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twenty-five
Sunny could hear the spa music playing from outside Roger’s quarters. Sounded like Enya. Sure enough, Cici was inside, with Humphrey out of his cage, lying on a dog bed. She ran her hands over and around him, not actually touching his fur or skin, but about an inch above. The beagle twitched when Sunny entered, but he didn’t flee. This was his norm. He’d let Cici get him out of the cage for about an hour, but then he’d be back inside.
Constance shot her a glare.
Roger chuckled under his breath as he fed the rest of the dogs, all of them politely eating from their bowls, lined up in a row.
When Humphrey started to squirm, Sunny went back outside and began to work the grounds. She collected toys, cleaned up dog poo and eyed the bins of food kept under tight seal outside the structure. She clucked her tongue. One barrel had been shifted outside the protection of the awning and the lid was askew. That meant everything could get wet, or worse, infested with bugs or mice.
Roger came out with the dogs a moment later. They went running at top speed.
“Hey, Rog,” Sunny called out. She waved him over. “I’m not sure why you moved this, but it wasn’t covered by the awning anymore. Worse, the lid wasn’t fastened. It’ll be full of vermin within a couple days if you don’t keep it covered.”
“I didn’t move that, ma’am.” Roger shrugged. “I thought you did. Was going to mention it soon as I came out. Does that mean you weren’t bumping around out here last night?”
Chills popped over Sunny’s skin. Despite how brave she’d acted in front of Cici, she’d been walking on eggshells since Janice’s visit, waiting for the mean old hag’s next wave of attack. She’d been hypervigilant when her dogs were outside, and she cringed any time a strange vehicle drove by. When weeks went by and nothing happened, when mid-January turned into February and February to March, and no tornado sent by the Wicked Witch befell Sunny or her rescue, she’d decided Janice really might be all bark and no bite. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“Roger,” she said, her voice low, “did you feed the dogs from this bin?”
Roger shook his head. “I gave them the chicken formula today.” He nodded at the bin next to it, closed up tight and in the right place.
Sunny felt so much relief flood her veins she trembled. “Okay.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were hot. “We’re going to dump this food. Get rid of it.”
Roger’s eyebrows rose. “Ma’am?”
“I wasn’t out here bumping around last night, Roger.” She gazed off into the woods, which were silent, other than the drip of winter melting into spring. “Which means someone else was. Someone like Janice. Or her nephew.”
“Dang.” Roger’s eyes bugged out. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get rid of it. That’s a lot of food, though.”
“I know. But I can’t risk it.” Sunny thought about texting Sean, telling him everything, just like Constance had wanted, but she decided not to overreact. Maybe all Roger heard was raccoons or deer. A large animal could’ve moved that bin. Sunny had never seen a bear out this way, but it wasn’t unheard of for one to lose his direction and end up skimming trash cans or other places food was easy to find. She wasn’t going to tell Constance, either. She’d just get that disapproving look on her face and say, “I told you so.”
Sunny watched her rescues, a handful of whom had been here a long time and would never be placed, as they variously ran, hobbled and hopped around the grounds, content to live out their days at Pittie Place. There were a couple new pitties from the kill shelter, too. The shelter always called Sunny the night before a dog’s final day, to see if she could take them before they were put down. Sunny never said no. These new pits were not aggressive, nor afraid of the other dogs. They’d been able to slip right in with the pack. They hadn’t been fought or abused, but they also hadn’t been trained or well cared for. The shelter had said the brindle one was from a family who decided they just didn’t want a dog anymore. He’d been a Christmas present and after the newness wore off and he started getting bigger, their daughter lost interest. He had a circle of brown around one eye, which looked like a patch, so Cici had named him Sinbad. The other, a female, was a blue pittie who presented with a silver coat. She was well into adulthood and had been dropped off at the shelter by a man moving overseas who couldn’t take her. Cici had named her Calypso because she came in at the same time as Sinbad, plus the blue tint to her fur. The first time Sunny had let her run out back with the pack it became obvious Calypso had spent most of her life in a crate. The pure joy with which she bounded, jumped, sniffed at the grass and rolled in the sunshine made it seem like she’d never before experienced wide-open spaces.
Either pittie would make a good companion for someone ready to devote some care and attention. Neither was a “dangerous breed.” In fact, there was only one dangerous breed around here. Sunny’s gaze went off in the direction of Janice’s property, even though she couldn’t see any of it from here. She turned back to her pack, playing under the bright blue sky.
If anything happened to them...
Sunny stopped herself from thinking it. Her heart squeezed so hard she gasped aloud.
Roger paused as he went by with the food bin. “You okay, ma’am?”
Sunny offered a weak smile. “Of course. I’m fine.”
Sean Callahan.
Oh, that’s right. Detective Callahan had booked a massage last week. He’d be coming directly after the morning workout. His intake form pointed out the neck pain he’d suffered in the past, as well as frequent back and shoulder pain, which was no surprise considering the vest and equipment he carried as a detective and also his history in the USMC.
Constance prepared the room, then sat, closed her eyes and did her box breathing until she felt calm and centered. By the time Detective Callahan entered the basement walkout, she was ready.
“Detective Callahan. C’mon in.”
“Sean,” he corrected.
“Don’t know why I find that so hard.”
“Callahan is fine.”
“So tell me, Sean—” Constance tested out his name and found that it wasn’t so weird, at least not in her domain “—what are your goals for your session today?”
