Prologue
Kurt Manchester walked into Badger’s office. “Wow,” he said. “I don’t know what to do with this. You have an office of your own.”
Badger looked up, grinned, and said, “Kat insisted. Otherwise I leave my shit everywhere.”
Kurt laughed, sat down in the guest chair, and said, “What did you want to see me about?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard about the dogs we’ve been dealing with,” he said, one eyebrow lifted as he looked at Kurt.
Kurt nodded. “Yeah, heard something about it. You’re almost done with those, aren’t you?”
“Nope, not happening apparently,” he said. “We’ve got another half-dozen here anyway. I haven’t even counted but was trying to finish off the original twelve files. And this is the last of them,” he said. “When the department went to check on the War Dog, the adoptees admitted that they had only done the adoption for their brother because he’d really, really wanted it. But, when they followed up with the brother, he had taken off, and the dog was nowhere to be found.”
“And the problem with that is?”
“We found the brother later. He’s in jail.”
“Wow,” he said. “So where the hell is the dog?”
“The brother has no idea, says that the dog never adjusted well to being there, and wasn’t exactly friendly, so he didn’t really give a shit.”
“Great.”
“Yep. Lost in Kentucky.”
“Okay,” Kurt said, slowly getting an idea. “And that’s why you’re asking me?”
“Kentucky is your home state, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said. “But how long ago was the dog lost there?”
“Well, we were given the file awhile ago,” he said. “And we did look at all these, and absolutely no good leads existed on any of them. So we weren’t in too much of a panic to set too many man-hours in this direction. We’ve done the best we can, but this is the oldest one we’ve got.”
“So that’s a really cold case for me to look after,” he said, reaching for the file. He opened it up to see a completely golden not-quite-shepherd-looking Malinois. “Female?” he asked from the size.
“Yes, she’s female, and, of course, she’s fixed. She was an excellent War Dog. She was an IED-sniffing, bomb-sniffing War Dog, and she was really good at sniffing out the enemy in hidden corners. She’s an expert at hiding herself and has done a ton of outdoor training. Her name is Sabine.”
“In other words, she’ll see the world as her enemy. She won’t know who to trust, and she has spent all these weeks living on her own.”
“Maybe,” he said, “and I know you think the department was derelict in not getting to this earlier, but we did contact several people we know throughout the state of Kentucky, and yesterday we got a tip, saying that somebody had seen a dog looking just like this one at a local truck stop.”
“Is it likely she’s still there?”
“The only thing we could think of is it’s the last place that she had human contact. And remember that she’s five and that she’s spent quite a bit of time with people.”
“And was the tip a good tip or a bad tip?”
“That’s where the problem comes in,” he said. “The tipster said that Sabine was trying to attack people. They’d called animal control, but so far nobody had seen Sabine since.”
“I’m on my way,” he said, jumping to his feet.
“Wait,” Badger said. “We can’t pay for this. We’ll cover your expenses, but there are no wages.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “Any dog that’s been through military training deserves to have a few good years. It sounds like she’s been given a short shrift this time.”
“It happens,” Badger said, “hopefully not too often. The thing is, do you have any K9 training?”
“Maybe not like you mean,” he said, “but I’ve certainly been around dogs all my life. My biological dad bred them. When he was sober that is. My foster families usually had them, for easier assimilation, yada, yada.”
“Good enough,” he said. “This one could be dangerous.”
“She could be.” Kurt shrugged. “Yet maybe it’s about time somebody went intending to rescue her,” he said, “instead of capturing her.” And, with that, Kurt walked out.
Chapter 1
As Kurt stepped out of the Lexington airport into the bright sunshine, he stopped and took several slow deep breaths. It might have been the area that he grew up in, but it wasn’t an area that he had very good memories of. His childhood had been rough; in his teen years, he had bounced off the law more than playing within it. Only as he finally went into the navy did everything improve tremendously. He’d learned discipline and growth. He’d learned what brotherhood was and what it meant to have people who were there for him and who wanted to help him. He’d been very wild and unruly; going into the navy had been the best thing he could have done. School was hit-and-miss for him, and he was not sure if he would graduate because he’d skipped so much school. But somehow he’d squeaked his way all the way through to becoming a Navy SEAL, and the rest was history.
Until his accident.
He’d spent thirteen years in the navy, with his last year in a hospital, but the previous twelve years as a Navy SEAL. The highlight of his career.
He’d been in a freak underwater diving accident, where part of a wreck came down on him. Everybody said it was a total accident and could have happened to anybody at any time. But the fact was, it had happened to him. He looked down at his prosthetic lower right leg and gave it a shake. It always felt weird to think that this mechanical piece was attached to his body now. It was okay, but it just wasn’t the same as what it had been before. But he’d long ago given up on feeling sorry for himself. He was alive. He’d almost drowned and then almost hadn’t survived the accident. It was pretty hard to imagine a wake-up call with any less of a head smack, saying, Hey, what’s next in your life?
He shook his head, walked toward the car rental office to pick up the truck he’d ordered. He knew a lot of people would laugh at his choice of a truck. In this case, a large dog was involved, so Kurt needed some space. He also didn’t know what he was up against. With that in mind, he headed out for supplies at a pet store.
Once inside, he saw a crate and contemplated it. But he decided that, if and when he was successful in recovering this War Dog, the cage was something that he could use for transporting the dog. In the meantime, it wasn’t necessary. At least he hoped not.
With all that on his mind, he walked into the strip mall at the end of the block, picked up a couple sandwiches from a corner deli and a coffee. With those, he headed back out to the street and into the truck. He stopped beside his vehicle to figure out with his cell’s GPS exactly where he was going and determined the truck stop was about twenty miles away. He hopped into the vehicle and headed in the direction he needed to go.
He couldn’t imagine why the dog would be hanging around the same area, unless something was keeping her there. Animals were fairly simple in that they had basic needs and were usually easy to understand. But the conflicting reports that Badger had been getting from various people wasn’t good. It also could mean that the dog was no longer around, if it had truly gotten vicious.