He yearned to ask if she’d made any decisions about flight school, about staying in the Army. But the words strangled in his throat. He wasn’t ready to lose both herandRowdy in the same morning.
Kinley leaned her head toward her window. “I’ve really forgotten how beautiful Alaska is, even when it’s murky like this. Easy to take for granted when you’re young and feeling caged. I regret not getting out and exploring more. I’ve never been north of Anchorage.”
“I’m overdue for some exploring myself,” Ryder admitted, calculating how long it’d been since he last left town for a reason other than hauling a prisoner. “Rushed dip netting trips don’t really count as scenic drives.”
What at first felt like a chore quickly turned enjoyable. Neither was in a hurry to locate Rowdy’s address. They stopped at three different pull-offs along the Turnagain Arms stretch of highway. Mom would be proud of him for getting in more than a few photos with the jutting peaks of the Chugach Mountains in the background, even if it was at Kinley’s insistence.
At the last pull-off they visited before Anchorage, an older woman on her first trip to Alaska with her husband offered to take a photo of the three of them. Ryder sent it off to both Mom and Fiona before he thought better of it. He’d figure out how to deal with their excessive excitement later, because the moment was too special not to share.
They stopped at a gas station on the north end of Anchorage to pick Rowdy up a bag of Cheetos after Kinley feigned outrage that Ryder hadn’t bought any real dog treats. While inside, Kinley found him a butter-pecan waffle cone from the freezer section, and picked up a chocolate caramel one for herself.
“Trying to sweeten me up?” he teased as they walked back to the truck where an eager Rowdy stuck her head out the half-open window.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Can’t hurt, can it?”
The blissful day didn’t last, though. Not when a lump formed in Ryder’s throat as the outskirts of the Palmer city limits emerged in front of them. Too soon, their trio might be down to two. Then, next week, he’d be the last man standing.Again.
“What’s the address?” Kinley asked, phone at the ready. Until a few miles ago, neither had cell reception. Gone was her enthusiastic, carefree tone, along with the rare stretch of sunshine they’d captured. An overcast sky matched the grim feeling that filled the cab. Even Rowdy was curled up on her blanket, no longer interested in peering out the window.
He handed Kinley the sticky note the vet gave him, wishing it weren’t too late to turn around. Whenever Ryder felt his happiest, life seemed to take the cruelest turns. “I’ll drop you and Rowdy off at a park nearby.” He’d looked up the neighborhood online last night to familiarize himself with the layout. He felt confident judging by the style and price range of the houses that the two would be safe three blocks over.
“Why?” Kinley asked.
“I want to meet this owner first, before I hand Rowdy over.” Ryder felt responsible for Rowdy’s wellbeing. That no one had been looking for her—in Sunset Ridge or Palmer from the calls he’d made—bothered him. “It’s possible that someone stole her and dumped her in Sunset Ridge, but I doubt that’s what happened.”
“And if someonehadgotten separated from her—”
“Exactly.”
With a heavy breath, Ryder pulled up alongside the park. Rowdy let out a couple of barks, no doubt because she recognized her neighborhood. “I won’t be long. Call me if you need me.”
“I have a spare bag of Cheetos.” Kinley dangled the bag, drawing Rowdy’s excited attention from the window. “We’ll be just fine.”
“If anyone tries to take her from you—”
Kinley placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know hand-to-hand combat.” She winked at him. “Ryder, they won’t get her from me. I’ll call you.”
As he’d been forced to do many times on the job, Ryder steeled his emotions as he weaved the couple of blocks through the neighborhood to the light blue split-level home in the middle of a cul-de-sac.
Two power-riding toys—a red Jeep and a pink sports car—sat in the driveway, blocking the garage door. Had the owner dumped the dog to protect his kids? It didn’t make sense. The few kids that Rowdy had met on Ryder’s daily coffee run loved her. She licked their faces, elated for the new friends. She wasn’t a threat to them any more than she was to the cat she practically ignored.
He rang the doorbell.
The pounding of tiny feet echoed on the other side of the door as he waited.
A woman in leggings, no makeup, and a toddler on her hip answered the door. “Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Gladwell?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Um, no. I think you have the wrong house.”
“You’re not married to Norman Gladwell?”
“No.” The slow way she dragged out the word revealed it meant something to her, but she didn’t know him enough to admit what that was.
He pulled out his wallet and showed her the badge he kept there in a special flap. “I’m Police Chief Ryder Grant from Sunset Ridge PD.”
“You’re a long way from home, Officer.”
