Once the floor’s dry, I let him out, and to my surprise, he nuzzles up against me straight away.
I’ve always been easy around animals, but by his size, plus what that cop said, I figured Moose was a hard case.
Strict police training and all that stuff.
Not true.
He really is just like a huge baby.
In no time at all, we’re like old pals, with his huge tongue lolling about happily as I feed him one treat snack after the other as I sit in the salon, pretending I know what I’ll do next.
Thumbing the card the cop gave me, I gnaw at my lip.
Sasha told me to do one thing, look after Moose until Monday.
How hard could that be?
“Where’s your dad, Moose?” I ask him hopelessly. “Maybe he can come to rescue us both?” I suggest.
Jumping again as Moose barks loudly in agreement.
CHAPTER TWO
Parker
“But you just got here, how can you be going already?” My mom shouts from her kitchen, confused and upset as I head back to the guest room to re-pack.
“Because some idiot’s been left in charge of Moose,” I growl to myself, throwing my clothes back in the bag, feeling an unpleasant knot in my stomach and a familiar twinge in my throwing arm.
I should never have left him.
Should never have come up here.
“Dammit!” I growl even louder, knowing now I have to explain myself to my mom now as well as drive back down to the city, ruining our plans for the weekend.
Anywhere else, I’d bring Moose with me. He’s my working partner as well as my best buddy after all.
But Mom and her allergies… And the fact that Moose can’t stand her.
Hates her guts for some reason, which is so unlike him. But not unusual for a dog with supreme instincts.
Like seriously, he almost wants to bite her every time he sees her or even hears her on the phone.
I take a couple of deep breaths, deciding I may as well stay for dinner at least and then head back.
It’ll give me a chance to explain things to mom, who isn’t getting any younger.
Any disruption to her plans or her routines. It really rattles her.
Especially now that dad’s gone.
The memory of him makes my shoulder sting with pain again and I wince a little as I tell myself it’s because I’ve been tossing clothes around like a child, not because it’s where I took the bullet all those years ago.
Dad used to be my partner on the force. Back when I was detective Parker.
The greatest father-son cop team the precinct’s ever had.
After what happened, he took early retirement. Moved upstate with my mom and made sure I was looked after by leaving me the house they both shared for almost forty years.
The look I get when I front up to the dinner table for duty says it all.
If only your father was here. He’d know what to do.
But he’s not here.
He lived a good life, and god rest his soul, left mom and me very comfortable thanks to sound investments and his own family’s money.
“I just can’t leave Moose alone is all, Mom.” I remind her, pretending to be hurt when she won’t meet my eyes, stacking my plate higher with mashed potatoes and corned beef.
Willing me to stay longer by feeding me to death.
“Ma?” I protest, moving my head until our eyes meet, and moving over to comfort her when I see she’s crying.
Truth is, we’ve never been close.
I was closer to my dad, and since being reassigned to K9 duty, my life with Moose is all I know.
“That damned dog!” she sniffs. “It’s like since your father left us he’s all you really care about…”
I take some more of those calming breaths, careful not to say anything to upset her any more than she already is.
“Why can’t you just settle down, get a wife and give me some grandbabies to worry about. Instead, I’m up most nights, thinking about you racing around in the dark with that animal… Just waiting to get…” But she stops herself.
Just waiting to get shot again is what she means.
Dad was the same once he retired. Always wanting me to quit the force, settle down and focus on being a family man.
The kind he never was. We only became close once we were partners on the job, dad and me.
This job.
This life.
Once a cop, always a cop. And it takes over everything sooner or later. Like it’s in the blood or something.
“Won’t you at least stay just one night?” she asks, finally settling herself down to watch me eat the mountain of food she’s prepared.
I know if I do, I won’t sleep a wink, but maybe it’ll make her feel better.
Could Moose survive one night with a total stranger?
The real question was could a total stranger survive a whole night of Moose?
“I should’ve told them you weren’t here,” my mom huffs, wringing her hands in her napkin in front of an empty plate.
An old buddy from the precinct I used to work with called me, told me the groomer I’d left Moose with for the weekend was in the hospital.
“Some broad who nearly killed your groomer with nut milk has Moose, apparently… Just thought you should know,” he’d said.
And I’m glad to know, even though it makes me so mad.
Makes me wonder what’s wrong with people.
Who the fuck drinks nut milk, anyway? And why would she give it to Sasha? Everyone knows about her allergies.
Allergies.
I consider the word as I look over at my mom again, sighing.
“I guess I could stay one night,” I murmur, regretting it instantly.
Sorry Moose, but Dad’s gonna be a little late in collecting you. Hang in there and try not to hurt anyone, will ya?
“That’s a good boy,” my mom says, patting my hand. Finally helping herself to a tiny portion of food.
It’s the least I can do, and the only thing I can think of
