Trail Of Danger. Valerie Hansen

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      Reed shook off any whispers of impropriety. He had not come there looking for romance. He’d sought out Abigail because of a sense of duty. When he’d rescued her he’d stepped into her life enough to care, which was not necessarily a wise reaction. Nevertheless, he was determined to do what he could to help. This was a win-win situation. A needy pup would help Abigail heal as well as benefit the less than stellar young dog.

      He jogged down the stairs with Jessie at his side. Midnight might still blossom in the right foster home even though she’d done poorly so far. As long as he stuck around long enough to get Abigail and the pup off to a good start there was a chance of redemption. He could already see her taking Midnight to work with her when she was ready to go back. A loving puppy would help reach the street kids, too, and perhaps show aptitude as a future service dog. They needed the nonjudgmental acceptance K-9s provided.

      Together, Reed and Jessie broke out into the sunshine and headed for his SUV. There was a spring in the dog’s gait and she almost looked as if she was smiling.

      Reed empathized. He was pretty happy, too. If the narrow sidewalk hadn’t been so crowded he might have jogged back to his vehicle instead of settling for a brisk walking pace.

      Suddenly, Jessie gave a tug on the leash that jarred Reed out of his reverie. He paused. Looked behind him. Heard the bloodhound growl and saw the hackles on her back bristle.

      “What is it, girl?”

      Jessie never took her eyes off the people who had just passed. Reed scanned the group. There were too many for him to pick out which one had excited his K-9.

      Given the probability that someone nearby was carrying drugs, he wasn’t too surprised. Even though Jessie wasn’t trained to sniff out illegal substances, she had smelled them often enough on subjects she had tracked.

      But that didn’t mean he was on board with the uneasy feelings Jessie’s behavior was bringing out. The sooner he picked up Midnight and returned to Abigail Jones’s apartment, the better. For everybody.

      * * *

      As far as Abigail was concerned, Olga’s presence was a plus. She would never have asked her friend to keep her company, but since she was already there, she hoped she’d stay.

      The older woman emerged from the kitchen carrying two steaming mugs. “That one has a lot of nerve.”

      “He promised he’d be back.”

      “I hope he’s happy. He made me miss my soap.”

      “We can watch it here,” Abigail offered, blowing on the hot coffee before chancing a sip. “My cable box lets me run programs back to the beginning. You won’t miss a thing.” She reached for the remote. “What channel?”

      “You want I should stay? I don’t want to bother you.”

      “Yes, please. It’s no bother. I—I don’t like being alone all the time.”

      “So get yourself a fella,” Olga said, taking the remote from her and quickly locating the correct TV channel. “Girl like you shouldn’t have any trouble attracting a decent man.” She smiled. “What about the one that just left?”

      A shiver raced up Abigail’s spine and prickled the nape of her neck. “I’ve seen enough bad relationships to stay away from all of them.” She blushed. “I’m not letting any guy move in on me the way...”

      “The way what?” Olga asked.

      Abigail lowered her gaze. “The way my mother used to. That was almost as bad as her insisting I call every one of them Daddy.” Embarrassed beyond words, she wished she hadn’t spoken so bluntly. So truthfully. Yet now that she’d started to bare her soul she yearned to go on.

      “What about your real papa?”

      “I don’t even remember what he looked like. My mother got mad at him once when I was little and destroyed every picture. I have nothing to remember him by.”

      “Did you ask her? Maybe she kept some for herself.”

      Shaking her head, Abigail took another sip before continuing. “I haven’t seen Mama since I was sixteen. I have no idea where she even lives.”

      Olga began patting her free hand. “All right. I’ll stay.” She lifted her own mug as if in a toast to the soap opera. “Now we watch my show. I know some people say I’m foolish to want to see what happens, but you can learn a lot about life this way.”

      “I wish my life was as easy to understand,” Abigail said softly. “I thought I was on the right track, helping homeless teens and doing good for society. Now I wonder.”

      “Nobody ever said doing the right thing was easy. That doesn’t mean it isn’t still right.” Olga paused until the drama switched to a commercial, then said, “You keep the dog your friend is going to bring you, Mr. Rosenbaum will probably raise your rent.”

      Abigail hadn’t thought of that but it fit with the way her days had been going lately. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. She had just about decided to tell Reed to take Midnight back where she came from when Olga added, “Of course, there’s nothing like a big dog barking to scare off thugs.” She chuckled. “Might not be such a bad idea after all.”

      * * *

      Three flights of stairs and a frightened, gangly puppy were a bad combination, Reed mused, breathing hard as he carried wiggly, floppy, excited Midnight up to Abigail’s. Before he had time to put his furry burden down, Jessie barked. The door was jerked open.

      He set the pup on its big feet and smiled as he straightened. The look of astonishment on Abigail’s face added to his amusement.

      Eyes wide, she snapped her jaw closed and pointed. “That’s a puppy?”

      “Uh-huh. She’s about five months old. They grow pretty fast at first.”

      “Yeah.” Remaining in the doorway, Abigail held her hands apart to demonstrate something about the size of a domestic cat. “I was expecting, you know, a puppy. Little? Fluffy? Cuddly on my lap?”

      “Midnight will cuddle you. Give her a chance.”

      Although she did step back, Reed could tell she was anything but sold on his idea even before she said, “All right. Come on in. But this is not going to work.”

      Jessie was first through the door and already on the couch by the time Reed was able to coax Midnight inside. Instead of compliantly trotting along on the end of the leash as she had at the training center and coming up the sidewalk from his SUV, she threw herself down, splayed out on her belly, and was sliding across the wood floor, inch by inch, while he tugged and cajoled. Astonishing! If she’d been trained to resist he’d have understood, but this was a puppy who was supposed to be leash-trained.

      Abigail began to laugh. “Well, that’s good if I need my floor dusted. What other tricks does she do?”

      “She’s pretty good at eating,” Reed joked, knowing he was blushing. “I promise you, she was behaving perfectly when I picked her up at the kennel and put the harness on her. This is very unusual. Working dogs need to be confident and unafraid.”

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