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“Razzy’s the best.” Pierce’s face grew animated as he signed, which was weird because the guy almost never cracked a smile. “He’s crushing his disaster certification training. My disability has slowed us down, but we’re figuring ways around that.”
“That’s fabulous,” Dr. Firestone said. “I’m so happy both you and Raszta have found a purpose.”
“He’s exactly what I needed to keep going,” Pierce said.
“Spirit, too,” Donovan said. “I wouldn’t be in a position for a relationship with Sasha now if it wasn’t for her.”
“Is this the part where I say I told you so?” Zak asked, then his grin dropped away. “Man, I miss having the dogs here with us.”
“I miss Alfie,” Veronica murmured, speaking up for the first time all session.
Donovan had to admit he missed the little guy, too. Dr. Firestone’s psychic Papillon, with his butterfly ears and psychedelic bowties, had always been a great comfort during these sessions. Alfie always knew who most needed some snuggle therapy, which made the heavier stuff easier to discuss. He definitely could’ve used some Alfie comfort during the last session. Maybe then he wouldn’t have let his temper get the best of him.
“I’m working on finding us a more permanent meeting spot that allows all the dogs and not just Zelda,” Dr. Firestone said. “But until then, we have to respect the health code here—”
“Uh… hey, guys?” Rose cracked the door open and poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but you might want to see this.”
Donovan’s stomach dropped like he was on the first hill of a rollercoaster, but there was no corresponding rush of adrenaline to make the feeling better. It was all dread.
They got up and followed Rose out to the bar, where she picked up a remote and increased the volume on one of the TVs.
“Breaking news this afternoon, as authorities have discovered a body in the woods near the town of Steam Valley. The body is believed to be that of missing eighteen-year-old Darcy Cantrell, who disappeared in 2007. However, an autopsy and DNA testing will be required to confirm the identity of the remains. According to sources, firefighters found the body in the ashes left by the devastating Double R Fire, which could make identification more difficult.”
They showed the picture of Darcy that had been used time and again since her disappearance—a school photo of a smirking girl with dyed-black hair and flat eyes lined in heavy black makeup. It looked like a mugshot, and it wasn’t the real Darcy. It didn’t show her wicked sense of humor or the big heart and bravery that compelled her to stand- up for the outcasts.
“Darcy Cantrell’s disappearance has been the subject of a popular ongoing podcast,” the anchor continued, “and a vocal group of fans recently started an online petition demanding answers as to why investigators’ main suspect, Donovan Scott, remains at large. While it is too soon to say what led to Miss Cantrell’s disappearance and possible death, this discovery is a tragic development for a community already devastated by the wildfire—”
“Turn it off,” Donovan said and sank into a chair at one of the high-top tables. He scrubbed his hands over his head. “Fuck.”
“What can we do?” Sawyer asked.
Donovan lifted his head to stare at the three men. Veronica, as usual, had hung back and still hovered by the door to the back room. “Does anyone have a time machine?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be stuck using sign language to communicate,” Pierce signed.
“And I wouldn’t be blind,” Sawyer said.
Zak stared pointedly down at his metal leg.
“Yeah, okay, I get it.” Donovan chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Fresh out of time machines.”
“What if we investigate ourselves?” Zak suggested. “Our tactical K9 program is on hold until the rescue is rebuilt, so we have nothing but time on our hands and we have the skills. Pierce and I could poke around town while Sawyer does some research online—”
“I do love internet sleuthing,” Sawyer said.
Zak gestured toward him in a sweeping motion, a nonverbal, “See?”
Donovan held up his hands. “Slow down, Uno. How is poking around town and reading a bunch of true crime blogs gonna help? And Ash won’t like it.”
“Fuck Ash. What?” Zak asked when everyone just stared at him. “He’s my brother-in-law. I’m allowed to call him out when he’s being a jackass. We were all friends once—hell, basically brothers—but I haven’t seen him doing jack-shit to help clear your name.”
“Because,” Ash said with barely restrained patience as he pushed through the front door of the pub, “my job isn’t to clear his name. It’s to find the truth.”
Rose scoffed and gave up on wiping down the bar. “Yeah, okay.”
“Do you have a problem with me?” Ash snapped, which surprised the hell out of Donovan. He glanced at Zak, who whistled softly and backed up a step, hands raised as if to say, “Nope, I’m staying out of this.”
Ash was usually a stoic man, quiet and shuttered, communicating mainly in grunts—unless it was with his sister. Anna was the only one who could get under that hard outer shell he’d built around himself. Except, apparently, Rose Galasso could, too, because Ash was simmering with aggravation now as he planted his feet, crossed his arms, and faced off with her. He looked rougher than he had when Donovan saw him earlier in the week, with his hair sticking up from multiple agitated passes of a hand and heavy shadows darkening his eyes. The fire and investigation were getting to him, fraying his nerves.
