He growled low in his throat and dipped his chin once, “Understood.” Definitely ex-military.

  Crawford’s eyes slid to me and then quickly slid off again. She turned her attention to the guy from Marana.

  I leaned forward to get a better look at the detective sitting on the other side of the military man. He looked like a little boy next to the burly deputy. He was short and wiry and wore his bright red hair down over his ears and collar—an affectation that wouldn’t be tolerated in most departments.

  Unless…unless he worked undercover. Would they send one of these dogs into the shadowy world of hole-and-corner work? Wouldn’t that be too dangerous an assignment?

  The Assistant director’s gaze moved to the woman from Oro Valley, who sat alone at a table on the far left of the room. The lady was a sharp dresser who was listening attentively to what Crawford had to say. In her mid-to-late thirties, she wore her brown hair done up in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her tan chinos were wrinkle-free and had a sharp crease running up the front of her leg.

  I glanced down at my slightly wrinkled cargo pants that, honestly, were only on their second day of wear, and scooted my chair a bit closer to our table. I felt a faint blush crawl up my cheeks and hoped I was the only one to notice.

  Crawford nodded to the woman in a gesture of familiarity that made me take a second look. The woman returned Crawford’s nod and added a slight smile, making me wonder what an Oro Valley detective would have in common with the assistant director of the FBI Training Division. Were they friends, or had they worked together on some previous occasion?

  Crawford answered my unasked question. “Detective Woodson has been working with me on this undertaking for the last nine months. She’s as dedicated to the project as I am, and if you have any questions, please direct them to either her or Special Agent Mumford.”

  Okay, that was a weird way to phrase things. Woodson was dedicated, but not Mumford? If I hadn’t turned my attention to the man, I would have missed the fleeting—one might say hateful—glare he shot at Crawford’s back. So, all was not well within their happy little FBI microcosm. Interesting.

  As if sensing his brief flutter of animosity, Crawford turned to Mumford and asked, “James. Would you have Mr. Hawley bring in the first two dogs, please?”

  If I was to base my judgment of their relationship on the smile he bestowed on his boss, I’d think the two of them were besties who went way back. “Sure.” He walked to the door, opened it wide, and said, “Mike, could you bring Mecca and Lugo in, please?”

  He stepped back to make room for a man dressed in a colorful cowboy shirt and jeans. His high cheekbones and long, straight black hair suggested he was a member of one of the Native American tribes that call southern Arizona home. The man held a leash in each hand.

  On his right, a sweet-faced golden retriever walked by his side. Every now and again, she’d glance up and stare at his face as though to reassure herself that everything was still okay. Each time, the man returned her gaze and whispered soft words that calmed her fears.

  Beside me, I heard Casey’s “Ahhh,” and knew she’d take that girl in a heartbeat.

  On his other side, a beefy, short-haired breed whose shoulders came to about the middle of the trainer’s thighs strode confidently into the room. His golden fur had patches of brown blended throughout, and his yellow eyes glowed with interest and intelligence.

  Crawford pulled two sheets from her file. “Detective Farley, Mecca will be your partner for the first four weeks.” Behind me, Garlan stood and moved toward Mike, who held out the leash attached to the Golden Retriever. “In addition to other specialties, she’s been trained to help you in your arson duties. I realize there are many fully trained arson dogs out there, but I think you’ll find Mecca has some unique abilities to search out and find evidence the other arson dogs might miss.”

  Garlan knelt and met Mecca on her terms.

  The shy girl moved toward him, and the two had a moment to meet each other before Special Agent Mumford escorted them out.

  At the door, Mumford told Garlan, “Mike will be out in a minute to properly introduce you guys, so don’t go anywhere just yet.”

  Casey leaned over and whispered. “I’d take either of those in a heartbeat.”

  I smiled at her eagerness and waited to see who belonged to the other dog.

  “Detective McBay, Lugo will be working with you since your specialty is underwater search and recovery. I think you’ll be amazed at what Mike and Lugo’s owner have taught him to do.”

  Mike smiled down at the dog. “He’s a Catahoula bulldog who’s probably reincarnated from some kind of fish. This boy will sleep in the water if you let him.”

  The dog’s expressive eyes immediately locked on McBay as the detective rose from his chair and walked over to take the end of the leash. With a deep rumbling voice, McBay looked down at the dog and cooed, “There’s my good boy. We’re gonna show ‘em what’s what, aren’t we?”

  Lugo’s expressive face and eyes smiled up at the big man, and the two of them, along with the trainer exited through the same door as Garlan and Mecca.

  Special Agent Mumford motioned through the open door to someone in the other room. “Sandy.”

  A short, squat fireplug of a woman walked in with her two charges. The first dog was a black standard poodle who came in as though expecting a standing ovation. I wondered if he’d been a show dog before joining the “Grand Experiment.”

  Crawford turned to the Oro Valley detective, “Kelly, as you know, Shah will be yours.”

  Without needing to be introduced to her charge, Kelly simply rose, took Shah’s leash, and left the room.

  The second dog, a brown and white papillon that could easily have been my dog, Jynx’s mother, stood waiting to be introduced. The way she kept picking up and putting down her feet reminded me of someone standing on a bed of red-hot coals. Her attention shot around the room, with her gaze moving between her trainer, to those of us who remained seated, to assistant director Crawford, and then back to her trainer again.

  The little dog's furry, flag-like ears perked up when Crawford spoke to the short man sitting on the other side of McBay’s empty chair. The wiry pup stared at the director, looking for all the world like she was excited to know who her handler would be. “Detective Andrews—”

  The man grinned at her, “Stewie,” he shrugged, “or Stew. Whichever you prefer.”

  I liked him immediately. He had an easygoing way about him, and any thought I might have entertained about there being a problem giving a macho detective a tiny sidekick disappeared. This man was sure of himself and comfortable in his own shoes. Any ribbing he might take for having such a diminutive partner would roll off his shoulders like mud off a bowling ball.

  Without waiting for Crawford to give him his assignment, Stewie shot to his feet and slapped the front of his thighs. “Hey, Buddy!” His movements were quick and full of energy, almost exactly mimicking those of the little dog. He briefly glanced at Crawford and then back at his new partner, “What’s his name?”

  I'd eat my hat if Crawford hadn’t specifically paired these two because of their energy levels. The woman’s eyes softened, and she emphasized the first word of her reply. “Her name is Jazz, and as you can tell, she’s a spitfire. I think the two of you will not only have fun together, but I know you’ll bring out the best of her abilities.”

  Sandy let go of her end of the leash.

  Jazz bounded over to Stewie and leapt into his arms. She sat on his forearm with her tail circling like the tail rotor on a Bell helicopter.

  Laughing at her antics, Stewie carried the little hellion to the other room.

  That left Casey and me. I fervently hoped my dog wouldn’t be as big as Lugo or as energetic as Jazz. A nice, staid golden retriever like Mecca would suit me just fine; a dog that would quietly sit next to me while I did my job. One that would keep her opinions to herself and smile up at me adoringly. That would be right up my alley.

  There were two sheets of paper left in Crawford’s hands. She glanced at them and then set one down to concentrate on the other. As she ran her finger across the page, she called out, “Megan, would you bring in Captain and Peanut?”

  Wait. What? Megan? It couldn’t be. My best friend since infancy was named Megan, and she was a damn good dog trainer. But there was no way she could have been involved in this project for a whole year without telling me. She was physically incapable of keeping her mouth shut about anything for longer than a day or two. Less if she was really excited about the secret.

  I half stood and leaned over the plastic table to get an early look at the person coming through the door. My jaw dropped when my grinning best friend came in holding the leashes of two little dogs. I looked over at Kate to see whether she knew about this, and the wide eyes and slightly panicked look on her face told me she’d had no idea.

  In Kate’s world, Megan was trouble. She liked her as my friend, but any time Megan got anywhere near one of my cases, trouble ensued. This project had just become a bit more complicated as far as my sergeant was concerned.

  Casey rubbed her forehead and started chuckling.

  I glared at her. “Did you know about this?”

  She peeked out from beneath her hand and shook her head. “I had no idea, and I can’t believe she kept it from you for so long.”

  Completely ignoring protocol, Megan held out both leashes. “Casey, this is Captain. He’s a cairn terrier mix, and you’re gonna love him!”

  Casey stood, walked around our table, and knelt in front of Captain. She cooed to him as she gazed into his eyes. Or at least she tried to look into his eyes. His overgrown grey and white hair completely obscured any hint of the fact that two eyes were buried beneath the mop that covered his head.

  For his part, Captain sat in front of her and licked her hands in greeting. Friendliness oozed from every pore, but there was also an alertness about him that made me think he wouldn’t be a pushover if someone tried to hurt him or his human.

  Megan chirped at me. “Here, Alex. Come get yours.” She held out a leash attached to a small black and white Boston terrier.

  I blinked several times. “Is that..?”

  “Peanut? Yup. You’re gonna love her!”

  “You mean you were working on this project when George Ogilvie was taking classes from you?” I recognized the little girl from a class I’d visited about four months earlier at Megan’s training academy. That meant that by that time, she’d already been working with Peanut and her owner for eight months.

  Her grin widened, and her eyes sparkled with the fact that she’d managed to keep a secret from me for an entire year. “Yup!”

  I glanced at Crawford, who was watching me intently. I had a ton of questions, but the fact that she appeared to be waiting for my reaction made me pull back and reassess. What was her game, and why was she playing it? And more importantly, had she pulled Megan into her project because of me, or had she chosen me because of Megan?

  Kate came to stand beside me and put a warning hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you greet your partner, Alex? Peanut looks like she’s ready to join the rest of her class.”

  It was true. Peanut was straining against her leash, not toward me, but toward the door the other five dogs and their new handlers had disappeared through.

  I knew Kate well enough to know she wanted me to wait before angrily blurting out possibly false accusations. Since those had been my thoughts as well, I stood and took the proffered leash. Apparently, Peanut thought all the fun was happening on the other side of the door, so I shot a side glance at Kate and followed the little dog into the other room.

  Chapter 2

  The little papillon, Jazz, was performing her hot coal dance at Stewie’s feet as we walked into the hallway, and Peanut ran over and did that little doggy bow they do when they’re asking another dog to play. When Jazz squirted to the left in a playful jump, Peanut changed course and ran to Captain, playfully laying her paw over his shoulders. Her bright eyes shone with delight at having so many friends nearby, and her triangular ears stood straight up on her head.

  I wasn’t sure if that ear thing was permanent or if they only stood up when something excited her. Either way, my little girl either had as much energy as Jazz, or she had ADD. With my luck, she’d have ADHD, and I’d be following her around trying to keep her out of trouble for the next month or so.

  My eyes narrowed as I looked back into the room at Assistant Director Crawford. So far, she’d paired the dogs reasonably close to the personalities of the various detectives, and I didn’t like the implications of her pairing me with this rowdy mischief-maker.

  She noticed me glancing over my shoulder and an amused gleam came into her eyes. When she whispered something to Kate, who’d walked up to the front of the room to speak with her, Kate shook her head, and even though she was facing away from me, I could swear she’d started laughing.

  Megan called out, “Peanut, come.”

  Peanut reluctantly pulled her paw off Captain and trotted over to Megan, who’d come to stand beside me. “She’s a really smart dog, Alex. You just need to keep a few steps ahead of her, is all. She’s obedient to a point, but if something catches her attention, you’ll need to get it back.”

  I felt like throttling Megan, so my words came out more like a hiss than anything else since I didn’t want the other detectives to hear what I had to say. “Why didn’t you tell me you were part of this…” I held up the leash, “…experiment?”

  My anger surprised her, and she hissed back, “They swore me to secrecy. I don’t know why it’s a secret, but none of the trainers or owners could tell anybody about what we were doing, or we’d be dumped from the program. No second chances.”

  “Why? What’s so secret about you guys training dogs for all these police departments around the country?”

  Before she could answer, Kate, Special Agent Mumford, and Assistant Director Crawford joined us. The hallway wasn’t particularly wide or long, and with the addition of those three, I started to feel a bit claustrophobic. I stepped away from the group but stayed close enough to hear what Crawford had to say.

  “Okay, I hope you’re all pleased with your partners. As Special Agent Mumford said in his briefing, we’ve found that the program works best if the dog portion of your duties falls under one sergeant. To that end, your departments and your commanders have agreed that Sergeant Brannigan will be that supervisor. As far as casework goes, you’ll still answer to your current chain of command. Your supervisors understand that Sergeant Brannigan will be showing up at some of your crime scenes; however, she won’t be part of the investigative team. Instead, her job is to monitor the dogs and their performances and be available to you should any problems arise, either at home or work. Any questions?”

  Detective McBay lifted his chin. “I have one. Why Sergeant Brannigan and not one of the supervisors of the various K9 units?” He glanced at Kate. “No offense meant, Sarge, but I doubt you know a fraction of what they know about working police dogs.”

  Kate smiled and nodded graciously, “No offense taken.” She turned to Crawford, signaling that she was welcome to answer the question.

  We were in the depths of the building, in a small area surrounded by concrete walls, and every time someone coughed, shuffled their feet, or, in the dogs’ case, panted or scratched, the noise seemed amplified out of proportion. When Crawford opened her mouth to speak, Lugo decided it was time to scratch a flea beneath his collar. The clank and rattle of his dog tags reverberated off the walls, and Crawford waited patiently for Detective McBay to call him to order.

  When it was relatively quiet, she said, “Perhaps we should return to the classroom.”

  I growled quietly to myself. I wanted to get with Megan to try to suss out why Crawford needed the dogs’ training to be so hush-hush. On a side note, I also wanted to find out how the woman had managed to keep Megan quiet for an entire year. Had she threatened her? If so, I was going to be majorly pissed off.

  My irritation must have snuck onto my face because Crawford called out. “Is there a problem, Detective Wolfe? Do you have somewhere more important to be?”

  Everyone was shuffling back into the room with their dogs, and Peanut and I obediently got into line. “No, ma’am. I was just hoping for some bonding time with Peanut here. She’s such a cutie pie, and I can hardly wait to get started.” I had to work at not laughing at the way Kate rolled her eyes behind Crawford’s back.

  For her part, Crawford regarded me with that suspicious, squinty-eyed glare I’d seen before and nodded slowly. “We won’t keep you long, Detective. But we do have some administrative details to attend to, and I want to make sure I answer everyone’s questions.”

  I tried for an agreeable, enthusiastic smile. “Absolutely.”

  There were Kate’s rolled eyes again. Honestly, you’d think she wasn’t buying my amiable acquiescence. We all filed in, but instead of sitting behind the tables, at Crawford’s suggestion we pushed them to the back of the room and pulled our chairs into a semi-circle. That way, the dogs could sit next to us without having to circumnavigate the table legs.

  The three trainers stayed behind us. They either leaned up against the wall, or, in Megan’s case, sat on one of the tables happily swinging her legs and grinning like a fool.

  Everyone hushed when Crawford spoke. “To answer your question, Detective McBay—”

  “Graham.”

  “Graham. To answer your question, we chose Sergeant Brannigan precisely because of her lack of experience in the K9 unit. We don’t want any preconceived notions of what a police dog should or shouldn’t be. If this project ever comes to fruition, the dogs that we supply, not these dogs, of course, but the actual dogs we supply the departments, will be assigned to everyday detectives and not to specialized K9 units.”