“I can handle Kincaid,” he said.“I’m worried that you’re the one who doesn’t know what he’s dealing with.”
“Don’t underestimate me,” Cloister said.It was meant to be banter, but his voice came out tighter than he’d planned.
Javi gave him a sharp look.
“I don’t,” he said and headed out of the kitchen.
Cloister watched him go and then looked down as he scrubbed his hand through his hair.
That didn’t feel like a vote of confidence.
Thefunnythingaboutpeople who didn’t act on impulse is that when they did, they were good at it.
SSA Joel was in the wind.
The trail ended in the garage, at a greasy spot of (probably) transmission fluid on the smooth gray concrete floor.The frustration of the dead end still had Bourneville on edge an hour later.With nothing else for them to contribute for now, Cloister had left Javi and the rest of the department to do the footwork while he headed back to the trailer park.
He did feel guilty about that.It wasn’t like he’d not just had a month off.That sort of downtime should have filled his boots until his next vacation in the grave.
Still, at least he wasn’t enjoying himself.
Cloister staggered to a stop, sand rucked up around his beat-to-shit trainers, and doubled over with his hands braced on his thighs.Bon’s lead, loosely looped around his neck, swung forward and cast a long, noosed shadow on the white sand.The froth of the turning tide eddied around his soles as he listened to his heartbeat in his skull and waited for his body to unclench and come back online.
One day it wouldn’t…not today though.
His lungs did an emergency restart first, forcing a breath in even though they still felt stiff as leather behind his ribs.The rest of him reluctantly followed suit.He spat the taste of bile off his tongue, stiffened his knees, and pushed himself back upright.
Ahead of him, Bourneville had stopped and turned around to look at him.Her ears were tipped forward, and she might have been panting.A little.As he tried to get his lungs to loosen up to the idea of breathing again, she did a play bow in the sand and then came racing back to him.
Wet sand splattered up his bare legs as she did a tight circle around him and then shoved her head between his knees.
“The day I outrun you,” Cloister told her as he fished a treat out of his pocket for her.“That’s when we retire.”
She didn’t look worried about the time frame as she grabbed the treat.Cloister staggered, his knees not quite up to balance yet, as she shoved the rest of the way between his legs and took off again.He blew a drop of sweat off his nose and squinted against the light as he watched her bounce around after sand flies.
It seemed like she’d gotten over her frustration with the truncated search.
Cloister wished he found it so easy.
He craned his neck from one side to the other and started back the way he’d come.As he trudged along the track of his own footprints, he realized his left foot was wet.It looked like one of his trainers had finally given up the ghost.
His foot squelched all the way down the beach and up the long flight of well-worn steps back up to the trailer park.By the time he got to the top, his already tired muscles felt like Jello ready to slip off his bones, and he felt every step with a twinge in his wrist.
Bourneville let him get three-quarters of the way to the top and then sprinted up past him, taking the stairs two at a time.She stopped at the top of the hill, and her tail dropped as she stared at something.
It was a neutral stance.Cloister still gave a sharp whistle.She shifted her weight, but didn’t move.
“Hier,” he vocalized the command, ignoring the ache in his chest at redirecting that much air.
Bon gave whatever was there a hard stare, then turned and loped back down to him.
Cloister grabbed her collar with one hand, the leather damp and rough with sand, and held her as he pulled the lead from around his neck.He looped it over her head, pulling her ears flat, and snugged it tight around her throat.
She stayed on alert the whole time, eyes fixed on the top of the stairs and body strung tight.
“Heel,” Cloister told her as they headed up the last five steps to the top.
He already knew from Bourneville’s reaction that it wasn’t Javi, but he had no idea who else to expect.Cloister wasn’t a very social person.The only person he knew who’d visited him out here had been Galloway.That had been a one-off, though.
