Primal Force (27 page)

“On whose authority?”

“What do you know about Trooper Ron Becker?”

“Not much. I know I don't like him.”

“He sure is interested in you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you know he broke into your home ten days ago?”

“Yeah. My dog told me.”

The agent eyed Sam, who was sprawled between them, with skepticism. “What kind of dog is that?”

“Cheez Doodle. Why are you really talking to me?”

“CADTF has been working a wide-scope investigation that includes northwest AR and parts of three other states for more than two years. We're about to move. But we have to know our quarry hasn't been tipped off.”

“You think I'm involved.” Law didn't make it a question.

“No, sir. If I thought that, you'd be talking to me after I read you your rights.”

Law held that clear-water gaze. “So why are you talking to me?”

“You have a pretty high government clearance. CID gets respect with us. So I'm doing you the courtesy of asking you to back off.”

“What does that look like?”

“Don't call or try in any fashion to get in touch with Luke Tice, any member of his campaign, or family. And keep off the state and federal criminal online databases.”

Law's interest pricked up. “What do I get in return?”

“The privilege of knowing that once again you've served your country in the capacity of law enforcement.”

“I do that every day.”

Wentworth stared at Law so long he felt the urge to scratch. Finally, he shrugged. “What do you want?”

“You ever come across the name of Jordan Garrison in your investigation?”

Wentworth subjected him to a second, longer stare. “She's an ex-con.”

“She's a classic case of the letter of the law being carried out in an unjust way.”

Wentworth's mouth turned down. “I see.”

“No. You don't. But that's not important here.” Law knew instantly that Wentworth knew Jori was—had been involved with Law. For the first time he was glad he'd broken it off with her. He'd expected trouble. But federal trouble was the last thing she needed to become involved with. He was saving her that much.

Law shifted his shoulders, feeling that live-wire edginess that had been with him for a week throw off a few bright sparks. “What's important is that if you come across any information that would appear to have to any bearing on the reopening of her case, I would like to have it.”

Wentworth shook his head. “I can't promise anything. This is an ongoing investigation that may take months or longer to process.”

“In other words, I scratch your back and you say thank you and walk away.”

The man grunted. “Sounds about right.”

“Are you after Tice Industries?”

“You know I can't reveal details of an ongoing investigation.”

“Yeah, yeah. So then I'll just pretend I'm talking to myself and you can nod if you feel moved to. Is the investigation bigger than a bread box?”

Wentworth shrugged. Law smiled.

“I'm guessing a case that's taken years to put together involves suppliers as well as dealers, and probably the dirtbags on the job who run interference for these good citizens.”

This time Wentworth just stared.

“That would include Trooper Becker in law enforcement corruption. Very bad news.”

Not even a flicker of an eyelid.

“Our friends at Tice are on the transport and supply side. Get them to talk and a large-scale drug trafficking ring gets mapped, top-to-bottom.”

Wentworth rubbed his eyes. “That's a nice story, Mr. Battise. You should write a book.”

He reached for the door handle and then turned back. “Saw that video footage of you running down a perp.” He cracked a smile, and it brought life to his pallid complexion. “That's the best takedown I've heard about all year. Proud to know you.”

He was all the way out of Law's truck before he said. “You might want to keep an eye on the news over the next few days.”

Law watched Wentworth wander across the street and slide into a car so nondescript it stood out like a sore thumb.

He shook his head as he ruffled Sam's fur. “We played nice. Now we have to sit it out and wait to see what happens. Waiting. The thing I hate most in all the world.”

Sam licked his chin.

“Yeah, I know. You hate egg-white veggie omelets. I guess we can't have everything the way we want it.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Jori looked up from reading her notes at a table in the main room of Warriors Wolf Pack. A woman in jeans, a man's oversized pink golf shirt, and black puffer coat came in leading a dog. She recognized her as Sarah, the wife of Mike Williams, a veteran of the Gulf War, the first war in Iraq in the early '90s. Mike's service dog was named Yuki, a shepadoodle who had been placed with them before she came to work here.

The Williamses had become a bit of a legend at WWP. They'd requested three individual home visits since the placement six months earlier. And had been back here once, since Jori joined the staff, for extra training. Kelli had taken them on as her personal crusade.

But to judge by Sarah's mouth, crimped into a tight line, and the determination in her sneakered stride with Yuki in tow, there was new trouble in the wind.

“Good morning.” The volunteer of the day at the reception desk greeted the woman with a smile.

The woman didn't smile back. “I want to speak to the person in charge.” Her Arkansas hill country drawl emphasized the weight of her life. “Somebody needs to take this here dog off my hands.”

Jori stood up and came forward, hand extended. “Good morning, Mrs. Williams. How may I help you?”

Sarah looked her up and down, wariness in her washed-out blue gaze. “You're one of the trainers, right? I need a higher-up.”

“I'm sorry, but Kelli's out seeing about another dog right now. I'm sure she'll be glad to talk with you when she returns. We expect her back in about twenty minutes. Would you like a bottle of water? Or maybe coffee. It's awfully cold today.”

Sarah shook her head, mouth working impatiently. “I just came to deliver your dog back to you. We can't use him no more.”

“Is that so?” Jori looked down at Yuki. “May I pet him?”

The Sarah looked startled. “I guess so. He's your dog.”

And that's the problem
, Jori thought as she knelt down. Sarah hadn't bonded with Yuki. Kelli had just done a workshop for trainers about the wives and mothers of veterans, longtime caregivers like Sarah who had trouble adjusting to the help that a service dog could provide.

As she rubbed Yuki's head with both hands, she sought a casual tone. “How's Mr. Williams?”

“Mike's fine.” She glanced back at the door. “He don't want to come in. And I can't stay. So if you'll just…” She extended Yuki's leash to Jori.

Jori stood up, pretending not to understand the gesture. “Why don't you and Yuki come with me?” She turned and began walking away, gambling that Mrs. Williams wouldn't just abandon the dog in the middle of the room.

Once inside the privacy of Kelli's office, Jori waved her hand toward one of the chairs. “Have a seat and tell me what's wrong.”

“Like I told you, I can't stay. Mike's in the truck.” Sarah sat down, pushing her fingers through short silver hair that Jori was almost sure was self-cut.

“Yuki's a nice dog, and all. Quiet, easygoing. And he don't shed, just like you said. Only he's interfering with my schedule. I can't have that.”

“Of course not. What's Yuki doing?”

Sarah's combative expression eased a bit at the sound of Jori's sympathetic tone. “He's got it in his doggy head that he can tell Mike when his medicine's due. I came in the other day from shopping to find Mike had already took his meds half an hour early. He said Yuki had brought the medicine organizer and put it in his lap so he thought it must be time.”

Jori nodded, giving herself a moment to think about how to phrase her reply. Yuki was one of those dogs who was a self-starter, able to learn routines to the point where it seemed he could even tell time. Some saw that as a blessing. But other caregivers saw the service dog as being in competition for the attention and affection of the client.

“You know, there's another way to think about that. Yuki was taking care of Mike. What if you'd been delayed in traffic?”

Sarah shook her head and frowned. “I learned a long time ago to shop at odd hours, after eight p.m. or before six in the morning. I got to know there's no traffic so I can get back in a hurry.” The tension in her voice said more than her words.

“You worry that Mike might not be able to get or do something he needs to while you're out.”

She jerked her head once in agreement.

“So, in a way, isn't it nice that Yuki has paid enough attention to realize then Mr. Williams needs his medication?”

“The dog was half an hour too early!” To Jori's surprise Sarah blinked back big crystal-bright tears. “Not that anyone cares, besides me. Mike thinks that damn dog hung the moon. Won't even allow me to help him in and out of the shower no more. Tells me to leave him alone. He and Yuki can manage. After all I done all these years.” She bit her lip and dug in her pocket for a tissue.

Jori offered one from the box at her elbow and waited for the woman to calm a bit.

“Sorry about that.” Sarah offered Jori a small smile and, without seeming to realize it, reached down and began stroking Yuki, who had stood up to lean against her leg. “It's just a bit much what with a dog to look after on top of Mike.”

Jori almost jumped in, but Sarah looked like she had more to say so Jori sat on her impulse.

The older woman looked at the floor. “It's not been easy since Mike come home from the Gulf War. Never been able to hold down a job for long, on account of mobility issues. So, I worked and looked after him and the kids.” She looked up suddenly. “But I never minded that. The kids are grown up now and need their lives to be their own. Me and Mike have a routine.”

Jori nodded.

“Then along comes this dog.” She gave Yuki a sorrowful glance. “Yuki takes away from me the fun part of being with Mike. She makes him laugh.”

She glanced at Jori, eyes red with the strain of holding back tears. “It sounds stupid. But it's like Mike's suddenly got someone else on the side. Don't that sound crazy?”

“No.” Kelli had said it wasn't unusual for family members, especially wives, to resent the intrusion of a service dog into their lives. It was especially true for those who had done the caregiving for so long that to think of relinquishing any part of it seemed like failing or cheating.

Sarah sniffed a couple of times then gave herself a little shake. “I can't have that dog in my house. Not when Mike lavishes more affection on him than he does on me in a given day. Mike's even talking about them going fishing in the spring. For years I couldn't hardly get him outta the house for nothing. Even church. But give him a dog and he's thinks he's Huckleberry Finn!”

So the problem wasn't Yuki's failure to bond with Mike, but his success.

Jori watched the fissures form in the woman's mask of resentment. Behind it lay years of worry and weariness, and neglect.

Her instinct was to reach out and hug her. But she suspected proud and stubborn Sarah Williams wouldn't welcome sympathy. Still, she took the chance and reached her arms toward the woman.

Sarah surged into them, hugging her tightly as she broke into tight little sobs.

Without letting go, Jori stretched out her leg and pushed the door shut.

They held on to each other for a little time until Sarah let go first.

When she had mopped up her face, Sarah stared off into space for a moment. “I told myself I wasn't going to make a scene. Now I've gone and made a first-class fool of myself. Jealous of a dog.” She glanced at Jori. “You must think I'm Looney Tunes.”

Jori smiled. “I think you're strong and hardworking. I think you love Mike. And I know you're exhausted. You need some time for yourself.”

“When am I supposed to do that?” The defiant Sarah was back in charge. “Where's the hour in a week for me to do anything more than I'm doing?”

Jori glanced down at Yuki. There were a dozen practical suggestions she could make, but she doubted that the exhausted and combative woman in front of her would hear them.

“I've got an idea.” Jori stuffed two more tissues in the woman's hands. “I'll be right back.”

Jori opened the office door and glanced around, hoping one of the men who worked or volunteered at WWP would be around. Maxine, who'd just come in from the back, intercepted her. “You got your hands full there.”

“Yes. I need you to do something for me. Find Jake. Tell him there's a man in a truck parked outside. And could he take him somewhere, buy him a meal? Talk to him? Do whatever men do. I need at least two hours.”

“Okay. But what are planning to do about Mrs. Williams?”

Jori smiled. “Do you know a beautician who could work a client in ASAP?”

*   *   *

An hour later, Sarah Williams was laughing and gossiping with the other clients in the Cut, Curl or Dye Boutique as if it were a weekly experience. She didn't seem at all fazed by the fact it was a black salon.

“I just love all the pretty things in here. I haven't been inside a woman's salon in ten years.”

Leila, the salon owner and Maxine's cousin, met Jori's gaze in the mirror. “Then shame on you, Ms. Williams. You been going to a barber, haven't you?”

Sarah nodded. “I take Mike. After the children grew up I just naturally found myself sitting in a chair beside him. Besides, a woman's salon is expensive and I don't have time to fool with hair.”