CHAPTER 13
“How is this my fault?” Ford asked, because there was no way his friend could be serious.
“You asked for volunteers who had the interest and the time,” Harris said with a shit-eating grin. “So I found you volunteers who have all the time and interest you could hope for.”
“But can they walk without a cane?” Ford grumbled.
“I don’t know, let’s ask. Ladies,” Harris said, addressing the group of ten, who came in all shapes and sizes. The only thing they had in common, besides dogs, was a senior discount card for the Bunny Slope Supermarket. “How many of you can walk without canes?”
Every hand went up, except Mavis, who had no dog, but she did have a wheelchair that could do zero to speed-of-light in point four seconds.
“See.” Harris clapped Ford on the back. “Now, get to teaching, Officer Doolittle. I approved that permit, so you have two weeks to train four of these teams so they can handle some basic crowd control.”
Harris disappeared back inside the station, leaving Ford in the back lot, standing in front of his first volunteer search-and-rescue training class, which consisted of a handful of Sequoia Lake citizens on his personal top-ten list of Most Likely to Get Lost While Shopping.
He spotted Dorothy Pines in the front of the class with Bubbles. Dorothy was holding a leash so bright it almost distracted from the sports bra she was trying to pass off as a top, and Bubbles was dressed in an orange construction vest. Right beside them were Patty and LuLu Moberly, dressed in matching jogging gear.
Kill him now.
Leading Bullseye to the front of the group, Ford began. “Why don’t we start by sharing a little about ourselves. My name is Officer Jamison. This is my partner, Bullseye, and he is a scenting dog, which means he can detect and follow human scents. We’ve been partners for six years, and I’ve been a part of search and rescue for eight years.”
Bullseye, knowing the drill, sat tall and proud as if he were waiting for someone to pin a silver star on his chest.
“Ms. Pines, you want to go?”
“My name is Dorothy Pines, and this is Bubbles. She lives a vegan lifestyle, believes in pet equality, and likes long walks on the beach. Oh, and she is working hard to overcome her fear of small, enclosed places. Like air vents.” She shot a glare at Patty. “And we signed up as a way to give back to the community that has given us so much, and because when we heard that the personal-statement part of Wagon Days Darling was canceled, we thought we could up our tricks for the talent section.”
Ford gripped the back of his neck. “Ms. Moberly, are you here to increase LuLu’s chances for being the Wagon Days Darling?”
“Heavens no.” Patty clutched her chest as if horrified by the idea. “LuLu and I are here because we heard Dorothy was trying to get face time with the judge. So we put on our best hiking gear and signed right on up.”
“It’s called being a responsible citizen,” Dorothy argued.
“It’s called being a brownnoser.”
“All right,” Ford said, loudly enough to silence the crowd. “Is anyone here for something unrelated to Wagon Days Darling?”
One hand went up, and Bullseye let out a whine and lay on the ground. Ford was ready to call it a day as well. “Mavis?”
“I’m here because I’m in the market for my own partner, and I heard you were some kind of whisperer.”
Okay, not what today was about, but at least she’d come with the idea of dog training as the focus. “You mean a dog whisperer?”
Mavis grinned. “No, son. I heard you were a panty whisperer.” Patty started snickering.
And so went his first day of search-and-rescue training.
He instructed them on how to walk a dog on a lead, and he lost two candidates when he explained that dog strollers weren’t allowed in searches. They’d covered the different types of search dogs and gear, and they quickly moved on to the basics of sit and stay—which to his surprise most of the dogs already knew.
In fact, the dogs were well socialized and trained. It was the owners who needed some training. So when Ford spoke about the importance of leash rules and Patty announced that Dorothy was leash-aggressive and should be disqualified, Ford put them in a time-out.
It wasn’t until Ford addressed their main job for Wagon Days—wandering kids and crowd flow—that something clicked.
“I don’t know, that sounds a lot like my house when the grandboys come over,” Prudence Tuttman, a retired mill worker turned senior pro bass fisherman, said. “Which is why I installed a trampoline in the yard. First sign of trouble and, pow, I put them in the trampoline and let them jump it out.”
“Last Christmas, we got the grandkids one of those bounce houses,” Patty said. “It’s like our own personal MMA fighting cage. Thirty minutes in there and they’re too tired to argue.”
“I live in the over-fifty-five community, so we don’t have yards,” another said. “My girls get fussy and I get them busy—baking cakes for the church raffle.”
Several of the ladies voiced their agreement, and Ford felt himself start to smile.
Maybe he’d been looking at this all wrong. He didn’t need terrain-ready volunteers. What he needed was added presence for a family-friendly event. Crowd control sounded intense, but in reality it could be as simple as directing people to the medic booth or blocking off streets. Harris had deputies assigned to specific places on Lake Street to beef up their presence and help with traffic flow.
There wasn’t a person in town who would take on these biddies. In fact, doggy-toting grandmas in orange vests would be as approachable as the Easter Bunny, even for the most timid of lost kids. And they’d be as strict as prison wardens when needed, to keep any potential troublemakers in line. Ford looked at his team and did the math—between them there was at least two hundred years of town history. He’d bet there wasn’t a resident they didn’t know—or hadn’t pointed one of their bony fingers at.
“You came here to teach your dog tricks, up your scores for the Wagon Days Darling. I came here to train a volunteer team,” Ford said, gaining everyone’s attention. “So here’s my offer. I’ll teach you guys some tricks that will wow the panel, but that means I have to recuse myself from judging the talent portion.”
A roar of grumbles came from the crowd.
“Hold on, I’m not done. I will still do the final judging, just not the talent portion, but we can have our own helicopter-flying hero, Officer Donovan, step in.”
“He may not have this one’s backside, but those arms of his are nice to look at,” Mavis offered.
“It is two for the price of one,” Prudence added.
Not sure how to respond to that, Ford went on. “In return, you become my volunteer team, helping the department the day of the event. You won’t handle disputes—you’d just be there to keep things moving smoothly, assist people with questions. And every one of your dogs would be singled out for their service.”
It was like watching a time-out at a football game. Without warning, the ladies huddled in a circle, and an intense conversation comprised of tuts, bickering, and a few inappropriate hand gestures took place. After a few moments of deliberation, Mavis popped her head out. “Do we get to carry?”
“Your dogs?” he asked, hoping to God they weren’t talking about a weapon.
“No, a gun.”
Ford was shaking his head even before she finished asking. “No. Absolutely not.”
“You won’t have to provide it—we can bring our own,” Mavis said. “And Prudence here’s one of the best shots in the county.”
“In case you’re on the fence, I can take out a pea at a hundred yards, open scope,” Prudence added.
Ford was so far from the fence he couldn’t even see the posts. With a scope. But he needed to give them something. “No guns. But each dog will get an official-looking patch that you can sew on their vests.”
“An official patch would look great on Bubbles’s vest,” Dorothy said.
“Official looking,” he clarified, but no one was listening. They were already debating the color scheme of the patch and where it should be sewn for uniformity. “And it will count as community service toward the Wagon Days Darling.”
The ladies resumed their positions in two straight lines, and Mavis said, “Deal.”
Ford had to laugh. “Great. Next class we’ll cover leash control and how to work a crowd with your dog.”
Mavis’s hand went in the air. “Can I be the test subject when you go over leash techniques?”
He shot her a stern look—not that it helped. Patty was back to snickering. “See you Saturday.”
Someone mentioned that there was still time to catch a matinee at the theatre—which was a dollar cheaper than the senior price—and since Brad Pitt had a shower scene, the place cleared out pretty quick.
After giving Bullseye some water, Ford headed out to the side parking lot where his truck was parked.
In the end the class had turned out okay. Not that he’d admit that to Harris, but he couldn’t wait to see the look on his good friend’s face when he learned he was a new judge.
His smile was back. If he pulled this off, his debt to the department would be settled. So would his promise to Sam.
And Liv.
Ah, Liv. He hadn’t seen her since the bar. After his talk with Harris, then his run-in with Paxton, he wasn’t even sure what he’d say when he did. So he hadn’t said anything, and now another two days had passed and the window to call had slammed shut. And she probably thought he was a complete ass.
Not all that surprising. Nearly every serious relationship Ford had attempted ended in the same fiery death. The whole man-in-uniform thing only lasted so long, because Ford could only last in one place for so long.
“Too busy saving lives to commit to just one,” his last girlfriend had said, when in reality, commitment wasn’t the issue, it was finding the one.
He wasn’t saying Liv was the one, but when he was with her he wasn’t thinking about the last job or the next job. In fact, he wasn’t thinking about the job at all. And that was as much the appeal as the problem, Ford admitted as he crossed the lot.
He turned the corner and saw Harris standing by his vehicle. He was completely suited up, which meant he was headed out on a search.
“If you’re here about the pee on your tires, it wasn’t me. The dogs got confused and thought your Jeep was a tree.”
Harris didn’t laugh. “We just got a call, and I need you.”
“If it’s about a missing dog or Mr. Gordon, my shift ended with my class.” Ford walked past him, and Bullseye gave Harris the stink eye.
“Father and two sons, fifteen and eleven, went hiking at Canyon Ridge,” Harris said. “One of them called his mom twenty minutes ago to say the father was teaching them how to anchor a rope, when he slipped. The oldest stayed to try to get his dad, and the youngest hiked down to where he could get a signal.”
Ford immediately kicked into crisis mode. No one climbed down Canyon Ridge—it was too steep. The only way down was to rappel or fall. “Did he make it to the bottom?”
“Nope, he got halfway down and landed on an outcropping of rocks.”
“So we’ve got a boy and his dad stuck on the side of a cliff?” Ford asked, unlocking the metal storage box bolted to the bed of his truck.
“And an eleven-year-old somewhere in the woods with a dying cell,” Harris said. “Ty’s working at the lodge today, I have a team working a missing kid over by the high school, and I don’t have time to call them back here.”
Which meant Ford was officially off desk duty.
“Sixty seconds to gear up, and Bullseye and I will meet you at the chopper.”
It was past sunset by the time Ford walked through his front door. Exhausted and covered in blood, he dropped his cap on the table, a six-pack in the fridge, and his dirty clothes in the hamper. He should have taken a hot shower and called it a day, but he was too wired to sit still.
Needing to clear his head, Ford slipped on his wetsuit and headed out to the lake, grabbing his board on the way. Usually standing on a board in the middle of a current helped Ford find balance, but tonight the control he needed to stay afloat was a struggle.
Seeing the look on the kid’s face when they’d handed off his still-unconscious dad to the EMTs had unearthed things better buried. But no matter how hard he paddled or how far he went, he couldn’t rid himself of this feeling that he wasn’t finished.
He’d rappelled down to secure the father, getting him on a backboard and into the chopper headed toward Mercy General. He’d even doubled back out and helped locate the missing eleven-year-old and got him safely to the hospital.
Ford had done his job. Logically he knew this, but the feeling that it still wasn’t finished settled like lead in his chest, making every breath that much harder. The farther out he paddled, the heavier the paddle got, until it felt as if he were moving through tar.
He could have stayed at the hospital until the kids’ mom had arrived. Or maybe waited until they heard the status of the father. Though, technically, he wasn’t privy to that kind of information. Nope, Ford’s job was to locate and rescue. Period. Whatever happened after that—with the subject, the family—was out of his hands.
Ford paddled faster to get it out of his head. This case was over. Soon there’d be another. And if he had any plans to be there when the next family needed him, then he needed to start focusing on his certification and not shortcomings.
His or the job’s.
Arms exhausted and breathing heavily, Ford paddled back to shore, going under the water, welcoming the jolt to his body as he sank beneath the cold ice-cap runoff. Unzipping his wetsuit and freeing his arms, he grabbed his board and walked up the beach to his house.
The moon was high, reflecting off the lake and illuminating the beach and the surrounding area. The shoreline was lit with a million twinkle lights, which hung off the back of nearly every deck lining the shore.
Including Liv’s.
Which was how he noticed her small shadow sitting on the bottom step, a few houses down. Wrapped in an oversize sweater, feet in the sand, with Bullseye’s head in her lap.
Not trusting himself to be around her right now, Ford considered heading straight inside the house and letting Bullseye enjoy a sleepover at the pretty neighbor’s house. Only that would leave Ford alone. And alone was the last thing he could stomach right then.
Not when she was sitting there, those fathomless eyes locked on him, looking like a safe shelter in the storm.
He walked down to the sand and headed toward her house. He was a few feet away when she spoke.
“I was cleaning up Paxton’s room and found a stowaway,” Liv said, standing and making him wonder if she had anything on under that sweater. It was baggy and hung to midthigh, leaving nothing but silky, bare skin and pink-tipped toes. “I saw you go out on your board, so I let him stay for dinner.”
“I hope it wasn’t pizza.”
“Nope.” She walked toward him, her feet sliding in the sand, her hair swaying beneath the breeze, not stopping until he was standing close enough to touch. Close enough to smell—and she smelled like redemption. “Chinese, but I offered the delivery guy a special gift if he picked up a bag of dog kibble at the market on the way.”
Ford let his gaze slide slowly over her body, which was a complete showstopper. “What kind of gift are we talking?”
“A cupcake,” Liv said, taking in his bare chest, a teasing glint in her eyes when she finally met his. “But don’t look so sad—I brought you one too.”
To prove it, she held up a plastic bag and offered it to him.
“You made me cupcakes?” He weighed the bag and looked at her. “Or a bag of flour to make my own?”
“They’re store-bought cupcakes, but the Chinese food in there is freshly made.”
“Are you buttering me up?”
“No,” she said, but he didn’t believe her.
Opening the bag, he took in the to-go boxes and crooked an amused brow.
“What? I said freshly made, not homemade. But if you need your gutters cleaned, I’m your girl.”
Three words that in a different scenario he’d take her up on in a hot minute. But things weren’t different, and she couldn’t be his. At least not for the long term.
But Ford wasn’t thinking about the long term right then. He was just thinking about making it through the night.
“What if I need something else?”