Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 82282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“He’s not going anywhere.” She snapped.
“She’s right. He’s not going anywhere. It doesn’t matter what your animal behaviorist says. He’s not leaving me until he dies of old age. I can promise you that.”
My tone was devastatingly dark and deadly. I’d fight to the death for that dog, because that is what he would do for me.
***
I didn’t like her.
The supposed animal behaviorist was standing on my front porch, and I knew instantly that she wasn’t a professional.
A professional wouldn’t have gazed first in my eyes, and then at my crotch.
A professional wouldn’t have asked first how much my house cost and walked straight past the dog she was supposed to be studying without a backwards glance.
If the chief hadn’t mandated this to keep my job, I wouldn’t have even let her past the threshold of my door.
The woman, Jezebel Plight as she introduced herself, was in a skintight black knee length dress that hugged her skinniness like it was something to fawn over.
Personally it made me want to puke seeing bones where there should be curves, but hey, that might get someone off. Someone that wasn’t me.
My eyes were only for Viddy’s curvaceous body.
She was currently sitting on the couch next to Kosher, who had his head in her lap. Mocha and Tequila were at her feet, half under the couch chewing on a bone the size of Utah.
It was so big that both puppies each had an end, and there was still room to spare.
“Mr. Cabe,” Jezebel said happily when she saw the chief sitting in the recliner opposite Viddy. “How are you?”
Cabe regarded her with a closed expression. “I’m fine Ms. Plight.”
“Of course you are. Now, which beautiful Belgian Malanois are we studying today?”
Belgian Malanois was a close breed to a German Shepherd, but there were enough differences in them that an animal behaviorist who works with many police departments should know them.
Belgian Malanois were a smaller, more lithe, breed that were becoming more and more popular as of late. German Shepherds were stockier and fuller, and were always the breed that you thought of when you thought of a K-9 officer.
“German Shepherd.” Viddy snapped.
I had to resist the urge to snort as I called Radar from behind me to go sit in the middle of the room.
He followed directions hurriedly and sat, looking up at Ms. Plight.
She looked down at Radar and smiled a wide, fake smile. “Hello there, big girl.”
I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Did you do any research at all before you showed up?”
She giggled like I’d just told the funniest joke in the world, and dropped down to her haunches to stare him in the eyes.
Then the torture started. She asked inane facts about Radar’s habits. What he liked to eat. What every dog likes to eat. Where he liked to sleep. On the floor next to my bed or in bed with me. What his favorite toy was. His towel. What he did when he wasn’t at work with me. Sleep or play. Where he used the bathroom. How was that relevant?
“All right, well I think I have everything I need. I’ll let you know my observation when I check my notes.” She smiled serenely.
We checked her empty hands, which hadn’t written a single note in the entire time she’d been asking the questions. What fuckin’ notes was she talking about?
“Not to interrupt here, Ms. Plight, but how are any of these relevant to Radar’s state of being. You haven’t once asked anything about what he does at work. Nor have you asked about the incident at hand. Have you made your judgment?” The Chief asked in surprise.
“Absolutely not, I have to confer with my colleagues, and then I’ll get back to you.” She said before heading to the door.
Her eyes had a wary light in them, like she wasn’t being entirely truthful, and I knew right then that she’d made the decision already, she just didn’t want to be here when it was relayed.
After the door closed behind her, the chief came up to stand beside me while Viddy let the dogs out into the backyard to play.
“I won’t let anything happen to Radar. It’s the city council’s directive to have her come see him. Although it may come down to him not working anymore, nothing will happen to him. The city owes him too much to ever let that happen. I can promise you that.” The chief reassured me.
I explained to him that I’d already retired Radar last week, and he was extremely surprised. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I told my superior. He was the one who signed off on it. Radar was officially retired on Wednesday of last week.”
The chief nodded. “We should have a retirement party for him like we do all the other officers.”
I completely agreed. “He’s fond of the splash pad, sir.”
He guffawed. “Noted. I’ll be going. I’ll relay the news once I hear back. Okay?”
We shook hands, and he left.
It wasn’t twenty minutes later that the chief got back to me and told me the news.
The city council had sentenced Radar to euthanasia. For biting a citizen who wasn’t resisting arrest.
Wasn’t resisting my ass.
After many reassurances that Radar would not be in danger, we decided it would be best for me to be on administrative leave pending an appeal, which was scheduled to happen in a week’s time when the city council met for its monthly meeting.
The citizens of Benton would decide his fate.
Which meant I had free time on my hands.
After some planning and calls, Viddy was able to get out of work for the week, too. I didn’t tell her where we were going, much to her consternation.
It would’ve been slow anyhow with it being the week before Thanksgiving break, and thanks to her boss, Viddy now had two full weeks of vacation time.
Needless to say, we went to Vegas.
Chapter 17
If he puts his hand on your head to keep you from bumping it when he helps you in the car.