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The rest of the way to the witness’s house flew by.
Dread will do that to a clock.
“Here we are,” Bob said as he pulled into a drive. “No other cars. Let’s wait here until Olivia pulls up so she can make the introduction.”
“I’m surprised that the prosecutor’s showing up for this,” Nutsbe said. “What’s that about?”
“She likes to see the dog and witness together.” Bob put the vehicle into park and turned off the engine. “She doesn’t want any chaos in the courts.” He let his seat belt go, then swiveled around to face Nutsbe. “She needs to know that the support will be provided seamlessly. And I guess she wants to make sure that the dog, especially a dog Beowolf’s size, isn’t going to make the witness even more anxious.”
“The judge knows Beowolf is a bullmastiff, right?” Nutsbe turned in the direction of an approaching car, but it drove on by. “And they were okay with it?”
“Olivia said the judge mentioned having had facility dogs in his courtroom before. Seemed like he was pretty jazzed to have Beowolf there.”
“Which is great. It’ll be interesting to see this go down—just as long as there are no women crying.” Nutsbe could feel the aversion growing in his shoulders and buttocks—like he was priming himself to run and fight.
“So I should send a support dog along with you, too?” Bob chuckled. “You know, I think my wife would let you take Jingles. Granted, he’s a teacup chihuahua. But he’d fit in your suit coat pocket. And you know it’s the little dogs that are the fiercest. Jingles could protect you from the tears.” Bob sent Nutsbe a grin. “Say the word, man, and I’ve got you covered.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” Nutsbe turned his head to the passenger window. “Here she comes.”
The car was far off, but this one felt right.
“I don’t think there will be crying tonight,” Bob said. “Possibly at court, but you may dodge the bullet altogether. Some people just don’t cry.”
When Bob popped his door open, Beowolf gave another shake of his head.
“Put it this way, crying or no crying, with Beowolf, I can guarantee you're gonna get damp.”
Nutsbe wiped himself off, stuck a clean cloth into his belt, and then climbed from the car.
Bob stood at the back hatch. “Hey, Nutsbe, you need to command Beowolf so he knows who’s in charge of this excursion.”
Nutsbe felt sweat form on his lip and swiped at it with the clean edge of the beast cloth. “You sure you don’t want to go in?”
Bob fobbed the hatch open. “It’s more than just Beowolf’s confusion at the courthouse that keeps me from holding your hand, sunshine. In a group, we tend to gravitate to the people who make us most comfortable. I don’t want the witness to gravitate to me, and then I’m not able to show up for her.”
“Are you taking a jab?” Nutsbe reached into the back and picked up the lead. “Come on, Beowolf. Get dressed.” It was the Iniquus command for stand still while I put something on you—anything from a leash to a vest to doggy goggles for a parachute jump.
The blue sedan pulled into the driveway. The woman driving was younger and smaller than Nutsbe had anticipated. He caught a brief glance of long blond hair.
“Just saying you’re a bit stiff. I get it. This isn’t your natural habitat. But you might want to do a Beowolf and shake some of that off before you look the witness in the eyes. You’re here for her support.” He sent out a backhanded slap across Nutsbe’s chest. “Cowboy up.”
“Message received. Wilco.” Nutsbe let go of Beowolf’s lead to wipe the double line of slobber from his doggy chin.
“Come on, let me introduce you.”
Chapter Eight
Nutsbe
Olivia opened her door, swiveled her gym-toned legs, and set her high heels onto the drive. Leaning out, her attention was fixed on Beowolf. “Oh!” she called. “You’re more beautiful than I could ever have imagined!” Her arms opened wide, and with a happy rumble, Beowolf took off, galumphing his way to Olivia, dragging his lead, tongue dangling, slobber helicoptering his head like a damp halo.
Pressing up from his crouch, Nutsbe now understood the problem with strangers in public. Though, in Nutsbe’s experience, once the Iniquus K9 had their vest on, they knew they were on the job and maintained a good work ethic. Obviously, that wasn’t the situation today.
Beowolf came to a muscle-twitching stop and buried his head in Olivia’s lap to receive his hug.
Her blond curls draped over Beowolf’s back. Her eyes closed tightly as she absorbed the moment. “You’re so, so beautiful,” she whispered into his scruff.
Yes, she was, Nutsbe thought. And not at all what he was expecting. In person, Olivia Gladstone didn’t look like the battle maiden he’d seen in the grainy black and white photos in the D.C. newspapers. She looked sunny, approachable, like a friend. Friendly, Nutsbe corrected himself. Those thoughts flashed through one part of his brain; the other part was processing the outcome of hugging the droolminator.
