Chapter 1
The last ten minutes of every puppy class was off-leash time. The dogs, who were all three months old, had spent almost an hour involved in an intense training session. Now was their chance to release some energy and socialize.
Katrina Perry, owner and head trainer at the Look Who’s Walking dog-training center, knew this informal period would be more stressful for the human clients than the canines. Let their precious babies go free around these other dogs? What if they ran away, got scared, or were bitten by the class bully? Since this was the first session in an eight-week program, she outlined a few rules.
“I need you to remain seated at all times while the pups interact. If you see your pet engaging in something that looks like aggression, don’t be alarmed. Play fighting is a natural behavior and the way they engage with the world.” She gestured to Suzie Calles, her assistant trainer. “If there is a genuine problem, one of us will intervene. If your pup, or any other one, appears shy around the others and comes to you, please don’t pet them or pick them up. The aim is to get them to relate to the other animals, not the humans.”
There were eight dogs in class today, and Katrina had already figured out what would happen. The vocal German shepherd would fall silent the instant another pup approached him. The hyperactive rottweiler would tear around the training ground without even noticing the other dogs. The timid Siberian husky would find somewhere to hide. The others would make some noise before starting to play.
She had been working with dogs since she had volunteered at the local kennels in high school. Initially, her only qualification had been her love of animals but, as her skills had increased, she’d known that this was the only career for her. Yes, she had an intuition where her canine clients were concerned, but she also had years of experience to back up her instincts. Her business had a good name and that had been built on trust.
There was only one pup she had any worries about, and her concern centered more on his looks than his behavior. The little mutt reminded Katrina of another dog she knew, one she hadn’t seen for a while.
“Hey, the brown-and-white one looks just like—”
“I know.” Cutting off Suzie in midsentence made her feel mean, but she didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of a workday. If she started to have the conversation Suzie wanted, she’d inevitably get upset. The little dog she was thinking of and its owner meant too much to her, and, anyway... “Whoa. Bulldog emergency.” Katrina was glad of the distraction.
Drummond, the
English bulldog, unable to keep up with his speedier classmates, had decided to slow them down by sitting on them.
“After a count of three,” Katrina said, then she and Suzie lifted the muscle-bound little guy. Their actions released a Yorkshire terrier and a bichon frise, both of whom barked delightedly and tried to encourage Drummond into a repeat performance of sitting on them. As if wounded by the affront to his dignity, the bulldog ignored them and strutted away to gnaw on a fence post.
Minutes later, Katrina brought the session to a close. As they cleared the training ground and set up for the advanced obedience class after lunch, she was conscious of Suzie sending troubled sidelong glances in her direction.
Eventually, she sighed. “You’re right. The little brown-and-white mutt reminded me of Dobby.”
She sensed Suzie relax slightly. They’d worked together for nearly four years and had become good friends. Until now, there had never been any tension between them. And Katrina didn’t have enough friends to let it become an issue. “Have you heard from Eliza recently?” Suzie asked.
“That obvious, huh?” Katrina asked. “I thought I was doing a good job of covering up how worried I am about my troubled twin.”
“Maybe someone who doesn’t know you well wouldn’t have noticed,” Suzie said. “But you don’t usually check your cell phone every two minutes. And, now and then, I’ve had to call your name twice because you’ve been lost in your own world. But your reaction to the Dobby look-alike was what clinched it for me.”
“Poor Dobby.” Katrina managed a smile. “With looks like his, I always found it doubly sad that he had such a fondness for the ladies.”
Dobby was her twin sister’s dog. With his big, floppy ears, sparse hair and lopsided jaw, he would never win a beauty contest. What he lacked in looks, he made up for in charm. Dobby was the happiest, most self-confident dog Katrina had ever known. But Dobby wasn’t the problem...
“I hadn’t heard from Eliza for months prior to the earthquake. That wasn’t unusual. She’s never been great at keeping in touch.”
Suzie knew all about Katrina’s sister’s checkered past. There was no point in trying to hide it. Not when Eliza could turn up at the training center at any time, either down on her luck, or high on drugs...or both. Or when Katrina might get a call from the police or a hospital and have to drop everything. Eliza claimed to have been clean for over a year, but that was a familiar story.
Then, two months ago, Mustang Valley had been hit by an earthquake. The area was rural and spread out, limiting the overall impact, but many homes and buildings in the small downtown district had been damaged. Since she hadn’t known where Eliza was living at the time, Katrina had fired off a series of increasingly frantic messages to her sister, hearing back from Eliza after a few days.
“I didn’t know if she was even in Mustang Valley when the quake hit.” Having finished setting up for the afternoon session, they went through to the small staff area to clean up before snatching a quick lunch. “I considered reporting her missing again, but this time I had no evidence that she was.”
Suzie shook her head. “I wish you’d told me you were dealing with all of this.”