Page 90 of Hidden Nature

“Yeah. Is there a problem, Officer?”

“It’s Sergeant, actually.”

“Okay, same question. Oh, man, have a little pride.”

He spoke to the dog, who’d shoved its way between his legs to jump on Sloan.

“He’s fine. Just fine.” She gave the dog—a rambunctious yellow Lab—a good rub. Then she pointed, said, “Sit!”

When the dog’s butt hit the ground, Nash stared. “What did you do and how did you do it? How did you get him to sit?”

“I told him to.”

In response, Nash shoved at all that thick, wavy brown hair.

“You think I haven’t tried that? He never listens. Hell, it’s snowing again. Come in out of it. We’re in the middle of a major rehab, so it’s a wreck.”

The dog raced in ahead, ran in crazed circles, then grabbed a paint rag between his teeth and raced with that.

“Can you make him stop doing that? I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”

“What’s his name?”

“Tic. We call him Tic. Short for Lunatic. Reasons obvious.”

“Tic!” She pointed. “Sit.”

He sat, tail thumping, eyes filled with adoration.

“No charge. This time.”

“It’s like magic. Witchcraft. Sorry.” Baffled, Nash shoved a hand through his hair a second time. “Are you with the State Police?”

“No. I’m Natural Resources Police.”

“No kidding? I never heard of them before we moved here. Now the woman my brother’s dating has a sister… You’re the sister.”

“I am. Sloan Cooper.” She offered a hand.

He took it, gripped hard. “Are they okay? Did something happen?”

“No. No. This has nothing to do with them. I stopped by to see about hiring you. I bought a house.”

“Oh. Well. Okay then.”

The dog, rag still clamped, bellied over to Sloan and laid it like a tribute at her feet.

“You’re a good dog, aren’t you?” She crouched, rubbed. “Yes, you are.” She made an uh-uh sound when he jumped at her. “You’re going to be too big for that really soon. So no jumping, or no pets.”

Tic wagged and rubbed against her knees.

“Are you like Dr. Dolittle?”

“No.” She looked up. “I’m an alpha, and he knows it. Be an alpha. I don’t think this is yours, Tic.” She picked up the paint rag, handed the now slobbery thing to Nash. “What do you have that is?”

“He’s got balls, bones, squeaky things. He had a stuffed rabbit but he tore it to shreds. A massacre.”

“Go ahead and get him something that belongs to him.”

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