“What else?” she asked, her tone brisk, as if she’d regretted her outburst. “You said a question or two.”
He shook his head sharply. “Yes. Do you know if she happened to keep a copy of the application?”
“Yes, she did. I made her.” She sounded a bit embarrassed. “I’m kind of zealous when it comes to that. Learned the hard way.”
“Never a bad idea.” He wondered what that hard way had been.
“Do you need it?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. Just wanted to know if there was one.”
The conversation ground to a halt, yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to say goodbye. Beyond stupid, but there it was. And after a moment she spoke, saving him.
“How’s Cutter?”
“Probably still snoozing. Unlike me, he gets to rest up after our run.”
She laughed. It rippled over him. “How else will he keep you on your toes when you get home?”
“He’s relentless. I’ve taken to going home for lunch and running him ragged some more,” he said. “He’ll chase a tennis ball until he drops.”
He didn’t add that that very doglike behavior was one of the few reasons he was reassured Cutter wasn’t something spookily more than just a dog.
“Where’s home? You must be local, unless you run a marathon every day.”
For some reason he didn’t want to analyze, he liked that she’d asked. But still he hesitated, with that innate caution all cops had. He didn’t generally discuss where he lived with people he’d only just met.
“Just off Cedar View,” he said, figuring she’d know the area, given where she lived. The small house he rented wasn’t much, more of a cabin, but it was all he needed. And since Cutter had come to stay, he’d made full use of the near acre it sat on. “Top of the hill.”
“Wow. That’s still a good long way to us.”
“Only five miles, out and back. But that last uphill bit is a killer.”
“No wonder you—”
She stopped so suddenly he wondered if something had happened. “Ms. Burke?”
“Sloan, please.” She sounded odd, he thought. A little like he had when he’d realized she’d said hello more than once.
“All right.” He felt absurdly pleased that in less than a day they were on a first-name basis. In the same instant, he wasn’t sure he should be glad that the formality of “Detective Dunbar” and “Ms. Burke” wasn’t still between them. “I’ll let you know what I find out, if anything.”
“We appreciate that you’re even bothering,” Sloan assured him.
“No problem,” he said.
As he ended the call, he wondered just how big a lie that was. Because Sloan Burke was already nibbling around the edges of his mind the way a tough case did, always present, never far away. And that could be a problem.
Cutter was sitting by the door when he opened it.
This wasn’t strange. The dog had been right there every day since he’d been here. It didn’t matter what time he managed to break for lunch—the dog was ready and waiting. Brett supposed he must hear him coming.
But today the usually present yellow tennis ball was absent. And instead of greeting him with a tail wag and a happy yip, the dog bolted past him and ran toward the car parked in front of the house.
“You want a ride?” Brett said, puzzled.
Cutter sat next to the back driver’s-side door. He looked back over his shoulder at Brett.
“Buddy, I’m on duty. I can’t just take off for a leisurely jaunt.”
Cutter just looked at him.
“Seriously, dog, I can’t.”
Cutter yipped, short and sharp. But didn’t move.
Brett sighed. “I have a feeling I haven’t had enough sympathy for the Foxworth crew.”
The moment he spoke the name, Cutter jumped up, letting loose a staccato series of barks. He rose up and put his paws on the car door.
“I know you must miss them, but they’re not home yet.”
Brett realized with no small amount of amazement that he was carrying on a conversation with a dog. A conversation that should have been one-sided yet felt anything but.
Cutter stayed where he was, only now he was pawing at the door handle. With his luck, he’d probably put some scratches in the paint that Brett would have to answer for. It was a county car, after all, even if it was his for the duration.
He glanced at his watch. Because he’d already been at this end of the county for the deposition, he had a bit more time. With a sigh, he gave in. It was for only a little while longer, after all. Then Cutter would go home, and his life would go back to the normal, quiet thing it usually was off duty. He needed that, with the kind of job that took up his working hours.
Cutter leaped into the backseat the instant he opened the door. Once he was back in the driver’s seat, he pondered where to go. Maybe the dog just wanted to visit home, make sure everything was all right while his people were gone.
He nearly laughed at his own thought. He was fairly certain that kind of thought process was beyond the average dog’s capabilities.
But then, Cutter wasn’t an average dog.
He decided it couldn’t hurt and started the car. The dog sat quietly in the back until he reached the intersection where he had to turn to get to Hayley and Quinn’s place. He’d been there only once. Actually, he hadn’t been there; he’d been to the next house over, which had been destroyed in an apparent propane explosion. When the firefighters suspected there might be a body inside, it had been all hands on deck until they’d sifted through the smoking ruin and determined there hadn’t been anyone inside after all. Once that was certain, the case had gone back to the fire department and their investigators.
It wasn’t until much later, after he’d met Quinn and Hayley, that he’d gotten the full, dramatic story on that one. Hell of a way to start a relationship, he thought as he started to pull into the left-hand-turn lane to head toward their house.
Cutter erupted into furious barking.
The suddenness and the sheer volume nearly made him jump. He hit the brakes, thankful for being in a semirural area without much traffic. The dog stayed on his feet, apparently braced for the stop. The moment the car halted, the racket ceased.
“What the hell, dog?”
He turned to look into the backseat. Cutter was still on his feet, staring intently out the side window. The other side, facing the opposite direction. Away from home for the dog.
It took him a moment to realize what lay in that direction. The Foxworth building.
“There’s nobody there either,” he said. “Quinn gave everybody the time off while they’re gone.”
Cutter never moved. Never even looked at him when he spoke. Just stared in that same direction.
“Okay, okay, I get it. Hang on.”
He looked around to be sure they were clear and made a right turn instead. Cutter immediately settled down once more, seemingly happy that his temporary custodian—or should that be servant?—had finally understood. Brett’s mouth quirked as he shook