with him. But they were. As they ran and climbed and made friends with new kids the way only kids could so easily do, they absolutely exuded happiness.
And so much of that was because of Cora. It was clear that the boys adored her. But man, what if that wasn't enough to make them okay with their dad dating her? The thought that they might not approve-or worse, might be hurt by it-twisted his gut up inside.
Finally, they all got hungry, found a picnic table in the shade, and unpacked their lunch. The boys dove in like they'd never eaten before in their whole lives. And in truth, Slider was famished, too. Years of depression, grief, guilt, and shame had ravaged his body, but the past few months, he'd put on some weight again. His jeans no longer hung on him, and he had more energy than he remembered having in years.
"So, I have something I need to talk to you guys about," he said.
They looked at him as they ate. "What is it, Dad?" Ben asked, not a care in the world despite the cast on his arm.
For two days, Slider had run through a million lines in his head to open this conversation, and in that moment, not one of them came to him. "You guys like Cora, right?"
"Yeah, we love her," Ben said, peering up at him with that sweet little face. "Don't you?"
"Of course we like her, Dad," Sam said, more appraising in his look. Like he was waiting for some kind of bad news. "What's going on?"
Slider wiped his hands on a napkin. "Well, it's just, I wanted to talk to you guys, because . . . I like her, too."
Ben's expression was totally blank. "Okay, good talk, Daddy."
Slider chuckled, but the smile slid back off his face when his older son's eyes went wide with understanding.
"Are you two, like, together?" Sam asked.
"Would it be okay with you if we were?" he asked, his heart pounding harder in his chest each second they didn't answer.
"Wait, like boyfriend and girlfriend?" Ben asked.
"Yeah, Benji. Like boyfriend and girlfriend." Slider looked from one of his mini-mes to the other. "No one will ever replace your mom," he said. "Which Cora would never try to do, of course. But I . . . I miss having another grown-up in my life. And Cora . . ." He shrugged. ". . . I really like her."
Ben popped onto his knees on the bench beside Slider and threw his arms around his neck. The kid nearly beat him in the back of the head with the cast, but Slider didn't mind, not one bit, especially when he said, "I don't mind, Dad. I love Cora. And you should have a person."
Aw, hell. Those words. They just slayed him. Just laid him out flat. "Yeah," he said, choking back emotion. Ben dropped onto his butt and dove back into his food like he hadn't just mowed his old man over.
Sam nodded. "Ben's right. You should." But even though he agreed, there was something in the boy's tone that felt off. Not anger, and not even disapproval. Slider couldn't put his finger on it. "Just, you know, keep the kissing to a minimum."
"Eww!" Ben said. "I'm eating here."
Chuckling again, Slider arched a brow at Sam. "Oh, yeah? Talk to me in five years, buddy."
"Gross, Dad," Sam said, but there was no heat behind it.
"So are you guys sure you're okay with this?" When they reassured him again, he felt himself relax for the first time in days. "Good. Then any chance you want to help me with a surprise for Cora?"
They were immediately on board with doing something for her, but Slider kept it a secret from them as they packed up, left the park, and drove across town. Fifteen minutes and a million questions from Ben later, Slider pulled into the parking lot of the animal shelter where Cora worked.
"All right! Are we visiting Cora?" Ben asked.
"Nope. Even better. This is where her surprise is." He took them inside, where he'd come the day before to judge just how lovable a certain basset hound truly was. Cora hadn't exaggerated. One look at that droopy face and a wet kiss on his hand, and Slider was a goner, too. Apparently, he was easy like that.
After they checked in, a lady took them to a small visitation room, and a few minutes later, the door opened and Bosco lumbered in.
"Guys, meet Bosco," Slider said, crouching to pet the dog's sagging face.
"Oh, Dad," Ben said, leaning down close. Bosco gave his cast a snuffling sniff and then licked his face, leaving a decent swipe of slobber behind. "Eww!" Ben laughed, falling immediately in love. "He's awesome!"
Sam sat all the way down, and Bosco sniffed him next. But because Sam hadn't leaned down, Bosco took it upon himself to climb into Sam's lap until Sam couldn't help but give in and laugh. "You crazy old dog," he said, almost giggling as that big tongue attacked again.
Slider watched them interact with the dog and felt the rightness of this decision into his bones. He'd never been allowed to have a dog growing up, but he wanted the boys to share in both the responsibility and the unconditional love that came with taking care of one.