Heat of the Moment - Lori Handeland Page 0,7

something from Reggie’s coat. “He’s got some burrs that I don’t want in the house.”

From the appearance of the house, a few burrs wouldn’t hurt it. Perhaps Owen had seen enough of what was inside. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t want to look either. But I had to, so I climbed the steps and went in.

I stopped just past the threshold—not only because of the smell—charred flesh and fur—but the sight. The place was ruined. Not that it had been in that great a shape to begin with, though Owen had done the best he could. He’d been a kid with very little money—all he’d had was time and hope.

The years had taken a toll. Damage had been done not only by the elements but by the teenagers that had come here to drink, dope, and screw. I saw evidence of all three—bottles and cans, the stubs of cigs and joints, several used condoms—scattered everywhere.

What I found in the living room was worse. The other had been kids being kids. Asshole kids, but still kids. This …

I stared at the charred remains.

This was evil.

* * *

Owen waited for Becca to disappear into the house.

Though she’d probably seen worse, or at least seen similar, he didn’t want to let her go inside and face that alone. But more than that, he didn’t want her to see him walk.

Childish. Foolish. Selfish. He silently berated himself with every ish he could think of as he gimped in her wake. He could have added gimpish, but he didn’t think it was a word.

Should be.

Shrapnel had made a mess of his leg. Tendons were damaged, nerves too. The break in his femur had been ugly. The doctors had said he wouldn’t be able to walk again. He’d refused to believe them, and he’d been right.

They’d also said he wouldn’t be able to return to active duty. He refused to believe that either. Owen had nothing else. He was good at nothing but the job he’d learned in the Marines. If he wasn’t Sergeant McAllister, who was he?

Reggie yipped. Owen had stopped walking to rub his thigh. The dog, which had healed much faster than Owen had, stood at the bottom of the listing porch steps.

“I’m okay,” he said, as if Reggie could understand. Sometimes he swore the dog could.

He’d certainly understood when Owen had shouted, “Run,” that day Reggie had found the turned-up earth at the same time Owen had seen the boy with the cell phone.

Which was why Reggie was in better shape than he was.

The kid had activated the IED a bit too soon, which meant that Owen and Reggie were alive and not dead after the big—

“Kaboom,” Owen said.

The dog climbed the steps. Now he was gimping too. Owen sat on the top step, patted the area next to him. “Sitz.”

Owen ran his palm over the animal’s injuries, masked now by fur, but still there. When he reached the worst one, Reggie flinched.

Owen moved the hair away from the scar. No blood at least. This far out, there shouldn’t be.

“Looks like you’ve bought yourself an aspirin in your kibble, pal. Shouldn’t have been rolling in the dirt with a wolf today. Probably not any day with a wolf.”

Speaking of … The wolf had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Where had it gone? Why had it gone? Why had it come in the first place? Becca seemed to know the animal, which wasn’t surprising. She’d always had a strange affinity for them.

When they were children, she would entertain Owen with tales of “what the bunny said,” and “what the fox thought.” Forest creatures would walk up and eat out of her hand. The first time his mom had seen them surrounded by raccoons and opossums and squirrels, she’d flipped out. Started screaming about rabies, scared all the little beasties away.

He’d been six years old and already adept at knowing when he could calm her down and when he needed to call the EMTs. He avoided the latter as much as possible. Because if his mom went to the mental health facility, Owen went to foster care—at least until they’d moved here. Once he and Becca became friends, the Carstairs allowed him to stay with them while his mom “rested.”

He owed that family more than he could ever repay. Another reason he had left when he had.

Reggie’s tongue lolled. He appeared to be smiling. Owen rubbed behind the dog’s ears. “You liked tussling with that wolf, didn’t you?”

Reggie barked.

Owen had heard

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