Читать книгу Trained To Protect - Linda O. Johnston - Страница 14

Elissa drove her black SUV down the narrow forest-surrounded mountain roads and reached the 101 Freeway on her way home fairly quickly. The traffic was moving well. If it continued like this, she would be home in fifteen minutes.

Although she’d put the radio on, the current music she preferred didn’t keep her mind off her earlier meeting.

Or off the K-9 police officers—particularly one.

Well, so what if she’d had a momentary attraction to handsome Officer Doug Murran? And so what if she admired that he worked with a highly trained dog to protect people and catch bad guys? She had other things to think about.

She had caught up with a slow-moving big rig. Putting on her turn signal and checking carefully for other cars around her, she passed it.

And forced her mind back onto what she’d been thinking about earlier, when she had started her drive down the mountain. What she needed to think about.

Her demonstration tomorrow.

She’d talked a bit more about it with Amber, who was incredibly nice and knowledgeable. The kind of person Elissa could see herself working for and loving it.

Plus, she was wise. She’d known that new therapy dog handlers were usually volunteers who received free training from experienced handlers. She had therefore obtained a grant from a charitable organization focused on helping people in need to help pay for the more comprehensive lessons she would provide, starting from the basics. As a result, she had funds toward the salary of whoever she hired as a part-time instructor—hopefully Elissa—so the student handlers in training would only be asked to pay a token amount. Not that Elissa would get rich, either, but that was fine.

And Amber had also mentioned that she was writing a book on dog training with her chief trainer Evan Colluro. She wasn’t sure when it would be done or how she’d get it published, but she wanted to include a chapter on therapy dogs and their handlers, so that would be another fun thing Elissa might get involved with.

Regarding tomorrow’s demo, Amber had told her there would be other people present who would act as if they were in a hospital environment and could potentially be helped by a therapy dog. That would be fine with Elissa. It would allow her to show off what she, and Peace, could do and teach.

And if she was hired, she would need to learn more about the local hospital as well as long-term-care centers, schools for special-needs children and other similar facilities around Chance where therapy dogs and their handlers would be welcome. She needed to know where she could take her students to show them how it worked and, when they and their dogs were trained well enough, to make use of what they learned.

Would that include Officer Maisie Murran? Elissa hoped so—both because she liked the woman and what she did, and because Maisie had indicated she’d like to participate, or at least watch.

Too bad her brother hadn’t seemed interested.

Enough. Elissa had to erase Doug from her thoughts. She had only just met the guy. He might actually be the kind of person she would detest or despise.

Although she doubted it. How could a dog aficionado like him be so terrible...?

Good. She saw the sign for her exit in San Luis Obispo. It was about time.

A few minutes later she drove along the nearest major road toward her house. She soon pulled off onto her street and drove up the driveway to the small, aging stucco house she had rented. She’d found it almost immediately after she had moved here and, though she had some problems with its electrical system sometimes, she had remained, considering it home. Her landlord was nice, though slow to respond to her requests, and so far he hadn’t raised the rent too much—so far being the operative words. He’d been hinting lately that a substantial increase would be imposed soon.

Elissa pushed the button to open the garage door and waited while it creaked upward till it stopped. She drove her SUV in, picked up her purse from the passenger seat and opened her door.

And expected to hear Peace’s cheerful barks welcoming her home. That was what the sweet girl always did.

But not now.

Immediately, Elissa began to worry. Was Peace there? Was she okay?

Was Elissa worrying for nothing? After all, the poor dog could just be in a deep sleep at the far side of the house and not heard her.

But Elissa wanted to find out for herself. She pushed the button on the wall to close the garage door and used her key to unlock the windowed entry door beside it. She couldn’t see into the kitchen because of the taut draperies on the inside of the door that she’d installed for privacy and security.

She hurried through the door into the cramped and outdated kitchen. Peace barked and leaped toward her on the dingy linoleum floor, then crouched and looked at Elissa. No longer barking, she began circling the kitchen. Its door into the house was shut, which was unusual, but Elissa sometimes closed it with Peace inside. She must have done so this morning.

That didn’t explain Peace’s actions. What was going on? This was all entirely uncharacteristic of her sweet and sociable dog.

“Peace, are you okay?” There were times she wished she could hold conversations with her lovable pup and this was one of them. Instead of stopping and sitting and acting normal, Peace sprinted out of the kitchen the moment Elissa opened the door.

Throwing her small purse down on the kitchen table, Elissa hurried to follow. Peace wasn’t really a puppy, but nearly three years old. She was smart. She was fast. And Elissa felt exceptionally close to her thanks to their therapy work.

Right now Peace was popping into each room of the house as she reached it down the center hallway: the living room, the bathroom, the guest bedroom and then the master bedroom. She sometimes sniffed the floor, sometimes kept her nose on the ground, all the time appearing as if she was tracking something—and tracking wasn’t one of the many skills she’d learned to become a therapy dog.

“Peace,” Elissa kept saying softly, rubbing her dog’s soft, furry back each time she got close enough. “What is it?”

Eventually, whether because of exhaustion or running out of places to explore, Peace stopped dashing around. She wound up in the living room, on the polished wood floor, next to the tan sofa on its deep-colored wooden frame. The colorations went well with Peace’s golden coat—usually. Right now, the way Peace was panting, all Elissa could do was worry about her.

She knelt on the floor beside her dog, bending to hug her tightly. “Are you okay, girl? What’s wrong?”

Of course Peace didn’t answer.

Or maybe she did. She put her head up and licked Elissa’s cheek.

Hopefully that meant she was all right now.

Elissa wasn’t sure. And she would do everything she could to take the best care of her beloved dog.

It was early morning. Elissa was back in her SUV, driving up the mountain once more toward the Chance K-9 Ranch. This time she wasn’t alone. Peace was tethered safely in the back seat.

The sweet dog was quiet. Finally resting. Sleeping at last.

Elissa hadn’t gone to bed for a while the previous night, still trying to understand her poor pup’s continued restlessness.

She’d taken Peace for a walk but only a short one, since her moderate-size dog pulled on her leash a lot, despite being told to heel and to stay—something else that wasn’t characteristic of her.

Back inside the house Peace had again moved from room to room, as if seeking something. The source of some scent that only she, and not her concerned owner, was aware of?

That’s what Elissa had guessed. And of course that worried her.

So neither of them had slept well. Each time Elissa had woken, which was often, she’d heard Peace stirring on her fluffy bed on the floor beside Elissa’s.

Elissa used that as her reason to get up even earlier than she’d originally planned to walk Peace once more. The quiet residential area had seemed normal to her, with a few well-recognized neighbors outside, some also walking their dogs.

Peace had seemed somewhat calmer but still did more pulling than was usual for her.

Returning back inside, Elissa had showered, changed into the outfit she’d planned to wear for her demonstration, then fed them both a quick breakfast and gotten on the road.

And made herself concentrate on how she would perform her demonstration—or, rather, the best way to encourage Peace to show off how wonderful a therapy dog she was.

It was early enough that traffic wasn’t heavy, although, as always in this sometimes busy southern California area, she wasn’t the only one on the road, either. She stayed just above the speed limit, though now and then another car had passed her on the freeway—less so on the narrower mountain roads.

Finally she reached the turnoff toward Chance. She decided to take a quick drive through downtown, past the local hospital.

As she slowed, Peace awakened and sat up. “Good girl,” Elissa said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Are you okay now?”

Peace was quiet and calm, and appeared like her usual self. Elissa took that to mean a positive response.

She soon stopped at a traffic light and turned onto the street that would take her past the hospital. When she’d looked it up on the internet and gotten the address, she had seen that there was an entire floor devoted to pediatric patients, and another area dedicated to seniors—both age groups that were excellent focuses for therapy dogs.

If all went well and Peace and she were hired, she would definitely introduce herself to the hospital administration and offer to do some demonstrations there soon.

The streets downtown seemed a bit crowded that morning but she had no problem navigating her way to the road to the Chance K-9 Ranch. She checked the time display on her dashboard.

“Looks perfect, Peace,” she said and headed along the road.

She wondered then if Officer Maisie Murran would find a way to visit the demonstration even briefly despite her indication yesterday that she couldn’t.

And her brother? He was even less likely to attend.

The road narrowed even more and Elissa kept an eye out for signs indicating addresses. As soon as she passed a large property labeled Chance Resort, she saw a signpost at the next driveway for the Chance K-9 Ranch.

They had arrived.

The ranch property was surrounded by a large plank fence that probably wouldn’t keep anyone out but perhaps helped to keep dogs inside. The gate was open. Elissa drove through it and up the driveway. She saw other vehicles parked at the top of the rise near what unsurprisingly seemed to be a ranch house—one story high and extending for a substantial distance.

“Let’s go,” she told Peace after parking beside another SUV, a big black one that appeared to be an official police vehicle, with a light on top. Was one of the K-9 officers there after all? Or was it another cop?

Elissa exited through the driver’s door, then opened the one behind it to let Peace out after snapping on her leash. When she turned, she was happy to see Amber exiting the house, holding the leash of a black Labrador retriever. A tall man came out after her, also leading a leashed dog, a German shepherd—Evan, the head dog trainer, whom Elissa recognized from the demonstration videos on the ranch’s website. With them was an older woman Elissa figured must be Amber’s mother. Sonya Belott. No surprises there.

But what did surprise her was that this group of anticipated people was followed by another person with a dog on a leash.

Officer Doug Murran and his German shepherd, Hooper.

What was he doing there? And why did Elissa’s heart both soar and sink at the idea of his watching her initial therapy dog demonstration?

There she was—the reason Doug had brought his dog to the Chance K-9 Ranch early this morning, even though he had determined yesterday not to come here at all.

And his presence was definitely not for the reason he’d even considered coming.

No, he was here on official police business.

A sign had been attached to the front gate near the road that had worried the Belotts enough to call the police and request that he or Maisie be sent to the ranch that morning. Maisie had already left for their previously assigned case, so it had fallen on him.

He’d just finished talking to Amber Belott and her mother, Sonya, as well as chief dog trainer—and Amber’s fiancé—Evan Colluro inside the house. Now he followed as they strode out to greet Elissa.

He couldn’t help liking the big grin on her face or the way she stepped forward and hugged Amber. Her hostess and potential boss introduced her to her mother and to Evan as well as to their dogs.

He saw her eyes shift slightly in his direction more than once. He didn’t think her smile was for him, which was fine. He kept his expression blank.

But he was looking forward to seeing her reaction to the reason he had been called out to the K-9 Ranch.

Still, the decision had been made to proceed with the demonstration that had brought Elissa to the ranch and to ignore, at least temporarily, the reason he was there.

He’d been asked by Amber to not only observe but to also help in the demonstration. He would pretend to be someone recuperating from an injury who was under a lot of psychological stress and needed soothing, perhaps by a therapy dog. Amber had said that Evan and her employee, ranch hand Orrin Daker, who was sometimes used as an agitator in K-9 training situations, would also participate.

That didn’t mean Doug shouldn’t at least be polite and greet her. “Hi, Elissa,” he said after the other introductions had ended. “And hi, Peace.” He’d heard her introduce her dog to the others, too, but he didn’t bend to pet her. Not when he was soon going to act like he needed some canine TLC from this therapy dog.

Besides, he now had even more reason not to allow his initial attraction to this lovely woman turn into anything. She was potentially involved in the case he’d just been assigned to handle.

But he felt a surge of warmth inside when she returned, “Good morning, Doug. And Hooper, too.”

Interestingly, her dog Peace got up close and personal with Hooper, her tail wagging furiously as she sniffed his shepherd’s face. Hooper seemed fine with it, sniffing and wagging back a bit. Good thing he wasn’t officially on duty at the moment.

“Okay, we’ll get started,” Amber said. “I’d planned to have some neighbors’ kids come over, but...well, things have changed. We’ll just do a demonstration with adults. Come this way.” She led them all back into the house.

With Hooper, Doug stayed back and held the door open for Elissa and her dog. “So you need the warmth of a therapy dog today?” she asked with a smile as she went past him, but he also saw puzzlement in her deep brown eyes. Yesterday she’d been somewhat dressed up. Today her outfit consisted of a blue plaid shirt over jeans—a look that seemed comfortable for her but might also help put stressed people at ease. Or at least that was what Doug assumed.

Soon Amber got the three men lined up in the living room, leaving her mother holding the leashes of Hooper, Evan’s dog Bear, and Amber’s Labrador retriever Lola at the far end of the room. Fortunately they were all well trained. Doug wasn’t sure how Sonya, a somewhat fragile-looking senior, would do with aggressive or even eager dogs.

“Okay,” Amber said to Elissa. “Assume these three guys were in the military and suffer from PTSD.” She looked toward Evan, who smiled at her. Doug knew that the statement was accurate as far as Amber’s guy was concerned. “They need a bit of TLC and soothing from a really good therapy dog. Show me how you and Peace would handle it.”

As far as Doug could tell—without knowing more about how therapy dogs worked—they handled it well, including him. First, Elissa knelt and tied a blue scarf that said “Therapy Dog” around Peace’s neck. Then, on direction from Elissa, Peace went up to each guy individually, sat before him on the floor to be petted, walked carefully around him while sidling against his legs, and acted wholly engaged and pleased, even wagging her tail, as each of the men knelt and hugged her—or, in Evan’s case, pretended to ignore her until the last moment.

There was more to it, too. Doug was impressed, especially as Elissa explained with each movement, each command, just how that was intended to help calm a nervous, scared or psychologically impaired person. But mostly she left it to her dog to interact with the supposed needy human.

And who wouldn’t be soothed by a loving, caring dog? Especially one trained, and handled, by someone as apparently loving and caring as Elissa?

Heck, he thought as he once again sat on the wood floor and pretended to mope as Peace came over and nuzzled him. He had to remind himself yet again that he knew far better than to even think of getting involved with someone entwined in a case.

And now it appeared that Elissa was exactly that.

Even Orrin, who must be used to being given all sorts of strange things to do here as a ranch hand, seemed to enjoy Peace’s attention. He was a young, strong guy wearing a red Chance T-shirt. Even as he pretended to be sad and sick, he wound up petting and hugging Peace as the dog lavished attention on him.

Then it was Doug’s turn. “Okay, dog,” he said gruffly. “What if I don’t want your attention?”

“That’s exactly why you need her attention,” Elissa said softly. “She wants you to hug her.”

Which Doug found himself doing with the furry, snuggling golden.

The demonstration went on a while longer. Eventually, Elissa also gave Amber and Lola a brief lesson on how the Lab could also be trained to be a therapy dog.

Amber seemed to have gotten everything accomplished that she wanted to. “Okay,” she said when her lesson was finished. “Good job, Elissa and Peace. Let’s go into the kitchen, shall we?”

She unobtrusively motioned for Doug and the others to stay there, in the living room, while she led Elissa and Peace through the door. In a couple of minutes she returned and requested that Orrin get back to work. The ranch hand left.

“She’s good,” Amber said once he was gone. “Real good. Her explanations to people as well as working well with her dog... I want to hire her no matter what.”

“I don’t like the idea.” Evan drew himself to her side. “No matter how good she is.”

“Me neither,” said Sonya, staring at her daughter.

“But that sign really didn’t say anything.” Amber directed her gaze toward Doug. “Did it? Is it really a threat? I know what real threats are like.”

Doug was well aware that Amber had received text messages not long ago containing some really nasty threats. Fortunately, that situation was now resolved. “We don’t know enough yet,” he said. “I’m just beginning our investigation.”

“Well, we’ll all be aware and be careful. But I don’t intend for some stupid, unclear sign to make me change my mind regarding something I feel strongly about. She’ll only be here part-time anyway.” And with that, Amber pulled away, turned and left the living room.

“Then you’ll really have to help us,” Sonya said pleadingly to Doug.

“I’ll do all I can,” he promised. But he was definitely concerned—about the Belotts and others who lived at the ranch, their dogs and now also about Elissa.

He might not be able to act at all on his initial attraction to her. But neither did he want her, or her dog, to be harmed.

“For now, I’ll join you while you talk with Elissa, and just listen in. We’ve already secured the sign and locked it in the back of my car.”

They’d wrapped it in plastic carefully so as not to obscure any fingerprints or other evidence.

The sign had been hooked onto the gate down by the road that morning when Amber and Evan had first gone outside to walk their dogs. They didn’t always walk that way but Evan had noticed something a bit off at the upper driveway.

The sign read Be Careful Who You Hire. It was a small cardboard sign, hung on the gate by the road with string and not too obvious. The dogs hadn’t alerted on it, either.

But it wasn’t something Doug, or the Chance Police Department, would ignore.