Moose walked over to the coffeepot. “We heard the baby’s heartbeat a couple days ago. Hazel was there too—she got pretty excited, although I’m not sure a nine-year-old understands the whole picture, despite her mother’s explanation. She keeps asking how the babygot in there.” He finger-quoted the last three words.
Dawson laughed. “That’s a fun conversation.”
“I’m letting Tillie handle it.” He filled his coffee and turned, a hip against the counter. “Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep Fluffy from figuring out how to get out of his kennel. The pup is smart. I found him in the bathroom battling the toilet paper while Tillie was at the gym.”
“Fluffy?” He grinned but glanced at Caspian, who lifted his head at the mention of the Siberian husky pup.
Moose laughed too. “Don’t know why he can’t be like you, Casp. Good dog.”
Caspian’s tail thumped.
“Please. He woke me up in the middle of the night again. I was in a sound sleep and—and suddenly, there’s Caspian, licking my face, waking me up.” Dawson walked over to the table, where he’d set his backpack. “I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since I got home from the hospital.”
Caspian sat up, his whip tail banging the floor.
“Ever think about asking Jericho Bowie to train him for SAR work?”
“Who, Caspian?” Dawson lifted the pack and settled it on his shoulder. “He’s sweet, but he’s not that smart.” He patted his leg, and Casp came over, sat, looked up at him.
“I’m meeting Jericho in Copper Mountain to talk about him joining Air One with Orlando. Having a SAR dog would help our searches. Why don’t you let him evaluate Casp?”
“Maybe.”
“You could offer SAR services for the sheriff’s department—”
Dawson held up a hand. “Let’s just take a step back. I’m not even sure I want to get back into law enforcement, even for Deke.”
Moose’s mouth made a grim line even as he nodded. “Give yourself time.”
Yeah, he doubted that time might shake him free of a fail that cost so much. But Dawson forced a smile and headed for the door, trying not to limp.
Not enough. “How’s the knee?” Moose followed him outside. Caspian headed out in front of them, sniffing the area, then circled back and walked beside Dawson. At least the dog could heel.
“No cane, and I’m at 125 degrees on the bend, so, I’m practically healed. Back to normal.” He didn’t mention the NSAID meds he’d tucked into his jacket. Or the fact that most days, he still had to ice his leg to keep down the swelling.
Moose said nothing on their walk out to the hangar. The wind swept snow across the tarmac, crisp from the north.
He gave Dawson a glance askance.
“Okay, what?”
“Just ... God uses circumstances to wake us up, get at things inside.”
Dawson stopped. “What things?”
Moose also stopped, turned. “A five-year-old girl died in your arms. And I’m not immune to the fact that we’re coming up onthe anniversary of Caroline’s death. Plus, with your mom coming back—I don’t know. Maybe there’s stuff—”
“You’ve been married too long. Tillie’s got you thinking aboutfeelings.” Dawson shook his head and brushed past him. “I’m fine. Things happen. Let’s go before we get iced over.”
Moose said nothing and followed him to his Cessna, parked in the Quonset hut next to his Bell 429 rescue chopper and a fleet of other rescue machinery—Polaris ATVs, a couple snow machines, and a four-wheel drive command truck. It still bore the snow and ice from last night’s callout.
“Help me push it out.” Moose opened up the cargo hatch of the Cessna and stowed his pack and duffel, then grabbed Dawson’s and stowed that too.
Dawson didn’t know how much of a help he was, really. Moose was a big guy and pushed the plane out easily with the tow bar attached to the nose wheel. Maybe he was just trying to help Dawson feel useful.
He returned the tow bar while Moose did the walk-around, and by the time he’d huffed his way onto the wing and into the cockpit, Moose had already started the preflight check.
Caspian jumped in and sat on the seat behind him, head on his paws, big brown eyes watching. But as Moose fired up the prop, the dog began to whine and then slid off the seat and over to Dawson, nudging his snout into Dawson’s lap.
