Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I sip my beer. “A little too close for comfort.”
Kellen grins. “I’m also going to guess that your family is big. Huge, even, and you felt that there were plenty of others to take on the responsibility, which gave you an opportunity to escape.”
“You make it sound like a prison,” I say softly, glancing down at my bottle.
“Sometimes even a great life with a wonderful family can be a prison if you want to do other things.”
My eyes snap up to his. “Yes. Exactly. How did you get all of that so accurately?”
“I’m a good judge of character,” he explains. “Plus, I’m observant and have a wide and varied history to draw from. Also, there was a picture of you and what looked, I assumed, to be your big family, sitting next to your laptop in the clinic.”
Laughing, I hold up my bottle in a mock toast. “Great job, Sherlock.”
“Just how big is your family?” he asks.
“Mom, Dad, twin sister Katherine, older brothers Ethan, Trey, and Wade. An assortment of uncles, aunts, cousins. What about you?”
“Only child,” he says, taking a swig of beer. “Parents are alive and well in upstate New York. It’s why I moved back to the East Coast… to be closer to them.”
I step over to the sink, nudging him away. I use a jet of cold water to cool the pasta. “Which implies you were on the West Coast.”
“Southern California. But I landed a great job in Pittsburgh with a company called Jameson Force Security. Moved here a little over three months ago and have been loving this area.”
“It’s great, right?” I shake the colander to drain the pasta before dumping it into a large bowl. “I chose Washington because I like the small-town feel, but I can be in downtown Pittsburgh in thirty minutes on a good day. And the rolling hills remind me a little of back home.”
“Same,” Kellen says.
While I cut veggies for the pasta salad, he pops two more beers for us and tells me about the beautiful dairy country where he was raised. His dad is a mechanic, and his mom an operating room nurse.
The dogs snooze while I learn about Kellen’s enlistment in the Marine Corps and how he first became a military policeman and then got accepted into the dog handler program, which is actually run by the Air Force out of Lackland AFB in San Antonio. I’m riveted by the stories of his and Bubba’s time in Iraq, doing incredibly dangerous explosives detection work. Kellen explained that sometimes they’d search checkpoints, other times down random streets. My heart thuds as I consider every single step either of them took could’ve meant death. I wonder how this easygoing, funny man handled all that so well.
Or maybe he didn’t, and I’m just seeing his bright side.
We take the dogs outside and eat on his back deck. I learn more about the company he works for, and I’m shocked at the hazardous missions he goes on. His most recent trip was providing protection to American engineers traveling through some areas of Mexico that are quite often deadly.
“You mentioned you’re planning to buy out Dr. Schoen from the practice. When I met her a few months ago, she didn’t seem like she was considering retirement.”
I laugh. “She’s sixty-eight years old and acts like she’s forty. But she’s been dating a man about ten years younger, and they’ve been traveling a lot. I think retirement is coming sooner rather than later.”
“And how long has this feud been going on with Hellman?” Kellen asks. It catches me by surprise. He hadn’t pushed for details since bailing me out of jail, and I can tell by the abrupt change of subject he had intended to grill me on this all along.
Sighing, I settle back in my chair. “It’s not just Hellman. It’s the entire industry. And it’s not just those who run the puppy mills. It’s the pet stores that buy from them, knowing about the atrocities, and it’s the legislators who won’t pass laws with any real deterrents built in because they don’t want to piss off their business-owning supporters. There are federal laws, but the USDA has failed to revoke a breeder’s license or even fine one under the Animal Welfare Act in over three years. No level of government cares, so it’s up to me and other like-minded people to hit these breeders where it hurts. It’s very much a boots-on-the-ground kind of crusade.”
“And the arrest today?”
I lift my chin. “Pet World is a regional chain store, and I may or may not have staged some protests in front of their properties during my days off. They buy direct from the puppy mills, and Hellman’s is the largest.”
“And they have restraining orders against you,” he points out.
My smile is impish. “Only the one that came on the heels of an arrest when I was protesting.”