Page 100 of Doing Life

Between the digging and the calling and the dog wanting to be with her person, out she popped. She was filthy and had a couple of little cuts on her, but besides that she was fine.

Thank God for that.

Thin arms wrapped around him for a second, and he patted the kid’s back. “All right, well, if your momma’s got some towels and stuff, you should get her dried off.”

The boy nodded. “Momma says Daddy’s coming home. He’ll be here in a minute. Thank you. She’s my girl.”

He nodded in agreement. “I understand. I have a pup of my own. His name is Maynard. He’s a bloodhound.”

And suddenly, Sloan wanted to go home and get his dog. He thought maybe he would just go—stop and get Maynard.

That way he knew Maynard was okay.

Damn it, that was what he was going to do. Maynard loved to go for a ride, no matter what the vehicle.

He’d passed his rental house on the way here. He knew it was fine, so it wasn’t like he was being ornery. Theremight be a chance that Maynard could help. And if nothing else, it would allow him to be able to focus, to know that his dog was all right.

He walked back around to the front of the house. “We found her, ma’am. Do you need me to stay?”

She shook her head. “I can see my husband’s truck. He’s coming, so we’ll clean up, go to my momma’s. I’ve already called her too, and then they’ll start working on the house. Thank you for your help.”

“No problem. I’m sorry about your front room.”

She snorted. “My husband will be more upset about the shed. Thanks, officer.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He got back in his car and headed home, just long enough to get Maynard, who was a little bouncy and stressed. “Want to go for a ride, buddy? You have to be good.” He clipped the leash to Maynard’s harness, then wrangled the big guy into it.

Just rubbing those long old ears made Sloan breathe easier. He’d made the right choice. And it wasn’t like anyone at the department would give him hell for it on a day like today.

Hell, Maynard was good with kids. He was good with people and other dogs, and to be honest, having Maynard with him made him feel better.

Now he had to get out there and see what the next catastrophe was so he could help out.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Lance. Lance, dude, I need you to wake up, man.”

He swallowed, trying to gather his chickens, which seemed to have flown the coop and gone God knew where. “I hear you.”

He didn’t know who was talking yet, but he did hear them. He was also cognizant enough to know that when he opened his eyes he wouldn’t be able to see anything but light. So he knew who he was.

That was good.

He knew he was wet.

That was bad.

But it was a cold wet, which meant it wasn’t blood, so that was good. Also, muddy, which was bad.

He put one hand behind him, pleased to discover his hands were moving good. When he pushed himself up to sitting, his head didn’t scream at him, which was also good, because that meant the chances of a serious head injury were pretty nil.

He still didn’t know who was talking to him, though, not with the rain slamming around them.

“Somebody give me a sitrep,” he snapped.

“Boone’s out. All the horses are gone. Chris has his backpack. I don’t have my arm, and that thing was fucking expensive.”

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