Home of the Brave (Raine Stockton Dog Mysteries Book 9) Read Online Free PDF Page B

gangland murders and organized crime.  So maybe your ex needs to learn to take help when it’s offered and deploy his resources more effectively.”
    Gangland murders?  Organized crime?  Was this woman for real? 
    “Wow,” I said, big-eyed.  “We are lucky to have you.  I sure hope the state police don’t try to steal you away, because they don’t know anything about organized crime. Gee, I wonder if somebody should tell them to look into Jessie’s connection with the mob?”
    By this time we were approaching my car, and I could tell I was coming very close to stepping over the line—not that that had ever stopped me before.  “In the meantime, though,” I said as she pulled her vehicle off the road behind mine, “I think you’ll find Buck is pretty smart about deploying his resources effectively. For example …”  I smiled and opened the car door.  “You’ve been assigned to a kids’ camp this weekend.  See you there!”  I waved gaily to her as I got out of the car.
    The only thing I regret is that I couldn’t see the expression on her face as she drove away.

     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
     
    I live with my three dogs in a big old farmhouse with a white columned porch at the foot of a mountain on the edge of the Nantahala Forest.  A few dozen steps from my back door is Dog Daze Boarding and Training, on the site of what once was my grandparents’ horse barn.  Thanks to a recent remodel, I can now house twenty dogs in air-conditioned and radiant-heated comfort, with indoor training rooms and a state of the art grooming center.  Next weekend every kennel would be full, but today only half a dozen dogs were waiting for their moms and dads to take them home.  I screeched into the driveway barely three minutes before the first arrival.
    Cisco, who had been in charge of the office while I was gone, bounded to the door on freshly trimmed fuzzy golden paws the minute he heard my car.  I saw his grinning face in the top pane of the door window as I hurried up, but he dropped to all fours the minute I caught his eye because he knew he was not allowed to jump on the door.  A cacophony of barking greeted me as soon as I opened the door, and Cisco, happily clutching a stuffed squirrel between his teeth, wiggled up to greet me, plumed tail waving like a flag.  Mischief and Magic, the Aussies, scratched at the doors of their crates on the opposite side of the room, and when I let them out they pummeled me with bouncing paws and sloppy kisses.  I dropped to my knees and gave them all hugs, inhaling their freshly washed scent and rubbing my face against their silky fur.  This was always the best part about coming home.
    I ushered my dogs into the play yard and returned breathlessly to the front desk just as the bell rang announcing the first pickup.  The next hour was a blur of collecting dogs and dog belongings, happy reunions, cheerful good-byes, posting payments and cleaning kennels.  When the last car pulled away with an excited poodle barking out of the back window, I flipped off the lights, locked the door and raced to the house.  I stripped off my damp clothes, changed into fresh shorts and a tee shirt, and ran my fingers through my now dry, curly, cropped hair.  It sprang back as though I’d just walked out of the salon, and I grinned at myself in the mirror.  After a distinctly unpromising start to the day, all it took was some wagging tails and a good haircut to get my mood back on track. 
    Being a generally organized person, I had packed my duffel bag, sleeping gear and dog supplies that morning.  I loaded them into the car while the dogs bounced eagerly back and forth behind the play yard fence, following my every move.  They knew something was up.  They had all received baths and trims that morning, because I don’t take my dogs anywhere unless they’re looking their very best, and now I was loading toys, backpacks and dog food into the car.  This could only be good for