“When does a bird or a rabbit become a small child?”
“You haven’t been worried about Kona eating pets and children all this time,” Greyson said. “Why now?”
“I was assuming the dog was stolen.”
“For what purpose?”
“Maybe somebody heard about the dog? Maybe somebody thought they could use it for breeding?”
“All War Dogs are fixed,” Greyson said calmly. “So, if they thought they would breed it, they would be wrong.”
“But they may not have known that when they took it,” he said. “For that matter, they may still not know it.” The detective frowned. “So, it would be a rude awakening. And what happens if they turn on the dog because they’re upset now?”
“The dog would defend herself against a certain amount of abuse, but she’s in a very strange circumstance now, and her orderly and regulated life has been burst wide open,” Greyson said. “That doesn’t make her a mad, foaming-at-the-mouth dog that’s dangerous.”
“It doesn’t make it a cozy pet that everybody will want to keep either,” the detective said, glaring at him.
“And what is it you think she’ll do?”
“How do I know?” he said.
The detective’s attitude didn’t improve over the next ten minutes, when they sorted out what options they had for finding the dog.
“I’m expecting somebody to turn him in,” the detective said in a surly note. “Most likely after he’s attacked somebody.”
“Once again, it’s a female, and her name is Kona. I hope you’re wrong,” Greyson said, standing up. “That would be the worst-case scenario.”
“It would, indeed,” the detective said, standing up as well. “So why don’t you try and find her before she kills somebody?”
“Kona is a valued US veteran, still technically government property until in proper civilian care. So treat her accordingly.” Although the detective had never asked who had assigned this matter to Greyson, he left a Titanium Corp business card with his cell phone number on the back, placing it in plain sight on the detective’s desk. Then Greyson gave a clipped nod and walked back out.
His visit with the detective had been less than fruitful and only added pressure as he realized the detective had no love or respect for the dog and was already expecting it to be a scenario gone bad. That attitude wouldn’t help at all. Greyson stepped outside and stood beside his grandfather’s truck. It seemed so odd to be here with his grandfather’s rig, but it made sense at the time. He had some money for expenses, but he wasn’t getting paid for this mission-of-mercy job. It was another one of those contribution to society jobs. And he was fine with that; he just wished he could do something that would help Kona.
Just then his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and read a text message from Badger.
Kona seems to be a happy coincidence in naming and landing in Hawaii. Any luck on your end?
Rather than trying to text back, he quickly hit Talk, and, when Badger answered on the other end, Greyson filled him in on what the detective had just said.
“That doesn’t sound very helpful,” Badger exclaimed. “The last thing we need is to have law enforcement gunning for the dog.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ll start canvassing the entire neighborhood that I walked. There will be several hundred houses, but I’m not sure what else to do.”
“We’ll run down the rescue center and see if anything pops. No pops on the address you gave me earlier either. Sending you the deets anyway. Oh, and the truck license plate comes back as stolen.”
“Huh. Not good. We need to report that to the police. While you’re at it, can you run down the police report for the fender bender that happened?” Greyson said. “That’s the only odd thing in this scenario.”
“Only?” Badger said with humor. “We’ve got a War Dog that was supposed to go to Denver and ended up in Hawaii. Then it escapes from a rescue center, and now you’re thinking it has something to do with a fender bender?”
“What if the dog felt like someone was being threatened? Think about the road-rage scenarios that often happen. Look. I’m not saying that’s what happened here,” he said with a note of caution. “But what if the dog thought somebody was being attacked because people were arguing or something?”
“That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?” Badger said doubtfully.
“It’s all a bit of a stretch at the moment,” Greyson said. “Another option is that the dog bolted because of the noise. In which case she’s skulking around in the dark, trying to survive and wondering what happened to her world.”
“Also not a good scenario,” Badger said, his tone firm. “Let me see if I can find anything on the fender bender. Also I have no notes on the dog having noise issues.”
“Right,” he said. “I feel like I need to go back to the damn center where the dog was, see if the front desk lady remembers anything else about the fender bender.”
“Did the woman go outside?”
“Yes, she did, although she didn’t say a whole lot about it.”
“I suggest you go grill her again and see if she can share more.”
“Will do,” he said. “At least if I could talk to the people involved in the accident,” he said, “maybe they saw the dog. If they didn’t, then we’ll know that’s the wrong direction to pursue.”
“I hear you,” Badger said. “We’re on it on our end. Let us know if you get any updates.”
With the call ended, Greyson hopped into his grandfather’s truck and headed back to the animal rescue. A look of long suffering came over the receptionist’s face when she saw him again. She didn’t get up but crossed her arms over her chest and relaxed back into her chair. “Now what?”
“So you heard the fender bender on the same day Kona went missing,” he said. “Do you know who was involved?”
“How would I know?” she said in exasperation. “I went outside because
