Whiskey worked herself out from under the dash and onto the seat.
“Of course you do,” Gabriel said. “We should go in, Beautiful. You should see your new digs.”
Gabriel forced himself out of the car. He rounded around the front and opened the passenger side to jump Whiskey down.
“Welcome home,” he said with a sweep of his arm.
As soon as Whiskey’s paws were on the driveway, her nose lifted into the air, chuffing the wind moving in from the east. She glanced at Gabriel, then focused down the street. Sliding his keys into his pocket, Gabriel focused in that direction, though none of his senses picked up anything of interest.
“I guess you haven’t been properly walked since Cathy had you this morning,” he said. “We can walk.”
He shut the door as quietly as possible not to wake his neighbor’s kids. He’d bring in Whiskey’s supplies when they got back.
As they started off, Gabriel let Whiskey go where she wanted, ambling along behind her with thoughts of the day running through his head. Who took the video? How did they know what to do with it?
Yes, those questions had bubbled up during his investigation—so many questions—but he’d set them all aside because his focus, his ability to find the guy fast, meant the potential to save a life.
Had he been on time?
Again the wash of fear swept through his body.
Like every soldier who’d been to battle, he was used to it and was trained to ride the wave.
“Don’t talk yourself out of it,” he said aloud. “Let it flow.”
Whiskey didn’t turn when he spoke. She trotted along, focusing hard on some destination, probably searching out thatsmell that she’d picked up—maybe some trash or a dead carcass she could roll in.
Gabriel had a boyhood fishing buddy who had a hound dog that ended up smelling like something dead every time they were out in the woods. And there were plenty of woods near his house.
As they moved toward the end of the road, Gabriel realized where Whiskey was going.
This was the neighborhood where Gabriel grew up.
He’d moved back into his childhood house after his parents died.
Up the street another block was the church he’d attended every Sunday as a boy. His father would inspect the shine on his shoes; his mom would adjust his clip-on tie, and after spitting on her hand, she’d tamp down the strands of hair that wanted to float on static electricity. Then they’d walk to the church to sit with his grandparents.
Those scenes had been varnished with nostalgia over the years.
Gabriel certainly didn’t have a perfect family, but they loved each other deeply, and that was as good a base as any.
Whiskey with her super-nose would recognize the scents of that churchyard. She’d been up there two weeks ago at Daniel’s funeral when Daniel joined the rest with the family living in the graveyard: Mom, Dad, Grams, Gramps, Aunt Bess, Aunt Camilla, and Uncle Bart.
After a day like today, it was only fair that Gabriel let Whiskey run up and say hi.
Gabriel had a few choice things to say to his Daniel, too.
Whiskey should be with Cath and her kids. It made so much more sense. But Cathy, ever-headstrong, had made up her mind, and moving her off that X would take a battalion. Better that Gabriel give it a go living with Whiskey, prove that he wasthe lesser parent, and let her change her mind out of pity that Whiskey spent her days alone.
Suddenly, Whiskey stopped, her mouth chomping at the wind, not making it as far as Daniel’s grave.
Oh, she was looking straight at it, alright.
But under the streetlamp, Whiskey sat her bottom down in the gravel, lifted her nose, and started howling.
It was loud, and the tone had a quality that shifted Gabriel’s cells out of the way so the notes could oscillate their way into his bloodstream.
He hated the sensation.
