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“Will Bud’s presence bother her then?”
Stonewall shook his head. “If she doesn’t touch him, she’ll be OK. It’s cats that are the biggest problem.”
A phone started ringing from inside Stonewall’s linen pants. He nodded that he was done with the conversation and answered the phone on his way out. “What is it?”
Kane glanced down at Bud. “It’s just you and me again. Ready to get back to work?”
“Woof!” Bud agreed, happy to follow him to the ends of the earth.
* * *
The grass was springy beneath his feet as he took a walk around the imposing property. Bud walked beside him, tail swishing from side to side, nose twitching, taking in all the splendor.
They were far enough away from the raging wildfires that their smoke was only a distant blip in the sky. The air quality here was as fresh and clean as a newborn.
Spicy floral scents tickled his nose. Despite feeling as if he were in another world, the familiar sight of the ocean that sang him to sleep each night filled him with reassurance.
They passed an organic vegetable garden with a dizzying array of crops, some which even he had never seen before.
As a marine, nutrition was just as important as physical training since what he ate affected not only his health and weight but also his physical and mental performance, even his ability to maintain control on the field and how he might heal from an injury. As such, their diet had consisted of low-fat, nutrient-rich foods designed to give optimal performance. Subsequently, they were consumed rather than enjoyed.
When he’d left, the first thing he had done was to splurge on all the foods he hadn’t been able to eat on the job: In and Out burgers, milkshakes, prime rib steaks the size of his head, Korean barbeques, pasta dripping in cream and cheese, and pizza.
So much pizza.
After a month-long bender that left him with the beginnings of a gut and carb-induced lethargy, he had reined it back in, kicking up his daily kettlebell work-outs and beachside jogs until he had whipped his body back into shape.
As disciplined as he was now, the one thing he couldn’t control was his wicked appetite for good food. Seeing the lush vegetables all around him, he couldn’t help picturing how they would taste sauteed in a garlic butter sauce.
He picked up his pace, leaving the vegetable garden and thoughts of food behind. He walked the perimeter, checking both the six-foot tall metal fence and the area around for signs of interference.
He recorded voice memos into his dictaphone, which would be transcribed at the end of the day. While he was out on rounds like this, he liked to keep moving: having to stop and type everything up would only distract him from his work.
They’d been walking for an hour when Bud suddenly alerted, nose to the air. He’d picked up a scent of some kind. Barking, he padded up to the fence, pawing at the ground by the metal stakes as his nose went to town.
Kane went to his side, and got down to his level to see what had captured his attention.
The grass continued on the other side of the fence. Beyond that, a hedge of evergreen Ficus trees provided privacy and sound proofing from the road bordering the property.
He could see nothing out of the ordinary.
The fence was undisturbed, there were no footprints on the grass, though that didn’t mean no one had been here.
He kneeled onto the grass with all of his weight, crushing it as much as he could before rocking back onto his feet in a low crouch. Already the flattened grass was beginning to bounce back up.
The constant sun combined with whatever regular treatment was given to the lawn made it strong and healthy.
Bud continued pawing at the one spot until Kane had to move him aside. “Let me see.”
Bud whined, but stepped aside for him.
Something glinted in the sun on the ground, but it was too far for him to reach through the fence to get it. He’d have to gooverthe fence if he wanted to see what it was.
He approached the nearest support post. This part of the fence was the thickest, and as luck would have it, the top of it was flat even though the rest of the fence was spiked — this flat edge was exactly what he needed.
“Be right back,” he told Bud who whined again, turning in a circle, already anxious at their imminent separation.
Resting the flat of his left hand — and his stronger arm — onto the flat surface of the support post, he jumped up simultaneously, pulling on his left arm to give himself more height. When his hips were about level with the top of the spikes, it was a simple matter to swing himself over the fence, twisting his wrist in the process so that it wouldn’t break.
