Chapter 7

Present Day

“What in the holy fuck did you do to Don’s dog?”

Uneasy silence followed Blessard’s words, broken only by Gordon Schwartz’s low snicker. Theo focused on the ugly green tweed couch, clenching and releasing his right fist as he tried to contain his anger. It would be bad to hit Schwartz, and probably even worse to take a swing at the lieutenant.

His gaze slid to the gap between the couch and the wall where Viggy had wedged himself as soon as Theo had released him with a command to search. No part of the dog was visible from Theo’s position. Guilt and frustration coiled in his belly. Viggy had been the best explosives-detection K9 when he’d been partnered with Don. With Theo, Viggy wouldn’t even search a room.

“I didn’t do anything,” he gritted, his churning emotions morphing into rage that coated his words despite his best efforts to control it. “Don did that.”

Blessard made a scoffing sound. “What are you talking about? That dog was an explosives-seeking missile when Don was his partner. There wasn’t anything wrong with him before.”

“Exactly.” Staring at the couch was not helping the fury that wanted to erupt like lava, burning everything in its path. Theo met the lieutenant’s critical gaze. “There wasn’t anything wrong with the dog until his asshole partner ate his own gun and left Viggy alone.”

Blessard flinched, his head jerking back like Theo had punched him. After his initial shocked look faded, a brick-red flush darkened the lieutenant’s face. He opened his mouth but then closed it again after shooting a glance at a fascinated Schwartz.

“Later,” Blessard muttered, and Theo answered with a nod that was more of a shrug. After all, what could the lieutenant do to him? Write a letter of reprimand? Take away Viggy? Theo never really had him anyway. Suspend him? At this point, he didn’t know if he’d care if he lost his job. There was really no way Blessard could punish him. Theo had already lost everything that mattered.

Turning his back on his glowering lieutenant, Theo walked to the couch. Since he knew calling Viggy wouldn’t work, he crouched down next to the sofa. Viggy, who’d mashed his too-thin body into the space between the back of the couch and the wall, panted nervously.

“C’mon, Vig.” By reaching his arm as far as he could into the narrow gap, Theo was able to hook his index finger around the leash and draw it toward him. The sight of the crouched animal—the dog that, just two months ago, was brimming with confidence and eagerness to work—sent a spike of sorrow into Theo’s heart. “Let’s go home, Officer.”

Viggy raised his head at the word “home,” his expression alert for the first time in two months. Instantly, Theo felt like an enormous dick. To Viggy, “home” was Don. There was no way for Theo to deliver on what he’d just promised.

Grief coursed through him, even as he wanted to punch a hole in Schwartz’s drywall. With an audible exhale, Theo stood and pulled Viggy out of his hiding spot.

A thump and the sound of running boots made him jerk around and reach for his gun. Blessard was already in the hall, shouting, “Police! Romanowski, stop and drop your weapon!”

Feet pounded up the stairs as the lieutenant ran after Romanowski, and a half-dozen other cops followed. Theo was halfway to the door, determined to give chase, when a jerk on his arm brought him to an abrupt halt.

Viggy. He stared at the crouched dog, all his instincts and training shouting at him to back up his fellow officers. But looking at Viggy, Theo knew he couldn’t do it, couldn’t force the dog into the line of fire. Viggy was already traumatized. It wouldn’t take much more to break him beyond repair…if he wasn’t already.

A movement in his peripheral made Theo snap his head around to see Gordon slinking toward the hall, a pistol in his hand.

“No.” Theo dropped the leash and moved to block Gordon’s path. Grabbing the barrel of the other man’s gun, Theo disarmed him with a quick upward twist before Schwartz realized what was happening.

“You can’t take my gun.” Gordon’s eyes bulged with fury. “It’s my constitutional right to carry that gun!”

Dropping the magazine into his hand and opening the slide by feel, Theo kept his eyes on Schwartz. “I’m not taking it.” He tucked the pistol in one cargo pocket of his BDUs and the magazine in another. “I’m just holding onto it for you. You’ll get it back when we leave.” If all the paperwork checks out, Theo thought. “Take a seat.”

Although his mutinous expression didn’t lighten, Gordon sank down on an overstuffed recliner. Theo stayed by the door, in a spot where he could keep an eye on Gordon and another on the hall. More cops, including Hugh, thundered past the doorway. While the rest dashed up the stairs, Hugh paused when he spotted Theo.

“You good?” Hugh’s eyes swept the room. “Where’s Vig?”

“Behind the couch. I’ve got this. Go.”

With a short nod, Hugh ran up the stairs.

“Is there anything up there we should be worried about?” Theo asked, trying to channel Hugh’s negotiator skills. He was pretty sure he failed, judging by the way Gordon jerked back in his seat. “Guns? Bombs? Knives?”

“Everything’s locked up,” Gordon said. “And nothing’s live.”

When Theo looked at him steadily, Gordon scowled. “Why would I blow up my own home?”

“Romanowski can’t access anything, then?” Theo relaxed slightly. Maybe his and Viggy’s complete failure wouldn’t be an issue.

“I told you,” Gordon snapped. “Everything’s locked up. All but the…” His face turned a pasty green color.

“What?” Theo barked, all thoughts of diplomacy gone. “All but what?”

A loud boom shook the house. Dust and small chunks of drywall rained down on top of Theo, and he staggered to keep his balance. There was sudden silence, a complete stillness, before all hell broke loose. Shouts and running feet came from above, and more debris fell from the ceiling. From his spot behind the couch, Viggy’s whine slid into a howl.

Theo ran to the doorway, taking the stairs four at a time, terror and guilt accelerating his steps. He’d caused this. It was his fault. If he hadn’t failed so dismally—failed the search, failed Vig, failed Don—then this wouldn’t be happening. How many cops were hurt? How many were killed?

Officers started streaming past him, running down as he ran up. Theo scanned them quickly, looking for blood, but everyone looked uninjured.

“Hey!” one of them called to him. “LT wants everyone out. That blast could’ve damaged the structure.”

Ignoring him, Theo tore down the second-floor hall, running toward the sound of loud voices. The air was thick with smoke and dust, tightening his lungs.

“Bosco!” Except for a layer of soot and dirt covering him, the lieutenant didn’t look injured. “Get out of here!”

“How bad is it?” Theo asked, his gaze raking the officers passing them. “Where’s Hugh?”

Before Blessard could answer, Hugh emerged from the doorway at the end of the hall, supporting a cuffed and dazed-looking Romanowski on one side, while another officer held his other arm.

“Out!” the lieutenant bellowed. “Everyone out!”

Now that he’d seen that no one was obviously injured, Theo remembered Viggy. He’d left him alone with Gordon Schwartz. Flying down the stairs as quickly as he’d run up them, Theo rushed into the living room to find Gordon, still white-faced, sitting where Theo had left him.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Gordon said. “If someone’s hurt, it’s not on me.”

“Get outside. The house isn’t safe.” Theo scanned the room, vaguely registering that Gordon had followed his command. All his attention was fixed on finding Viggy. He spotted the end of the leash protruding from behind the couch. “It’s over, Vig,” Theo said quietly, crouching next to the sofa. Viggy was shaking so hard that the couch vibrated. “Let’s go.”

The dog didn’t move. Dust sifted from the ceiling; they needed to get out. He pulled on the leash, sliding a resisting Viggy across the floor until Theo could reach him.

Theo knew there was no way Viggy would walk out of the house on his own. Wrapping his arms around the K9, Theo lifted him. Viggy stiffened as his paws left the ground.

“Shh,” Theo soothed. “I’ve got you.”

After a moment, Viggy went limp. Theo carried him out of the house and through the gates.

“Is Vig okay?” Hugh called from where he stood by the lieutenant.

No. He’s not okay. We’re not okay. “He’s not hurt,” Theo answered, his voice rough.

Everyone else was quiet, subdued, as Theo carried Viggy through the crowd of officers toward his squad car. Theo kept his gaze locked in front of him and let the numbness take over.