Trained to Protect

by Linda O. Johnston

  “I think it’s going well,” she said somewhat cautiously, not knowing if he was leading up to something.

  “So do I.” He leveled a calming yet sexy smile on her that added to her feelings of at least temporary relief.

  Before she could say anything else, her three students approached, their dogs leashed beside them. They all stood facing Doug and her on the rough terrain of the training area.

  “Thanks so much, Elissa,” Kim said as Barker sat at her side, panting slightly. Elissa believed this Dobie mix would be the best therapy dog in the class, but she wasn’t about to mention that with the others around.

  “Thank you for coming,” Elissa replied. “And thank you, too, Barker.” She held out her hand and the dog responded by lifting his paw. Grasping it, Elissa laughed.

  “When will our next class be?” Kim asked. “I don’t live far and could come any day after four.”

  “Same here,” Jim said. “Bandit is really having a good time here and I think he’ll make a good therapy dog someday, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Elissa said. With Jim’s advancing age, she thought his Lab would be a particularly good fit at providing therapy sessions at senior or rest homes. “I think what we’ll do is have one or two more classes here, and then I’ll see if I can work out a lesson at the hospital or another venue near here where we can work with real patients.”

  “I like that idea, too,” Paul said. “But I’m just not feeling sure that Ollie is getting it yet.” He looked uncomfortably toward Elissa, his light brown eyes appearing concerned. As usual, he had gotten dressed up more than his classmates, and his white shirt was wrinkled now after his training efforts.

  “Let’s give him a while longer,” Elissa said. “Next time I’ll try to spend a little more time with you and Ollie and see if that helps.”

  “I’d really appreciate a private lesson soon, if possible. I’d be glad to pay extra.” The guy didn’t appear comfortable asking, but it wasn’t as if Elissa didn’t have time on her hands.

  “Well, okay,” she said. “When would you like it? Before our next class? I’m thinking the class should be on Wednesday again, but later in the day. Would you like your private lesson tomorrow, maybe? Or late Monday?”

  “I’ll need to check my calendar since I’ve got a bunch of stuff going on, but tomorrow might work out fine. I’ll call you after I get home, okay?”

  “Sure,” Elissa said. Extra money for an extra class? Since she only had this one job now, even though it was beginning to expand, she wasn’t about to object. Part of it would go to the ranch anyway.

  Soon all three students and their dogs got into their cars and headed down the long driveway. Elissa figured Doug and Maisie would leave soon, too. They had both come in the same vehicle, so Doug would need to go when his sister did.

  But first, Amber invited them all into her house for some tea and scones and discussion.

  Which sounded good to Elissa—especially when Doug asked to see something in her house as Maisie and Griffin followed the rest of them to the ranch house.

  Once inside her front door, Doug said, “Everything okay with you?”

  “Sure,” she said, knowing her quick affirmative probably implied something else to him.

  “I’ll take Maisie home soon and come back this evening, if you’re okay with it.”

  This time she knew her response had no negativity to it at all. “I’m definitely okay with it.”

  Chapter 22

  While waiting for Doug to return that evening, Elissa visited the ranch house to talk over how things had gone at her class, and Amber and the others all seemed pleased—including Evan, the more experienced dog trainer.

  She couldn’t have been happier. Well, that was an exaggeration. She’d have been happier if Doug had been able to stay.

  And if she wasn’t a murder suspect...

  Later, at dinnertime, she’d insisted on ordering pizza for everyone, her treat. And, happily, Doug and Hooper arrived a short while before it was delivered.

  They’d enjoyed the meal with everyone else...then gone to her home with their dogs. She’d stated, while with her dinner companions, that Doug and she wanted to discuss the lessons. Which they did—but that wasn’t all, and she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  On the walk to her house, Elissa made herself ask about the status of the investigation into Jill’s murder. Doug indicated that there was, unfortunately, nothing new. Or at least nothing new he could reveal to her, she figured.

  As soon as they shut the door behind them, Elissa put all her uneasy thoughts aside. She moved toward Doug as he edged closer to her—and the kiss they shared ignited what she had hoped would happen that evening.

  And that night.

  But morning came too quickly.

  “Will I see you tonight?” she asked Doug as she saw Hooper and him to his SUV after their inevitable but too short dog walk.

  He was dressed in casual clothes, which he had worn on his return to the ranch the previous night. He looked down at her with hazel eyes both lusty and concerned. “Count on it.” He pulled her into his arms. They engaged in a hot but too-quick kiss. Then Doug helped Hooper into the SUV and they drove off.

  Elissa knew she was counting on it.

  * * *

  Doug hated to leave her, but at least, when he reached the department after eating breakfast and changing clothes at home—Maisie had already left—he checked in with those fellow cops still strongly engaged in the Jill Jacobs murder investigation, including Gil and his online search for any answers.

  He even called the detective who had become his contact at the San Luis Obispo PD. They had agreed to search for Perry Willmer, but no one had located him yet for an interrogation. His apartment had been cleaned out, which was a good thing for Elissa, since he remained a possible suspect. Although there’d been some light speculation as to whether she might have done something to him, too.

  Everything remained a vortex of big questions, which definitely didn’t take the pressure off Elissa.

  Yet something just didn’t seem right.

  Sure, he cared too much about her, despite his initial attempts to keep his emotional distance. Now that they had shared such amazing physical contact, he knew he was feeling a lot for her in more ways than he’d ever anticipated. Plus, he was constantly worried about her—and her safety.

  “Hell,” he said aloud in his office just as Maisie and Griffin walked in the door.

  “Does that mean you didn’t have fun last night?” his sister asked with a snide grin.

  “Just the opposite.” Doug was seated at his desk then, looking at today’s assignment on his computer. Both Maisie and he would be working on three burglaries that had occurred over the past couple of days in some Chance retail establishments—two chain clothing stores plus one fast food joint—to have the dogs check remaining scents to determine if they all had the same perpetrator...and, if possible, who that suspect was. That should be an almost enjoyable exercise for their K-9s’ skills.

  But he wasn’t going to get away with last night’s visit with Elissa. Maisie approached him. His older sister regarded him with an unflinching gaze with eyes that so resembled his own. She still looked great in her police uniform, even with her jacket now over the back of her chair. Her light hair was combed just so, and she appeared to be the perfect cop.

  One who was about to chew him out.

  Instead she said, “I’m worried about you, bro. And I know you’re worried about Elissa. I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt—for now, probably because I know you care so much. But until we have answers in that Jacobs murder—”

  “I know,” he said. “I need to be careful and stay as detached as possible.”

  “Which I gather isn’t so detached.”

  Ah, his sister knew him well.

  When he didn’t res
pond, she said, “Okay, then. We need to get our K-9s working. But tell you what. I’ll give Amber a call before we go to thank her for letting us observe and even participate in those therapy dog classes. And oh, by the way, if she could just continue to keep an eye on Elissa for us to make sure she remains safe, that would be great. Especially if Amber lets us know if anything appears to be wrong.”

  Which Doug knew could be interpreted that his sister and he both were worried about Elissa...or that they wanted her actions observed and reported in case she did anything to implicate herself in the murder.

  * * *

  Doug had had to leave right after they’d taken the dogs for their early morning walk. Elissa understood.

  She didn’t have to love it.

  After watching his SUV go down the driveway and turn onto the road, she’d directed Peace on a path away from the ranch but toward the rest of the houses in her row, and even past Evan’s. He might see her, but she wouldn’t be as potentially visible to Amber and Sonya. She hadn’t seen anyone else on the ranch when Doug and she had been out, not even Orrin.

  Now, she took her time returning to her house. She just needed a bit of “me and my dog” time before starting any assignments her bosses might have for her.

  But as she passed Orrin’s house on the way back to her own, her cell phone rang. Since she had programmed her students’ information into her phone she knew immediately who it was: Paul Wilson.

  “Hi, Elissa,” he said. “Do you have a little time this morning to work with me on Ollie’s training? Around ten thirty, maybe?”

  Elissa had glanced at her phone for the time. Nearly nine thirty. If she saw him in an hour she would still have the rest of the day if Amber came up with something for her to do, like work with Evan on any classes he had that day.

  “That’s fine,” she said. “Come on over.”

  “Can we work inside your house? My dog just seems to be more relaxed inside and maybe he’d do better there.”

  “We’ll give it a try,” she responded. She wondered if she should ask Amber or someone else to be there to act the role of a person needing dog therapy, but decided to wait to learn Paul’s questions first. After they hung up, she decided to call Amber to put her on notice that she might be needed later. Amber sounded amused and said she would be sure to have someone available if Elissa called again.

  While waiting for Paul, Elissa ate a quick breakfast, fed Peace then sat at the kitchen table again, placing her laptop on it. She got online and started researching websites that had therapy dog demonstrations, including descriptions of training problems and their solutions, just as a reminder to herself.

  One link brought her to a police K-9 site, which reminded her of Doug—as if she needed a reminder.

  She wondered what he was up to that day. And if she was the topic of any of his conversations—as a murder suspect.

  She almost called him, although any excuse would be flimsy. He didn’t need to know she was giving a private lesson to one of her students. Since Amber knew, it wasn’t as if there was any big secret about it. And it wasn’t as if the well-dressed Paul and his French bulldog Ollie were particularly dangerous.

  A short while later, though, Elissa heard a noise behind her and saw that Peace had risen from where she’d been sleeping on the kitchen floor and run to the door to the hallway.

  “Peace?” Elissa called. What was she up to? Her dog also started barking as Elissa stood and hurried after her. And stopped immediately as she saw that Paul Wilson stood there in the narrow hall, his left hand holding Peace’s collar as the poor dog jerked back and forth as if she was strangling.

  “What are you doing?” Elissa cried, dashing over to her dog.

  The good thing was that Paul let go of the collar.

  The bad thing was that he quickly grasped Elissa around her throat and started compressing it as if she was the strangling dog with the collar around her neck.

  “Calm down.” He sounded as if he spoke through gritted teeth.

  Feeling as if she was about to pass out, Elissa attempted to comply, even as her mind frantically sought some way to push away. To run.

  To call Doug for help—as if that would do any good with him so far away, in downtown Chance.

  She allowed herself to go limp, even as she heard Peace growling in a threatening tone she had never heard before.

  She wanted to reassure her wonderful pup before she did anything to make this man harm her even more. But she couldn’t talk.

  Until suddenly she felt a hand patting the side of the jeans she wore. Paul yanked her phone from her pocket and she heard it drop then the sound of it being ground against the floor. Only then was her throat released. She felt herself slide to the floor, grasping at her neck and gasping for air.

  Paul moved until he was kneeling, facing her. He held a scalpel in his gloved hand and he pointed it toward her.

  A scalpel? Did that mean—

  “Let’s go into the living room,” he said. “We’ll talk there.”

  * * *

  After being allowed to smell a shirt brought from another crime scene, Hooper had alerted on a scent around the cash register of the first clothing store they had visited and followed it out the door, then stopped.

  Doug figured the thief had gotten into a car there—along with the few hundred dollars’ cash stolen from the store.

  He wondered whether Maisie and Griffin were having the same degree of success—if you could call it that. They’d located that shirt at another crime scene but hadn’t yet been able to determine its owner.

  Doug had no doubt that one dog or the other would pick the perpetrator out of a crowd or a lineup or whatever, when they figured out some possible suspects to investigate.

  For now, though—heck. He wanted to talk to Elissa. Maybe invite her out for dinner that night. Celebrate the fact that, when he had gone into the station that morning, those who were investigating Jill Jacobs’s murder still weren’t prepared to arrest Elissa. Yet.

  As some fellow officers grouped around Hooper and took his picture, nose down to the ground, because they enjoyed watching the K-9s work, Doug pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Elissa.

  Strange. The call went straight to voice mail. He tried again. Same result.

  Maybe she was doing some kind of dog training lesson with Evan and had turned off her phone. That made some sense, if they didn’t want any interruptions.

  But Doug wanted to know for sure. And so he called Amber to see what was going on at the ranch that day that involved Elissa.

  And learned she was going to be giving a private lesson to that guy Paul, one of her students.

  That was probably just fine. Doug recognized that the worry he felt after hearing about it was simply because, despite all his intentions of not getting too involved with the lovely, sexy woman, he was hooked. He should just back off.

  But he was a cop. Backing off wasn’t in his vocabulary.

  And so, dumb as it might be, he waited just a few more minutes while the crime scene investigators finished their photos of Hooper on the scent.

  “Let’s go boy,” he said to his dog.

  * * *

  At the man’s direction, Elissa sat on the black-fabric couch in her living room. He pulled a chair up directly across from her and sat facing her.

  He was definitely her student Paul Wilson—although he looked quite different.

  For one thing, he had hold of Peace’s leash and held the sweet dog’s head against his leg, with that scalpel only an inch or so away from her neck.

  His legs were jeans-clad now, despite how dressed up he had always been while attending classes. He wore a plain navy T-shirt and had dark blue tennis shoes on his feet.

  But it wasn’t only his clothing that looked different. Elissa hadn’t paid much attention to his looks before, only noting that he w
ore glasses over pale cheeks and had medium-brown hair that was clipped fairly short.

  No glasses now, and his face was anything but pale. Its redness all but glowed, as if the blood inside was about to burst out.

  But his eyes. They were the hardest thing to look at. They were so dark, as if his pupils had been dilated medically, and they were glaring at her as if trying to assault her by their fury.

  Would anyone on the ranch come to help her? But even if Paul had been seen, Elissa had already told Amber that he was coming for a class.

  Since he didn’t say anything at first, she was nearly afraid to, scared that if she said the wrong thing, whatever it was, he would immediately stab and kill her beloved Peace.

  But then he smiled—and she almost preferred his glare to the nasty and threatening grin he now wore.

  “So here we are, Elissa Yorian, you murderer.”

  Elissa could only blink at that. Her? What about him? Or hadn’t he murdered Jill?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, barking a laugh. “But you see, you started it all. You killed my son Tully.”

  Elissa felt startled. “Then you’re Tully’s father? And I didn’t kill him.” They had been wondering where Perry Willmer was, even had San Luis Obispo police looking for him—and he’d been here in Chance for at least a week.

  “Oh, yes, you did,” he replied in a too sweet voice. “A damn therapy dog killed him, and you’re the first of the damn therapy dog handlers he saw.”

  She wanted to express both condolences and an explanation that his poor son’s mental illness had apparently been what had killed him, not pet therapy or any of the therapists. But she didn’t want to goad him into anything that would result in his harming Peace or her any more than they were already likely to be harmed by his actions.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re about to go into the standard spiel that the damn shrinks always did around Tully—that he had some issues they could help by therapy sessions and getting him to talk and to act different. Well, forget it. You’re not going to convince me otherwise. You started what happened to him. If it wasn’t for you, he’d not have been with that other dog and tried to push it out the window—and fallen himself.”