Stolen Secrets (14 page)

The quiet one, Brandon, spoke for the first time. “You could put a lock on the dog door. We have one like that. A metal bar across it, on the inside, with a padlock. We lock it at night. Dad says thieves crawl through large dog doors.” He turned to Angie. “I have a big husky.”

“But you don’t live on a houseboat,” said Kent. “Your dog can go outside whenever he wants. Whoever takes care of Ryan’s dog would have to do more than just feed and water him. You’d have to take him to shore and walk him. I’d offer, but I have basketball practice after school.”

“I’ll do it,” Garrett said. “I’ll help Blake, we can do it together. We’ll check each other.”

Ryan nodded. “I’ll pay— ”

“No way. My dad would kill me if I asked for money, after you let us climb your wall. I know my dad.”

“We’ll all help,” said Kent. “I’ll keep the key at my place, since I’m close, and make sure it’s returned each day.”

“But how can I walk it if you aren’t— “

“I’ll leave the key at Grandma Miller’s place,” Ryan suggested, laughing to himself at the boys’ eagerness to take care of a puppy. They’d soon learn it was not all fun and games.

He had been thinking about buying a dog for several years, but dismissed it as impractical. This was different. He wouldn’t be able to take Angie with him every time he took a trip. She could work alone, but he would prefer having a dog with her. Even a small dog deterred burglars with its bark— unlike an alarm system, which he had, but didn’t arm during the day because of his young climbers.

That night he paced the floor, missing Angie, yet refusing to call and wake her. He attempted to write some checks and pay some bills. His output was laughable.

He was worse off than when Kathleen had left him.

The next morning Angie appeared on Ryan’s doorstep, bright and early and ready to start working. She looked more beautiful than ever. He motioned her outside. “We’ll go to the shelter and look for a dog.”

“You’re really going to go get one?”

“Uh, huh.”

In a typical Seattle weather pattern, it warmed up overnight, leaving only scattered piles of dirt covered slush littering the ground. Ryan drove to the animal shelter and led Angie inside. The racket started the second they stepped through the entrance. The dogs barked and yelped and howled like a chorus of lost souls plea-bargaining their sentences.

As they started down the walkway, he noticed Angie’s eagerness explode. These dogs were all alone, like she had been, wanting a home. It seemed fitting they should rescue at least one.

She reached out, wanting to touch each animal, ooh-ing and ah-ing as she walked along, and Ryan smiled to himself. If he let her, she’d take them all.

"Here's a large one," Angie said, pointing to a huge black dog of indiscriminate breeding. Its teeth were curled back in a snarl that looking quite viscous and able to ward off any attackers.

"Too big.” And too old. It would probably run away as soon as it could.

“I’d think you’d want him big.”

"For a houseboat?

"That’s right. He’d rock it, wouldn’t he?"

"We need a small one— one that doesn't yap a lot. One who’ll warn us, but won't take chunks out of the kids. Or Grandma Miller.”

Angie laughed. “Or chase her cats.”

“Australian breeds are smart."

"Shouldn't you go to a breeder?"

“I like... a blend."

"Good luck."

He had had very good luck sending people here to get guard dogs. It was his turn now.

They examined the animals as they went along. "This one, I think," he yelled above the din.

Angie stopped trying to pet a golden retriever and hurried over to him. A small gray-and-white pup gazed back at them with intelligent eyes, tail wagging enthusiastically. Angie pushed her hand through the bars to stroke the female’s cold, wet nose. The dog licked her hand eagerly.

Probably nine months old, this pup would quickly bond. He motioned to the attendant, who had been hovering in the background, giving them time. "This one."

The young woman walked over, smiled at the dog and then at them. "She's a doll. We all wondered how long it’d be before someone spotted her. She’s got Australian shepherd blood in her, and beagle. Maybe some blue heeler."

"How can you tell?" Angie asked.

"Markings. The shape of the nose, size."

"How long’s she been here?" Ryan asked.

"Just over a week. She's such a good dog, we wondered why she was running loose with no ID. I would’ve taken her myself, except I've already got three. We can fill out the paperwork, then she’s yours.” She turned to lead the way back to the office.

“No chance the owners will come looking for her?” Angie asked.

“No. We always wait a week before the dogs are free to be adopted out. She’s been spayed and had all her shots.”

Ryan filled out the paperwork, paid the fee and bought a leash and collar.

When they reached the car, Ryan wrapped the young animal in a towel left in his car from a work-out. After Angie buckled in, he handed the pup to her. She held the wiggling animal with care, fruitlessly trying to hold her face away from the flicking tongue, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.

It made Ryan happy to see her happy. He felt an extra lift to his step as he walked around the vehicle and slid in behind the wheel.

He glanced over at her. “Ever had a dog?” he asked.

“No. No pets at all,” she replied, surprising him. He figured most every kid had a pet, at some time or other. “My training wouldn’t allow it. I would’ve liked one, but I had to choose. That’s how life is. You work with what you’ve been handed.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. He had thought when Scott took Kathleen from him, that it meant he wasn’t good enough. It really meant that she wasn’t the one for him. This girl was, with her ready smile, her bright eyes, her gamin good looks. He wanted to take care of her, to tell her how much she meant to him. Like Robyn said, Angie’s eyes were not the eyes of a liar. He could trust her.

He drove from the shelter to a pet store. Leaving her cuddling the delighted pup, he went inside and brought a food and water dish, dog food, a small bed, two boxes of treats, three chew toys, shampoo, and a brush. As the cashier rang it all up, he wondered what he had gotten himself into.

Yet, if he had had a dog, any dog, he would’ve been warned the other night, and that thug wouldn’t have gotten his hands on Angie. The thought still made him shudder. The icy water could’ve killed her if she had become disoriented under the dock. He remembered his panic as he had run over to dive in after her, just as she re-surfaced.

Perhaps he should’ve chosen a larger dog, or an older dog. One with strong teeth and a heavy coat. He could tie it outside the door at night.

That’d be no good. Angie would turn it into a lap dog in no time. All he needed was one that would bark.

He carried his purchases to the car and put them in the back. Angie watched him load up. “All that for one little dog?”

He grinned. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a dog.”

“What’re you going to name her?”

He grinned. “You do it.”

“Me? But she’s your dog.”

Ryan shrugged. He wanted her to name the dog. He wanted it to always remind him of her. He felt compelled to involve her in his life and this was one way of doing so.

“Any ideas?” he asked.

“Not at the moment. I’ve read so many dog stories growing up, wishing I had one, but it wouldn’t have been fair to the dog.” She stroked her hand across the animal’s soft hair, lifting the floppy ears.

“She’s got beagle ears and a beagle nose. If she’s got the beagle temperament, and the Aussie smarts, we’ll have ourselves a good dog.”

Using cardboard boxes, they walled off the living room carpet and let the dog run through the rest of the house. The pup checked out her bed, but as soon as Angie sat down at the kitchen table, she abandoned it and jumped into Angie’s arms.

Laughing, Ryan searched through his library for his dog training book— the one he always recommended—
The Kohler Method of Dog Training
. Finding it, he sat down and skimmed the puppy section, then handed the book to Angie.

She opened it up, laying it on the table so she could read past the pup. “This section is about training a guard dog,” she said. “You don't think she’ll ever be a guard dog do you?”

He laughed. "Not the way you mean. A guard dog is different from an attack dog. All our pup has to do is bark. Scare the bad people away.”

"So she doesn't need to take a bite out of anyone."

"That's right."

Angie flipped through the book, and stopped at the pictures. "This photo shows a dog attacking a man with a protective pad on his arm. That looks like it’s being trained to bite."

"It's all in there, companion dog, guard dog, military police dogs. How to train them. Just read the section on training a puppy."

Angie found the section, tucked her feet under the chair, and began reading, hugging the puppy closer. Ryan watched as she quickly became absorbed. She attacked each problem in a serious manner. Serious, concentrated, dedicated. He understood how she took silver in the Olympics.

The puppy continued to lick her arms and try for her face, and Angie finally put down the book. "Keep that up, and I’ll name you “Tongue,” she threatened.

"Shows subjection," he said. “Dogs lick to show you that you're the boss."

"So I’d better get used to it, is that what you're saying?"

"Sort of."

She laughed, and hugged the dog tighter. Her face shone, her happiness so evident Ryan would gladly have bought her a thousand dogs. He felt the warm glow inside himself, responding to her.

He needed to bond the pup to him, too, so he reached over for the leash. “Why don’t you finish the chapter while I take “pup” for a walk?”

“Okay. I won’t ever get done, this way.”

He snapped the new leash onto the collar and took the puppy outside. She didn’t want to go, preferring to stay in Angie’s lap, and he finally had to carry her outside and close the door before putting her down.

After a lot of persuasion, he walked her over to the edge of the parking lot, took the leash off and let her run free for a while along the grassy bank. The pup stayed fairly close to him even while busily checking things out. With the bloodlines of working dogs in her, she’d quickly develop her protective instincts.

He reached down to pet her just as she spied Angie coming toward them. Instead of running along the shore to where the dock started, the pup ran out onto a nearby log, then tried to continue running across the water’s surface, giving a yelp of astonishment as she went under. She resurfaced, tried to dog-paddle towards Angie, then— as Angie ran to the shore— tried to get back onto the log.

Ryan called her, but the frightened pup pawed vainly at the slippery log, growing more and more desperate. It looked like he’d have to rescue her. He checked the log— it felt firm— and walked out, balancing carefully, then plucked the animal out of the lake.

The log spun, tossing him and the pup backwards into about two feet of icy water. Angie had stopped on the shore five yards from them, and expressed her concern by doubling over with laughter.

“I hope you’ve got a name for her,” he sputtered. “She just christened herself in Lake Union, trying to get to you.” He got to his feet, holding the wet puppy up by the scruff, water running from him and the dog.

“Do I get to name you, too?” she gasped, one hand over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the sound of her laughter.

“I’ve got one, thank you.”

Angie collapsed on the ground. “I’d call her ‘Drippy,’ but I don’t think that sounds very good. How about ‘Union?’”

“That’s worse than Drippy,” he complained.

“Then...‘Tagalong.’ She wants to tag along wherever I go.”

“Tag it is.” He sloshed his way out of the water to where she sat, regarded her collapsed, gasping,
dry
form, and dropped the wet puppy into her lap. Tag immediately laved Angie’s face with kisses. Ryan wished he could do the same. “You can walk her next time.”

Angie moved her head from side to side, vainly attempting to dodge Tag’s wet tongue. “I’d keep the leash on.”

“Actually, now she knows she can’t walk on water, she’ll stay out of the lake.”

Angie tried to stand up, sat down again. “I haven’t laughed this hard for... for months.”

“Come on.” He stuck out his hand and pulled her up. “It’s cold out here.”

They hurried back to the houseboat where Ryan and the dog both had a bath. Ryan came down, dressed in dry clothes, and watched Angie drying off Tag. In bathing the dog, she had become soaked, so left for Grandma Miller’s to get dry.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Tag ran up to it, sat down, and whined. She planted herself there, looking miserable.

Just like me
, Ryan thought, and reached for the phone book to call a carpenter to install a dog door. Then stopped. A dog door would do him no good. This pup would run right out to try to spend the night with Angie— on her bed if she let her.

Maybe he’d have to get a dog of his own. In the meantime... Pulling down his phone book, he looked up several guard companies, chose one where he knew the owners and arranged to have a guard put on his house. They promised to send out a man every night. From six to six, starting Monday.

“Good.”

The pup barked loudly and danced excitedly, letting Ryan know Angie had returned even before she knocked on the door. He hung up, then had to scoop up Tag before opening it, as the pup kept getting in the way.

“Grandma wants to see her,” Angie said, darting in and closing the door with her back.

“Here.” He handed Tag to her and followed her to Grandma’s house.

Once inside, Tag saw the cats and gave chase. Spice tired of this quickly and hissed Tag back to Angie. Angie laughed and excused herself for a moment, but Tag followed her up the stairs.

Grandma Miller waved Sugar off the couch and plunked herself down. “Some ‘guard’ dog. Maybe she’ll be braver once she grows bigger.”

“Older. She won’t get much bigger.”

“It looks like she’s taken up with Angie. She won’t be much help guarding your place.”

“Ah, yes. Things don’t always go as planned. I don’t care. It’s good to see her so happy.”

“She has blossomed. And so have you.”

“Yeah?” He smiled at the elderly lady whom he loved almost as much as his own mother. Certainly more than his grandmother in Florida, whom he saw every other year if possible. “In what ways?”

“You’ve a lift to your step and your voice that didn’t used to be there. I’m glad it’s Angie who put it there.”

He chuckled as the pup bounded down the stairs, turning a somersault as it tried to make sure Angie followed close behind. “You could be right. But let’s keep it between us for awhile. Do you mind having another animal?”

“Not at all.”

Angie walked down after the dog, barely favoring her ankle. She walked tall, like a fashion model, and he realized it came from her gymnastic training. Like Audrey Hepburn, he thought— hair-style, walk, and the glow of goodness. She had put on fresh lipstick and her pixie beauty struck him anew. He smiled at her and was rewarded by her answering grin.

* * *

A cold rain blew in that evening and Ryan put on a heavy coat to meet Patti at the Park and Ride lot. Just in case someone followed her there, he wanted to be early. He opened his front door, almost running into the woman standing outside with her hand raised to knock.

“Kathleen!” He took a step backward, amazed to see her. She had never come to his place since leaving him for Scott.

She stepped inside, effective making him move further back.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Where’re you going?” Her perfume floated over him.

“To meet someone.” He stepped sideways, annoyed at her presence.

“This won’t take long. Hmmm. I had forgotten how sexy you looked, till I saw you at the gym.”

“I must go. She— ”

“A woman? You’re meeting a woman? You?”

“It’s not like that.”