A Daughter's Homecoming. Ginny Aiken

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      “It better be a good explanation.” This couldn’t be happening. To think she’d trusted his shelter—him—with a live creature. And then he’d lost it. “You assured me you’d find him a good home. Losing him doesn’t fit that description.”

      Again, he hesitated. “After we bathed him, we realized he has a lot of terrier in him. They’re great diggers, especially the smaller terrier breeds like the Westies, the Cairns and the Jack Russells. Because of that terrier instinct, your buddy decided to dig his way out by going under the fence around his run. He’s so small it couldn’t have taken much time or effort to make a big enough hole.”

      “But you just said you realized he was a digging breed. Why didn’t you put him in some kind of cage?”

      “All our guests have a run. They need exercise, a place to—er, well, go that’s separate from their den—their sleeping quarters. And besides, we’re required to provide it. Besides, I did check the fence. It was secure to the ground. He dug—deep.”

      Gabi remembered the dog trembling, and anxiety swamped her. “Have you looked for him?”

      “Of course. You saw the lights here at the building. I’ve been searching for the past hour, everywhere on our property and the neighborhood around us. Haven’t seen even a sign of him. Still, I suppose it’s better that you know what’s happened.”

      She shouldn’t be this upset. Once she’d relinquished the dog into the shelter’s custody she had no further claim on him, not even on the kind or quality of care he received. The shelter and, by extension, its director, were now responsible for the animal’s welfare, not her. But in Zach’s voice she identified an echo of her concern, and that comforted her despite the crummy incident. She came to a quick decision, following her heart.

      “Look, I’m getting Papa’s big flood-sized flashlight and coming to help you look.” She rummaged under the sink. “Aha! Here it is. Two sets of eyes are better than one, you know, especially where this little sneak is concerned.”

      She held her breath, hoping he’d agree—and not just for the dog’s sake. She didn’t want to admit it, but deep inside she was curious about Zach, more now that she’d heard the worry resonate in his words. She wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

      Even though she shouldn’t care one way or the other.

      She wondered what he thought of her. First, she’d shown up dirty and stinky, bearing an equally dirty and stinky stray. Then, like some overprotective mommy, she’d called to check up on the dog she’d relinquished. To him.

      Did he think she had questions about his competence? Did he think she doubted his ability to care for the dog?

      More important, did she doubt him?

      “Are you sure? I mean, it makes sense, two of us looking,” he said. “But it is late, and you must be tired.”

      Was that a hint of relief in his voice? Even if she had inserted her feelings into her interpretation, she made up her mind. She headed for the living room, Mama’s old kitchen cordless phone between her shoulder and ear, flashlight in hand. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll meet you at the shelter, and then we can decide what to do next.”

      Without giving Zach an opportunity to object, she said goodbye, dropped the phone on the small console table by the front door and let herself out. The brisk night breeze off the Sound felt good against her face, its balmy touch a pleasant reminder to treasure it, since the capricious Pacific Northwest rains could change things in a flash. The salty tang of the sea tickled her nostrils, and she savored the familiar sense of coming home. The faint echo of the night’s last Edmonds Ferry horn’s blast traveled miles toward her in the quiet hush. Lyndon Point was a gorgeous place, with unique scenes and sounds that tempted the senses to a smorgasbord of experiences.

      Ten minutes later, she rapped her knuckles against the locked door of the shelter. Footsteps approached.

      “Ready?” she asked when Zach opened up.

      As attractive as the shelter director had looked in his scrubs earlier that day, he was even more so in a royal-blue polo shirt and jeans. His hair was rumpled, as though he’d run his fingers through it more than once, and his eyes gleamed with a touch of blue, probably reflected from his shirt. She paused a moment and took in his masculine good looks.

      “Let me lock up.” He pocketed the key, then turned to Gabi. “Like I told you, I’ve already searched the yards in the surrounding neighborhood, and I also checked with 911 dispatch. No dogs turned in, and no accidents involving dogs reported tonight, no dogs seen on the loose for them to notify Animal Control.”

      She let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad. What do you suggest?”

      “Terriers are strong-willed, determined canines. It occurred to me he might have decided to make his way back to where you first saw him, to the alley. I would have gone on my own—was about to leave, but...”

      In the light of the streetlamp at the corner, Gabi saw his cheekbones redden. A sheepish expression spread over his attractive features.

      As he drew out his silence, she prodded. “But...?”

      “When I heard you on the phone, I wondered if he might not respond better to you than to me. He could have hidden in any of the yards I checked, but he might not trust me enough to let me see him, much less catch him. It was easy to see how much he liked you.”

      She smiled, remembering how she’d felt when the little rough tongue had lapped at her hand. “Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

      They set off at a quick pace, giving the vicinity of the shelter another quick search, and arrived at Tony’s a short while later. Dim light from the streetlamp three buildings away mottled the alley. Angular shadows, deep and dark, turned the usually innocuous space into something reminiscent of horror movies. Gabi shuddered, her imagination conjuring scenes from silly films she’d watched as a teen, and which she now wished she hadn’t.

      Mama had been right. They’d led to nightmares, even waking ones.

      Oh, good grief. How crazy could she get? Scared of shadows in the alley.

      As she shook herself to shed the strange mood, she heard rustling near the far end of the alley, daunting in the night.

      She glanced at Zach, who bobbed his chin toward the darker depths. She stepped up to the Dumpster, then dropped down to her knee. “Hey, um—” She looked over her shoulder at her companion. “What do I call him? Did you guys name him?”

      He shook his head. “Didn’t have a chance. We do give our guests temporary names to make things easier for us while they’re at our facility. I can’t stand to call an animal by something so stark and cold as a number. But you only brought him in a few hours ago.”

      “Okay, then.” She scooted closer to the metal trash container, the source of the bad smells that filled the alley, wrinkling her nose as she drew near. “Hey, little guy. I’m back. Did you come to look for me?”

      Nothing.

      She remembered how he’d listened to her chatter earlier that day. She kept up a running conversation, hoping he would respond that way again. “Did you come for the trash? Are you hungry again?”

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