Page 89 of Shielding Instinct

“That’s a stretch to make that act as a synonym for great minds, but I get the gist. What do we do?”

“Wedo nothing,” Rowan’s voice lost any levity. “I told you not to play. I’d like to discuss it with you when we’re back in D.C. That file is classified for the moment. I’m working on getting permission from Frost to read you in back at the Bureau.”

“Rowan, this has to do with the pendant, right?” Petra asked. “Do Iwantto be read in?”

“That I don’t know.”

***

Dressed in hiking clothes with her boots tied firmly in place, Petra sat down in the Cerberus conference room with a cup of coffee in front of her, a pad and pen.

Petra wasn’t sure how she could be helpful. Honestly, she hoped she could do something sitting in front of a monitor. Adrenaline strength was a gift while she was helping Terry. But now, her muscles were tender, and her sinew felt too stretched. Being neurodivergent, she had to be careful of her hyper-mobility. And Petra wondered if the sensation was something to be worried about.

Sitting would be good.

Hawkeye was beside her, and Cooper was under the table with one of his paws draped over the toe of Petra’s boot. It felt like they were holding hands. And it was very sweet.

As the men filed in with their dogs, Petra leaned to the side and asked under her breath, “Why do dogs smell each other’s butts? There has to be a biological maybe chemical reason, right?”

“Well, yeah, dogs have apocrine glands back there. You could think of it like a social media profile. Their pheromones are like a post. The scents tell the other dog, for example, where a bitch is in her cycle, age, and how a dog is feeling that day.”

“Feeling cute, may delete later.” Petra reached under the table to scritch Cooper. “Is that why the dogs like to smell human crotches?”

“Checking our status. Humans have those glands in our armpits, too. But for most dogs, the crotch is more convenient.”

“Helpful to dogs, but now I’m wondering if we used to smell each other for a status update. I mean, our tears change based on the why. Could we smell the difference at one time?” Petra asked. “Did we lick the tears off someone’s face to taste them? Curious minds…”

“Wait. Tears aren’t just tears?” Levi asked as he sat down. “Morning, Petra.”

“Hey, Levi. We’re talking about dogs sniffing butts. In human tears, laughing, lubrication, and self-cleaning from eye irritation are chemically different from emotional tears; those shed from sadness have high levels of stress hormones.” She lifted a hand and waved. “Good to see you, Ash. All’s well?”

“Good to go,” He said as he settled Hoover. “Thanks for asking.”

Reaper stood in the front of the room. “I have a list of potential assignments. When we’re in the field, we’ll let emergency services know which one we’re tackling. The top two suggestions were a wellness check on a commercial boat owner and a search of Buck’s Island. I’ll go over the background of each case. First, Buck’s Island. There is a tourist operation that takes visitors to Buck’s Island where there is a national underwater park. Visitors snorkel along the marked trails to learn about the variety of coral and undersea animals and so forth. The boat went out as usual. The captain said that the current had been unusually strong even before the seismic activity. He encouraged everyone to stay near the pontoon. However, free will is what it is, and not everyone complied. After the first set of waves hit, the tourists were all over the place. It took himsome time to gather everyone on his roster before he started back to the main island. The second seismic activity hit them hard. Luckily, he had everyone in a flotation vest. The pontoon was flipped with one wave and righted with the next. His roster was lost, the captain doesn’t have the names of those with him anymore. He knows he couldn’t find three.”

“Were they within swimming distance of land?” Halo asked.

“They were a hundred yards from Buck’s Island. They’re either,” Reaper held up a finger, “floating in the water on debris like our survivors from yesterday’s boat accident.” He held up a second finger. “They made it to the island.” He held up a third finger. “They were picked up by another boat, or,” his fourth finger went up. “They’re deceased.” He lowered his hand to the table. “A citizen boat is being lent to us so we can search the island to see if we can locate any survivors.”

“You’re doing that with your dogs?” Petra’s voice rang with alarm.

The men turned to her.

“I—” Petra shook her head. Took a breath. Rolled her lips in.

The men waited.

“I don’t mean to step out of line. But have you trained there before?” Petra asked.

“We just received the assignment and haven’t done our due diligence,” Reaper said. “Would you like to share your concerns?”

“My friend and I considered going there to hike. And as long as you’re dressed properly, are aware, and stay on the path, it should be okay. They have scorpions, spiders, stinging nettles, and other things you guys probably deal with all the time on your searches.”

Reaper nodded.

“But there’s the manchineel tree, and that’s what makes me worried about the dogs’ safety. Every part of that plant—which grows prolifically on the island—is dangerous. Leaves, bark, sap, and fruit—all can cause chemical burns. If any of that were to get in the dogs’ eyes, it could lead to blindness. If they were to eat one of the fruits, it could cause serious issues, especially because there is no quick way to get them to a vet. I know that sometimes working dogs wear muzzles and dog goggles, which, in this case, would be important. But if they were to roll or rub or otherwise get the poison on their skin it could be very bad. While humans should be fine, it’s the dogs’ behavior, especially as you search off-trail, that has me worried.”

Reaper looked at her, his mind going.

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