How many times had he shared his chow with that dog? Probably hundreds if not more. Dog food might be healthier, but there were plenty of times no kibble had been available. Kell tried to be more careful of Bradley’s diet now, but that didn’t break old habits. Two buddies who shared everything, good and bad.

  “Green beans in a little while,” Kell promised the dog as he licked the plate clean. Bradley loved frozen green beans second only to peanut butter. Of course, he’d scarf down green peppers, frozen broccoli and sliced apples, too.

  “Is there anything you won’t eat?” he asked Bradley as he carried his plate to the sink. But he knew there was. Things he didn’t like to think about.

  Chapter Two

  From the farthest end of the continent, a letter was sent anonymously to the Church of the Well-Lived in Conard County, Wyoming. It reached Pastor Bund of course, without being opened. It was a rule never to be broken.

  He glanced at it, debating whether to open it. He occasionally got junk mail, but this looked different in some way. At last he reached for his letter opener and sliced along the fold. Inside was a single sheet of paper.

  I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO CELIA. YOU’RE GOING TO PAY.

  Bund’s hands trembled as he stared at the paper. Only two other people knew besides Celia, and Celia was dead. That left Miss Hassen and Mr. Zeb. Blackmail? He crumpled the paper and thought about how he would handle this.

  * * *

  WHEN JENNA STEPPED out into the morning a few days later, she knew it was going to be an uncomfortable day. Not only had the temperature risen, but the humidity had soared to unpleasant levels, which it rarely did in these parts.

  Misty, on the leash beside her, sniffed the air and didn’t exactly look happy.

  “I know,” Jenna said. “But we both need a bit of a jog before it gets any hotter.”

  Five days and already she felt as if her body was demanding attention. Fitness levels decreased rapidly, and that was not something she wanted to let happen. Besides, anger was beginning to pierce her detachment, and exercise would help with that.

  She set out at a slow jog in deference to the dog, but knew she herself was going to need a decent, long run before too many more days passed.

  Misty seemed happy enough, however, and trotted along except for occasional pauses to smell a post or an especially green and tall clump of grass.

  “I’ll never know how you like the smell of dog doo and pee,” Jenna said. “I guess it’s your pee-mail, huh?”

  Finally, Misty paused to do her business, then waited patiently while Jenna used a poop bag to clean up after her. “You know, kiddo, this is the part I don’t like.”

  She came around a corner and saw Kell, wearing shorts, and Bradley heading her way at a fair clip. She made no effort to change course. Kell had become familiar from his daily visits to her front porch to let the two dogs play. She didn’t feel as edgy around him anymore.

  Misty pulled at the leash trying to get to Bradley. Bradley, however, stayed at heel beside Kell, although the dog’s tail began to wag rapidly. Two friends meeting.

  Misty gave a small leap when Bradly got near, but Bradley remained almost stolid, other than his tail.

  “How do you get him to do that?” Jenna asked in amazement.

  Kell half shrugged. “He’s a trained Marine K-9.”

  Jenna’s interest perked. “Oh, wow. What type?”

  “Scout.”

  Jenna looked at Bradley with new respect. “That’s a tough job.”

  “It sure is. Mind if we walk with you?”

  “I was just about to turn around. I’m not sure at this point how much Misty is used to.”

  “We’ll go with you. Bradley is getting close to the end of his two miles.”

  Jenna was surprised again. “He goes that far?”

  “Well, he likes to rest a couple of times, though not always.”

  “Misty needs more rest than that,” she answered wryly.

  “Yeah, but sometimes Bradley just wants to sniff around. We take an easy stroll for that.”

  Companionably, the four of them walked back toward Aunt Bernice’s house.

  “Not going to be a very nice day,” Kell remarked. He pointed to the western mountains, where dark clouds wrapped the peaks. “God knows we need some rain, though.”

  “Good for grazing,” Jenna agreed.

  They came around the corner on the street where Jenna lived and saw paramedics parked out front of the Hassen house. When they reached Jenna’s house, they paused as a stretcher was wheeled out, the body and face completely shrouded by a blanket.

  “Oh, my God,” Jenna murmured. “Miss Hassen?”

  The stretcher was followed by a middle-aged woman in loose drab gray fabric, her face almost as gray as the dress. She was one of the church’s ladies who came frequently to look in on the old woman. Sometimes a group of them would come, according to her aunt, probably to socialize. And the pastor, of course. Two or three times a week.

  “Apparently so,” Kell answered. “Has to be Miss Hassen.”

  They watched the stretcher pass, and as it did, Kell said quietly, “Oh, hell.”

  Jenna looked at him. “What?”

  He pointed down, and she saw Bradley crouched on his stomach, his tail raised straight up and not moving.

  “He’s alerting. Something is wrong.”

  Jenna stared back at the stretcher. “What?”

  “I don’t know. He’s never alerted to a corpse that didn’t smell like explosives. But he’s got a scent now that he doesn’t like.”

  Jenna looked at the dog again, then said, “Let’s go inside.” It wasn’t an invitation she’d made to anyone yet and felt uneasy even as she offered it.

  “Bradley, up. Beside me.”

  The dog obeyed at once, and Kell bent to praise him and scratch him behind the ears. Bradley’s tail returned to wagging.

  “Yeah, let’s go inside,” Kell agreed. “Something triggered him, and I don’t want him exposed for long.”

  Once they were inside, Jenna gave the dogs a bowl of water. Belatedly, she remembered her manners, and though it made her feel even more uneasy, she offered coffee.

  “Sounds great. Thanks.” Kell sat in one of the kitchen chairs while Jenna moved around slowly, starting the coffee. She could feel his gaze on her, making the muscles between her shoulder blades twitch a tiny bit. What the hell was she doing? The question, however, didn’t stop her from giving the dogs a cookie.

  At last, coffee poured, Jenna sat across the table from Kell. Distance. She needed to keep a distance. Anger rumbled deep inside her, and she tried to suppress it. “So, no idea why Bradley alerted?”

  “Only that something’s wrong. He doesn’t like things that are wrong.”

  “But what could it be?”

  Kell shook his head. “I wish I knew. I keep him in practice with targets, but nothing that has anything to do with a body.”

  “I doubt you could practice with many of them,” Jenna replied dryly.

  Kell smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t that be a big deal?”

  “It’d make the headline on our local newspaper, which isn’t much of one.”

  “Only the police blotter report and plenty of advertising,” he agreed.

  Jenna felt an unfamiliar smile tug the corners of her mouth.

  “So are you settling into freedom okay?”

  She hadn’t thought of it that way, but maybe that’s what it was. “I’m feeling the lack of exercise, for sure.”

  “I take Bradley out to the vet’s agility course a few times a week. Bernice used to let me take Misty sometimes.” He cocked a brow at her. “You could come, too. You can get a surprising amount of exercise running with a fast dog around an agility course.”

  Jenna thought about it, the surprising urge to go along growing in her. “Does Misty do the obstacles, too?”

  “A few of them when she feels like it. I don’t push her on the training, but she loves to get out there and run until she’s exhausted.”

  “We’ll do that, then.” Again discomfort began to rise in her, but she smothered it, seeking her self-control. A free run would be good for Misty, and maybe good for herself as well, to play some long-distance fetch. Even use a Frisbee with her. Activity, as the first Duke of Wellington had once said. That’s the key.

  “Good,” Kell answered as if it were settled. “Soon, if you can. Just let me know.”

  As if her days were too crowded to fit it in. She had to do something about these empty days. All they did was allow her to brood and suffer from bouts of fury. She shook herself.

  “Something wrong?” Kell asked.

  She didn’t want to speak of it to anyone. Not a single person. She’d done her speaking, and it hadn’t done her a bit of good. “I’m fine.” A bald lie.

  Just then, thunder cracked loudly, announcing the arrival of the storm. Then she heard the skittering of claws on the floor. She turned at once and saw Bradley cowering in a corner and shaking.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “PTSD,” Kell answered.

  “Can’t you do something for him? Comfort him?”

  “No.” Then Kell sighed. “He’s already reacted. If I try to comfort him, I’ll reinforce his behavior. I just have to make him endure it for a short while.”

  “But you must be able to do something!” Jenna couldn’t believe he was being so cold about this.

  Kell leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I’m doing everything I can, but it may take years to get him past this. I can’t predict.”

  “But...”

  He shook his head. “I can’t encourage this response. But we work on immersion therapy. Little by little I expose him to the sounds that frighten him and offer him a treat when he remains calm. Unfortunately, I can’t control the volume of the thunder.”

  “But then how do you do it?”

  “I start from very quiet and work our way up to loud. He’s gotten better about gunfire, for example. I take him out to the firing range. We started at a long distance where we could barely hear the crack of the guns, then worked our way steadily closer. We’ve still got a ways to go, but when he reacts like this, I don’t give him a treat or any attention at all for a short while. It’s called extinguishing an unwanted behavior.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Sudden explosions of thunder, I can’t help. I try to work on it at home with a recording at very low volume, but I’m beginning to wonder if he can tell the difference between recorded and real.”

  “Maybe.” Jenna looked at Bradley and so much wanted to comfort him, but what Kell was saying made so much sense. Even she had trouble with thunder. It was too much like a big explosion or a barrage. “I feel so sorry for him.”

  “I do, too. One of my major preoccupations is to help him. My God, how many times did he warn us of a sniper or an ambush? Or roadside bombs? I couldn’t count them. Anyway, this problem apparently started when I was wounded in a firefight. These K-9s are wedded to their handlers. Hell, I feel the same attachment.”

  Jenna nodded. She had some PTSD, too. She was lucky because, for the most part, it only gave her nightmares. During the day, she was able to manage it. So far.

  “PTSD. You, too?” she asked presently.

  “A bit. Well, maybe more than a bit, but I was lucky. Therapy helped a lot. Bradley wasn’t so lucky. We were separated for a few months while I recovered and rehabbed. He refused to work with another handler or go into intense situations. When the Corps was done with us both, we got sent home together.”

  Jenna nodded, feeling a surge of sympathy. She had all-too-vivid memories of her time in a field hospital, images and sounds that persisted. Kell and the dog must have them, too.

  “God,” she said finally. “The war really isn’t over.”

  “Not for all of us.” He leaned back, apparently lost in thought, but his face revealed nothing.

  Then he sighed again. “Anyway, I can’t take him home until the thunder moderates quite a bit. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Not if it’ll help Bradley.”

  He smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

  Just then, thunder rumbled again and, along with it, came a sharp crack of nearby lightning. Jenna looked at Bradley again. The poor animal was shaking even harder.

  “What have we done?” she asked.

  There was no answer.

  * * *

  WITH EVERY OUNCE of his being, Kell felt acutely aware of the dog’s misery. He made himself turn to another issue. He couldn’t pay attention to Bradley just then. Immersion. Too fast, but still immersion.

  He spoke eventually. “I’m concerned about him alerting to the corpse.”

  “Now I am, too. I wish either of us could tell what it was that bothered him.”

  “He’s a scout, finely tuned into some things. I can’t be certain, but something sure as hell troubled him about that body if it made him alert. Something was wrong with it, maybe something only he could detect.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  Kell studied her. Jenna was attractive, albeit a bit too thin, but she seemed standoffish in some way. Distant. Detached. The only real emotion she’d displayed had been about Bradley. What had happened to her?

  Something must have. Bernice had talked about her often, always in a bright way. Not only did she love her niece, but evidently the last time Jenna had been home, Bernice had seen or felt nothing unusual. Insofar as Kell knew, anyway. Something must have happened in the meantime, but there was no way he could ask.

  He looked at Bradley, who was shivering less, and decided it was time to distract him.

  “Jenna? Do you mind sharing some dog biscuits?”

  She jumped up and got the bag out of the cupboard. Misty immediately leaped up, her nose following the bag.

  “Let’s do this together,” Kell suggested. “Some training time will help distract Bradley from his fear, and Misty sure won’t mind.”

  “Absolutely,” Jenna agreed. “Maybe Misty can be sort of a role model.”

  Thunder rumbled again. Damn storm, Kell thought. He rose and made the Come sign to Bradley, swinging his bent arm to his chest.

  At once, the dog focused on him, a good sign. When Bradley didn’t move, Kell motioned again. This time, Bradley slunk toward him. “Good boy!” Then he offered a treat. Bradley chomped it down, another good sign. The dog’s eyes remained focused on him at last.

  “Now you,” he said to Jenna.

  “I always say it to Misty. Why the gesture?”

  “Dogs understand body language, and in dangerous situations, you have to be silent.” He watched Jenna make the sign while saying the command.

  Misty, who had been sniffing at the tabletop, immediately answered, coming to Jenna. A treat for the dog, too, followed by praise.

  He smiled. Maybe this would distract Jenna from her problems, too. He hoped so.

  Bradley still shivered, but he remained intent on Kell, a very good sign. Next was the Sit command, followed by Stay when Kell walked from the room. Bradley didn’t follow. Then Down-Stay. Bradley was beginning to come back. His heart lightened.

  Jenna repeated every exercise with Misty, who was having a grand old time, grinning a doggy grin and waving her tail rapidly.

  Eventually, a small laugh escaped Jenna. “She’s having a blast!”

  Kell smiled. “It’s a good thing, isn’t it? I have another one for you, but not right now.”

  She looked at him, her green eyes clearer and her face more relaxed. Pretty, with her short auburn hair and gentle chin. “What’s that?”

  “I can’t do it here for obvious reasons, but Bradley loves to seek. I make him stay while I sprinkle kibble all over the house. At the seek command, he rockets all over the place sniffing out the kibble.”

  “That sounds like such fun. Like an Easter egg hunt.”

  “It sure tickles him.” Since Jenna appeared so interested, he added, “Training isn’t a drag for the dogs. For them, it’s a great thing. They please their owners, get treats or hugs and plenty of pets. Good thing for the owners, too. They get a kick out of a well-behaved dog and probably enjoy the affection as much as the animals do.”

  Jenna looked at Misty. “We’re headed for a whole new world, girl.”

  When Kell judged the thunder had grown distant enough, and, serendipitously, the rain had stopped, he and the dog headed home, with only a few pauses for training, each exercise a step forward.

  He was intensely aware of Bradley’s every movement, every hesitation. His dog was still unnerved by the distant thunder, but not terrified. Kell often felt that the two of them nearly shared a mind, the connection was so close.

  But his attention was also focused on Jenna. She was so tense, although it had eased somewhat since he started visiting with Bradley every day. But still. Even with PTSD, she shouldn’t tense up over an ordinary conversation. Could it be something about him in particular?

  That didn’t seem likely when they hardly knew each other, and he was positive that he couldn’t have given her any reason to distrust him.

  So why was she reacting as if she were responding to a potential threat? Man, she should have had enough buddies during her time in service to know that the threat didn’t come from Americans. So why was she reacting to him this way?

  Or maybe she reacted to all men this way. The notion nearly stunned him. Could that be it? But why?

  Then he had some ugly ideas he didn’t like at all.

  Rain began to fall again.

  * * *

  JENNA STOOD AT the living room window, staring out at the gray day. Misty had plopped herself on her big red doggie pillow in front of the seldom-used fireplace.

  What next? she asked herself. She couldn’t keep doing nothing without going mad. But she wasn’t ready to look for a nursing job, not by a long shot. Stirring those memories seemed dangerous right now. While the work wouldn’t be as awful, she still wasn’t ready to look into the jaws of hell again, however rare it might be around here.