“She’s smart. She’ll have find-and-bark in two days.”
Budress smiled even wider.
“You’ve had her now how long? A day?”
“She was smart enough to soak up everything the Marine Corps wanted her to know. She didn’t get shot in the head.”
“And how is it you know what the Marines wanted her to know?”
Scott felt himself flush.
“I guess that’s why you’re here.”
“I guess it is. Let’s get started.”
Budress nodded toward the kennel building.
“Go get an arm protector, a twenty-foot lead, a six-foot lead, and whatever you use to reward her. I’ll wait.”
Scott started to the kennel, and Maggie fell in on his left side. He had cut and bagged half a pound of baloney, but now worried if it would be enough, and if Budress would object to his using food as a reward. Then he checked his watch, and wondered how much they could accomplish before he left to see Orso. He wanted to share what he learned about the neighborhood burglaries from Marley, and believed Orso would see the potential. Maybe after nine months of nothing, a new lead was beginning to develop.
Scott picked up his pace, and was thinking about Orso when the gunshot cracked the air behind him. Scott ducked into a crouch, and Maggie almost upended him. She tried to wedge herself beneath him, and was wrapped so tightly between his legs he felt her trembling.
Scott’s heart hammered and his breathing was fast and shallow, but he knew what had happened even before he looked back at Budress.
Budress was holding the starter pistol loose at his leg. The smile was gone from his peeling face, and now he looked sad.
He said, “Sorry, man. It’s a shame. That poor dog has a problem.”
Scott’s heart slowed. He laid a hand on Maggie’s trembling back, and spoke to her softly.
“Hey, baby girl. That’s just a noise. You can stay under me long as you like.”
He stroked her back and sides, kneaded her ears, and kept talking in the calm voice. He took out the bag of baloney, stroking her the whole time.
“Check it out, Maggie girl. Look what I have.”
She raised her head when he offered the square of baloney, and licked it from his fingers.
Scott made the high-pitched squeaky voice, told her what a good girl she was, and offered another piece. She sat up to eat it.
Budress said, “I’ve seen this before, y’know, with war dogs. It’s a long road back.”
Scott stood, and teased her by holding another piece high above her head.
“Stand up, girl. Stand tall and get it.”
She raised up onto her hind legs, standing tall for the meat. Scott let her have it, then ruffled her fur as he praised her.
He looked at Budress, and his voice wasn’t squeaky.
“Another twenty minutes or so, shoot it again.”
Budress nodded.
“You won’t know it’s coming.”
“I don’t want to know it’s coming. Neither does she.”
Budress slowly smiled.
“Get the arm protector and the leads. Let’s get this war dog back in business.”
Two hours and forty-five minutes later, Scott kenneled Maggie and drove downtown to see Orso. She whined when he left, and pawed at the gate.
12.
Twenty minutes later, Orso and a short, attractive brunette wearing a black pantsuit were waiting when the elevator doors opened at the Boat. Orso stuck out his hand, and introduced the woman.
“Scott, this is Joyce Cowly. Detective Cowly has been reviewing the file, and probably knows it better than me.”
Scott nodded, but wasn’t sure what to say.
“Okay. Thanks. Good to meet you.”
Cowly’s handshake was firm and strong, but not mannish. She was in her late thirties, with a relaxed manner and the strong build of a woman who might have been one of those sparkplug gymnasts when she was a teenager. She smiled as she shook Scott’s hand, and handed him her card as Orso led them toward the RHD office. Scott wondered if Orso would meet him at the elevator every time he arrived.
Cowly said, “You were at Rampart before Metro, right? I was
Budress smiled even wider.
“You’ve had her now how long? A day?”
“She was smart enough to soak up everything the Marine Corps wanted her to know. She didn’t get shot in the head.”
“And how is it you know what the Marines wanted her to know?”
Scott felt himself flush.
“I guess that’s why you’re here.”
“I guess it is. Let’s get started.”
Budress nodded toward the kennel building.
“Go get an arm protector, a twenty-foot lead, a six-foot lead, and whatever you use to reward her. I’ll wait.”
Scott started to the kennel, and Maggie fell in on his left side. He had cut and bagged half a pound of baloney, but now worried if it would be enough, and if Budress would object to his using food as a reward. Then he checked his watch, and wondered how much they could accomplish before he left to see Orso. He wanted to share what he learned about the neighborhood burglaries from Marley, and believed Orso would see the potential. Maybe after nine months of nothing, a new lead was beginning to develop.
Scott picked up his pace, and was thinking about Orso when the gunshot cracked the air behind him. Scott ducked into a crouch, and Maggie almost upended him. She tried to wedge herself beneath him, and was wrapped so tightly between his legs he felt her trembling.
Scott’s heart hammered and his breathing was fast and shallow, but he knew what had happened even before he looked back at Budress.
Budress was holding the starter pistol loose at his leg. The smile was gone from his peeling face, and now he looked sad.
He said, “Sorry, man. It’s a shame. That poor dog has a problem.”
Scott’s heart slowed. He laid a hand on Maggie’s trembling back, and spoke to her softly.
“Hey, baby girl. That’s just a noise. You can stay under me long as you like.”
He stroked her back and sides, kneaded her ears, and kept talking in the calm voice. He took out the bag of baloney, stroking her the whole time.
“Check it out, Maggie girl. Look what I have.”
She raised her head when he offered the square of baloney, and licked it from his fingers.
Scott made the high-pitched squeaky voice, told her what a good girl she was, and offered another piece. She sat up to eat it.
Budress said, “I’ve seen this before, y’know, with war dogs. It’s a long road back.”
Scott stood, and teased her by holding another piece high above her head.
“Stand up, girl. Stand tall and get it.”
She raised up onto her hind legs, standing tall for the meat. Scott let her have it, then ruffled her fur as he praised her.
He looked at Budress, and his voice wasn’t squeaky.
“Another twenty minutes or so, shoot it again.”
Budress nodded.
“You won’t know it’s coming.”
“I don’t want to know it’s coming. Neither does she.”
Budress slowly smiled.
“Get the arm protector and the leads. Let’s get this war dog back in business.”
Two hours and forty-five minutes later, Scott kenneled Maggie and drove downtown to see Orso. She whined when he left, and pawed at the gate.
12.
Twenty minutes later, Orso and a short, attractive brunette wearing a black pantsuit were waiting when the elevator doors opened at the Boat. Orso stuck out his hand, and introduced the woman.
“Scott, this is Joyce Cowly. Detective Cowly has been reviewing the file, and probably knows it better than me.”
Scott nodded, but wasn’t sure what to say.
“Okay. Thanks. Good to meet you.”
Cowly’s handshake was firm and strong, but not mannish. She was in her late thirties, with a relaxed manner and the strong build of a woman who might have been one of those sparkplug gymnasts when she was a teenager. She smiled as she shook Scott’s hand, and handed him her card as Orso led them toward the RHD office. Scott wondered if Orso would meet him at the elevator every time he arrived.
Cowly said, “You were at Rampart before Metro, right? I was
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