Page 9 of I’ll Find You

I follow her down a hallway past a small staff break room, the faint smell of coffee and toast lingering in the air, before she leads us out to the backyard. The same beagle is out there, nose pressed to the ground, sniffing with intense concentration, as if the grass contains the secrets only it’s privy to. The beagle’s tail wags in quick, determined bursts, ears flopping as he trots in circles around the yard. Every so often, he pauses, glances up, and then resumes his investigation, wholly absorbed in whatever invisible trail he’s decided holds the utmost importance.

I point. “What a good-looking dog,” I say, taking in the adult animal before me. One ear twitches while the other stays folded over as he turns toward me and ambles over. I crouch down to meet it, extending my hand so that the beagle can sniff and scent me. The dog flops onto its back, paws dangling in the air. I notice it’s a male. Callie frowns at him while I scratch his chest, then run my hand over his soft ears. When I glance up and see her expression, I straighten at once. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

Callie doesn’t answer right away. She just watches the dog, lips pressed into a thin line, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “He doesn’t usually do that,” she says finally.

“Roll over for attention?” I glance down at him. His tail thumps lazily across the grass. “Seems friendly enough,” I quip, not understanding the line of questioning.

“That’s just it.” Her voice lowers. “He’s not.”

I look back at the dog. He’s still sprawled at my feet, completely relaxed, blinking up at me like I’ve known him forever.

“He doesn’t care for strangers much,” she continues. “Definitely won’t go near new people. Sometimes he growls if they get too close.”

As if on cue, the dog rolls onto its side and nudges my hand with its nose, asking for more. I hesitate before scratching behind his ear again. “Maybe I just have one of those faces," I shrug.

But Callie doesn’t smile. “He wouldn’t even let the vet touch him last week,” she says. “Even with the promise of treats.”

“Smart dog,” I quip. The dog sighs—an oddly content, almost human sound, pressing closer against my leg. A faint chill runs through me. “Well, maybe he’s changed his mind today about the human species.”

Callie kneels, watching him as though she expects him to snap at me any moment. Instead, his gaze stays fixed on me. There is no eagerness or playfulness now. Just a look of intent. Her hand hovers over his collar, but doesn’t touch it. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing,” I reply. “Just called him a good-looking dog.”

The beagle’s ears twitch. Callie studies my face, searching for some answer before she looks back at him. “He only acts this way with one other person. I think she says that, too. And when—” She stops herself.

“When what?” I ask. The dog suddenly rolls upright in one swift motion. There’s no tail wagging now or soft playfulness from before. He stands very still between us with his head slightly lowered and eyes locked on mine as if awaiting my command.

Callie’s voice drops to a whisper, “When he recognizes someone.”

A breeze moves through the yard, rustling the leaves that have fallen around the fence. I feel the coldness on the back of my neck as I shudder at the sensation.

“Well, I’ve never been here before,” I say adamantly.

She doesn’t answer. The dog steps forward and lightly places its nose against my palm.

“He remembers scents,” she murmurs. “People he’s met, or places he’s been.” Her eyes lift to mine.

Something tightens in my chest. “That’s not possible. I swear, I’ve never met this dog before.” What the fuck? “O-kay…” I say slowly.

She stares at me for a moment. Then Callie snorts.

I blink. “What?”

She breaks into a grin, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

The tension drains out of the moment almost instantly.

“He just wants a treat,” she adds, “but he also isn’t very friendly, especially with new people. That was the truth.”

The dog starts wagging again as if nothing just happened. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, dragging a hand through my hair. “Yeah, yeah,” I say. “What’s his name?”

She smiles at me, her mind miles away, before answering. “Watson,” she says as he angles his head to look at her.

“Watson,” I repeat, as his big ears perk up. “Good boy, Watson,” I coo as I scratch his underbelly, his back foot lifts and shakes in the air reflexively, but the rest of him stays still. A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

Callie watches me closely now. Studying me, witnessing the dog react to me this way.

“You know…” she says slowly, her voice thoughtful. “I think he likes you,” she comments, causing my chest to tighten.