“He’s very thorough,” Jade said, a slight smile in her voice.
“He’s trained to be.”
Jade picked up her notepad and settled into her own chair, tucking one leg beneath her. “So, Riverside Elementary, second and third graders, forty-five minutes.” She glanced at her notes. “What does your standard demo look like?”
Maddox relaxed slightly, being able to talk about work. “Obedience commands first. It shows them Zeus responds to verbal and hand signals. Then a search demonstration where I hide an object beforehand and Zeus finds it and alerts. Finally, a Q&A session. Kids always have questions.”
“What do they usually ask?”
“What he eats, where he sleeps, if he’s ever scared.” Maddox’s mouth twitched. “Whether he bites the bad guys.”
Jade’s smile widened. “And what do you tell them?”
“That Zeus only acts on command and he’s trained to protect, not harm. His job is to keep people safe, including me.” Maddox shifted in her chair. “They understand better when they see him work in action instead of relying on words.”
“Makes sense.” Jade made a note. “I was thinking we could weave in some emotional context naturally. Nothing heavy, just a discussion about safety feelings, asking for help when you’re scared, that kind of thing.”
Maddox’s shoulders tensed again. “They’re seven and eight. They want to see the dog work, not sit in a feelings circle.”
“I’m not suggesting a feelings circle.” Jade’s tone stayed frustratingly even. “More like…when you explain Zeus’s protective stance, we can talk about how feeling scared is normal and useful. When you demonstrate teamwork between you and Zeus, we can mention that everyone needs their team sometimes, even police officers.”
“That’s therapy talk.”
“It’s life talk.” Jade leaned forward. “Kids that age are just starting to understand that adults have feelings too. Seeing a police officer model health emotional awareness? That matters more than you think.”
Maddox wanted to argue but couldn’t find the angle because Jade was right, even if Maddox didn’t want her to be. Kids did need to see that cops were human and asking for help wasn’t weakness. She just didn’t want to be the one demonstrating it.
“I’m not doing role-play exercises,” Maddox said finally.
“I wouldn’t ask you to. Just be yourself with them.” Jade paused. “Like you were at the Spring Safety Day. With Emma.”
Maddox stiffened. “You were watching.”
“I was observing the event, but yes, I saw you with her. You were patient and explained things clearly. That’s what kids need.”
The observation sat uncomfortably in Maddox’s chest. Being seen when she didn’t know she was being watched felt like an invasion, even if nothing about it had been inappropriate.
“Can we just go over the timeline?” Maddox said, redirecting.
Jade let her, and they worked through the logistics. The conversation became easier for her when it was something practical in Maddox’s control. She noticed they were surprisingly efficient together, and Jade anticipated questions before they were asked, filling in details without overlap.
Zeus shifted during the planning, stretching out and moving closer to Jade’s chair. Maddox noticed but didn’t comment. He was just repositioning like dogs did.
But then Jade reached down absently, her hand extending toward Zeus’s head. Maddox opened her mouth to warn her—Zeus didn’t warm to strangers, he tolerated them at best—but the words died in her throat.
Zeus leaned into Jade’s touch. Actually leaned into it, pressing his head against her palm, his ears relaxing, a soft contented sound escaping his throat.
Jade’s hand stilled. She glanced at Maddox, suddenly uncertain. “Is this okay? I should’ve asked first.”
Maddox stared at her K-9 partner. Zeus, who growled at most people outside the department and maintained professional distance even with officers he worked alongside daily and trusted exactly one person completely, was leaning into Jade’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“He doesn’t usually warm up to people,” Maddox said, her voice coming out rougher than intended.
Jade’s fingers moved gently behind Zeus’s ears, scratching in that spot most dogs loved. Zeus’s eyes half-closed, his tail giving one lazy wag. “Maybe he knows I’m safe,” Jade said quietly.
The words landed heavier than they should’ve and loaded with subtext Maddox didn’t want to analyze. If Zeus trusted Jade, what did that mean? He’d never been wrong about people before. His instincts were sharper than hers, unclouded by pride or fear or the need to maintain control.
Maddox stood abruptly. “I think we’re done for now.”
