Page 2 of Operation Protector
“Is he all right?” Hayley asked, sounding a little anxious. “We couldn’t see any injury that would have bled, but—”
“He’s fine. No injuries internal or external. He’s a good weight, clean and healthy.”
“So, not a stray,” Quinn said.
“No,” Dr. Moore agreed. “He’s well cared for. We’re getting him all cleaned up now, and he should be out in a couple of minutes.”
Quinn and Hayley looked at each other, and Quinn knew they were both thinking the same thing. “The blood that was on him,” he began.
Dr. Moore’s brow furrowed. “That’s where it gets very interesting. As I told you, it wasn’t his.”
“Maybe his mom?” Hayley asked.
“No,” Dr. Moore said. “So, knowing what I do about the Foxworth Foundation, I went a little further.”
“Hit us with it, Doc,” Quinn suggested.
Then, flatly and with a grimace, the vet said, “The blood wasn’t canine. It was human.”
Chapter 2
Ali Moran had only come home to get some dry clothes. The predicted rainstorm had arrived several hours early, and she’d ended up both soaked and more worried than when she’d started out on her search a couple of hours ago. That it was her own fault that her beloved new puppy, Zigzag, already shortened to Ziggy, had somehow slipped past the newly installed fence she’d had put in just for him, only made things worse.
She should have been outside when he’d started barking, right after she’d heard an unusual sound. But her phone had rung as she’d let him out, and it had been a client who would determine just how well they’d be living the rest of the winter, so she’d gone back to answer it despite the early hour. She’d cut the call short, but by the time she’d stepped back outside on her back deck, Ziggy was nowhere in sight.
She’d been outside ever since, searching. Every corner, behind every shrub in the yard, even crawling under the deck to be sure the little guy wasn’t hiding. She’d only brought him home a couple of weeks ago, and while he’d seemed to adjust rapidly—probably more rapidly than she had since she herself had only been in this house for a week longer—maybe he hadn’t been as happy as he’d seemed with his new home.
Or you.
It was true she’d never had a dog before, because her mother was beyond fastidious to the point of persnickety, but she’d read and studied and even taken an online course about new puppy life, and thought she’d had it down.
And then reality bites… Again.
She shook her head sharply as she traded her wet sneakers and socks for warm, dry rain boots. She straightened up, then slid her phone into her pocket, thankful she’d gone on a picture-taking binge when she’d first gotten Ziggy, so she had plenty of shots to show the neighbors and ask if they’d seen him.
But that would be the easy part. She was more worried about the woods behind the houses here on the dead end of the street. The long-untouched forest was why she’d chosen her cottage, the last in the small row, and the smallest on the street, especially dwarfed next to the big, remodeled-to-excess place next door.
She gave a mental apology to the residents, seven-year-old Grace more than her mother, Liz, a brusque, rather imperious woman Ali had quickly realized had been the one who simply had to have a bigger, grander, more impressive home than anyone else, to show off.
In a strange way, people like her were responsible for Ali doing what she loved. Because her interiors service—she refused to call it decorating, since that was exactly what she didn’t do—catered to those who wanted attractive, functional homes, not showplaces that made you afraid to set down a glass or put your feet up after a long day. Which was why her website header was: It Doesn’t Matter How Pretty It Is If It Doesn’t Work for You.
She needed to check those woods first, she decided. Ziggy was just a little puppy, and no matter how big he might get later, right now he was easy prey for whatever predator might be living back there, from coyotes to bobcats to owls. At least the gorgeous bald eagles pretty much stuck to the abundant fish in Puget Sound, just a few blocks away.
She had to find him. She couldn’t take another death. It had taken her a very long time to become even functional after she’d lost Josh. Even now her eyes teared up at the thought. They’dbeen supposed to have a long, happy life together, not merely a few years, ending in a flash of agony.
She shook off the too-familiar memories, pulled on her hooded slicker and braced herself for the wind and rain. She had the back door open when a knock came at the front. Her heart leaped. Maybe one of the neighbors had found Ziggy. Maybe it was Grace, who adored the pup and had come over several times to play with him.
She practically ran to the front door and yanked it open. There was a dog there, all right, but certainly not Ziggy. It was a big, partly reddish brown creature with shiny black fur over its head and shoulders. The eyes that looked up at her were dark, flecked with tiny bits of amber, and looked infinitely wiser than the eyes of any dog she’d ever seen.
Or most people.
He’d apparently brought his humans with him, because the man held the leash snapped to his collar. She’d just spotted the metal tag in the shape of a boat that hung from that collar when the woman spoke.
“Does this little guy look familiar?”
Only then did Ali realize the woman had been cradling a small bundle inside her rain jacket. A head poked out, and the moment he spotted her, the pup gave an excited little bark.
“Ziggy!” Ali yelped in relief.
