Page 7 of Hostile Witness
“No, quite the opposite. He whimpers when he comes to. This one’s a smart fella, and he remembers the attack. Until thepolice piece this case together, Flynn here is the only one who truly knows what happened.”
“What’s his prognosis?”
“We’re optimistic and hoping for a full recovery but honestly won’t know for a while.” Mike hesitated. “I’ll leave the door ajar. Call me if he wakes up, and feel free to stay as long as you like. Another vet will take over at six, but I’ll be here until then.” He left the room.
Tia hurt just looking at Flynn. He was a huge dog but so vulnerable. Fighting back tears, she sat in the chair Mike had provided.Now what?Ever so gently, Tia spoke in soft murmurs and stroked the fur on his face from his snout to his ears.
“You’re a brave boy, Flynn. I saw you yesterday at your house, and I’m so sorry this happened. I never would’ve seen you, but I needed a bathroom. Well, the moral of that story is: Don’t drink your whole water bowl before a long car ride.” She chuckled to herself. “Actually, buddy, it was worse than that. I ended up peeing myself and dousing the detective who found you. I’m sure it wasn’t his finest day, either.”
She soothed Flynn’s unbandaged paws with gentle petting. “You know, my third-grade students would be very interested in meeting you if you feel like it when you get better. Which reminds me, I still need to turn in my lesson plans for the coming week. The weekend is so short, you know?”
Tia relaxed into the chair and closed her eyes. She hadn’t been this still in a long time. Life was so busy. There was something quietly profound about touching an injured dog in a tender way. She felt a little bit like she, too, was mending on the inside. “I know all about recovery, Flynn. Got the big scars just like you. It’s a good thing your fur will grow back and cover them. I wish I had fur to cover mine.” She startled when a tongue licked her pinkie finger. The dog stared straight at her.
Oh.“I’m so sorry you lost your person, Flynn. Hang in there. I had a special person once... ”
Mike strolled into the room. “You’ve got the touch with animals, Tia. He’s so relaxed with you. Are you sure you don’t want to give up your teaching job and be my vet assistant?” He laughed, checking Flynn’s monitors and fluid levels. “I’m putting a mild sedative in his drip so he nods off again. We want to keep him quiet until tomorrow morning. Go ahead and pet him some more if you want. He’d probably like that.”
Tia rubbed Flynn’s forehead and ears as he drifted off to sleep again. She whispered in his ear, “I’ll stop by tomorrow after work, big guy.”
7
Back at the precinct, Ethan rounded the corner to his cubicle. The ever-present mound of files had grown during his time out of the office. As much as he enjoyed helping out on patrol, the only way he’d solve the caseload on his desk was to have a week or two of uninterrupted work hours to follow leads and chase down witnesses. Actually, he’d prefer to just forget about patrol and dedicate himself to the job they’d originally hired him to do.
But he was having a hard time forgetting Tia O’Rourke. In the few times he’d talked with her, she’d smiled only once. Being a hard-ass didn’t come naturally to her. It was challenging for him to reconcile Krav Maga with the woman who wore bunny slippers.
Not that he was all that great at reading women. God knew he’d misread all sorts of signals with his ex. He heaved a deep breath. His ex was a story he couldn’t afford to focus on right now.
He glanced at his desk again. There was a new stack of files with Margie Plante investigation notes, and sticky notes scattered to the right of the folders.Seriously?
Sergeant Earl Thompson whistled from the far end of the room and waved Ethan over. “We’ve scored a meeting room. Grab a drink, and meet us in Conference Three.”
“I see you’ve been thinking, Earl.” Ethan held up the sticky notes. “Did you ever think of using a whole piece of paper instead of these?”
“No can do, Son. The thoughts come to me one at a time every few minutes. The sticky notes fit in my pocket. I’ve got to use what I have on hand to record the questions and ideas. I’m old-school.”
Ethan grabbed his laptop and charger and strode toward the kitchen for a bottle of water. Everyone around here had their own form of brilliance. Earl was a master of puzzles, the yellow stickies being his puzzle pieces. It was Ethan’s job to corral the messy process into a spreadsheet... eventually. But not until the tables in Conference Room 3 swam in a virtual sea of neon-colored notes.
Sometimes the meetings with Earl went on for hours. The man could focus on a fingernail shaving all afternoon if required. About the time Ethan would start going cross-eyed, Earl would be breaking his stride in mental alertness. The man was a fearsome mentor.
Working with Earl Thompson was like boot camp for detectives. He took no guff from anyone and expected discipline. The burly hulk with a buzz cut still participated in a grueling six-hour physical training twice a month with all his detectives, and he outlasted most of them. Ethan knew this for a fact. He’d participated in the last five hell workouts with Sergeant Earl Thompson and had barely kept ahead of the man thirty years his senior. It kept Ethan in shape for his Sanctuary missions. This afternoon would be the mental side of working out with Earl.
He entered the conference room and plopped the files onto the table. “Just us two today, Sarge?”
Earl kept scribbling a note. “Mulrooney’s coming, but he’s using the latrine first. Who contaminated the scene at Lieutenant Plante’s house? The name’s been redacted from all the printed material.”
“A schoolteacher by the name of Tia O’Rourke. Nervous type. Almost backed out of the ride along at the last moment.”
Earl’s head shot up. “Tia? You sure?”
“I’m sure. Pretty, late twenties, red hair.”Absolutely no security around the perimeter of her house.
An incredulous look crossed Earl’s face. “The chief’s niece?”
Ethan sat down and opened his laptop. “Yeah. Why, is that hard to believe?”
Earl started writing again. “Huh. The chief must’ve had her name stricken from the records. Going forward, make sure all the documents refer to her as ‘the ride along’ and not by her name.”
Ethan glanced over the rim of his reading glasses. “Okay. Why?”