on hand to help out when needed.” She glanced at Harley in the backseat, who was lifting his head to enjoy the wind blowing in the open windows. His big ears were lifting like small balloons, and there was an ecstatic look on his face. “In the meantime, maybe I’ll help you train Harley. Though you’re doing great. Those hand signals are magic. Where did you learn them?”
“Lynch.”
“See? What did I tell you?”
“You didn’t have to tell me anything. I’m just saying that it’s all hands on deck from now on. You want to stay in the shadows? Fine. I know what a powerhouse Lynch can be, but I’m not willing to let him take over,” Olivia said. “I’ll take whatever he has to give to Kendra and me, but two of my friends died and I have to be there to make sure the people who did it are punished.”
“And I’ll be there to do that, too,” Jessie said quietly. “Because both you and Kendra are my friends and your fight is my fight. Why else am I here, Olivia?” She drew up before the wire dog pens adjoining the neat brick residence. “And there’s a nice gray-haired man in that dog pen who seems to have a few friends of his own. Those German shepherd pups are all over him.” She opened the car door and called, “Mr. Miller? Jessie Mercado. I phoned you before we left the condo and you said you’d be glad to speak to us.”
“Because you said you had one of my favorite students.” He’d left the pen and was walking toward the car. He was smiling when he saw Harley suddenly straighten as he caught sight of him. “How are you doing, Harley,” he said gently. “Good to see you, boy.”
Harley went wild. He barked, he howled. He jumped out the open back window and loped toward the man.
“No, Harley,” Jessie said. “You’ll knock him down.”
“Harley!” Olivia jumped out of the car and headed in the direction where the barking was a cacophony of sound. “You can’t do—”
“Down,” Miller said quietly. “Now, Harley.”
Harley instantly lay down, but his tail was a riot of wild wagging. And the barking was still horrendous.
Olivia’s hand made the signal for silence with authority in every motion.
Harley fell silent except for an eager whimpering.
“You’re very good,” Miller said to Olivia as he knelt down and stroked the dog. “Miss…?”
“Olivia Moore.” She knelt beside the man and the dog. “And he’ll be much better once we get a chance to train him a little more. He’s only been learning hand signals for a couple of days. He’s gone through a lot, and I’m afraid that he’s a bit confused and wild right now.”
“I’m just glad to see that he’s still alive,” Miller said. “I was afraid he wouldn’t make it when I visited him with his vet, Dr. Napier, after his former owner died. Napier thought Harley might have some kind of response to me and asked me to come by and see him.” He grimaced. “It didn’t work. I wasn’t the boy, Terry, so he just went deeper into depression.” Then he smiled as he changed the subject. “And a couple of days to teach him hand signals—that is very good, Ms. Moore. I was starting to teach them to him myself just before I turned him over to the service dog people. I usually don’t release a dog until he’s thoroughly trained, but Terry Calder’s parents were pressuring the guide dog organization for a dog and Harley was special. I told them I’d come back and teach him on my own time whenever they called me.”
“That was kind of you,” Olivia said. “I’m sure they appreciated it. Why did you think Harley was so special?”
“He was the ideal companion dog. He and the boy were perfect together. Anyone could see it. Sometimes it happens like that. He’s always been something of a wild child but not when he was with Terry. He was everything he should be.” He was gently stroking Harley’s throat. “Since he was so intelligent, I thought he’d make an exceptional K-9 candidate. I even started teaching him the skills. He had a great nose and was an amazing tracker. But he was a complete failure at tactical, he wouldn’t attack on command. He was very protective, but he’d attack only if he thought I was about to be hurt. Not exactly what the police want to intimidate the bad guys.” He lifted the