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He perked up at the sight of the money. “Well, okay, then. Give me an hour and we can head out.”
“Thank you.” An hour simultaneously felt like too much time and not enough. Her mind already raced through the logistics. She’d take a smaller team with her— Norte, Chilly, Nugget, Mozart, and Indigo—and borrow a light sled from Josie. She’d have to take the rest of her dogs back to The Roadhouse and bed them down, then convince Ellis of the virtue of her plan.
He wasn’t going to like it.
In fact, he was going to hate it. He’d tell her to contact the authorities and leave it to them, but it’d take too long for them to get back out here. Happy couldn’t have wandered far in his condition. The missing plane—and probably Dr. Will—had to be close by where the dog was found. And if Dr. Will was injured, he didn’t have time to wait for the state troopers to investigate.
And if Ellis wouldn’t help, she’d just do it herself.
29
Bree was right. He hated her plan with every fiber of his being. When he returned to The Roadhouse, he didn’t even get a chance to take off his anorak before she told him the insane thing she wanted to do.
“Wait.” He held up one hand to stop her and squeezed the other around the back of his neck. A headache thundered right at the base of his skull. “Give me a second.”
She stopped talking and bit the edge of her lip. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just… yeah.” The morning had started so beautifully and he couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it went to shit. Was it when the troopers questioned them? When Bree refused to leave? When that pilot showed up with Happy?
No. Now that he thought about it, the day started souring the moment he opened his mouth and asked Bree about her parents.
He fortified himself with a slow breath in and out, then met her gaze. “Okay, so let me get this straight. We were shot at out there. Happywasshot.” He could still hear the hollow clink the bullet had made when Damian pulled it out of Happy’s side and tossed it into the metal bowl he’d held. He had a feeling that sound would haunt him forever. “And you want togo back?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “How’s Happy?”
It had been a long time since he’d assisted with surgery. Back when he thought he wanted to be a vet, he’d loved sitting in and watching and helping where he could. Now his stomach turned over at the memory of all that blood. “Damian thinks he’ll pull through. It’ll be a long road to recovery, but he’s strong and… well, happy. When he woke up and saw us, his tail didn’t stop wag—” He stopped short, shook his head. “You’re trying to distract me. It’s not a good idea, Bree. Call the state troopers back.”
“Knew you’d say that,” she muttered and plopped down on the end of the bed.
“Because it’s the smart thing to do.” Why couldn’t she see that? He didn’t want to be digging a bullet out of her next.
“Dr. Will might not have that kind of time.”
Ellis took a breath. He hadn’t wanted to tell her this, hadn’t wanted to burst the bubble of hero worship she had for his father, but she had to know before she risked her life again. “Bree… he’s drinking again.” He waved a hand in the vague direction of the stairs. “The old-timers at the bar downstairs confirmed it yesterday.”
She said nothing for a solid ten seconds. “So what?”
So what?Dad was drinking again, and her only response was,so what?“You never knew him as a drunk.”
“Is he a mean drunk?”
Her question threw him. He dropped his arms to his sides and searched for a response to prove his point. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find one and relented with a sigh. “No. He was always a very happy drunk… until he passed out. Then he was useless as a vet and a father.”
“Did he hit you?”
“Once. But,” he admitted after a beat, “I deserved it.”
“But you still think his addiction means he deserves to die out there?” She pointed to the window and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing toward it.
Snow swirled outside as thin webs of ice crept up the windowpane, filling in the happy face she’d drawn on the glass that morning. Cold, dangerous, deadly ice. What if she was right and Dadwastrapped out there?
No. He ground his teeth. He wasn’t the unreasonable one here. She was the one searching for a needle in a big white haystack. She had to know how pointless it was.
“You don’t even know for sure he’s out there,” he said finally and felt a muscle tick in his jaw. “And you put yourself and your dogs at risk every time you go searching.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
He returned his attention to her, saw the stubborn tilt of her chin, the flame of anger bright in her gray eyes, and knew right then he was not winning this argument. But he had to try. “Bree, I’m not saying you aren’t capable. I know you are. More than me. It’s just…with this new information about his drinking and knowing someone’s out there shooting people and dogs, it’s an unnecessary risk.”
