Page 74 of Surge

He nodded, lips pursed. “Caldwell probably doesn’t trust me any more than I trust him.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Probably not, given yesterday’s fight.”

“Right.” He had to think about this thing. If they were going to trust him, that meant—Caldwell or not—apologies. Starting with Rogue.

Surge decided he was done with his bully stick, stood up, and dropped his KONG at Garrett’s feet, begging for a game. Garrett gave in, tossing it across the postage-stamp yard. He scampered after it, then skidded to a stop in front of them when he dashed back.

“Delaney, while I’m at it, sorry I questioned you last night at the port.”

Her grin at Surge’s skid faded. She picked up the KONG, shook it at him. “I’ve seen his overwhelm with that sound trigger. In the empty LD3s, that was not it. The whole empty area smelled of lipids that used to be there.” She spun the black rubber toy out to the corner of the grassy area. “I know dogs. I know Surge.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” Nothing more or better to say to a fearless dog trainer.

Surge paraded the KONG around the yard. “You didn’t lose your faith in Surge’s nose?” Her deep-brown eyes lasered him. “Or in me as a teammate?”

“I trust you.” He swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant to let his personal thoughts out. “You and Surge.”

“You trust me?”

Yes. And more, maybe. Probably. He offered a smile and nodded.

She grinned. “Okay then.”

Surge returned, picked up his bully stick, and plopped down between them.

Garrett pulled the plastic out of his pocket, tossed it back and forth between his hands. His subconscious decided not to besubanymore. “Surge hit on this piece of silicone we know nothing about.” He held it in his right hand and just stood there. “And he hit on cartons all over the shoe factory in Singapore. Then empty LD3s that the manifest says were loaded with shoes.”

Delaney bit her lip. “Surge hit on this plastic and on shoes, but that plastic doesn’t look like it has anything to do with shoes. So what’s the connection?”

He nodded slowly. With a final toss of the unknown thing, he stuck it back in his pocket. “That’s what I want to know.” He pulled out his phone. “Zim, meet us in the living room with your FTIR. We’re on the way in.”

Surge trotted backward with them, proudly carrying the bully stick in his mouth.

They walked through the kitchen into the living room as Zim barreled down the hallway, bearing the infrared spectroscope and a smile as wide as his face. “What do you need me to take a chemical fingerprint of?”

Garrett laughed. “Easy. This.” He lobbed the silicone to him.

Surge sniffed at it in Zim’s hand, then walked over to his mat beside Delaney’s rocking chair and plopped down for a nap. Delaney took off her shoes and sat in the rocker.

Caldwell walked in and saw Zim holding the purple plastic. Paused. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, his voice low.

Zim was focused on the plastic. “Bear gave it to me.”

Watching him, feeling uneasy and uncertain, Delaney said nothing.

Caldwell spun toward him. “Bear?”

“Delaney found?—”

He spun toward her. “You were in my duffel bag, Thompson?”

She cringed, then squared her shoulders. “Surge?—”

The spook grabbed for the plastic, but Zim stared him down, then calmly walked to the dining room table, got the FTIR ready.

Caldwell whirled back to Delaney, his ears bright red. “Your dog got in my private duffel like he got into Bear’s? Thought he was trained.”

Surge sprang to her side and went on alert, eyeing Caldwell and very ready to address any aggression.

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