"In animal welfare? Yes." She turns to face me, and for a moment the ice thaws just enough to show heat underneath. "Every dog in this facility deserves the best possible environment. They work hard. They risk their lives. The least we can do is make sure they're healthy and comfortable when they're off duty."
The passion in her voice hits me square in the chest.
"My dad used to say the same thing," I hear myself admit. "About the dogs at Iron Creek. He said they gave everything for the job, so we owed them everything in return."
Callie's expression shifts—still guarded, but she’s curious now. "Your father sounds like a good man."
"He is. Stubborn as hell, but good."
"Runs in the family, I imagine."
"The stubbornness or the goodness?"
"I'll let you know when I figure it out."
Before I can respond, a familiar bark cuts through the air.
Ranger.
He's bounding across the training yard, ignoring his handler's recall commands, heading straight for the fence where Callie and I are standing. His tail is wagging so hard his entire back end is wiggling.
He skids to a stop at the fence, shoving his nose through the chain-link, eyes locked on Callie with unmistakable adoration.
"Traitor," I mutter.
Callie crouches down, letting Ranger lick her fingers through the fence. "Hey, buddy. Miss me?"
More wiggling. More tail wagging. More blatant betrayal.
"He has good taste," Callie says, glancing up at me.
"He has terrible taste. He also likes Javi, and Javi once tried to teach him to fetch beer cans."
"Did it work?"
"He fetches them. He doesn't bring them back."
Callie laughs—a real laugh, surprised out of her—and the sound knocks me off balance.
Dev appears beside me, watching Ranger's shameless display of affection. "That dog's been moping since Tuesday. Now I know why."
"He hasn't been moping."
"He knocked over three traffic cones yesterday during training and then lay down in the middle of the course like his heart was broken."
"He was tired."
"He was dramatic." Dev shakes his head. "Just like his handler."
Callie stands, brushing off her knees. "I think I have what I need for the initial assessment. I'd like to schedule follow-up meetings to discuss specific recommendations."
"Whatever works for your schedule," Dev says. "Mercer can coordinate."
I shoot him a look. He ignores it with the ease of long practice.
"Fine." Callie tucks her clipboard under her arm and extends her hand toward Dev. "Thank you for your time, Master Sergeant. Your dedication to these dogs is obvious."
"Just doing my job."
