“What’s going on?”
April scanned the room. She counted ten kids of various ages. But no Kevin.
“Where’s my son?” She directed her question at the monitor.
“Who’s your son?”
“Kevin Taylor.”
“Oh, Kevin? I heard about the fight earlier and thought he’d been sent straight home.”
April froze. “Well, he wasn’t. He’s supposed to be in detention.” She looked back and forth between the monitor and Pirogue. “Where is my son?” April fought the panic building in her stomach and climbing up the back of her throat.
“I—” the monitor looked desperately at the principal as she shook her head. “I haven’t seen him.”
“What do you mean you haven’t seen him? Where. Is. My. Son?” Suddenly, April felt far away. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.
Pirogue’s face paled. “Ms. Taylor, I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. Kevin must be hiding around here somewhere.” He laid his hand on April’s shoulder.
April jerked away from him. “Don’t youdaretouch me. Where the hell is my son?”
By now the kids in detention were laughing and catcalling, making this living nightmare that much worse. In her head, she chanted,Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Panicking won’t help Kevin.
“Miss Davis, please call school security,” Pirogue told the monitor. She nodded and reached for the phone on the teacher’s desk.
“School security?” April reached into her purse for her phone. “I’m calling the police.”
“Listen, we don’t need to escalate this, April. I’m sure Kevin is hiding out of fear of punishment. Poor little guy.” Pirogue was going for a comforting tone, but to April, it sounded like nails ona chalkboard. Then he had the nerve to reach for April’s phone. She spun around, ducked, and dodged past him. She sprinted down the hall with no idea which direction to go. She needed to know where her son wasnow. April turned a corner, unlocked her phone, and dialed 911.
Kevin. My baby. He’s gone. What if he found… Oh, God, what if Kevin’s been taken?
FOUR
Shane stoodat one end of Watchdog Security’s dog training yard, ready to put Pete through his paces. The dog was practically vibrating with excitement—or more likely in anticipation of a treat. Alex Hoff, Watchdog’s kennel master, stood at the other end. Pete’s gaze never left the peanut-butter-stuffed Kong in Alex’s hand. Between Shane and Alex was a doggie obstacle course designed by their boss, Kyle “Pup” McGuire. Kyle hoped to become one of the suppliers of dogs for the U.S military, like the Military Working Dog breeding program based at Lackland AFB.
“Ready, Shane?” Alex called. He gave the Kong a shake and then lowered it so a half dozen floppy-eared puppies could see it, too. The little pack let out squeaks and yips, tripping over each other in their eagerness. They weren’t old enough for obstacle work yet, but Alex liked to bring them out when Pete ran the course. Modeling behavior, he called it.
Shane wasn’t so sure. Right now, the pups looked more like a pack of toddlers on a sugar high trying to grab a piñata filled with candy.
“Pretty sure Pete’s not impressed with the new recruits,” Shane said.
Pete gave a sharp bark as if to agree: these little punks were not ready for his course.
Alex grinned. “Just wait. They watch him, they learn. By the time they’re ready to hit the course, half the work’s already done.”
“Or they learn bad habits, like how to guilt a handler holding a peanut butter Kong into giving them extra treats,” Shane said, scratching Pete’s ear. The dog leaned into him, a smug look in his eyes that saidI’ve got you wrapped around my paw, buddy.
Alex chuckled, then gave a sharp whistle and signaled. Suddenly all-business, Pete launched forward, muscles bunching and stretching in perfect rhythm as he hit the first hurdle. The puppies tumbling around Alex’s feet became alert, watching Pete’s every move. All but the runt of the litter, whose attention remained riveted on the Kong.
Shane couldn’t help it. The sight of Pete nailing the weave poles with military precision filled him with pride. He’d helped raise and train Peetie from when he was no more than a distracted puppy begging for a Kong like this new litter was doing, to the skilled dog he was today. Pete paused along the course, sniffed, then trotted forward a few steps and started digging in the dirt until he found the sock scented with chemicals that simulated a WMD. He barked to signal his find, then stepped back as the two men converged on him. The puppies trailed Alex, hoping for a snack, but the Kong was all for Pete.
“Good boy,” Alex praised as he handed the Kong to Pete. The dog was suddenly swarmed by puppies. Alex stepped back a few yards, then commanded the puppies to come to him. To Shane’s astonishment, they stopped their begging and dutifully ran back to their trainer. With the notable exception of the runt, who tried to nose in past Peetie’s paws to get to the Kong on the ground. Pete simply picked it up and trotted away. The little guy startedto follow, but was almost immediately distracted by a butterfly flitting across his path.
Alex shook his head at the puppy. “That one’s about to wash out. Benny! Benny, come!” he clapped his hands but Benny kept following the butterfly until it flitted to the roof of the kennel and out of sight.
“Benny!” Shane called. The puppy turned, tilted his head as if to sayWho, me?But then made a beeline for Shane. He pulled up, just shy of running straight into Shane’s legs, and stuck his butt in the air, tail wagging, begging to play.
Shane chuckled as he bent to pet Benny’s head. “Good boy. See? He listens. I think he just likes me better than you.”
