AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“They make thunder shirts for dogs. Supposedly, the pressure of the shirt around the dog helps with anxiety, but they don’t make them big enough for Ghost, so I use the weight of this old quilt, and it seems to work the same.”
“People don’t think about animals with PTSD, but it should be obvious. Abuse is abuse. War is war. Suffering is suffering, whether we walk on four feet or two. He’s lucky he has you,” Rusty said.
Cameron kept stroking Ghost’s head as they talked. “And I always think I’m the lucky one to have him.”
Rusty nodded. “He was every bit a soldier with the rest of you.”
Cameron was leaning against the sofa as he sat and suddenly reached for her and pulled her close. When she laid her head against his shoulder and snuggled down, he felt a slight shift in his world, as if everything had suddenly found true center.
So this is how love works. Feeling whole.
They sat by the fire while the wind blew and the rain came down, both lost in thoughts of all that they had endured and the randomness of fate that brought them together again.
Finally, Cameron shifted and then gave her a quick hug. “Are you ready to eat?”
“Yes, but will Ghost be okay?” she asked.
“If he’s not, he’ll follow us into the kitchen and that will be fine, too. Come on, honey. You can tell me what you’ve been digging into while I was gone.”
They began pulling out the food and getting flatware and plates like they’d been doing it together all their lives. The ease with which they’d entered each other’s lives was seamless.
“I’ve been reading the files on Sheriff Rance Woodley. Outwardly, there doesn’t seem to be anything to explain his irrational behavior about the kidnapping and the murder other than he’s just as ass.”
Cameron grinned. “Some men are.”
“And women,” Rusty added, and licked barbecue sauce off her thumb before carrying her plate to the table.
Cameron followed and sat across the table as they began to eat. After a few bites, Rusty picked up the conversation again.
“Back to Woodley,” she said. “He was born in Chicago. He has a high school education. He’s had factory jobs, been married and divorced, no children, no family. He moved to this area about ten years ago, got a job as a night watchman at a warehouse, and two years later, went through CLEET training and got himself elected sheriff. With no prior experience. How does that happen?”
Cameron shrugged. “Look at where we are. The Cumberland Mountains in rural America. Likely ran without an opponent. It happens.”
“Good grief,” Rusty said, and popped a french fry in her mouth.
Cameron frowned. “You said he’d been married?”
“Yes, divorced right after he came here, but before he ran for sheriff.”
“Was she a local?” Cameron asked.
Rusty looked up. “I don’t know. I’ll dig into that and see where it goes. I think her name was in the report somewhere.”
They finished their meal, cleaned up the kitchen, and went back to work. Rusty shared her files with him, and they both settled down with their laptops and began to read.
***
The rain put a damper on downtown businesses. Tourists were either holed up in their rooms or in bars and restaurants, waiting for it to pass.
Marshall Devon was watching it pour from his office and thinking what a miserable day this was. Michael was out there somewhere running errands, and he wished now that he hadn’t insisted they all be done today, then shrugged it off. It was days like these that would harden his son for the daily grind. He needed Michael ready to take over here when he made the move to Lexington. He was contemplating going up to the penthouse and calling it a day when his cell phone rang. He picked it up from his desk, saw Michael’s name on caller ID, and answered.
“Hello.”
“Dad, I’m okay, but I just had a wreck. I was stopped at a red light when a car fishtailed in the rain and rammed into the side of my car.”
“Oh my God! Michael! Where are you?”
“At the intersection of Main and Boone. Wreckers are on the way. The police are here.”
