Run to Ground(80)

“You’ve seen better days,” he muttered, examining the toy under the dome light, but then snorted a laugh and looked at Viggy, who was regarding him cautiously. “Guess we all have.”

Viggy hopped out willingly. Thinking back to that day when he thought he’d have to carry the dog to the scene, Theo was grateful. They’d made some progress, at least. As they approached the truck, though, Viggy dropped farther and farther back, until he reached the end of his lead and stopped.

“C’mon, buddy,” Theo urged, and Viggy reluctantly walked forward again. When they were just a few feet from the truck, Theo stopped and glanced down at the dog’s crouched, miserable-looking form.

“Viggy,” Theo said, and the dog stared up at him, panting in the tense, nervous way that made Theo feel guilty and sad. “Sit.”

There was a half-second pause, as if the dog hadn’t been expecting an obedience command, but then Viggy lowered his haunches to the ground.

“Good boy!” Theo enthused, offering him the penguin. Still eyeing Theo as if he suspected it was all a trick, Viggy shifted forward, so slowly if felt as if he were in slow motion, and closed his teeth gingerly around the leg of the penguin. As soon as the dog took hold, Theo tugged on the stuffed toy, gently until Viggy’s hold got stronger, and he started pulling back. “Good boy!” he called again, swinging the penguin from side to side, swinging Viggy’s attached jaws along with it.

“Viggy, release,” Theo said, and Viggy let go of the penguin, his gaze fixed on Theo. “Viggy, sit.”

Again, he sat, this time as soon as the command left Theo’s mouth.

“Good dog, Vig!” Theo offered the toy again, and Viggy latched on immediately. As he tugged, Viggy’s tail slowly rose, swinging cautiously from side to side until it was wagging enthusiastically. Theo laughed, a sound of pure joy and relief, at the sight of Viggy playing, of Viggy happy—and not just with Jules’s family this time. He was listening to Theo, responding to him, as if they really were dog and handler. For the first time, Theo had a spark of hope that they could really be partners.

“Viggy, release,” he said, and he did, looking up at Theo with an open mouth, his tongue lolling out in a doggie grin. “Good boy.”

Although it was tempting to keep going, to try other commands, to lead Viggy to the pickup and point, indicating that he should check for one of the eight component odors that most explosives contain, Theo just led Viggy back to his squad car. They’d made a huge step forward, and it was time to stop before Theo ruined all their progress by pushing too hard. They’d worked together, and Viggy’d had fun. That was enough. That was more than Theo had expected.

After returning Viggy to the back of his squad car, Theo moved closer to the pickup to wait for Otto’s return. As he stood in the near dark, the sensation of being watched creeping over him again, Theo realized that, strangely enough, he was smiling. Maybe there was a chance that he, like Viggy, could be happy again.

Maybe.





Chapter 17


There was a boot print.

Although Jules knew in her head that there were a thousand perfectly logical, completely innocent reasons someone had left a print in the soft dirt right next to the first line of evergreens framing their backyard, her gut just knew this was bad. Really, really bad.

Had the boot-wearer been watching her last night? Had he climbed through the open window and been inside the house? No. Jules couldn’t allow herself to even consider the idea. If she did, she’d grab the kids, stuff them in the SUV, and leave. It wouldn’t matter where they’d go, though. She’d never feel safe again.

She moved around, searching for more prints, hoping to at least see what direction the person came from or went, but the rest of the ground was too rocky or hard-packed or covered with pine needles to hold a print. Jules returned to the footprint and studied it. Should she tell Theo? Even as she thought it, she dismissed the idea. Whoever had left it hadn’t committed a crime. The trees weren’t even part of her property, so she couldn’t even call it trespassing.

“Wh-what are y-you l-l-looking at?”

Jules shifted so she was standing on the print. “Caterpillar.”

Sam’s expression was skeptical, and he walked closer, scanning the ground around her feet. “Wh-where is it?”

“I stepped on it.”

Now she could tell he really didn’t believe her. “L-liar.”

She laughed and purposefully walked back toward the house, hoping her shoes had scuffed the print enough that Sam wouldn’t spot it. He worried too much as it was. “Where are the kids?”