Endangered Species Endangered Species (Time Served #1) - Onley James Page 0,73

it was outside, even in hundred degree weather. He insisted on making the bed every day because he hated wrinkled sheets. He was obsessed with pillows. He slept with four of them gathered around him like a force field. Webster thought he was making up for twenty-years without a regular pillow in sight.

Then there were the animals. Cy brought home animals the way some people brought home groceries. They were constantly fostering kittens and puppies and even a ferret or two. The landlord had stopped demanding answers for the slew of pets traipsing in and out of the lobby when Webster had finally agreed to up his annual rent to cover the costs of their revolving pet hospital and rehabilitation center. Sometimes, their apartment smelled like a hamster cage, but Webster didn’t care as long as Cy was happy. And Cy seemed really happy.

The doorbell rang at exactly ten, just as Webster put the last dish on the table. Rosie and Brutus walked with him to the door. Pamela stood there in a long flowy purple dress. Her wife, Becca, wore jeans and a t-shirt, her short pink hair falling over one eye. He exchanged hugs with both women and waved them inside.

As always, breakfast was a boisterous affair, exchanging stories about the people who volunteered at the shelter and strange cases Webster had worked on with Elite. With breakfast finished and coffee poured, Pamela finally said, “I wanted to talk to you two about something.”

Webster grinned but shook his head. “We cannot possibly take any more animals. Please, don’t show me whatever cute critter is saved on your cell phone.”

Becca snickered as Pamela shook her head. “No, it’s not about that. Not really. Actually, it was your charity work that gave me the idea,” she said to Webster.

Webster frowned. He was lucky. Jackson, Elite’s owner, gave Webster an allotment of funds to help children who were victims of violent crimes seek justice. Last week, he’d brought one of the victims, a nine-year-old girl named Reba, to the shelter to sit with an old shelter dog, a Saint Bernard they all called Mama. She’d spent the whole afternoon curled up with Mama. Then Reba’s mom had adopted the dog for the girl.

Webster and Cy exchanged looks.

“What’s up?” Cy asked, taking Webster’s hand and threading their fingers together.

“After last week, Reba’s mom reached out to me. They have a court date scheduled, but Reba is terrified to face her attacker in court.”

Webster’s heart clenched. “How can we help?”

Pamela took a deep breath. “I read an article about a group of bikers who accompany children in court so they feel safe facing their abusers. I thought maybe Cy might be interested in coming up with a program like that for us, using paroled prisoners who look intimidating but who might be trying to do some good in the world. They would just act as shields for the kids on the day they’re due in court.”

Webster’s gaze went wide, but he looked at Cy. “What do you think?”

“How would it work?” Cy asked.

“It’s just an idea right now, but I was thinking the program could work two-fold. First, we can train some of our unadoptables as emotional support dogs. The ones that are too ugly or too old. The dogs people ignore for cute puppies. They often have the best temperaments, and these victims need somebody who will listen to them in a non-judgmental way. Like how we let the kids who can’t read well come and read to the dogs at the shelter.” She paused, uncharacteristically nervous. “We could have the kids tell the dogs their stories to practice on the stand. The day of trial, the victim would have you and former inmates you’ve picked to shield them from being intimidated by their abusers.” She took a big breath and blew it out. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Cy said, looking at Webster.

Webster nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that could be really amazing. Preacher and Lawson are both due to get out soon. Javier, too, but I think he might be heading back to Mexico.”

Becca chimed in. “You would be able to screen the inmates. Vet them, so to speak. Make sure they have the right temperament for the program. It would have to be on a volunteer basis. But I think we could help a lot of kids.”

“Yeah, me too,” Cy agreed.

Pamela’s face split into a wide grin. “Perfect. Can we talk later this week and start