She followed the dog as he clambered over a pile of rocks. Veering toward Chuck’s sector, she noted, and called her position in.
When they headed downhill, Newman alerted, strongly, then pushed his body through brush.
She pulled out her tape to mark the alert. “What’ve you got?” She used her flashlight, switching it on to chase away those green shadows.
She saw the disturbed ground first, the depressions, and got a picture in her mind of the old man taking a spill, catching himself by the heels of his hands, his knees.
Briars pulling and tearing, she thought. And, playing the light, she saw a few strands of red cotton snagged on thorns.
“Good boy. Good boy, Newman. Base, this is Fee. I’m about fifty yards from my west boundary. We’ve got some red threads on briars and what looks like signs of a fall. Over.”
“Base, this is Chuck. We just found his hat. Fee, Quirk’s alerting in your direction. We’re moving east. My boy’s got something. I’m going to—Hold on! I see him! He’s down. Ground falls off here. We’re going down to him. He’s not moving. Over.”
“I’m heading your way, Chuck. We’ll assist. Over. Newman! Find Walt. Find!”
She ignored the radio chatter as they continued west, until Chuck re ported again.
“We’ve got him. He’s unconscious. Pulse is thready. He’s got a head wound, a lot of scratches—face, hands. He’s got a gash on his leg, too. We’re going to need some assistance getting him out. Over.”
“Copy that,” Mai said. “Help’s on the way.”
Tired, but fortified with the hot dog she’d grabbed in Deer Harbor, Fiona turned toward home. They’d done their job, she thought, and well. Now she had to hope Walter’s physical stamina would hold the line against his injuries.
“We did what we could, right?” She reached over and gave Newman a pat. “It’s all you can do. You need a bath after all that...”
She trailed off, stopped the car. A second dogwood stood pretty as a picture across from the first. And both, she noted, were tidily mulched.
“Uh-oh,” she said as her heart sighed. “Direct hit.”
Peck and Bogart, thrilled to see her, raced to her car, back to the house as if to say,
Instead, she followed impulse, got out and opened the back. “Let’s go for a ride.”
They didn’t have to be asked twice. While her dogs greeted one another, and the stay-at-homes explored all the fascinating scents Newman brought back from the search, she turned her car around.
On the porch of his shop, Simon sanded a table. The warm day, the sweet air had tempted him outside. With the care and precision of a surgeon, he smoothed the sleek walnut legs. He’d leave this one natural, he decided, and play up that beautiful grain with clear varnish. If somebody wanted uniform, they’d have to buy something else.
“Don’t even think about it,” he ordered as Jaws tried to belly up for the sandblock Simon used for larger areas. “Not now,” he said when the dog bumped his arm with his nose. “Later.”
Jaws scrambled off the porch to choose a stick from the piles of other sticks, balls, chew toys and assorted rocks he’d dumped together in the past ninety minutes.
Simon stopped long enough to shake his head. “When I’m finished.”
The dog wagged his tail, danced in place with the stick clamped in his jaw.
“That’s not going to work.”
Jaws sat, lifted a paw, tilted his head.
“Still not going to work,” Simon muttered, but he felt himself weakening.
Maybe he could take a break, throw the damn stick. The problem was, if he threw it once, the dog would want him to throw it half a million times. But it was kind of cool he’d actually figured out that if he brought it back and dropped it, he got to chase it again.
“Okay, okay, but I’m only giving you ten minutes, then—Hey!”
Annoyed, after he’d decided to play, he watched Jaws race away. Seconds later, Fiona’s car made the curve toward the house.
When she got out, Simon cursed under his breath as Jaws bunched to jump. Hadn’t they been working on that for two damn days? She countered, had him sit, then accepted the stick he offered, hurled it like a javelin.
When she opened the back of her car, it became dog mania.
Simon went back to sanding. If nothing else, maybe she’d keep his dog out of his hair until he finished the job. By the time she’d made it to the porch, Jaws had mined his pile for three more sticks.
“Treasure trove,” she said.
“He’s been trying to con me by dumping stuff there.”
She bent down, chose a bright yellow tennis ball, then threw it high and long.
More mania.
“You brought me another tree.”
“Since you decided to plant the first one where you did, it skewed the balance. It bothered me.”
“And you mulched them.”
“No point in going to the trouble to plant something if you don’t do it right.”
“Thank you, Simon,” she said primly.
He spared her a glance, noted her eyes laughed. “You’re welcome, Fiona.”
“I’d have given you a hand if I’d been home.”
“You were out early.”
She waited, but he didn’t ask. “We had a Search and Rescue on San Juan.”
He paused, gave her his attention. “How’d it go?”
“We found him. An elderly man, with early-onset Alzheimer’s. He’d wandered out, took his fishing gear. It looks like he got confused, maybe had a little visit to the past in his head and just headed out to one of his fishing holes. More confusion and, from the tracking, he got turned around and tried to hike to his daughter’s old house to get his grandson. They live with him now. He did a lot of circling, backtracking, walked miles, we think. Wore himself out, then he took a bad fall.”
“How bad?”
“Gashed his head and leg, concussion, hairline fracture on his left ankle and a bunch of bruises, lacerations, dehydration, shock.”
“Is he going to make it?”
“He’s got a strong constitution, so they’re hopeful, but boy, he took a beating. So, you’re glad you found him, satisfied the unit did the job and concerned you might’ve been too late anyway.” She picked up another stick. “That looks like it’s going to be a nice table. Why don’t I thank you for the tree by playing with your dog while you finish?”
He passed the sandblock from hand to hand as he studied her. “Did you come over to play with my dog?”
“I came over to thank you, and since Syl took my morning classes and I don’t have my last class of the day until five-thirty, I decided to thank you now, in person.”
“What time is it?”
She arched her eyebrows, glanced at her watch. “Three-fifteen.”
“That’ll work.” He tossed the sandpaper down, then stepped off the porch to take her arm and pull her toward the house.
“Are we going somewhere?”
“You know damn well.”
“Some might attempt at least a little warming up before—”
He swung her around, crushed his mouth to hers while his hands streaked down to mold her ass.
“You’re right, that’ll work. I want to say I’m not normally this easy, but—”
“Don’t care.” This time his hands streaked under her jacket, her shirt, up her bare back.
