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“CPR at the sniper event?” Bob asked. “You’ve had a rough day. Vomit says the person revived. Are they doing okay?”
“I haven’t checked the news yet.” Nutsbe left his hand resting on Beowolf’s head.
“And you? How are you doing?”
“Better than I might have expected. Olivia and Beowolf were with me. We made a good team. I still have some heightened awareness, fatigue from the adrenaline. All in all, I moved through the double crisis, and it feels like it’s in my rearview.”
“Glad to hear it.” He nodded toward Beowolf. “Beowolf’s never really bonded with anyone.” Bob slid his hands into his pockets as he observed the K9. “He’s buddies with everyone. Loves people.” He looked up to catch Nutsbe’s gaze. “Didit brought him in and started his career here when they didn’t click. He was always a good dog, mind you. Just not her dog.”
“I get that.” Nutsbe wriggled his fingers into Beowolf’s fur, and Beowolf leaned heavily into Nutsbe’s leg. He could almost feel the stabilizing mechanism engage in his prostheses. “I’ve seen that in my family. Our pet dogs were either Mom’s or Dad’s. If it was Mom’s dog, that dog would only listen to her and ignore Dad and vice versa.”
“Same with Beowolf,” Bob said. “We always talked about him as kind of a lone wolf. Unusual for a bullmastiff, really.” He pulled his chin back to consider Beowolf as Beowolf lowered himself to lie down. “I’ve been working with him since he was a puppy, but look where he is. He’s not on lead, so he can go wherever he likes. He’s lying at your feet, looking out away from you. That means he trusts you and is protecting you. It’s un-Beowolf-like. He usually likes to plop down in the middle of the room, so he’s the center of attention. Normally, I’d find him here.” Bob pointed at the sidewalk between them.
“He’s been heroic, Bob. When you hear the whole story, you’ll be very proud. But,” Nutsbe patted his pocket to check that his phone was in place, “it’s going to have to wait. We’re going to retrieve Olivia’s car from that lot.”
“Good enough.”
“Listen, Bob, I was wondering if you had the name of a good sensor collar for dogs to move through a locked doggy door.”
“Why would you need something like that? Are you planning on getting a pup?”
“I’m not planning, no. I’m considering. But this is for my neighbor’s dog, Henrietta. She uses my fenced-in yard. I thought it would be good if Hen could come and go on her own. Say, for example, if it was raining or something.”
“It would take some training first for her to use the door, and she’ll need to learn a command telling her to go from where she was standing, across an area, and through the door. I’m not saying it can’t be done. What breed?”
“Cockapoo.”
“Ah. Well. That? Hang on.” Bob turned and went into his headquarters building.
While Bob was away, Nutsbe loaded Beowolf into the back of the SUV.
The beeps warning that the hatch was lowering sounded as Bob came out with a box in his hand. “Cockapoos are about fifteen inches. My wife, Anna, got this for her chihuahua, checked the wrong size at the website, and forgot about it until it was too late to return or exchange.” He held it out. “Good brand. If this works for you, take it. It’s been sitting back in our supply room for over a year, so if it came with a battery, I’d change that to something fresher. You can set it so Henrietta can only go in and is held in that area. Otherwise, what good is the fence if she can dash out and get into the road?”
“Exactly.” Nutsbe held up the box. “Thanks. I’ll bring Beowolf back tomorrow after court if that’s happening or in the morning if it’s not. The time depends on how things play out with the judge.”
***
It was harder than anticipated, heading back to the sniper scene. Nutsbe thought that that pool of blood would probably be there until the fire department came in. It had been a point of dread the whole way.
When they pulled into the lot, Nutsbe was relieved to see that the police tape was down and any biohazard had been cleaned.
Parked, Nutsbe handed off Olivia’s keys to the guy in the back. I’m going with you in her car. We’re listening for a thunking noise.” He turned his head to the driver. “And you’re following us?”
“Affirmative, sir.”
Standing next to Olivia’s car, Nutsbe was convinced that either he or Olivia was the target. And he was leaning on Olivia being the one in the crosshairs. Nutsbe had been exposed for too long while he wrapped the tourniquet and dragged the judge without getting shot for the sniper to have been targeting him.
Instead, the next set of shots hit the windshield and the mirror of the car next to Olivia’s. If Nutsbe had been the sniper and had lost view of his target, those were the shots he would have taken to move his rabbit out into the open or maybe hoping for a fortunate ricochet.
Before the bullets hit, Beowolf had grabbed Olivia and was moving her.
Nutsbe looked at the placement of the various bullet holes. The sniper wasn’t a rando; he was well-trained.
Sure, he was considering the soon-to-be-ex. But terrorism was the bell that Kennedy had started clanging in Nutsbe’s head. Surely, Olivia knew the dangers of taking on a terrorist organization.
Nutsbe walked forward, tracing Olivia’s path.
She had been in the lot’s drive space—out in the open—when the next bullet flew. Now, a wind gust very well could have thwarted that shot trajectory. Olivia dove behind the cars, then Nutsbe was dragging Judge Greenway as the second bullet hit the judge’s leg.
