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Adopted. Adopted. Adopted. Adopted.
Detective Callahan, as he’d introduced himself when Constance arrived at the station, bumped her arm with a Styrofoam cup of steaming black coffee.
“Thanks.” Constance accepted the cup. “Nope.” She slid the stack of photos to the desk. “I haven’t seen any of these dogs.” Constance’s eyes locked into the detective’s, which were a pale gray like the sky after a morning rain.
The detective’s brow furrowed. “You sure?” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“As sure as I can be. I see a lot of dogs, Detective.”
Detective Callahan settled into his desk chair and sighed. “Okay. Well.” He raked his thick fingers through his light brown hair. “Janice Matteri claims that your sister’s been regularly raiding her kennel for years. We’re talking to her, of course, but your name also came up. Janice says you two work together.”
“I do help my sister with her legitimately run animal rescue.” Constance inhaled the steam of the coffee. She could tell it came from the bottom of a pot that had been cooking for hours. “But I don’t steal them. Janice Matteri has never proven that Sunny has stolen any of her dogs, either. All of our dogs are microchipped, proving where they come from. If Janice bothered to chip hers, she might not have this problem.”
“This is just what she’s saying. That this has been going on for some time. That you typically handle it among yourselves, but things went too far this time.” After a heartbeat, the detective pursed his lips. “She also said that her newly installed security camera was coated in black spray paint. Any idea who might’ve done that? Someone who works for your sister’s dog rescue, maybe?” Detective Callahan rubbed the back of his neck again.
“No idea whatsoever. Pittie Place is nonprofit. Everyone’s a volunteer and my sister gets a lot of her volunteers from the County Youth Corrections Program. So.” Constance shrugged. “You’re a cop. You connect the dots.”
The detective squared his hands behind his head and leaned back. His sharp features settled into resignation. “Anything at all you can tell me, Constance?”
Constance drew a deep breath, suddenly able to smell that dirty backyard kennel. “There is absolutely nothing I can tell you about Janice Matteri’s overcrowded and filthy puppy mill. Perhaps she needs to check the locks on her gates. Better yet, perhaps she needs to stop running an inhumane and illegal operation. Then she wouldn’t have these sorts of problems.”
A heartbeat of silence passed. “We’ve been out there. Everything was clean, and though her dogs were to capacity, Ms. Matteri’s numbers weren’t over the limit. On paper, her business is legit and in order.”
“Because she knew you were coming. You should set up a sting. Catch her by surprise.”
A smile played around the corner of the detective’s mouth. “Are you...?” He cleared his throat. The ghost smile vanished. “You’re not joking. Well, maybe I should do that. Maybe we should pay a surprise visit to your sister’s rescue, as well.”
A tremor ran through her, but Constance held her breath, squelching it. Daddy had taught her how to play poker when she was only five years old. She’d had nearly thirty years to perfect her face. “You won’t find any of Janice’s dogs at Pittie Place.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie.
“I know.” Detective Callahan shrugged. “The officer who visited you this morning paid a visit to your sister’s afterward. She gave him a grand tour. He said it was the cleanest setup he’d ever seen for animals. Said he saw a new litter of pups, too.”
Constance made sure nothing was written on her face before she spoke. If she showed emotion, it would come out in her voice. “Those aren’t Janice Matteri’s dogs, either. She doesn’t sell pit bulls. Claims they’re a ‘dangerous breed.’” Constance made air quotes with her fingers. “Which is ironic, since her brothers used to fight them. But those pups are going to be Canine Warriors, not bait dogs. So Janice Matteri can suck it.”
Detective Callahan suppressed a laugh by pretending he coughed. “Canine Warriors,” he mused. “That’s the guy who trains dogs for service members.” A new light ran through the detective’s eyes. “Does it for free. Right?”
“That’s right.” Constance seized the opportunity to make the most of Callahan’s interest. “Pete Clark. My sister, Sunny, works with him. She donates pups who are good candidates to be trained as service dogs to Pete, and Pete trains them for service members who need them. It’s a good partnership. Dog gets a home, service member gets help. Win-win.”
“That’s awesome.”
Constance could tell he meant it.
“I have a buddy who could use one of those dogs.”
“I’ll leave one of my friend’s cards with you.”
Detective Callahan shook his head. “He’d never admit he needed one.”
“All right, then.” Constance rose from the couch, set the untouched coffee on the desk and smoothed out her clothing. She wished she’d worn a clean shirt. She looked like hell. Not that she was trying to impress anyone. Detective Callahan was hard, handsome and no-nonsense. Just her type. But ever since Josh, she only looked at men with cool detachment.
Detective Callahan followed her lead. “Thanks for coming in and looking at the photos.”
Constance shrugged. “I knew the request wasn’t really a request.”
He gave a short laugh. “So your sister rescues the dogs. Pete trains them. What’s your part in all that, Constance? Other than raiding the Matteri puppy mill, perhaps?” He rubbed the back of his neck.
Another thing Daddy had taught her was that diversion was often the best tactic to avoid a trap. “How long have you had that neck pain?”
His eyebrows rose. Then he shrugged. “Months, on and off.”
