Page 4 of Fire Harbor

Linus went back to work. But finding the bones weighed heavy on his mind, even as they took care of an elderly man who’d tripped and fallen in his garage and hit his head on the concrete. After transporting the patient to Charlotte Dowling Memorial Hospital for observation, it was time for a shift change.

Linus and Jimmy traded their dark blue uniforms for their street clothes and signed out at six o’clock on the dot, walking through the double doors to head home.

“Want to get something to eat at the pub?” Jimmy asked. “Maybe grab a beer.”

“As much as I’d like to, I need to go straight home to check on Farley.” Farley was his newly acquired pooch that was going through a chewing stage, biting and gnawing everything in sight.

“How’s he doing?”

“Let’s just say that I took him into the Perky Pelican yesterday to get a latte. He wasn’t there five minutes before he wrapped his jaws around a chair leg and started biting on the wood. I’m lucky Paula didn’t ban me and the dog forever.”

“I might not know much about crime scenes, but I do know dogs. He’s probably teething, which is uncomfortable for him. Did you get him plenty of chew toys?”

“Are you kidding? He has a basket piled high with every type of rubber squeaky thing the store has, and yet he still goes after something he shouldn’t. I’ve gone through two pairs of shoes and already replaced a perfectly good recliner that I’d had for a decade. Add to that, he shows separation anxiety every time I try to leave him home alone or in the truck. I blame Cord. And that wife of his, Keegan.”

Jimmy chuckled. “I hear they’ve conned half the town into adopting everything from dogs to turtles. That’s one reason I don’t go near the animal clinic or the rescue center.”

Linus thought of all the poop he’d picked up since getting Farley. “It’s a little late to play the blame card. Thank God for Ellie Woodside and her new doggie daycare facility she opened last month. She’s been a godsend letting me drop him off at odd hours.”

“You know who else you should talk to for puppy pointers?” Jimmy retorted. “Lake Marigold.”

At the name, Linus took a stuttered step and almost tripped over the curb. Who didn’t know Lake Marigold, the town’s librarian? The quirky guardian of the town’s books, who wore her chestnut brown hair in an unusual, uneven, choppy cut that hung past her shoulders. When Lake pedaled around town on her bike, she favored ponytails and French braids. The woman had the most amazing blue eyes he’d ever seen. What book lovers in town didn’t interact with the knowledgeable bibliophile at least once a week when checking out their favorite genre?

Personally, he knew Lake seemed to hold a definitive love for classic literature. He’d caught her thumbing through the works of Steinbeck, Bronte, Golding, and Orwell. He even noticed she had a fondness for some of the world’s classic mystery novels. Now that he had time to think about it, he had never seen her without a book. Lake Marigold was a well-read bookworm, smart as a whip, who had a fondness for flowers, too. She kept a vase full of them sitting on her desk at work year-round.

As his mind shifted from the librarian to Jimmy’s voice, Linus pushed the fob on his keychain to unlock his decade-old GMC Sierra pickup.

“I hear Cord and Keegan persuaded Lake to take Farley’s sister,” Jimmy went on, oblivious to his partner’s reaction to the woman. “You know she named her new mutt Scout. Weird huh? Scout and Farley. Sounds like a couple. Did you two compare notes when you were coming up with names? Sounds like you two need to set up one of those doggie playdates.”

“The dogs are siblings,” Linus pointed out as he tossed his equipment bag into the front seat of his truck. “Thanks to Cord, they were already spayed and neutered. I’m pretty sure Cord lets Keegan pick out their names whenever they’re ready for adoption.”

Linus had no intentions of letting Jimmy know that he’d already broached the playdate thing with Lake. They’d been trying for two weeks to work out the timing of getting the dogs together that fit their schedules. Either Linus had a last-minute shift change, or Lake had to work on Saturdays. So far, they had yet to hook up. But that didn’t mean he intended to give up.

Even now as he headed home, he took a left on Pacific Street—a detour, he told himself—to check the progress on the new firehouse under construction at the corner of Pacific and Landings Bay.

So what if the indirect route took him right by Marigold House on his way home?

Linus glanced at his watch. Lake wasn’t even home yet. The library was open from nine to six Monday through Friday and ten to five Saturday. She wouldn’t even know he’d driven by.

But there it was on the corner—Lake’s house at 1802 Bishops Bay—with the front garden bursting with spring buds that had yet to fully blossom from winter sleep. The old shingle-style house looked like it had been plucked out of the English countryside and plopped down in the middle of town, out of place but longing for acceptance.

It had a pair of arched double doors made of cherry wood, very artsy, that stood out because of its spoon-carved vines and flower petals. On the long, wide porch was a metal pedestal mailbox, rust and all, the kind you didn’t see anymore.

He took a left using the shortcut back to Tradewinds Drive and soon pulled into the parking lot that Ellie’s Dog Tails shared with another new business—Hollis Crow’s Paw Salon—the dog grooming facility that also offered boarding.

As soon as Linus got out of the pickup, he heard barking, immediately recognizing the voice of his six-month-old dog over all the others. Farley sported the unmistakable curly-haired caramel mop that, according to the town’s vet, accounted for his DNA mix. Seventy-seven percent of Farley came back poodle, twelve percent Labrador, and eleven percent cocker spaniel.

Linus could only testify that whatever his ancestry was, Farley had taken on almost all the traits of a fuzzy, big-footed, goofy dog that did not like being left alone. Hence, the daycare option became essential.

After Ellie brought him out of his crate, Linus hooked the leash to the collar, grabbed Farley’s bag full of toys, and waved goodbye to Ellie. The whole thing took little more than five minutes before Linus had Farley walking out to his truck.

He got comfortable behind the wheel, but his overzealous dog began licking his ears. Linus nudged the fifty-pound mutt away. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Now scoot over so I can get us home.”

Like a miracle, Farley obeyed. But not for long. The ball of fur started to open his mouth to take a bite out of the bag.

“No, you’re not allowed to chew on that,” Linus warned the canine as the oversized pup slobbered all over his hand. “Can we just go one second without you trying to devour something?”

As he headed for home, Linus pointed out, “You’re lucky that Ellie looks after you when I’m at work. Otherwise, this whole situation would put you right back where you started—in the doggie doghouse, also known as the orphanage, where you’re deemed the unruly sort and unadoptable.”

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