Page 8 of Every Little Kiss
Bullseye had a box full of trophies he’d collected over the years, and if Ford tried to remove even one, the dog wouldn’t sleep until he found it.
A Beanie Baby in Ford’s pocket was effective for a simple door-to-door urban search. When it was a high-altitude search with rough terrain and difficult conditions? Bullseye demanded a real game of find the fur-baby. And when a search turned into a recovery, Ford had to pull out the big guns: Lambkins. Bullseye’s number one choice in tchotchke therapy.
Carrying a stuffed animal should have been easier than carrying a stash of jarred baby food. But strapping a wheel-size bubblegum-pink lamb puppet with a matching tutu and cotton-ball fur to Ford’s backpack was a hell of a lot more embarrassing. Especially when done in front of some of the goliaths of the SAR world—who responded with offers of lotion and mood music.
Ford preferred to refer to Lambkins as a chew toy. Only that was as ridiculous as slapping a John Deere logo on a Speedo and calling it manly. But pink lambs and baby talk happened when one adopted a service dog trained by a day-care provider who specialized in wanderers.
“All right, but one tail wag before it’s playtime and you’re back in the car. Understand?”
“Woof!”
Ford clipped on his harness, and the two hopped out of the truck.
“I know she’s a wanderer, but she’s been gone over an hour, and she never skips her breakfast,” the older woman cried. “Not when it’s beef and peas.”
“Don’t worry, Ms.Moberly, I’ve called in the best tracker we have. If anyone can bring LuLu home, it’s this guy,” Harris said in welcome as Ford walked up the cobblestone walkway. “Meet Ford Jamison, the department’s newest community-outreach officer. And his partner, Bullseye.”
Bullseye sat at attention, his chest puffed out, belly dragging the ground. Ford managed not to roll his eyes at the mutt as he tipped his hat in greeting. “Ma’am. I’m actually head of the K-9 search division out of Reno.”
Ms.Moberly pressed a hand to her chest. “So you specialize in finding canines? Thank the Lord.” And there went a quick sign of the cross. “When I called Harris about my LuLu disappearing, he told me that he had the perfect person for the job.” She looked at Harris with hero worship. “I didn’t know you were going to bring him over from Reno.”
Harris rocked back on his heels. “Only the best for our residents. Now why don’t you tell Ford here what you’ve been telling me.”
The woman’s eyes went wide as she turned her focus to Ford. “My LuLu hasn’t been missing the necessary twenty-four hours to coordinate a full search party, but she’s a special-needs dog—got the depression pretty bad—and I read on the website that you waive that rule for a special-needs child.”
“But LuLu is a dog,” Ford pointed out.
“With the depression,” Harris reminded, and Ford gave him anAre you kidding me?look.To which Harris replied with aWelcome to desk dutytip of the hat.
“She needs her pill.” Ms.Moberly looked around and then leaned in and lowered her voice. Bullseye leaned in too, and when he realized that she wasn’t handing over the stuffed animal, he plopped onto his belly with a sigh. “Last time LuLu stopped taking her medication, I caught her paws deep in a box of chocolates. By the time I got to her, her muzzle was covered in the poison, and we had to pump her little belly. The vet shaved her naked, made her so self-conscious she wouldn’t even go to Wag and Waddle until it grew back.”
“Maybe she was just hungry.”
“She wasn’t hungry—she was ending things. Death by chocolate. It’s what the ladies at Wag and Waddle call it when they think LuLu can’t hear them, but she knows she’s being ostracized.” She clutched her chest. “Dear God, do you think that’s why she left? We have Wag and Waddle in an hour.”
Ford channeled his people skills and offered a small smile. “Ms.Moberly, couldn’t LuLu be hiding inside? Maybe she found a warm corner and curled up and fell asleep. Or maybe she’s at the neighbors’ house.”
Ms.Moberly’s gray bob danced around as she shook her head. “I checked every inch of that house and even offered up bacon. Nothing. And she doesn’t like the neighbors—they have cats. She’s scared of cats.”
Probably because the cats heckled the poor dog for dressing like a ballerina.
“Strangers too.” Ms.Moberly froze. “You don’t think she was snatched by a stranger, do you?”
Ford and Harris exchanged looks, but it was Harris who spoke. “Do you?”
“Well, I don’t know, but if that would speed up the search party, I will have it known that LuLu is a front-runner for this year’s Wagon Days Darling. If she’s selected, she’ll ride in the float with the mayor.”
“Wagon Days Darling is a big honor around here,” Harris said ever so helpfully.
“The biggest,” Ms.Moberly agreed. “Which is why I wouldn’t put it past Dorothy Pines to dognap my LuLu to get an edge up. She was the one who started the ‘death by chocolate’ campaign against us when LuLu was first tapped to enter. And now we find out she’s a finalist and she goes missing. Don’t you see the pattern?”
All Ford could see at that moment was Harris’s smug grin. “There could be a lot of reasons for LuLu’s absence, but if you suspect theft, then you’d need to contact the sheriff’s department.”
Ms.Moberly shook her head so fast her gray halo danced. “Absolutely not. Have you seen the sheriff’s dog? Tyke is nothing but a big bully, likes to sniff my LuLu hello even when she hides behind my feet. Do you believe that no means no, Mr.Jamison?”
“Of course he does, ma’am,” Harris said, and Ford wanted to punch him.
“Then you’ll understand why I called your office. I won’t have that dog taking advantage of LuLu’s weakened state when we find her. Not when this sweet thing here is ready for action.”
