New York Times bestselling author Rachel Lee brings her beloved Conard County series to a new home!

NO PLACE TO HIDE

Conard County is a refuge for Dory Lake, a place to flee from her tragic past. For extra security, she goes to Cadell Marcus for one of his expertly trained guard dogs. Just the dog. But the part-time deputy can’t help digging deeper into the beautiful stranger’s history.

After learning the circumstances of the murders Dory witnessed, Cadell isn’t about to leave her at the mercy of the calculated killer. The madman is counting on finding Dory isolated, but Cadell vows that she’ll never be alone. Guarding her 24/7 is the only way to keep her safe…and to break down her emotional walls he wants so desperately to breach.

Conard County: The Next Generation

“I believe the feeling is mutual.”

She looked at Cadell then, daring to meet his gaze directly without sliding quickly away. His gaze was warm, inviting, suggesting delights she could barely imagine. Yet he remained a perfect gentleman with her. He was getting past her guard, little by little.

An electric shock seemed to zing between them. Something invisible was trying to push her closer to him.

But then he broke their gaze and turned. “Wanna come inside and rummage through my fridge before I take you back?” He glanced at his watch. “I go on duty in a couple of hours.”

Yup, in addition to sexual attraction, she was learning to like him a whole lot. Sexual attraction she could deal with. She’d sent away more than one guy over the years because she wasn’t going to get that close to anyone.

But liking? That could be even more of a risk.

Cornered in Conard County

Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Dory stirred from sleep and tried to cover her ears. Daddy was fighting with her big brother, George, again. But later she realized it sounded different. Voices shouted, but was Mommy laughing? It didn’t sound like Mommy’s fun laugh.

Curious, Dory climbed out of bed, picked up her favorite bunny and stood at the head of the stairs. Daddy was still shouting. Sticking her thumb in her mouth, she stared at the pool of light pouring out of the kitchen downstairs. Mommy made a strange sound, and curiosity pushed Dory to descend.

Before she was halfway down, things got very quiet and she stopped. She wondered if she’d get into trouble for being out of bed. Daddy and Mommy were very strict about that. Once in bed, stay in bed until morning. George laughed about it, but he said Mommy and Daddy needed grown-up time. But George was mostly grown-up and he got to go out at night. That was probably why they were yelling. Dory hesitated. The yelling was gone.

But then she heard a strange sound and came downstairs the rest of the way. Bunny tucked under her arm, thumb in her mouth, she turned toward the light spilling from the kitchen.

Everything was red. Like paint. It was everywhere and Mommy and Daddy were on the floor covered in the paint. George stood there, his face all tight and funny as he looked at her.

“It’s okay, Dory. I made the bad man run away.” He squatted and held out his arms to her.

Usually Dory ran straight toward him, but George was covered with the red paint, too, and she didn’t like that.

“Dory? Come here, pumpkin.”

She saw what was in his hand. A knife. It was all red, too. Why was everything so red?

Some instinct pierced her, and terror shook her out of her confusion. She didn’t know what was going on, but she ceased to think. Something deep within her reacted, and she ran out the front door onto the street and started screaming...screaming...screaming.

Chapter One

Screaming.

Dory Lake awoke with her own screams ringing in her ears. The minute her eyes popped open, blessed lamplight greeted her, and for a moment, just a moment, she felt safe.

She remembered what she had seen, but over twenty-five years the nightmares had grown less frequent. Now they were coming back again, every night or several times a night.

Because her brother was about to be released from prison.

She sat up quickly, and was relieved when she didn’t grow light-headed. She had low blood pressure, and sometimes it took her by surprise, causing her to faint briefly. A minor thing, a mere nuisance most of the time.

Drenched with sweat, she climbed from bed and walked into the small bathroom to shower. He wasn’t out yet. Not yet. She was okay.

But the dream had brought that terrifying night back. All the intervening years hadn’t expunged the memory, although it had been troubling her less and less. But ever since she had learned George was about to complete his sentence, the nightmares had returned. Every single night. No escape.

There was no reason to think George would have any interest in her when she’d never spoken about any of it, and he couldn’t be convicted of the murder again anyway, she told herself repeatedly as the cold water pounded her. As she’d been telling herself ever since she got the news. He couldn’t even be interested in her inheritance which was locked up in an unbreakable trust, a trust his lawyer had told him about.

Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be able to find her. The last name Lake was an extremely common one.

At last she toweled off, climbed into a fresh nightgown and robe, and started downstairs. No more sleep tonight. Too bad, she was moving into her own place tomorrow...or was it today?

Downstairs the kitchen light was on. Her friend Betty made sure the house stayed reasonably well lit at night. For Dory, who couldn’t stand waking in the dark.

But when she stepped into the gaily colored kitchen, she found Betty was already there with a fresh pot of coffee. Betty sat at the table, mugs, spoons and sugar at the ready, along with a plate of cookies. Her short graying hair looked tousled and, true to her taste, she wore a zip-up robe that was nearly psychedelic with cat faces. Betty was determined to become the cat lady. So far she’d acquired only three, all of whom were now swirling, wondering if it was time for breakfast.

“I heard the shower,” Betty said. “Again?”

“Again. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I got annoyed by that? I don’t have nightmares like yours, but I’ve had them. Nice to have someone near when they wake you.” Betty bit her lower lip. “Are you sure you should move out? I can’t stand thinking of you all alone.”

Dory slid into one of the chairs. “I’ve been living on my own since college. I can’t let George’s release take my independence from me. Anyway, there’s absolutely no reason he should want to find me. He served his time and I’m no threat. After all this time, we’re strangers. And, as you know, I need to get back to my job.”

Of course, those brave words ignored the fact that she’d run all the way to Conard County, Wyoming, from Kansas at Betty’s invitation, when she’d learned her brother would soon be released and the nightmares had returned. Packed up and fled, if she was honest about it. Saying George wouldn’t want to find her felt like whistling past the graveyard.

Betty, even back in the days when she taught Dory’s high school English class, had been blunt, not one to pull her punches. So it bothered Dory that Betty had felt she should come here.

Apparently Betty didn’t quite believe George wouldn’t come looking for Dory. Or maybe she had just believed the move would ease Dory’s nightmares. So much for that.

The coffee went down well, as did a cookie, and soon her fears eased enough that one of the cats, a ginger tabby called simply Ginger, was willing to leap on her lap and beg for pets.

Such a soothing scene, Dory thought as she rubbed the ginger cat’s cheeks and elicited a surprisingly loud purr. Her relaxation deepened, and she thought that maybe she’d better get a cat herself.

“So therapy’s out?” Betty asked quietly.

“I’ve been through years of it. I doubt they can do any more.”

“Maybe not, but you’re older now.” Then Betty hesitated. “I have a friend I want you to meet this morning.”

Dory stiffened a bit. She’d been here a week, and so far she’d avoided getting drawn into a social circle. She didn’t know if she was ready for that, and anyway, she’d never been good at it.

“Oh, relax,” Betty said, reading her reaction correctly. “Someday you’ll want out of that shell, but I doubt it’s going to be right away. You’ve been in it for too many years. No, this is a special kind of friend. He’s the K-9 officer for the sheriff. He trains the dogs and other officers. Anyway, I want you to meet him.”

“Why?”

“Well, apart from the fact that he’s got two nasty ostriches he never wanted and can’t get rid of, which I find hysterically funny and interesting, he has lots of dogs. I think you need a dog to keep you company.”

Dory stared at her. “Why? I was thinking about a cat.”

Betty smiled. “Think about it, Dory. What’s going to make you feel safer? A guard dog or a guard cat?”

Almost in spite of herself, Dory laughed. “You make a point.”

“I always have,” Betty said.

Back in those long-ago days when Betty had been her sophomore English teacher, Betty alone had showed the infinite patience Dory needed to let someone become close to her. Betty’s campaign had lasted well beyond high school until, finally, surprise of surprises, Dory realized she had a true friend.

No one else had come so close to her.

“Oh, and you’re not moving today,” Betty said, reaching for a cookie.

Dory preferred deciding things for herself. “Why?” she asked, a bit sharply.

Betty ignored her tone. “Because there was a voice mail message this morning. It’ll be two more days before your high-speed internet is wired in. You need that to work, don’t you?”

“They promised to do it today,” she answered, but realized getting upset about it wouldn’t help anything. Since she got here, Betty had offered to take her out to the community college to use the internet there. At home, Betty had little need for a high-speed connection. But her connection was good enough to pick up email, so Dory hadn’t taken Betty up on her offer to go to the college. Anyway, the college didn’t have what she needed.

But she couldn’t stop working indefinitely and it had been too long already. Email sufficed for a short time only. “I need my connection,” she said presently. “Two more days, huh?”

“What exactly do you do that keeps you online most of the day?” Betty asked. “I get the souped-up computer with all the whiz-bang gizmos, multiple monitors, a graphics card that would break anyone’s bank account...but you can get your email here, right?”

Dory smiled faintly and poured herself a little more coffee. “I don’t do graphic art all by myself. I work with a team most of the time. Being able to chat back and forth and share files is essential.”

“I see.” Betty furrowed her brow. “Well, I can call the company again and see if they can hop to it. I know Wil Gladston, and he should be able to pull a string or two.”

Dory reached out to touch Betty’s arm. “A couple of days more won’t make or break my situation. Everyone knew I’d be off grid for a while. And everyone knows I’m moving. At least we’re not under a tight deadline pressure right now.”

“If you’re sure,” Betty said. “Things happen so differently in a small town, you know. Nobody’s in a rush without a reason. I’m sure if I explained about your job...”

Dory shook her head. “It’s all right,” she insisted. “I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy, and I can check email on your connection, as you said.”

She decided it was time to change the subject. She didn’t want Betty worrying about her. “So this guy with the dogs? You said he has ostriches? Really?”

Betty’s face smoothed, and a grin was born. “Two of ’em. Nasty critters.”

“Then why does he have them?”

“He doesn’t know.” Betty laughed. “It’s such a funny story. Cadell’s dad died unexpectedly. When Cadell came home for the funeral, he found he’d not only inherited the ranch, but those damn ostriches, as well. No clue why or how they got there.” She leaned forward a bit, still grinning. “Now I gotta tell you, that man is patient beyond belief and seldom cusses. But those birds can wind him up enough to cuss a blue streak. A very inventive blue streak. A show well worth watching.”

Dory was smiling herself, verging on a laugh. “Why doesn’t he get rid of them?”

“You think he hasn’t tried? Oh, my.” Betty threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll let him tell you. It’s a story and a half.”

Several hours later as she dressed to go meet this K-9 guy with Betty, Dory wondered why she should need protection. Her brother always had been good to Dory before that night. More tolerant than most brothers that age with a girl of seven. Their relationship had been warm and loving.

Until that night. Every time she remembered him standing there drenched in blood, holding out his hand, holding a bloody knife, she wondered what his intentions had been. Would he have killed her, too? She still didn’t understand why he’d killed her parents. Or how it was he hadn’t gotten a life sentence.

But all those unanswered questions ate at her, and the nightmares proved that she was afraid of him to this day. Maybe that fear was groundless, but he had killed their parents and offered no good explanation for any of it that she had ever heard, not even much later when she was old enough to ask the questions.

Impatient with herself, she yanked on a polo shirt to go with her jeans and tried to look forward to seeing the nasty ostriches. And the dogs. She’d always liked dogs.

Just one step at a time, one day at a time, until her emotional upset settled once again. She’d be fine.

* * *

CADELL MARCUS STOOD near the ostrich pen, eyeing his pair of nemeses with restrained dislike. Except for some pretty feathers, these were the ugliest-looking birds he’d ever seen. He was a tall man, but they towered over him, a fact they never seemed to let him forget. Dinosaurs. Why weren’t they extinct?

But there they stood, edged into the small pen he sometimes needed to use because, occasionally, despite ostrich demands, he needed his corral for things besides them.

Nor did he ever let himself forget those birds could kick him to death with a few blows. Not that they tried, but they’d sure given him the evil eye often enough, and when they stopped being scared of him and quit hunkering down, they had discovered great delight in pecking at his cowboy hats. Two expensive ones had bitten the dust before he’d realized what he really needed was a football helmet when he came within six feet.

He’d rounded them up into the small pen today, because Betty Cassell was bringing that friend of hers out to see about a guard dog. Betty had given him only the sketchiest of accounts as to why she felt it necessary, so he hoped he’d get more of the story when they arrived.

In the meantime...those damn ostriches would have to behave whether they liked it or not. At least the electrified fencing contained them. He couldn’t imagine trying to catch them if they ever got out. He’d need Mike Windwalker, the veterinarian, with his magic dart gun.

They were glaring at him now. He glared back. “You two don’t know how lucky you are that I don’t send you to a boot factory.”

He finally heard a motor approaching and the sound of tires on the gravel. Both birds redirected their attention and backed up, settling low to the ground in a protective posture. “Stay that way,” he suggested, then went to greet his guests.

A smile lit his face the instant he saw Betty. Something about her always made him smile. But the woman who climbed out the other side of the car made him catch his breath. He wouldn’t have thought a living woman could have the face of a Botticelli angel, complete with long blond hair, but this one did. She caught and held his gaze until he realized he was being rude.

Then he saw the rest of her. Oh, man, no angel could have a body like that. Or at least shouldn’t, because it caused an immediate firestorm in him, jeans and loose blue polo shirt notwithstanding.

“Hey, Cadell,” Betty called with a wave.

Cadell gathered himself with effort, mentally whipped himself back into line and focused on her. He approached with outstretched hand. “Good to see you, Betty.”

“Same here,” she said, shaking his hand. “And this is my friend Dory Lake.”

He turned and could no longer avoid looking at her. Simply breathtaking. With blue eyes the color of a summer sky. At one glance she made him feel dusty, unkempt and out of his league.

But she smiled warmly and extended her hand. When he reached for it, the touch was electric. “I heard about your ostriches.”

“Not everything, I’m sure.” Well, at least he could still talk, and the ostriches provided a bridge over his reaction to her. Never had a woman left him feeling so...well, hell, he was a cop. No one, male or female, ever left him gobsmacked.

Until now.

“Betty said you inherited the birds with the ranch?”

His grin returned. “Yup. I have no idea where they came from, just that apparently my dad had been taking care of them. Long enough to put in electrified fencing so they can’t escape. So there they are.” He turned and pointed to the pen. “Don’t get too close—they peck.”

She smiled, a beautiful expression. “Betty says you want to get rid of them?”

“To a good home somewhere the climate will suit them better. So far, no takers.”

“I have to confess I had no idea how big they are,” Dory said.

“Eight feet or so at maturity. Say, let’s go look at the dogs. They make much better company.”

He could feel the evil eyes following him as he led the ladies around his two-story ranch house to the dog run and kennels out back. At the moment he had six in various stages of training, mostly Belgian Malinois, but a German shepherd had joined the mix. In all he had ten kennels with access to fenced areas behind. It would have been unkind to expect them to live on concrete with their messes.

The dogs stood immediately, curious, ears pricked attentively. No barking, no crazy antics. Training showed.

He waited while the ladies looked them over, then Dory surprised him, pointing at the shepherd. “That’s a different breed.”

“Most people don’t even notice,” he answered. “Yeah, he’s a German shepherd. The others are Belgian Malinois, sometimes called Belgian shepherds.”

She looked at him with those blue eyes. “Do they behave differently?”

“A bit. The Malinois can be stubborn. He needs a good handler, but he’s also more powerful than he looks. A great police dog. But the shepherd is more obedient, so...” He shrugged. “I’ve worked with both breeds over the last decade or so, and I love them both. Either breed would make you a good guard dog, but they’re energetic. I hope you like to jog.”

Her smiled dawned, and he felt his heart skip. Too much perfection?

“As it happens, I jog every day. Two or three miles. Would that be enough?”

“Like anything else, the faster you go, the faster they tire. They’ve got a lot of endurance, though, which is why they’re such good working dogs. Both are also courageous to a fault.”

He watched her look from dog to dog almost pensively. He pointed to two on the right end of the kennels. “Those two are almost ready to join the force as K-9s. Their handlers are about to finish training with them. But the other four are at various points in training, and any would make a good guard dog quite quickly.”

She nodded. “Which would you recommend for a computer geek who can forget the time of day half the time?”

Cadell couldn’t suppress a laugh. “The shepherd would lie at your feet and give you soulful looks. The Malinois might poke you with his nose to get your attention. But...they can all be mischievous. No guarantees on that.”

He didn’t expect her to decide just by looking, so he opened two of the kennels, freeing the shepherd and one Malinois. Far from racing away along the dog run, they stepped out, surveyed the newcomers, then politely sniffed both Betty and Dory. Once their immediate curiosity was satisfied, both sat on their haunches and waited expectantly.

“I’ve never seen dogs so well trained,” Dory exclaimed.

“Most people don’t want to be jumped on,” Cadell replied. “They will if you want them to, but I don’t recommend it. Hold out your hand palm up. Once they’ve sniffed it, you should be able to pet them.”

* * *

DORY LOVED THE look of both dogs. Something about their eyes, at once alert and...empathetic? Did dogs feel empathy? She had no idea, but she was drawn to squat down so they were at eye level. Both dogs met her gaze steadily, which surprised her. She held out both hands, one to each dog, and as promised got nosed. Only then did she reach out to bury her fingers in their thick coats.

She’d never had a pet, she knew next to nothing about what she was getting into, but she knew in that instant that she very much wanted one of these dogs. She had the worst urge to wrap her arms around both their necks and hug them.

Amazed by her own response, one she almost never felt with people, she sat back on her heels and tried to regain her composure. “They’re both beautiful. I have to decide right now?”

“Of course not,” Cadell answered. “But it might help if we went out in the paddock and played a bit with them. They have different personalities, just like people do. One of them will catch your eye more than the other.”

So, for a little while, Dory forgot everything else as they played fetch with tennis balls and tug with a twisted rope. In the end she settled on the Malinois. Yeah, she could see the mischief in him, but she loved his coloration, a dark muzzle and legs that looked like they were cased in dark socks. There was something else, too, something that happened when their eyes met. It was almost as if the dog were saying, “I’m yours.”

Crazy, she thought, but she announced her decision. A Malinois it would be. As she turned toward Cadell to tell him, a smile on her lips, she saw the heat in his gaze. Quickly shuttered, but not so quickly she didn’t feel a responsive heat in herself.

She swiftly looked to the dog that had stapled itself to the side of her leg. Cadell Marcus was a very attractive man. Well built, a strong face and a great smile. He stood there in his sweatshirt, hands on narrow jean-clad hips, waiting, and she didn’t dare look at him again.

These kinds of feelings frightened her almost as much as her nightmares. She was broken, she thought as she stroked the dog’s head. Broken in so many ways, and all those ways led back to George. A spark of anger stiffened her spine.

“This one,” she said to Cadell.

He smiled. “You’re already a pair. He really likes you. Great choice. We can start training you right now, if you like.”

“Training me?” she asked, surprised.

“Training you,” he repeated. “All we’re going to do is ask him to use his native personality and skills for your benefit. But you need to know how to bring that out of him.”

Looking down at the dog, she felt a real eagerness to get started, to develop a relationship with him. “Sure. What’s his name?”

“Flash. But you can call him something else if you want.”

She smiled again. “Flash is a good name, especially since I’m a geek.”

He laughed and turned toward Betty. “It’ll be a couple of hours. If you want to stay, there’s coffee and snacks in the kitchen.”

Betty glanced at her watch. “I’ll be back about twelve thirty, okay? You two have fun.”

Cadell waved and returned his attention to Dory, leaving her inexplicably breathless. “Let’s go,” he said.

* * *

NEARLY A THOUSAND miles away in a Missouri state prison, George Lake sat in the yard enjoying the taste of sun. Two more days and he’d be out of here. He had to school himself to patience.

At least no one bothered him anymore. He’d grown strong and tough here, and he intended to take both away with him. He would also take distrust. He knew better than to tell even his friends here what he had in mind. Any one of them could blab, and this time no one was going to be able to link him to what he had planned.

So he sat there smiling, turning his face up to the welcome sun. Life was about to become so good. Just one little hitch ahead of him.

“Say, man,” said a familiar voice. Ed Krank sat beside him.

“Hey,” George answered, opening his eyes just briefly to assess the yard for building trouble. There were no warnings.

“So whatcha gonna do? Man, I can’t believe you’re getting out in two days. How can you stand waiting?”

“I’ve been waiting for twenty-five years. Two days look short.” Which was a lie. Right now they looked endlessly long.

“They don’t give you much when you leave here,” Ed remarked. “You got something lined up?”

“Sure do.”

“Good for you. Somebody said you had some money.”

George managed not to stiffen. He knew where that came from. Even the oldest news got passed around here relentlessly, because there was so little new to talk about. Money had been mentioned in the papers long ago. “Anything I inherited they took away from me when I was convicted. No, man, nothing like that.”

“Too bad.”

Except that he’d been using the computers at the prison library when he could and had been tracking his little sister’s life. She still had most of the life insurance, because she’d gotten money for the house, too. And she apparently had a tidy little business going.

If something happened to her, say, something deadly, he’d be her only heir. This time he’d get it, because this time he was determined that they weren’t going to link him to any of it.

Oh, he’d learned a lot of lessons here, just listening, occasionally acting.

Dory might have disappeared a couple of weeks ago, but he’d find her. She had to surface online again, and he’d spent some time in classes learning how to use those skills, as well.

He’d find her. Then he just had to make it look like an accident.

“I’ll be fine,” he told Ed, not that he cared what Ed thought about it one way or another. “I made some plans.”

Ed laughed. “Got plenty of time in here to make plans.”

“No kidding,” George answered, smiling. “There’s work waiting for me.” He just wasn’t going to say what kind.

“Good for you,” Ed said approvingly. “I’m getting out in eight months. Maybe you can set up a job for me.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” But he had no intention of that. Remove Dory, get his inheritance and then get the hell out of this country.

Closing his eyes, he imagined himself sitting on a beach, with plenty of beautiful women wandering around.

Oh, yeah. Not much longer.

But between here and there lay Dory. Such a shame, he thought. If she’d just stayed in bed like she was supposed to, he could have slipped away and covered his tracks. Neither of them would have had to endure this hell.

But she had disobeyed a strict rule, had come down those stairs and walked in on him. She wouldn’t even listen when he tried to tell her he’d gotten rid of the bad man.

Instead she had run screaming into the streets, and soon the night had been filled with lights spilling from houses, people running to help her, and cop cars. He’d tried to run, but it was too late to cover his tracks. She was to blame for that. Her and no one else.

So, she’d get what was coming to her. He’d paid for his crimes, and now he deserved the life he should have had all along. Instead she owned it all.

Well, he was just going to have to change that. Given the group she worked for, it wouldn’t be long before he located her.

Then he’d have to figure out how to cause her a fatal accident.

He almost felt a twinge for the little girl she used to be, but the intervening years had hardened any softness that might have been left in him, and she was no longer a little girl who sat on his lap for a bedtime story. No, she was grown now, and not once had she written or tried to visit him.

It was all over between them. Well, except for ending her existence the way he’d ended their parents’. Only much more cleanly, making sure it didn’t look like murder.

His smile widened a bit. He’d bet she thought he’d forgotten all about her. Stupid woman. She’d cost him everything.

Chapter Two

Two hours later, Dory sat in the middle of the dog run, laughing while Flash licked her face. “He doesn’t wear out!”

“Not easily,” Cadell agreed. “I guess he’s chosen you, too. He needs a little more training with you to cement his role, but if you want you can take him back to Betty’s with you.”

“She has three cats!”

“They might not like it, but Flash will leave them alone. Okay, I’ll keep him here for now. I wouldn’t mind tightening up his training some more.” He dropped down onto the ground beside her, knees up slightly, arms hanging loosely over them. “Betty told me a bit about what’s going on. Want to talk a little?”

She tensed. Here she’d been having such a good time, and now this popped up. She wanted to resent him for it but could understand his curiosity. After all, he was training a guard dog for her. “Will it help?”

He caught her gaze and held it, an electric moment that conveyed compassion, as well. “Up to you, but I usually like to know what kind of threats my dogs will be working on. It allows me to hone their training. A bomb-sniffing dog doesn’t always make a good attack dog.”

She nodded slowly, looking down at her crossed legs and Flash’s head, now settled comfortably on her lap. Her fingers were buried in his scruff, the massaging movement comforting him as well as her. Dang dog was magical, she thought.

Finally she sighed. “Betty probably told you the important parts. My older brother killed our parents. I was seven and I walked in on it. Anyway, somehow he only got twenty-five years, not life, and he’s getting out soon.”

She turned to look at him again, her voice becoming earnest. “I have no reason to think he’ll be the least interested in finding me. I haven’t seen or talked to him since that night. He never even wrote me from prison. But...I’m having a lot of nightmares at night, and no matter how much I tell myself...”

“You still can’t quite believe he’s not a threat to you,” he completed. “Hardly surprising, given what you saw him do.” He paused. “So he never once tried to get in touch with you all these years?”

She couldn’t understand why that appeared to bother him. “No. Which means he isn’t interested in me at all. He’s probably all but forgotten me.”

“Maybe so, but I guess your subconscious isn’t buying it.”

In spite of herself, she emitted a short laugh. “Apparently not. I feel so silly sometimes. Nightmares every night? And now a guard dog. That’s over-the-top.”

He shook his head a little. “I don’t think it’s over-the-top. Nothing wrong with having a guard dog around, not for anyone. At the very least, Flash will be good company.”

She looked down at the dog she was petting. “He sure will be. He’s wonderful. Petting him feels good.”

“It feels good to him, too. But you’ll have to work him every day so he doesn’t turn couch potato on you.”

Astonishment filled her. “Couch potato? Him?”

“Well, I don’t mean he’s going to get lazy. But he needs to remain sharp, so every day you’re going to have to work with him for at least a half hour. Can you do that?”

“Sure. It’ll be fun for both of us.”

He smiled. “Good. You’ll be a great handler for him. He likes the work, you know. For him it’s a fun game. Now let’s get busy on the attack training. I’m going to put on my padded suit, and you’re going to make him attack me.”

She felt perplexed. “But he knows you and likes you! Why would he attack you?”

“Because it doesn’t matter that he knows me. Protecting you is all that’s going to matter. When you tell him to attack, he’ll attack. It’s not his job to make decisions like that, but to take care of you. You’ll see.”

She still hesitated, concerned. “Does he know how to attack?”

“We’ve been practicing. Now it’s time to get serious.”

He rose in a single easy movement and went down the run to a shed at the end, disappearing inside. When he returned he wore thick padding on both arms.

Even so, that didn’t seem like a whole lot of padding. Flash recognized it immediately and rose to his feet, tail wagging. Dory stood, too.

“He’s been practicing on a dummy,” Cadell said. “Now he gets the real thing.”

They left the run and went out to a paddock, where the two ostriches stared at them over a fence. “Tell him what to do right now,” Cadell said mildly.

Dory hesitated, then remembered. “Flash, heel.”

The dog immediately came to stand alertly beside her. In all her life, she was sure she had never seen such an incredibly well-behaved dog. He was now still, watchful and right where she wanted him.

“Now you’re not going to tell him to attack,” Cadell said. “For that I don’t like to use such an obvious word, one that he could hear in ordinary speech. It’s not only tone that matters. They can pick words right out of a conversation. Now, some dog trainers don’t worry about that, but I do. I don’t want officers getting in trouble because someone is claiming to have been attacked and the dog reacts somehow.”

She nodded, her heart beating nervously. “I understand.” But she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to command this dog to attack.

“The word I use is fuss. Long u sound. Like foos.”

Her sense of humor poked its head up. “I hope I remember that when I need it.”

“Well...” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “We’ll practice until it becomes natural. But since you’re going to start with a very simple command every night when you go to bed, or when you take him out, he’ll know what to do even if he doesn’t hear the word.”

“Meaning?” She began to feel confused.

“If you tell him to guard, he will. And he won’t always need an attack command to protect you. He’s capable of evaluating a threat that gets too close. This is for when something is a little farther away and he might not see it as a threat to you immediately.”

“Ah, okay.” Now she was beginning to understand.

He patted her shoulder with his padded mitt. “It’s about to all come together. I’m going to walk away about twenty feet. You’re going to give the guard command. Then I’m going to turn around and point a toy gun at you. Pay attention to what happens as I approach you.”

Okay, she thought. She could do this. “Flash, guard,” she said. She felt the dog shift a little beside her but didn’t look down at him.

About twenty paces away, Cadell turned around. He held a gun in right hand, but it was pointed down. Flash didn’t stir a muscle. Step by step Cadell approached. At ten feet he raised the gun and pointed it at her. Flash didn’t need another command. He took off like a shot and bit into the padding on Cadell’s right forearm.

“My God,” Dory whispered. She’d had no idea. The dog clung to that threatening arm and wouldn’t let go even as Cadell tried to shake him off and whirled in circles, lifting Flash’s feet from the ground.

“Stop him,” Cadell finally said.

“Flash, release,” Dory ordered, remembering the command he had taught her to make the dog drop his toy. Flash obeyed immediately, looking at her. “Heel.”

He trotted over to her, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Now the reward,” Cadell said.

Which was the yellow tennis ball. She told him he was a good boy as she gave him the ball. Flash chewed on it a few times, then dropped it at her feet, begging for her to throw it, so she did. He raced happily after it.

“It’s just that simple,” Cadell said, watching her as much as he watched the dog. “A few more steps, a couple of days of practice and he’ll do anything for you.”

She squatted, encouraging Flash to come back to her. “How do I let him know it’s okay not to be on guard?”

“Throw his ball. That means playtime.”

So simple, she thought. And so amazingly complex all at the same time. Beautiful, too, she thought as she hugged the Malinois. The dog already made her feel safer. What’s more, he made her feel as if she weren’t quite as alone.

* * *

AFTER DORY LEFT with Betty, Cadell spent the afternoon working with two more officers who were training to become handlers. What they needed was more complex than what Dory needed, and the training was going to take a little longer. Simple fact was, while a civilian could get in some trouble for a misbehaving dog, a cop could have his career ruined. Or the department could be sued. Plus, these guys went into a wider variety of situations, situations that required tracking, rescuing and so on. Dory wouldn’t need all those skills.

When he finished that up, he ate a quick dinner, then headed into the sheriff’s office to do his shortened shift. On training days, he worked as a deputy for no more than four hours.

Before he left, he took time to feed the ostriches their very expensive feed and open up their pen so they had more room for roaming. Neither of them appeared appreciative.

He and his dog Dasher, also a Malinois, drove into town in his official vehicle and parked near the office. Inside, they found the place quietly humming. Another placid night in Conard County, evidently. He was surprised sometimes how much he enjoyed the relief from the much higher activity level of Seattle. Must be getting old, he thought with an inward smile. Yeah, like thirty-five was ancient.

Dasher settled beside his desk, tucked his nose between his paws and just watched. Since nothing seemed to be happening, he used the computer on his desk to look up the story of Dory Lake and her brother. He felt no qualms about discovering what he could from public records about that incident. He wasn’t snooping, but he’d be learning what she had faced and would get a much better threat assessment than Dory’s, which seemed to be somewhere between terror and dismissal.

He wasn’t surprised to find a twenty-five-year-old case still accessible. The basic police report would be available for many years to come in case George Lake ever got into trouble again. It was nice, however, to find it had all been digitized. Newspaper archives were also ready and waiting.

So Dory, just turned seven, had been found screaming in the middle of the street at nearly 2:00 a.m. Neighbors had come running and called the police, who arrived in time to catch George Lake trying to flee the scene. Open-and-shut as far as George was concerned. He’d wiped the murder weapon, but he was far too drenched in blood to claim innocence. For some reason, not clearly explained, he’d been offered a plea bargain for twenty-five years. Drugs appeared to be involved, and the father had been abusive. He guessed the prosecutor couldn’t pull together enough to uphold a first-degree murder charge, so George had accepted a bargain down to twenty-five. Without a trial, there was very little in the record to explain any of this.

But what stuck with him was a newspaper account. Apparently, when Dory had stopped screaming, the only words she had said for nearly a year were red paint.

God. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, seeing it all too clearly. The child had been well and truly traumatized. There was even a mention of hysterical blindness, a conversion disorder, but that hadn’t lasted as long as her refusal to speak.

She’d been taken in by her godparents and raised by them, so no additional trauma from foster care, but what difference did that make after what she’d seen? No one, at least in these files, knew exactly how much she had seen, but it was clearly enough to be shrieking in the middle of the road and rendered dumb for nearly a year.

Except for red paint.

He’d seen a lot of bad stuff during his career, but the thought of little Dory in the middle of the street...well, the story was enough to break his heart.

As for her mixture of feelings about George...well, that was settled in his mind when he read that Dory had received the entire—very large—insurance payout and all the rest of the property. George might be feeling cheated. In fact, Cadell was inclined to believe he was. He’d lost his entire inheritance because he’d been convicted of killing his parents. He might be thinking he could get some of that back. Make Dory pay him to leave her alone.

Or maybe worse. Because it occurred to him that if Dory died, her only heir would be her brother...and if he weren’t linked to her death...

Hell. He switched over to the reports menu and tried to shake the ugly feelings.

Being a cop had made him a much more suspicious man by nature. Sometimes he had to pull himself back and take a colder view, stifle his feelings and use his brain.

But his gut was telling him this wasn’t good at all.

* * *

DORY WAS ALL excited about Flash when she saw Betty again that afternoon. “I feel like a kid at Christmas,” she confided. “That dog is wonderful. I fell in love instantly.”

Betty laughed and poured the coffee. “I knew a dog was a good idea. He’ll brighten your days even if you never need him.”

“I need him already,” Dory admitted. “I’m so used to living in a world that exists only on my computer I’d forgotten a few other things might be nice. A friend like you, a dog like Flash.”

“A man like Cadell,” Betty remarked casually.

It took a second for Dory to catch on. “Betty! Are you trying to matchmake?”

“Never.” Betty grinned at her. “I just meant you should give him a chance to be a friend. He’s been in town for a year now, and I haven’t heard anything but kind words about him. So I’m fairly certain you can trust him...as a friend. But I ought to warn you—grapevine has it that he had a messy divorce and he doesn’t even date.”

Dory shifted uncomfortably. She was well aware that Betty felt she cut herself off too much from the real world. And not just because of her job.

But trust didn’t come easily to her. It hadn’t since that night. It had even taken her godparents a while to get past the barriers that had slammed in place back then. If she hadn’t already known and loved them, it might never have happened. Betty was the unique exception, worming her way past ice and stone and into Dory’s heart.

“I’ll try, Betty,” she said eventually. “But I tend to get stubborn if I feel pushed.” And anyway, she hadn’t missed Betty’s warning about Cadell’s aversion to women. Which suited her fine.

“Tell me about it, girl.” Then Betty laughed. “No pushing. Just saying Cadell’s a nice guy and you can trust him. I’d never advise you to reach for more than that. Anyway, I’ve got some women friends you’d probably like, too, but you notice I haven’t invited them over since you arrived.”

Instantly Dory felt ashamed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to disrupt your life. You should just keep living the way you always do. If I get uncomfortable, I can take a walk. And I’ll be in my new place soon. I can go tonight if you want.”

Betty sat straight up. “What makes you think I want you to go? Cut it out. I love having you here. Anyway, you’re not moving until Cadell gives you a dog.” Pause. “When is George getting out?”

“Tomorrow, I think. Or maybe the next day.” She looked down. “You’d think the date would be engraved in my memory, considering what it’s doing to me.”

Betty’s face tightened. “Then you’re definitely staying with me. You need someone around when the nightmares disturb you. Maybe the dog will help once you have him. I hope so. But in the meantime, you’re not going anywhere.”

“They’re just dreams,” Dory protested, although neither her heart nor her gut entirely believed it. Her brother was a living, breathing monster, not some fantasy creature. She might never see him again. In fact, she hoped she never did. But as long as she was alive, he rode in the cold seas of her memory, a very real threat.

Later, as she helped Betty make dinner, she made up her mind. She was moving tomorrow. She’d dealt with the nightmares all her life. Maybe not as bad as they were right now, but she’d dealt with them. She could continue to deal with them.

But she wasn’t going to turn Betty into some kind of shut-in for her own benefit. No way. The woman had a life here and deserved to enjoy it. As for herself, well, even though George might be released tomorrow, there was no possible way for him to get here tomorrow. Or even the next day.

And she still couldn’t imagine any reason why he’d ever want to see her again. They’d been close when she was little. He’d held her on his lap and read to her to distract her from their parents’ fighting. But that had been a very long time ago. After twenty-five years, there was nothing left to put back together. Nothing.

Besides, whoever she had thought her brother was when she was little, he’d shattered all that one night in the kitchen. No way those shards would ever fit together again.

* * *

IN THE MORNING she drove herself out to Cadell’s ranch for another training session. Betty had a meeting to attend, but having been to the ranch once, Dory didn’t have any trouble finding the place. She loved driving down the battered county roads in the open places, looking at the mountains that appeared to jut up suddenly from nowhere. The land rolled, hinting at foothills, but these mountains looked as if they had been dropped there, not developed slowly over eons. Maybe that was just perspective, but she stored it in her mind for use someday in her art.

Cadell was waiting for her when she pulled up. He sat in a rocker on his wide front porch and stood immediately. The day was exquisite, Dory thought as she climbed out of her car. Warm but not hot, tickled by a gentle breeze. The kind of day where it was possible just to feel good to be alive.

“Howdy,” he said from the top of the steps. Today he wore a long-sleeved tan work shirt, sleeves rolled up, and jeans. “You want to get straight to work or do you have time for some coffee first?”

He probably wanted coffee himself, and while she was in a hurry, wanting to get her move taken care of during the afternoon, she decided to be polite. The man was doing her a big favor, after all.

Inside, his house was welcoming, showing signs that he was doing some renovation.

“Excuse my mess,” he said as they went to the kitchen. “My dad kind of let things go the last few years, and I couldn’t get away for long enough to really take this place in hand.”

“I don’t mind. So you grew up here?”

“Yup. Left when I was twenty for the law enforcement academy, then I took a job in Seattle.”

She sat at the table and watched him as he moved around digging out mugs and pouring coffee. Man, was he built. She wished he’d just sit down so her eyes wouldn’t be drawn like a magnet.

“This must seem awfully tame after Seattle.”

“I like that part.” Smiling, he brought her coffee. Sugar and milk were already on the table. “I get to spend more time with the dogs.”

“And ostriches,” she dared to tease.

He laughed and sat across from her. “And ostriches,” he agreed.

“So no idea how they came to be here?”

He shook his head. “Dad had enough time to set up the electrified fencing, but the vet, Mike Windwalker, tells me he only had them a couple of months before he passed. Mike had no idea where they came from, either—Dad just asked for his advice on keeping them healthy. Once. I wish he’d mentioned them when we talked on the phone, but he never did.”

“Maybe he thought he wouldn’t have them for long.”

He shook his head a little. “Possible, I suppose, but that fencing...well, yeah, he’d have needed to do something quick to keep them from escaping. I’d love to know where they came from, but when I ask around, nobody seems to know a thing.”

A smile suddenly split his face. “In a way it was funny. I got the call that Dad had passed, and as I was packing to get out here, I got a second call that left me floored. It was from Mike, the vet. He said he’d take care of the ostriches for a few days so not to worry. I’m standing there holding the phone with my jaw dropped. Ostriches?”

A giggle escaped Dory. “That’d be a shocker.”

“Believe it. And I was no less shocked when I got here and found out how ornery they are.” He paused. “Okay, maybe that’s just my feeling and I ought to give them more of a chance. But they’ve already killed two of my favorite hats, and I don’t much like being pecked whenever they feel like it. I’m hoping we can eventually reach a truce.”

She glanced out his window and saw the two ostriches in the small pen not far away. They weren’t especially cuddly looking, even now when they were just looking around. “Are they hard to care for?”

“I have to special-order feed for them. One of the big pet food companies also makes food for zoos, so that helps. Special ostrich blend. And in the winter when it gets too cold, I need to keep them in the barn.”

“So they don’t have to be in a warm climate all the time?”

“Evidently not.” He sighed, half smiling, an attractive man comfortable in his own skin. She envied him that. Had she ever felt comfortable within herself, apart from her work? “I really would like to give them to someone who actually wants them.”

“Wants them as pets?”

“Not likely. As far as I can tell, they weren’t hand raised as babies. Or maybe they just don’t like me.” He shrugged. “But I won’t sell them for meat or leather. Betty keeps reminding me that ostriches are worth thousands of dollars, but I’m not looking for that. There’s a market for their eggs, though, a very expensive market, so I’m just trying to find someone who wants them for that, or for breeding. Although some days I think they’d make fine boots.”

She laughed, delighted by his self-deprecating humor. “Are they really troublesome?”

He leaned back, turning his coffee cup slowly on the table with one hand. “In all fairness, no. If they were parakeet-sized, they’d be cool. They’re not doing a darn thing birds don’t do. They’re just doing it in a much bigger way.”

She laughed again. “I had a parakeet when I was ten. You have my sympathy. My bird liked to peck.”

“These like to peck, too. It can be painful.”

“And costly in terms of hats, you said?”

“Two of my favorites, gone.” He suddenly grinned. “Come on, let’s go work with Flash.”

Her own eagerness surprised her, but it shouldn’t have. Since she awoke this morning, she’d been impatient to see Flash again. She was already coming to love that dog, she realized. She hoped Cadell judged her ready to take him with her soon.

Then it struck her: she had no way yet to care for Flash. No food, no bowls, no bed, no leash...wow. She needed to take care of that fast.

She mentioned that to Cadell as they stepped out back through his mudroom. “I feel silly for not taking care of it yesterday.”

He shook his head. “Every dog here has his own bowls and leashes, and they go with him. Same with his favorite toy. As for a bed...he’ll sleep just about anywhere you let him, but I’m warning you, if you invite him onto the bed, he may claim possession.”

That elicited another laugh from her, and amazement wafted through her again. She hadn’t felt this good since she got the news about George. Her spirits were up, her confidence was high—all because of one dog trainer and a dog named Flash.

She wondered how long that would last.

He paused halfway to the dog run and faced her. “You can love him, Dory. Just don’t spoil him. Remember, he’s a working dog, and working makes him happy. Keep his training fresh and establish your boundaries. Then you’ll have a great relationship.”

She nodded and followed him, thinking that was probably good advice for people, too.

Flash’s tail wagged fast, and she could have sworn he grinned at her as they approached. Excited or not, however, he didn’t misbehave, and when released from his kennel, he merely nosed her hand in greeting. Dory, however, was a little more exuberant, squatting to rub his neck and sides. “You’re a beautiful boy,” she heard herself saying. Talking to a dog?

But as she looked into Flash’s warm brown eyes, it suddenly felt right. She suspected this dog understood more than she would ever know.

She looked up at Cadell and found him smiling affectionately down at her and the dog. “Okay,” he said, “let’s go. Maybe you can take him home with you today.”

* * *

CADELL REALIZED HE was developing a problem. His attraction to Dory wouldn’t quit. Yes, she’d caught his eye with her almost ethereal beauty, but that should have worn off quickly. It wasn’t as if she was the only beautiful woman he had ever seen.

No, something about her was reaching deeper than mere superficial attraction, and that wasn’t good. He had years of experience in a lousy marriage to teach him that even cop groupies didn’t necessarily like being married to a cop. The endless complaints that had assaulted him after the first six months of marriage should have been lesson enough. If something kept him late and he missed dinner, an explosion would result. If he had to break a date because of his job, he found no understanding. Sometimes he’d wondered if the woman would be glad if he never came home from one of his shifts.

It wasn’t his safety that had worried her. No, she was annoyed that his job interfered with her life, and that was not a happy way to live, for either of them.

In the process he’d learned that love could die fast with the wrong person, and that was painful all by itself. Since his divorce, finally agreed to when the fighting became almost constant after a few years, he’d avoided entanglements. He didn’t know whether he was guilty of lousy judgment—although as a cop his judgment was usually pretty good—or whether he was just poison. Brenda had turned into a woman he didn’t recognize, and he wondered if that was his doing.

Anyway, even in his new job the unexpected happened. A search for a missing person could keep him from home for days, often without warning. And that was only one example. So...he judged it best to avoid long-term affairs. Maybe later in life, he told himself. Maybe when he retired from being a cop and devoted himself to the dog-training school he was slowly starting. Maybe after he got rid of those dang ostriches.

He enjoyed helping Dory run Flash through his paces, though. As the sun rose higher, with frequent breaks for Flash to lap water, he watched the woman and dog bond more securely. From his perspective, Flash had totally given his loyalty to Dory. He was already crazy about her.

There was no better protection than that. But there was still her brother. Unease niggled at Cadell. While a trained dog was great, it wasn’t a perfect solution. There were always ways around a dog if you thought about it—usually a bullet.

When they were done with training and Dory sat on the hard ground to play tug with Flash for a little while, Cadell dropped beside her and stretched out, propping himself on an elbow.

“You ever marry?” he asked, mainly because if she told him she’d had a lousy marriage he could hope she’d have as many reasons to avoid involvement as he had. One thing for sure—with this woman he was going to need a lot of protection for himself. Everything about her appealed to him.

“No,” she answered as she threw the knotted rope and Flash leaped into the air to catch it. Her reply was remarkable in its brevity. Interestingly, she didn’t ask him, which would have been the usual conversational flow.

He decided to plunge in anyway. An understated warning to both of them. “I was,” he said.

Her attention returned to him as Flash brought the rope back to her and dropped it in her lap. “Flash, down,” she said. All of this was coming naturally to her, and he smiled. Flash obeyed immediately, head still high and curious. “Not good?” she asked.

“Awful,” he said frankly.

“I’m sorry.”

He wondered if he should tell her more, then decided to go for it. She’d gotten his attention enough in so many ways that he was going to be checking up on her frequently. Officer Friendly, as long as George might be a threat.

“My wife, Brenda, was a cop groupie.” He watched her eyes widen. “Now, a smart cop knows that’s dangerous, that most of those women just want a notch on the headboard. But Brenda seemed different. Maybe she was. I never heard of her sleeping with any of the other guys. But she used to sit there in the bar with big eyes, encouraging us to talk, basking in as much of the camaraderie as we were willing to share with her.”

Dory nodded slowly. “I’m picturing it, but probably all wrong.”

“Probably not. Some women love the uniform, not what’s inside it. And some cops want brief affairs and one-night stands, just like the women. Consenting adults and all that. But Brenda seemed different. Unfortunately, she was.”

Dory looked down and scratched Flash behind one ear. “How so?”

“I felt drawn to her, so I started sitting with her more and more often. As we got to know each other better, I decided she was genuine and I liked her. So we started dating. Long story short, I fell in love, we got married, and six months later I started to learn how wrong I was.”

He plucked a blade of dried grass, shaking his head, then stared away from her out over the pasture to the nearby mountains. He’d had mountains in Seattle, but here...these were already special to him somehow.

“Anyway, it turned out she couldn’t stand my job. Irregular hours, broken plans. She started in on me for being unreliable, demanding I find a regular job.”

She drew an audible breath. “She called a police officer unreliable? Really?”

“In all fairness, from her perspective I probably was. I lost count of the times I missed dinner or a movie date with her. She wanted a very different kind of life, and I wanted to remain in law enforcement. So then it got truly ugly. No reason to rake it up. But I learned something.”

“Yes?”

He looked up and found her blue eyes on him. “That maybe I should just avoid marrying anyone. I sure as hell was doing something wrong, something I never seemed able to fix unless I gave up part of myself.”

Now it was her turn to look away toward the mountains. Whatever she was thinking, Flash sensed something and stirred a bit, raising his gaze to her face. Almost instinctively, she petted him.

“I never got that close to anyone,” she said after a minute or two. “I couldn’t tell you whether either or both of you were at fault.”

“I’m not asking for that,” he said quickly. “But since we’re probably going to be seeing each other quite a bit because of Flash, I thought...”

“We could be friends,” she finished for him. She turned her face toward him. “I don’t make friends, Cadell. Except for Betty. She’s the lone exception.” She closed her eyes briefly, then snapped them open. “I’m incapable of real trust. Even years of therapy didn’t help with that. So...consider me broken, which I guess I am.”

Then she rose to her feet. Flash stood, too.

Cadell gave up on trying to reach her. He’d issued the warning he’d wanted to, but evidently she didn’t need it.

Closed up, walled in, all because of something she saw as a child. He wished he could say that surprised him.

He stood, too. “Want to take Flash home with you today?”

“Betty’s cats might object.”

“I thought you were moving?”

“I almost decided to, then changed my mind. Tomorrow, when the internet is installed.”

Everything settled, returning to normal. Back to business. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll keep him for you and bring him over tomorrow.”

Flash wanted to go with her when she started toward her car, but she told him to stay. Looking forlorn, he settled on his belly and put his snout between his paws.

Dory didn’t miss the expression. “Tomorrow, Flash. I promise.”

Cadell watched her drive away, forgetting himself and standing too close to the penned ostriches. He ducked just in time and stepped away.

“Dang birds,” he said, but his mind was elsewhere. He’d just learned a lot about Dory Lake, and far from putting him off, it made him hurt for her.

Damn her brother. If that guy showed up in this county, Cadell was going to feed him to the birds. The big birds.

Chapter Three

The next morning, Betty insisted on helping Dory move many of her belongings. Most of it was computer equipment, some very heavy, but Betty brought the clothes and lighter items for the kitchen.

The house was partially furnished, which made Dory’s life easier, and already contained the items she’d had shipped here, mostly work related office furniture, including the extra battered old chair that tipped back farther than the new one. She loved to sit in it sometimes just to think. Eventually she could spiff the house or her office up if she wanted, but with most of her attention on her job, on creating graphics with her team, she was seldom more than half-aware of her surroundings.

The pile of clothes on her bed amused Betty, however. Jeans. T-shirts. More jeans. Sweatshirts. “Lord, girl, don’t you ever dress up?”

“I don’t have any need.” But Dory laughed, too. It did look odd, all together like that. Add the plain undies and the three pairs of jogging shoes and she was sure she would appall most women.

“We have to do something about your fashion sense,” Betty remarked.

“Why?” Dory asked. And that really was the question. She worked long days, she had no desire to socialize and the one man who’d managed to pierce her desire for isolation had told her he wasn’t interested because he’d had a bad marriage. She didn’t need a neon sign.

Betty followed her into her office and watched as Dory unpacked the real center of her life. “You know I love you,” she said as Dory pulled out the first of six monitors.

“I know.” She braced herself for what she was certain was coming.

“You need more of a life than your job. Won’t you at least meet one or two people I think you’d like?”

“I met Cadell,” she reminded Betty. “Nice guy. Also seriously burned by life.”

Betty sighed, then said a bit sarcastically, “Well, at least you’re a pair, then.”

“Nope,” said Dory. “Nice and all that, great dog trainer...”

“And gorgeous as hell,” Betty said bluntly. “At least tell me you’re not blind.”

Dory paused, a power cord in her hand. “Betty? Please tell me you’re not going to keep pushing me this way. Because if that’s your goal, I’ll stop unpacking right now.”

The room nearly turned to ice as Betty stared at her. Then almost as quickly as it came, the ice thawed. “No, that’s not my goal. I just worry about you. None of my business, I guess.”

Betty turned and went to get some more items from the car. Dory stared after her, realizing she had just hurt her only friend in the world.

Well, take that as a warning, she told herself. All she brought was pain. Whatever lay at her core, it was locked away forever. And that hurt other people.

She returned to setting up her office, glad to know that soon she’d been in touch with her team, the nerds who were fun and smart and never demanded she get personal about anything. A meeting of minds. Who needed a meeting of hearts?

As she turned back to her desk and began to connect more cables, she felt herself easing back into her comfortable world where she could control everything she needed to. Even her desk, shipped from her old home, seemed like a warm greeting, encouraging a new life.

Her life. Then she thought of Flash. Okay, so maybe there was more to it than the digital world she lived in.

Betty returned, her voice announcing her. She was speaking with someone, and Dory instinctively stiffened. She pivoted quickly to see Betty enter the office space with a woman wearing a tool belt.

“Dory, this is Rhonda, your cable man.”

Rhonda laughed. “I’m your cable tech person.”

Dory couldn’t help grinning. “You get that, too?”

“All the time. Say, I hear you’re into graphics design?”

Dory nodded.

“Then I’ll make sure you have the best connection this company can offer. I’m a gamer. So what graphics cards do you use?”

Betty rolled her eyes. “I’ll go get the last few things, then make some coffee. I can see what’s coming.”

Dory and Rhonda both laughed but soon were involved in the nuts and bolts of computing and bandwidth and a whole range of technical subjects. While they gabbed, Rhonda busied herself putting the connectors in the wall, testing them and then adding the routers. “The best we have,” she said, placing the two routers on the desk. “Betty kind of rattled some bars, you know? So you’ll have two broadband connections. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“As long as they’re not piggybacking and sucking up the bandwidth from each other.”

“I’ll take care of that at the junction outside. It’s wonderful how far we’re coming. A federal grant is making it possible, you know. High-speed connections in rural areas. You wouldn’t have been able to stand it here a few years ago. We were still with the dinosaurs and dial-up.”

“Oh, man, dial-up was a nightmare.”

Rhonda finished quickly, considering all she had to do inside, including hooking up Dory’s TV and converter box, and that was just the beginning. A lot more to do outside. But she took time for a quick cup of coffee with Dory and Betty before getting to it.

“Hope to see you again,” she said cheerfully to Dory before she zipped out the door.

“Nice woman,” Dory remarked and went back screwing, snapping, plugging and otherwise turning a collection of expensive hardware into two expensive, smoothly running workstations. Everything top-of-the-line. The max.

At last, though, she was able to turn everything on and test it. All good. She sent an email blast letting her team know she was back on the grid. Almost immediately her computer pinged with the arrival of emails.

She was home.

* * *

CADELL LEFT FOR work a couple of hours early, carting two dogs with him, Flash and Dasher. Dasher was eager to get to work, recognizing the backseat cage of the sheriff’s department SUV as the beginning of adventure. Flash didn’t see it that way, but he was glad to take a car ride.

He hoped he didn’t unnerve Dory, dressed as he was in his khaki uniform, gun belt and tan Stetson. Not the guy she was used to seeing in shirts with rolled-up sleeves and jeans.

He pulled into Dory’s driveway, behind a blue Honda sedan that had seen better years. The house was small and old in the way of many in this part of town, but it had been recently painted white. The driveway was two wheel paths of concrete, the sidewalk cracked but not heaving yet, and the porch from a time when porches were inviting.

Not that Dory would probably care about that. Betty had mentioned that Dory wasn’t very sociable, and that she worried about her being too deeply mired in her work.

Being mired in work was something Cadell understood perfectly, so he didn’t hold that against her. Given the woman’s background, he wasn’t even surprised that she had told him she couldn’t trust. He figured Flash would be the best therapy he could offer her. Dogs had a way of getting past defenses.

He left Dasher in the car with the engine running so the air-conditioning would keep him cool and walked Flash on a leash to the front door.

“Your new home, Flash. You take good care of it.”

He knocked. There was a doorbell, but cops never used them and the habit was impossible to break. At least he didn’t use the heel of his fist or his big flashlight to resound through the house. A normal type of knock that shouldn’t startle her.

A couple of minutes passed while he looked around the neighborhood and wondered if she had decided to take a walk. Clearly her car was here.

Then the door opened, and Dory was blinking at him. “Oh! You look so different in uniform, I almost didn’t recognize you. I’m sorry, I forgot you were coming this afternoon.”

He smiled. “Not a problem. If you want to take Flash’s leash, I’ll go get his supplies. Can’t stay—my dog’s in the car, and while it’s specially built with heavy-duty air-conditioning to keep him cool...well, I never trust it too far.”

He hesitated, holding the leash out to her. She bit her lower lip, then blurted, “Can you bring Dasher inside, too?”

He glanced at his watch and saw that he still had plenty of time to grab a bite at Maude’s Diner and get to the station. “Sure. It might help Flash feel a little more at home.”

She smiled then, a faint smile, but it reached her eyes as she accepted the leash. “These dogs are practically people to you,” she remarked.

He had turned and now looked over his shoulder. “Nah. They’re nicer than a lot of people.”

That made her laugh quietly, and the sound followed him as he went to turn off his vehicle and get Dasher. He liked her, he realized. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. Oh, hell, he didn’t need the trouble.

But he brought Dasher inside anyway and left him with Dory while he returned to the back of his car. Two bowls, a large padded bed, several tennis balls, chew toys and forty pounds of dry dog food later, he was sitting at her rickety kitchen table, watching her search her fridge for a soft drink to give him.

“So it’s true computer types drink a lot of soda?” he asked casually.

“As long as it has caffeine. I can do a good job with a pot of coffee, as well. Orange, cola or lime?”

“Orange,” he decided. “Cheetos?”

“Now that’s a stereotype too far,” she said with humor as she passed him the bottle of soda. Evidently it didn’t come with a glass in her world. “Although,” she said as she slid into the one other chair, “I did have a friend in college who loved to eat them sometimes, but she didn’t like the grit on her keyboard. So she ate them with chopsticks.”

The image drew a hearty laugh from him, and her smile deepened.

She spoke again. “Thanks for bringing all the doggy stuff. You never said, but how much do I owe you? You’re giving me a well-trained guard dog that you must have spent a lot of time on.”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m kinda thinking of Flash as an extension of my oath to serve and protect. He’s a gift, Dory, if that won’t offend you.”

Her eyes widened. “But, Cadell...”

“No buts. You can be my advertising around town, how’s that?”

Both dogs, trailing their leads, were sniffing their way around the house, checking out everything. Dory watched them for several minutes, the faint smile still on her face. After a bit she said, “I’ve never received a better gift.”

“I hope you’ll never need his finer skills.”

“Me, too.”

Silence fell. He glanced at his watch and saw he had a little longer. Somehow it didn’t feel right to just walk out.

Then Dory surprised him by asking, “What else do you teach the dogs to do? There must be a lot involved in police work.”

“Apart from what we taught Flash to do? Plenty. A dog has a wonderful nose, hundreds of times more sensitive than ours. It can follow scents that are weeks old, and even those that are high in the air. That’s an extremely useful tool in searching, particularly search and rescue.”

“Do you do a lot of search and rescue?”

“Around here? In the mountains, quite enough. Hikers, mainly. Then there are elderly people who sometimes ramble and forget where they are. Earlier this summer we had to hunt for an autistic girl. She’d wandered off, become frightened and hid in a culvert out of sight.”

“Her parents must have been terrified. My word, she must have been terrified!”

He smiled. “She didn’t trust us, but she trusted the dog.”

He watched her smile again. For a woman who had come here to escape a possible threat, and who, according to Betty, suffered from a lot of nightmares, she smiled easily. Props to her, he thought.

“Anyway,” he continued, “it’s possible to train the dogs to hunt only for specific scents, too. Like explosives. Or drugs. Or cadavers.”

Her smile faded. “Dead tissue?”

“We train them to distinguish human tissue from animal tissue, and their success rate is about ninety-five percent. They can find buried bodies a century old. And they can smell them down to at least fifteen feet, and some say up to thirty.”

Her eyes had grown wider. “So they don’t get confused?”

“No.” But he didn’t want to get into the details. Some things just didn’t need to be talked about.

She looked down, then lifted her head and drank from her own bottle of orange soda. “How do they learn all this stuff? I mean, isn’t it hard to teach them?”

“A little patience and they pick it up pretty quickly. They’re remarkable, and they’re eager to please.” Dasher came over and laid his head on Cadell’s thigh. “I think he’s ready to go to work.”

Dory popped to her feet immediately. “I’m sorry, I’ve been holding you up.”

“Actually, no. I allowed some extra time.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. “Feeding directions and all that. If you have any questions, call me. And if you don’t mind, I’ll drop by every day or so to see how you two are getting on.”

Holding the paper, she looked at him. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Cadell.”

He chuckled. “Tell me that again when you have fur all over the place. He doesn’t shed a lot, but he’s going to shed. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

He headed for the door with Dasher and heard Dory behind him telling Flash to stay. The dog needed to learn his new home. He figured Dory was going to make it easy on him.

As he climbed into his vehicle with Dasher in the cage behind him, he realized something. Betty unintentionally had painted Dory unfairly. She might not be prepared to trust people and allow them within her circle; she might be scared to death of her brother’s imminent release from prison; she might be haunted by terrible nightmares.

But Dory had grit. Real inner strength.

He liked her. He respected her. And he needed to watch his step, because he sure as hell didn’t ever want to make another woman miserable.

* * *

DORY AND FLASH regarded each other in the kitchen. She’d removed his leash, but he sat there staring up at her as if he were pleading.

She tapped the piece of paper Cadell had given her. “It says here you don’t get supper for another two hours.”

Flash lowered his head a bit.

Feeling like the wicked witch, Dory scanned the paper again. “But you can have your dental chew. What the heck is that?”

She looked at the heap of supplies in one corner of her kitchen, then rose to look through it. She discovered a plastic bag behind the huge bag of food. In it was a nubby nylon or plastic bone of some kind. Unzipping the bag, she pulled it out and turned to hold it out to Flash. “Is this what you want?”

He stared at it and licked his lips.

There could be a minor problem with a dog so well trained, she thought. Was he just going to sit there like a statue or let her know what he wanted? “Take it, Flash,” she said finally in desperation.

He apparently understood that. In one leap he reached the bone and took it from her hand with amazing delicacy before settling down to gnaw on it.

“Well, cool,” she said. “We have communication!”

Flash barely glanced at her. Almost grinning, she sat down at the table to read the directions from Cadell more carefully. From the other room she heard her email dinging, but she ignored it. Flash was more important.

She nearly giggled when she read what Cadell had typed at the top of the page: The care and feeding of your personal K-9. She wondered if he gave that to all his trainees.

Flash looked up at her, forgetting his bone for a few seconds as he wagged his tail at her. He seemed so happy right now, it was impossible not to feel the same.

* * *

LATER, AFTER SHE had caught up on email and reopened her participation in the project, she felt a nose gently prod her thigh. A glance at the clock told her it was after eleven...and she hadn’t walked Flash since he arrived.

She put her conference on hold, explaining she needed to walk her dog. Hoping she didn’t get the slew of jokes she half expected, she found Flash’s leash. The dog gave one joyful bark, then stood perfectly still while she hooked it to his collar.

That was when it struck her how late it was. Ordinarily she worked well into the night, but before she hadn’t been afraid of anything. Now she was afraid. Her brother might already be out of prison. They’d given her the exact date, but she’d run the letter through the shredder as soon as the shock had passed. She wanted nothing with his name on it.

So today. Maybe tomorrow, but most probably today. Betty knew for sure because Dory had told her, but it was too late to call and verify it.

Point was...she was suddenly frightened of the night and its secrets, a fear she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She looked at Flash and saw him watching her, not a muscle twitching. He must have felt her abrupt burst of dread.

“I shouldn’t be silly about this,” she said aloud, not entirely believing herself. “I have you, after all.”

The slightest wag of Flash’s tail. God, the dog seemed to be reading her like an open book. Could he do that?

“I promised to take good care of you. I’m sorry I didn’t walk you sooner, but do you think you could manage with just a short trip to the backyard?”

He looked agreeable, but he probably didn’t understand a word of her prattle. God, she had grown so completely unnerved for no good reason. George, even if he wanted to find her, couldn’t have located her yet. She hadn’t even needed to leave a forwarding address, because she paid all her bills online and the rest was junk. She’d established no real connections here yet except the broadband and that didn’t have her full name on it. She was truly off the grid as far as the world was concerned.

She would be very hard to find, she assured herself as she began to walk toward the back door. “Flash, heel,” she said quietly, and he walked right beside her.

Besides, she had a guard dog. Flash would make George’s life hell. So she was safe, yeah?

She just wished she could believe it.

The night beyond the door felt pregnant with threat. But it was the same backyard that had been there when she rented the place. With a locked six-foot wooden privacy fence around it. She’d know if anybody tried to get past that.

And there was Flash, of course. Oddly, however, as impressed as she was by the dog, she didn’t know if she was prepared to put her life in his paws.

God, she was losing it. Stiffening her back, she pulled the door open and let herself out with the dog. Should she unleash him?

But Flash seemed to be reading the situation well. As soon as they reached grass near a shrub, he did his business, then turned around to face the house again. He sensed she wanted to get back behind locked doors.

Tonight she was in no mood to disagree, or to even try to reason through her probably unreasonable fear. Just get back inside and give Flash a treat. Tomorrow in the daylight she could give him a longer walk, even work with him.

But not tonight. She felt as if evil lurked out there, and she didn’t want to find out if she was right.

* * *

GEORGE NEEDED MONEY to travel. Everything else was on hold until he had more than the pittance he’d received at his release late that afternoon, fourteen hours earlier than he’d expected. But then, he’d been a model prisoner, and he noticed they’d dated the paperwork for the next morning.

But he didn’t have enough money to travel on or eat while he figured out exactly how he was going to deal with Dory. The bus ticket they’d given him was nonrefundable, meant only to take him back to the place where he’d originally lived—a small suburb of Saint Louis.

He’d been given the address of a halfway house, so he went there, arriving late at night, and resigned himself to spending some time figuring out how to get his hands on some money quickly. He sure as hell didn’t intend to work any of the low-paying menial jobs they probably would point him to. He had bigger things to hunt.

Even though it was late, with his release papers he got inside the door. They showed him to a bedroom and didn’t seem particularly worried that he asked to use a computer. The residents had one in a public room downstairs. Help himself.

So he did. He was too keyed up to just go to sleep. He’d dozed on the bus anyway. The only thing about this that shocked him was his surprising discomfort at not being surrounded by walls when he’d walked from the bus to this place. Not having his every movement watched or directed.

He’d never imagined the world could feel so big, and he suspected that once tomorrow began and life resumed out there, it was going to overwhelm him with chaos. He wasn’t used to chaos anymore. The order of his days had become deeply embedded over twenty-five years.

But so had sitting at a computer and hunting for information about his sister. She had vanished from the town where she had grown up. She was reputed to be a partner in a graphics business that had no address other than a web URL and email. The godparents who had raised her were dead.

He needed to know more about her than this, but he suspected if he called people around here in their old hometown he’d meet a brick wall. Well, unless he could somehow convince them he was someone else. Not likely. He feared too many local people might remember him. Maybe not young people, but the older ones who had probably devoured all the lurid details in the newspaper and on the evening news.

With that thought in mind, he headed upstairs to his room, where his bed was ready to be made. His own room. It had been a while. Not big, but bigger than a cell, without a cell mate.

For a little while the space bothered him, but then he settled down. Room was a good thing. If he thought back very hard to his early days in the slammer, he remembered how claustrophobic he had felt. No more of that.

Now there was infinite freedom.

He needed to remember how to enjoy it. To use it.

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