by Dale Mayer
His brother slowly lowered his fork and stared at him, disgust and contempt written all over his face.
Zane loved that his brother never failed to disappoint him.
“A dog?” Butch said in disbelief. “You came all the way across the country for a dog?”
“A special dog,” Zane said. “A War Dog. One that, due to a series of odd circumstances, ended up with a hunter for a while but could be missing again.”
“That’s hardly unusual,” his brother said. “Lots of hunters here have dogs. Why do you care?”
Zane looked at his brother. “Because this dog has PTSD,” he said. “He was a War Dog, sent home when he couldn’t handle the live action anymore.”
“A bullet would be easier,” his brother snapped and took another bite of stew.
“Easier?”
“Certainly cheaper,” he said. “The dog is ruined. So you’ll find him and put a bullet in him. It’s the only answer.”
“Not quite,” Zane said carefully. “We don’t do that to our veterans, and these dogs are veterans. They all served our military, saving as many American lives as they could. Because the dog ran into too much live action, he now can’t sleep or rest, and just because he doesn’t have somebody he can count on in his new life mission doesn’t mean he deserves a bullet. He was lost at the airport upon arrival and never did end up with the chosen adoptive family for him. He ran away, as far as we know, but could have been on the run most of the time. The last we heard was a hunter had him and potentially doesn’t any longer.”
“So it’s all good then,” his brother said in disgust. “What a waste of time and money.”
“I don’t understand,” Sandra said. “If he’s got a home now, what’s the problem?”
“Can you see the problem with a dog now paired with a hunter, when the dog has PTSD from being in the middle of too many battles?”
She winced. “Yes, that would be a problem.”
“So I have a question for both of you. Do you know of any dogs that are aggressive, out-of-control, with odd behavior or just new to the area?”
“It doesn’t matter. In all cases except the last one,” Butch said, “they’d be taken out back and given a bullet.”
And that was the end of the matter for him. Zane had figured as much, but he’d hoped his brother might have changed a little. He turned to Sandra. “What about you?”
“No,” she said. “I haven’t heard of anyone. But you should check with Holly.”
His heart froze. “Why would I call her?” he asked, his tone harsh.
She stared at him. “She’s still family.”
He shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “If she hasn’t remarried, that is.”
“Doesn’t matter if she has or not,” Sandra said firmly. “She was family, and she still is family.”
“Fine. Why should I contact her?”
“She’s a veterinarian, remember? She might know about the dog.”
He frowned and sat back. “Right. I hadn’t considered that. Is she now working in her field?”
“Yes, she’s a fully licensed vet,” Butch said proudly. “She’s done well for herself, in spite of losing our brother.”
“Good for her,” Zane said. He nodded to Sandra. “Good tip. Maybe I’ll give her a shout and see if she knows anything.” He proceeded to finish his stew.
An uncomfortable silence remained throughout the rest of the meal. Zane checked his watch a couple times and then said, “I should probably go. Dad’s expecting me.”
“I doubt it,” Butch said. “I haven’t heard from him all day. I asked him if you had contacted him. He said yep, but that’s all he said.”
“In other words, nothing has changed,” Zane said. He got to his feet, not looking forward to the upcoming confrontation.
“Nope, he hasn’t changed a bit, except maybe he’s packing in an extra bottle a week now.”
Zane stared in disbelief at his brother. “How could he possibly do that and still function?”
“Nobody said he’s functioning,” Butch said cryptically. He nodded at the front door. “But you better be going. Otherwise Dad will probably shoot you before you get up the driveway.”
On that note Zane made his way out to the rented truck and headed back to the main road. Some things never changed. His brother was barely friendly; his sister-in-law was always lovely, and his father was always scary as hell.
His father’s place was just a few miles away, but, if what Butch had said was correct, Zane might need to call before he headed up the driveway. His father was a bit of a wild card. Once he got into the booze, it was hard to say what his dad’s welcome would entail. Zane did not want to end up shot before he had a chance to see if Katch was here.
He parked at the head of the driveway and pulled out his phone. Before he had a chance to make a call, an SUV came down the driveway. It stopped as if to pull onto the main road, but instead the driver looked over at him. He swore softly. It was Holly, his lovely sister-in-law and ex-girlfriend.
Her face lit up. She opened the vehicle’s door and ran toward him.
He turned off his engine, hopped out and caught her as she swung into his arms, wrapping herself tightly around him. In spite of himself, he hugged her back, allowing himself just once to breathe in the scent of her hair. She always used some shampoo and conditioner that left his senses reeling.
She leaned back and beamed up at him. “I heard you were coming. I just couldn’t believe it. And here you are.”
“What were you doing up at Dad’s?”
“Actually,” she said, “I was checking to see if you were there.”
He stepped back, letting his arms fall away, letting go of Holly. Again. “I just got in.” He looked up at the house and frowned. “Butch said Dad might shoot me before I ever made it up to the house.”
“Oh, Butch was just pulling one on you.”
He slid her a sideways glance and then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Butch isn’t much of a joker.”
Her hopeful expression eased slightly, and she nodded. “Okay, so your dad’s had a rough couple years. Ever since Brody died.”
Zane wanted to correct her and say, Dad has had a couple rough decades. Ever since Mom died. But he didn’t. “Of course,” Zane said. “I think we all went through a rough time over that.”
“Your dad’s looking forward to seeing you,” she said, watching and waiting for his response.
Not likely.
“I’ll drive up with you. It’ll help break the ice.”
His gaze went from the house back to her and back to the house again. “He might not shoot me flat-out that way,” he said, half joking.
She hopped back into her SUV, turned it around and drove back up to the house. He followed. She hadn’t changed a bit. Five foot five, and she still didn’t weigh more than one hundred pounds, still had riotous curls—almost an afro, which she kept clipped back but never seemed to contain her hair completely.
He pulled up beside her. As they got out, he didn’t know how he felt. Coming home was just too much all at once. He already wanted to run.
He stiffened his spine and walked to the front door.
She had it open. “Jeffrey, I met up with Zane at the bottom of the driveway.”
Nothing but silence came from inside.
“Jeffrey, you there?”
“In the back,” came the hollering voice.
She waited until Zane got in and shut the door behind him. It was the same old log house he’d been raised in. His mom had passed away when he was six, so Brody was four, and Butch had been only eight. Life hadn’t been the same since. Their dad had been rough-and-ready and very raw around the edges. He picked up drinking not long afterward.
The boys had pretty-well raised themselves, their father even saying once, “If you live, you live. If you die, I’ll bury you out back.” Zane had never forgotten those words.
He followed Holly through the old house, his hands in his pockets, hat
ing that they were already clenched. He walked inside the big living room to find his father sitting beside the fireplace, a book in his hand. Well, the addition of the book was new, but, then again, the large half-empty whiskey bottle sitting on the coffee table wasn’t.
His father looked up at him and frowned. Zane frowned right back.
Holly shouldn’t have been quite so eager to see Zane, but she’d been waiting for him ever since her husband, Brody, had passed away. It was hard to explain what had happened between her and Zane before she ended up with his younger brother. She just knew she didn’t want to lose that connection to Zane. Now that she was single again, she’d had more than a few thoughts and dreams that maybe they could pick up where they’d left off. But Zane had disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived for the funeral, and she’d been in shock and grieving for the first six months.
When she’d recovered, she’d dated for a while but realized she was just biding her time until Zane came home. And how unfair was that? Both to her dates and to herself. Because Zane had made a point of making sure he never did return.
She’d been in love with Zane for as long as she could remember. She hated what she’d done to them. She knew it had taken two, but she’d been the catalyst that had broken them up, and she’d compounded it by letting his younger brother sweet-talk her into a relationship. Once she’d taken that step, she knew Zane wouldn’t come back to her. There was just something about going out with his brother, as if she’d crossed a line.
She had had several girlfriends who had dated multiple males in the same family without the same consequences, but Zane wasn’t just anybody. And, once she’d gotten into a relationship with Brody, she’d tried hard to make the best of it because she knew Zane was gone to her. He would never be hers again. She’d then changed her attitude, her perspective, and she’d grown to love her husband.
They’d had a couple happy years, until he got sick. It had happened so damn fast. The doctors called it a staph infection, one that had run out of control. By the time she got him to the hospital to try to stop it, it had already taken over his system, and he died soon afterward.
She stared down at her hands, hating the memories that still made her insides cry. She should have forced Brody to go to the doctor earlier, but he was stubborn—so damn stubborn.
She looked up to see the two men formally greeting each other with silence and grimacing faces. There was no physical contact, not even a smile from either one. She stepped forward and said to Zane, “It’s really nice to have you back for a bit.”
Zane nodded, cast her a glance and then looked at his dad again.
She could see his gaze taking in the bottle at the old man’s side.
Zane motioned at the closest chair. “May I sit?”
His father’s frown deepened.
She rushed to fill the gap. “Of course you can. I can put on some coffee, if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” Zane said. “It depends if my dad’s okay with that.”
“Coffee would be fine,” his father grumbled. “Did you stop in to see Butch?”
Zane nodded. “It was good to see Sandra and Butch. I had dinner with them.”
Holly smiled at that. “Sandra’s a sweetheart.” Butch, well, Butch was the same as his father: taciturn, quiet, very black-and-white in many ways.
“Why are you here?” Jeffrey asked.
Holly winced at that, but it was so damn typical. She hated the stiltedness between the two of them. When growing up, the brothers hadn’t gotten along with each other. None of them had gotten along with their father either. Back then it had been each man on his own—with Brody, the baby, as the dad’s favorite.
In the kitchen she made a pot of coffee, and, as it dripped, she rejoined the men. Still, there wasn’t a word exchanged between the two.
Zane asked her, “Have you heard of any dogs in the area being super-aggressive or very difficult? Causing concern among the locals?”
She frowned at him. “I don’t recall offhand. I’d have to give that some thought. Why?”
“I’m here on behalf of the government’s War Dogs program. Checking into one dog that was shipped home with PTSD, then was lost at the airport and maybe picked up a couple times by people along the way. Last reported location we have for him is in this area, maybe with a hunter. However, since the dog has PTSD, a hunter isn’t the proper placement for him.”
She nodded slowly. “No, it certainly wouldn’t be.” She sat down between the two men. “I haven’t heard of one around here. I was talking to another vet though, who said he’d had a report of trouble with a dog. A man came in with a bite mark, and he was looking to hunt down the dog and kill him.”
“Did he say what kind of dog it was?”
“Shepherd crossed with something, but it was bigger than usual. And I think it was male,” she said, frowning. She shook her head and looked up at him. “I can call him in the morning, if you think it’s important.”
“Yes. I have a photo, but it’s in the truck,” he said with a glance back in the direction of his rented vehicle.
“You know what to do with those animals,” his father snapped.
Holly winced because it was hard enough being a vet, but, in this part—the outskirts of town—where the attitude toward dogs was they’d either survive or wouldn’t, that mind-set made trying to save the animals that much more difficult. The people in town were much more likely to look after their pets than those who lived out of town. The out-of-town attitude toward animals was more cavalier. Not that this was the middle of nowhere, … though sometimes the attitude Holly came up against seemed like it. Jeffrey was a loner. Butch was headed in the same direction. If not for Sandra, he probably would be as isolated as Jeffrey was. She didn’t think Zane was like that. As she looked at him now, she realized he’d been through something he hadn’t shared with the rest of them. “You’re no longer military, so why are you doing this for the War Dogs division?”
“As a favor for friends and a company I work for.”
“At least you’re working,” his father snapped. He turned his gaze back to the fireplace.
“Yes, I am working,” Zane said.
“What are you doing?” Holly asked hopefully.
She wished she’d met him somewhere else, somewhere they could sit down and actually be friendly, but attention to Zane would likely be construed as inappropriate by his father. Jeffrey was a lot of things, but he’d loved Brody something fierce—unfortunately much more than he had ever loved his other two sons. But then Brody had been the baby of the family. Maybe that was to be expected.
“I’m doing this job as a favor for a commander. He needed somebody to find a dozen missing War Dogs, to see if they were doing okay. We raised these animals to serve our military, our country. They were well-trained and, in some cases, trained to be killers,” Zane admitted. “We don’t want them loose, running around hurting people, but neither do we want the dogs to be hurt. We’ve tracked down two already. This is the third.”
“And were the dogs okay? Were they hurting people?”
“We had different men on the individual cases. In the first case, the dog ended up in a drug-manufacturing complex, used as a watchdog. They were trying to train him to kill on command. Ethan, who was assigned that case, now has up to five dogs he’s working with so far,” Zane said with a half smile. “In the second case, Pierce went to Pete’s place, as the owner and handler, but Pete was badly injured and medically discharged along with his K9. Once there, Pierce found out the dog had been abused and mistreated by the locals who were trying to use it for hunting. The dog had run off, but Pierce got the dog back together with Pete, and Pierce got Pete back home too. So I’d say that’s a good ending to the story right there.”
“And what about this one?” Holly asked, frowning. “If he’s dangerous, he’ll likely be put down.”
“Maybe he’s dangerous, and maybe he’s not,” Zane said. “We usually find it’s people who are more dan
gerous to the dogs.”
“That’s the way it should be,” his father growled. “Dogs are working animals. If they can’t work, they don’t get fed.”
“Says you,” Zane said calmly. He sipped his coffee and looked at it, smiling. “Thanks for the coffee, Holly.”
Holly stared at the cup in her hand, surprised she’d already poured two cups and brought them back so fast that she hadn’t even realized what she was doing. “Jeffrey, do you want a cup?”
“Not now.” He shook his head, staring into the fire.
She turned toward Zane. “Where are you staying?”
He gave a flat stare directed at his father. “I was hoping I could grab my bed for the night. If this isn’t a welcome location, then I’ll find a place tomorrow.”
“It’s just your dad here, so I’m sure that’s not a problem,” she said encouragingly. “Jeffrey, is it okay?” She’d learned the best way to deal with these Carmichael men was to ask a direct question, one where they either had to give her a yes or no answer. Too often she didn’t like the answer, but at least they’d given one.
“Be on your way in the morning,” he said.
She caught the glimmer of a smile on Zane’s face.
“Will do,” he said.
He portrayed that casual I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude. But she knew he did care.
“If you need a place to stay while you’re around,” she said, “I’m in town. I’ve got lots of room, so don’t get a hotel room when you could be among friends.”
“Not sure where I’ll end up,” he said quietly. “But thank you for the kind offer.”
She realized his brother probably hadn’t offered either. She sighed and sagged back in the chair. “Not everybody is as unfriendly as you may think.”
“Are you sure?” he asked as he turned to look at his father. “Are you still working?”
“Haven’t for a long time,” he said.
She filled in for them again. “He retired from the post office just after Brody passed away.” She gazed back at Zane’s flat stare. How was it he didn’t know this? But then again, look at the two of them now. It wasn’t as if they even communicated when they were in the same room. She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. It’s late already.”