lot longer, and it’s a lot creepier. I’ve got a sick feeling about it. I trust my sick feelings.”
“Every man in the crew’s keeping an eye out for Freemont, and an eye on Clare. So are the town cops,” Beckett added. “I warned him off. Charlie Reeder warned him off.”
“I know that, just like I know doing that’s caused him to escalate. Sending her flowers after she’s sicced the cops on him? It’s twisted. I don’t know what to do about it. I hate not knowing what to do.”
“Tell her neighbors. More people looking out for her.”
Owen frowned at Ryder a moment. “That’s good, but not just her neighbors. Spread the word in town, all through town. People like Clare, a lot. We’ve got a whole community here that’ll look out for her.”
“I always knew you had a brain,” Avery observed, and felt her shoulders relax a bit for the first time in hours. “It’s something. It feels positive.”
“I’m going over there tonight, and I’ve got a couple of ideas brewing, including installing motion detector lights at her place.”
Avery nodded at Beckett, and her shoulders unknotted completely. “Okay, I like that one. More positive. I’ve got to get back, and you can count on me spreading the word during the lunch rush.”
BECKETT INSTALLED THE lights himself, front and back, and calculated it only took about twice as long as it might have without the “help” the kids gave him. But he got another meal out of it, and the satisfaction of seeing Clare’s relief when the job was done.
Added to it was the fun of watching the boys run outside and back a half dozen times before bedtime cheering each time the lights flashed on.
But he had to admit, he liked his couple of other ideas better, and introduced them to Clare the next afternoon at the bookstore.
He found her in the annex, restocking shelves.
“Hey, I’ve got a couple guys I want you to meet.”
Books in her hand, Clare turned. “Oh, aren’t they sweet! Where did you get them?”
Even as she asked, she set the books aside to crouch. Both dogs took that as an invitation to gambol over and lick at her hands and face. “Look at you, look at you big boys. Beckett, how are you going to keep two dogs in your apartment. Aren’t these Labs?”
“Mixes, Lab-retriever mixes, like Mom’s. They’re brothers. They’re five months old. They’ve had all their shots. They’re housebroken.”
“Yes, good boys.” She ruffled chocolate brown skin, rubbed silky ears. “They’re adorable, but don’t they need room to run around and . . .” She trailed off, eyes narrowing at Beckett even as the dogs vied for her attention. “And you’re not planning on keeping them in your apartment.”
“They need kids.”
“Beckett—” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s your middle name?”
“Ah, Riley.”
“Beckett Riley Montgomery.”
The grin split his face. “Wow, the whole shot, the big Mom guns.”
“That’s just the first volley.”
“Boys need dogs, dogs need kids.” He lost the grin, tried a winsome smile. “You’ve been thinking about getting a dog for the boys.”
“Thinking, yes, and dog—as in one.”
“They’re brothers,” he reminded her. “You can’t separate brothers.” He crouched as she was, scrubbed an exposed belly with his hand. “You’d break their hearts. Plus they’d keep each other company when the kids are in school. They’re rescues. The people who had them just basically changed their minds. It’s like evicting a couple of babies.”
“Oh stop.”
Okay, he thought, that might’ve been laying it on a little too thick. “They need a good home, together. If you don’t want them, I’ll keep them.”
“In your apartment.”
“Well.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to separate them, or leave them in limbo.”
“This is an ambush.”
“This kind of dog is great with kids. Loyal, good-natured. They love to play, and they’ll take the roughhousing three boys will dish out.”
“Been researching, have you?”
“Yeah, some. Mom knows people who know people. Plus, they’ll let you know if anybody’s coming around the house. Dogs, even friendly dogs like these, are good deterrents. I’d feel a lot better, Clare, if you had a couple of dogs in and around the house.”
The smaller of the two dogs laid a paw on Clare’s knee, gazed up soulfully. The sound she made—a kind of half sigh, half groan—told Beckett they had her.
“The kids are going to go crazy. God, if I do this, I have to get supplies and toys, a training manual. A psychiatric evaluation.”
“I’ve got everything they need in the truck already. Food, dishes, beds, toys. See, they’ve