Читать книгу Operation Alpha - Justine Davis - Страница 15

Chapter 6

He’d underestimated.

This might turn out to be the longest weekend of his life, Liam thought as he sat on a bench at Cove Academy the next day. Even longer than the weekend he’d spent in juvie, trying to stay alive. It wasn’t that it didn’t go well jobwise; it did. Ria helped stir up memories of what it was like to be that age, and between them they decided he should go in less as a formal instructor and more as a guy who put his skills to actual use, willing to share. Although the idea of teaching a bunch of kids, instead of dealing with just one, was intimidating. They had progressed to that topic on this sunny Sunday afternoon as they sat, her large black bag between them. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or frustrated at the barrier.

“I’m no expert in any one of the usual arts. I’ve just developed a style that works for me that is a combination of a lot of them,” he warned her.

“But you had to learn at least parts of them all to do that, didn’t you?”

“True.”

“Then let your approach to them be the same...that you’re going to show them bits of each so they can get an idea if there’s one they’d like to pursue.”

He considered that, and it seemed reasonable. But, then, most things she said did. “And hope Dylan bites.”

“Yes.”

If the boy didn’t, Liam wasn’t sure what he’d do. He’d just have to deal with that if it happened. And, in the meantime, get through the rest of today. At least once he really started on the case, he might only see her now and then, instead of for hours at a time, as they’d done yesterday and now today.

With not much sleep in-between.

Cutter, lying at their feet, lifted his head. And Liam thought of how, a couple of hours into that tossing and turning night, the dog had hopped up on the bed beside him, given a little whine and a lick to his ear and settled in. Whether it was because of the comfortable familiarity of a dog, or that talent Cutter had for soothing restless souls, Liam had finally gone to sleep for a couple of hours.

Why he was so restless in the first place was something he’d deal with later.

Or not at all, he thought wryly as he looked around again.

Ria had suggested they have today’s meeting at the school so he could get familiar with the grounds. The place had once been a small farm of sorts, and the big farmhouse and various buildings had been converted into classrooms, labs, a library, several study rooms, a theater, a small coop that apparently still served as one for a few chickens and the barn that was now the gym where he’d be working.

“This is quite a place,” he’d said when they’d first arrived, looking around at the campus carved out of a thick grove of evergreens.

“I think it’s lovely. Peaceful. Conducive to learning.”

And again Liam caught himself thinking that if he’d ever had a teacher who looked like her, he might have paid a lot more attention. Since he’d sworn off thoughts like that—apparently unsuccessfully—his tone had been a bit snarky. “Spoken like a born teacher.”

“I am, I hope” was all she’d said. And thus had begun day two of this longest weekend.

If it wasn’t for Cutter, bless that hound, Liam wouldn’t have made it. But, as he had last night, the dog seemed to sense when he was too near the edge and then did something. Anything. Demand a break, more often to play than for a call of nature. Chase a bird, a ball if Liam would throw it, or simply start a rather manic game of tag. He included Ria in the tag, which made it both easier—it was difficult to think of anything but fun when you were playing with a dog who seemed to be working overtime to make you laugh—and harder, because she did laugh, delightedly, and it was the best thing he’d heard in years.

“He is quite a personality,” she said now, after the current mad chase ended with Cutter finally stopping for a drink of water from a spigot Liam turned on for him. They sat on a different bench in a shady spot while Cutter plopped down before them, panting but clearly happy.

“He is. He’s downright scary sometimes. But he’s also a valuable member of Foxworth,” he said.

“I imagine he gets people to talk to you. Like, hopefully, Dylan.”

“He does. But it’s more than that. He brings us at least half our cases.”

She looked from him to the dog and then back. “He what?”

Liam explained as best he could with examples, ending by asking, “Remember when he sat in front of you and Emily and looked at Quinn?”

“Yes.”

“He was giving him The Look.”

She smiled but in a puzzled way. “You say that like it’s capitalized.”

“To us, it is. It’s his ‘fix it’ look. Means there’s a problem that needs fixing and Foxworth can do it.”

Again she glanced from him to the dog and back. “That’s...”

“Yeah. It is. But it’s true.”

She looked at Cutter with even more interest now. “He’s Hayley’s dog?”

“Started out that way. But he’s Quinn’s now, too. We knew that when he got his own bark.”

“His own bark?”

She was laughing again, but it was clearly in delight, not disbelief. She only stopped when Cutter got to his feet. The dog stretched and then started walking toward the woods next to the building that housed the library.

“Do you need to go with him?” she asked.

Liam shook his head as he opened the envelope of flyers Hayley had printed up for him last night, announcing his workshop. “He’ll let me know.”

“He is...amazing.”

“He’s a different sort of critter, that’s for sure.”

She tilted her head as she looked at him then. “Is your accent still off-limits?”

His mind shot back to that moment when he’d both misinterpreted and overreacted to her comment on his drawl. Maybe he’d known even then how she was going to tangle him up. But he wasn’t going to make that too-obvious mistake again.

“Texas,” he confirmed neutrally.

“Your family is still there?”

“Most of them, yes.”

“I have a cousin in San Antonio. He has a restaurant on the River Walk. He—”

She broke off as Cutter, from the corner of the library, let out a sharp, two-note bark.

“And there’s my call,” Liam said, lifting his head.

“That’s your bark?”

“Yep.”

“Amazing,” she repeated and got up with him.

“Maybe you should stay here until I find out what he’s onto.”

“I hardly think anything’s going to happen here.”

“The roads are paved with dead critters who didn’t think anything was going to happen.”

“Well, thanks for that visual,” she said, her tone dry. “If some murderer is lurking in the woods, wouldn’t I be safer with you and Cutter than standing here alone?”

“I was thinking more about bears and mountain lions.” But, he thought, it was interesting that her first thought was a human threat.

“Oh. We haven’t seen any for a long time. Coyotes, yes.”

“With that barn full of coyote bait, I’m not surprised.”

“Another charming visual.” She sounded a little peeved now. “Are you always so graphic?”

“Realistic,” he retorted.

“Then maybe I won’t tell you how I feel about orcas.”

“I can probably guess.”

“I love them,” she admitted. “They’re so beautiful, and I love that they play. They have a cohesive family unit, aunts will take care of calves if the mother dies. It’s remarkable.”

Again spoken like a teacher. “And they’re killing machines, don’t forget that. They call them killer whales for a reason.”

“That, too. Very efficient.”

She seemed unbothered this time, and he guessed she’d come to terms with that aspect of the striking black-and-white creatures. And he wondered if she’d set him up for that, just to show him she wasn’t naïve about the realities of nature.

The bark came again, more insistent this time. But not warning, he thought. Cutter just wanted him over there; he wasn’t sounding an alarm to come armed and ready to fight.

He started toward the sound. Ria followed. Of course. He’d just have to trust that if it was a threat, he and Cutter could handle it. Which wouldn’t even be a question if it was only him. But Ria threw everything off balance.

In more ways than one.

He shoved the thought out of his mind as he rounded the corner of the building. Trusting Cutter, he didn’t take unusual care, but he was alert and ready just the same.

The scene that greeted them was anything but threatening.

Cutter was lolling in front of someone seated on the ground. The dog was clearly reveling in enthusiastic petting and scratching. His tail was wagging energetically. There was definitely no threat here.

“Dylan,” Ria breathed, so close Liam could feel the brush of it against his ear. He wondered if the shiver that went through him was visible to her, even as he confirmed the teenager’s identity from the photos he’d seen.

“He’s smiling,” Ria said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I hadn’t realized how long it’s been since I’ve seen him smile.”

“Step one accomplished, then,” he said quietly. And she smiled at him, as if her annoyance at him had been erased by a simple smile from a troubled boy. Which told him even more about her.

Dylan looked up then, still smiling at the dog. But when he saw them, the smile froze and then vanished as the boy went still. Too still.

“Here we go,” Liam muttered and started forward.

“Gently,” Ria suggested, right behind him.

He gave her a sideways look but quickly returned his focus to Dylan Oakley. “Hey,” he called out as they got closer, “sorry. He sort of wandered. Hope he’s not bothering you.”

Dylan seemed to relax a little. “No, he’s not. He’s great.”

“He’s a good, smart dog.”

“His name’s Cutter?” the boy asked, indicating the tag on his collar.

Cutter woofed. Liam grinned. “He likes to answer that one himself.”

“Cool.” For a moment the smile came back. And Liam noted it didn’t vanish again when Dylan shifted his gaze to Ria. So there was trust here, just not enough.

“Ms. Connelly,” Dylan said with a nod.

“Hi, Dylan. This is my friend Liam. Liam Burnett. And you’ve already met his dog.”

As if on cue, Cutter leaned in and gave the boy a swipe with his tongue. Dylan’s smile widened. It was holding. Which made Liam hopeful.

“What are you doing here on a sunny Sunday afternoon?”

The boy looked instantly wary. “I forgot a book,” he said, gesturing at the backpack beside him. It was larger than most he’d seen schoolkids carrying and Liam wondered if it was because Cove textbooks were bigger or if maybe Dylan had more in there than most. Ready to run was the phrase that popped into his mind, and he filed it away as a possibility.

“No e-reader?” Liam asked lightly. “Save your back?”

The boy seemed to relax slightly. “They believe in dead-tree versions.”

“The learning process is different,” Ria said. “Especially note taking. Running it through the brain and out through writing seems to make it stick better.”

Dylan didn’t dispute her, Liam noticed. The boy merely shrugged.

“Speaking of learning,” she said, “Liam’s going to be holding some workshops here the next couple of weeks, after classes.”

He supposed that was a good way to put it. Better than teaching, which might put him in a don’t-talk-to category in the boy’s mind. She’d clearly realized that.

“Workshops?” He shifted his gaze to Liam. “You’re a teacher?”

Liam laughed. “Boy, would my old man laugh his butt off to hear that. No, I’m just a guy who knows some stuff.”

He thought he saw something flicker in the boy’s eyes when he mentioned his father, but it vanished so quickly he couldn’t be sure. “What stuff?”

He was about to just say “martial arts” when Ria touched his arm. He wasn’t sure what she meant—or why it sent another shiver through him—but he let her take the lead. She knew the kid, after all.

“A few students have shown an interest in learning about martial arts. Liam’s going to be helping them choose which one they might like best.”

He saw what she’d done. If he’d answered as he’d been going to, it might have had Dylan thinking this was aimed specifically at him. Which it was. But she’d diluted it, said there were others, so now he couldn’t be sure. But that didn’t stop Dylan from regarding Liam suspiciously.

“You some kind of expert?”

Liam shook his head. “Like I said, just a guy who knows some stuff and has put it into use now and then. Enough about most of the disciplines to show the differences.”

“So you don’t, like, have your own dojo, or whatever it is?”

“No. I’m nowhere near that level. What I’ve got is a crazy combination of a lot of different styles.”

Dylan considered that. “You mean like MMA?”

Liam laughed. “Only in that I use what works for me. I’m not into fighting for fighting’s sake. I’m into staying alive and undamaged.”

He was sure of what he saw in the boy’s eyes then. And it made his jaw tighten. Because it was pure, unadulterated hope.