world countries.â Which happened to be Courtneyâs current project.
Vader stared at him. âI know youâre speaking English, but nothingâs making sense. Back to the part about dog therapy. Does this have anything to do with a girl?â
Yup, Vader definitely didnât miss a trick. Fred nodded cautiously.
âIs the girl Courtney?â
Fred shook his head.
âThen go. Have fun. Stan, be a good wingman, just like I taught you.â
Stan reluctantly got to his feet and padded over to Fred. âThanks, Vader. Iâll have him back in no time.â
Vader waved him away. âJust make sure to feed him a lot. You know he gets cranky without regular snacks.â
âYouâd make a great dad, you know that?â
Vader shot him a sharp glance. âWhy do you say that? Do you know something I donât know? Cherie tell you something? Did she take the test yet?â
Fred backed away, flinging his hands in the air. âWhy would she tell me anything? I was just making an observation.â
âGirls tell you shit. They canât help it. Itâs that magic nice-guyââ
â Donât say it .â
âFine. Youâre an asshole. Get the fuck out of my office,â said Vader good-naturedly as he turned back to the computer. Fred went, Stan trotting dutifully at his side.
They drove to the far edge of town, where Sabina had said Rachelâs dog therapy practice was located. Heâd debated long and hard about making this visit, but he couldnât seem to get her out of his mind. And shouldnât he thank her for the generous gift? It was only polite. By bringing Stan, he figured the whole thing would look more natural, as if heâd just happened to run into her while trying to do something for his dog.
He found himself at a wooded park surrounded by a concrete wall with loops of barbed wire on top. A discreet sign announced it to be the San Gabriel Refuge for Injured Wildlife. An ironwork gate barred the entrance, which was watched over by two security cameras. Sure seemed like a lot of security for a wildlife refuge. He leaned out of his truck and pressed a button on the small intercom.
âYes?â
âIâm here to see Rachel Allen. I was referred to her for my dog. Heâs been having some issues.â Thatâs what you were supposed to say, right? A mounted video camera angled toward the car, and he indicated Stan, who sat next to him in the front seat, not looking one bit traumatized the way Fred had asked him to.
âPark in the north lot,â said the disembodied voice. The gate opened and he drove past, down a long, curving drive lined with eucalyptus trees. He gave a slow whistle. A lot of money must have gone into this place. Some wealthy donorâs vanity project, no doubt.
He reached a collection of beige stuccoed buildings with a Spanish hacienda feel. A more modern barn and aviary looked as if theyâd been added later, along with a fenced-in corral. Fred spotted a llama and some goats munching grass inside the corral. The place had the atmosphere of a spa or some sort of meditation center, but it smelled and sounded more like a zoo. He located the north lot and discovered that it sat next to a cute little guesthouse with the word âTherapyâ painted on a sign over the door.
âYou ready for some therapy, boy?â Fred asked Stan. âYou must have something wrong with you. That time you swallowed the gel pack still giving you nightmares?â
Stan merely cocked an ear at him.
âSeriously, do you have to look so well-adjusted?â Fred grumbled. âYouâre going to blow my cover.â
As he opened the front door of the little building, Stan scampered between his feet. The beagle had a thing about entering a room first; come to think of it, maybe he needed therapy for that. The space, which was set up like a waiting room, was empty and simply furnished. A jewel-toned
Gerard Brennan
Jonathan Janz
Marteeka Karland
Bill Kitson
Patricia Wentworth
Jordan Rosenfeld
S. Celi
Beth Raymer
Jennifer Thibeault
Terry Pratchett