Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
The woman looked vaguely familiar.
“He doesn’t even know you, baby.” The large—and by large, I mean muscular, not fat. Not in any way, shape, or form—redheaded Downy said gently. “The last time you saw him was two years ago.”
“I don’t understand why Mom isn’t keeping him.”
Then understanding hit.
This was Memphis, Stone’s daughter. The one that left a couple of years ago and then married a Kilgore SWAT officer.
“I can’t, honey.”
That was the widow, Mei.
And God, did she look terrible.
Her face was haggard.
The normally pretty and upbeat woman looked rundown, as if she’d lost everything over the last couple of days.
Which she had.
She’d lost her husband.
A man who was vital to the community that we lived in. One who would be missed greatly by everyone.
But not more than the woman would miss her husband.
“Why not?” Memphis turned her head and rested it against her husband’s chest.
“Because Tank belongs to the city,” a big man replied.
That was Big Papa. Everyone knew him. A cop. A biker. A volunteer coach for the town’s little league.
“That’s just bullshit,” Memphis snapped, fire entering her eyes. “He’s a freakin’ dog, not a car. I’d never ask for his police cruiser. But Tank was his dog. He lived in y’all’s house. This isn’t right.”
No, it didn’t sound like it was right.
But I understood.
Everyone did.
K-9’s weren’t cheap to train, nor were they cheap to obtain.
I remembered reading in the paper about the day that the city got Tank. He was just shy of two years old, and had cost upwards of twenty thousand dollars. The city had gotten a grant, and had then purchased not just the dog, but the special vehicle that could transport the dog.
One that was decked out with a special kennel for Tank, as well as having certain amenities that the dog could utilize while on shift. The rugged pull that would allow him to close his own door. The bulletproof and stab proof vest. The neck guard. The training that he had to continue to utilize.
The list was lengthy.
From the article I remembered reading, I also recalled something about the dog not being able to be transferred to anyone but another certified K-9 officer that the city employed.
Why I remembered all this, I didn’t know.
It’d been a big deal for our small town at the time.
“Regardless, he’s only four years old, and has a lot of work time left in him,” Downy tried to soothe his wife. “You know Mocha would go nuts if she couldn’t work. And she also doesn’t share.”
A couple of the men around him laughed, and I realized that I might’ve missed something funny.
Since I wasn’t understanding the joke anyway, I let my eyes wander, which was why I realized that the dog was no longer where he was supposed to be.
“Umm,” I nudged Aaron with my elbow. “Where’d Tank go?”
Aaron lifted the leash, with the collar dangling from the end of it, and cursed.
“Try the…”
“The hearse.”
That was Mei’s soft voice. “He went to the hearse.”
My eyes traveled that way, and Tank was sitting at the back of the hearse, his front paws planted on the bumper of the black vehicle, as his eyes peered into the back glass.
I could see the coffin—covered completely with a stunning American flag—through the back window.
“That’s just sad,” someone murmured.
I agreed wholeheartedly.
I’d seen the photo in the paper this morning.
It’d been heartbreaking to see.
All you could see were the feet of Stone’s lifeless body. What the focus of the photograph was, though, was Stone’s K-9 officer, Tank.
Tank had been laying across Stone’s feet, head hung.
Grief was written all over the dog’s body.
If you said to me that dogs didn’t feel the way people felt, I’d have shown you that photo and called you a liar.
Dogs felt emotions, and with that picture you could feel all kinds of them pouring through that dog.
Some bagpipes started to play, and I realized that it was time for me to go.
But when I tried to pull away, I was sucked into the crowd that started to move forward.
Aaron’s arm went around my waist while someone else boxed me in.
Downy and Memphis walked in front of me, and Mei walked in front of them.
Bikers were also at my back and sides.
Everyone followed the matriarch of The Dixie Wardens Alabama Chapter, making sure she got safely ensconced in her seat.
The front seat of the hearse. Even though she’d been offered a ride in a limo that the rest of the family was riding in.
“No,” she said. “I ride with him. I’ll ride with him until he’s brought to his final resting place. Always and forever. He needs me one more time.”
Her eyes looked absolutely haunted. Ravished. Crushed.
There weren’t enough sad words in the English language to explain the way she looked at that moment.
Devastation rushed through me, and I had to turn my head away to keep my emotions in check.