had her to reach out to when his life fell apart recently he didn’t know how he’d have managed.
Something flashed in the rays of the setting sun, as if glinting off a gun barrel. Sean yelled. Ducked. Unsnapped his seat belt and threw himself over the back of his seat toward Patrick just as a shot rang out.
Freya closed her mouth on Sean’s shoulder to stop him but didn’t bite hard enough to break the skin.
Zoe swerved toward the curb. “Anybody hit?”
“No,” he shouted. “I saw a reflection just in time. Get us out of here!”
“Hang on!”
Temporarily steering with one hand, she punched a button on her cell phone. “Trent here. Possible shots fired. We’re almost to my house. It’s the old Peterson place on Second, not far from Sophie Williams’s. We took fire about a half-mile south. Can’t pinpoint the exact location.”
Sean barely had hold of the buckle on his seat belt when she dropped the phone and fisted both hands tightly on the wheel. Her jaw was set.
“What did they say?”
“They’re on the scene. Found the red truck, abandoned, close to where we were shot at. It was stolen. If the guys took off on foot, they were probably our shooters.”
“That makes sense.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I’m getting you and Patrick back inside where you’ll be safer. They can’t hit you if they can’t see you.”
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Sean said.
“You didn’t drag me into anything. I walked in with both eyes open. This is what I do. Why I got into this business. What good is all my special training if I don’t use it?”
He recalled one silly way they used to tease each other in college and revived it, hoping his breathlessness wasn’t too evident. “So, where’s your superhero cape?”
“At the cleaner’s,” she shot back as she slid the car around a tight corner in perfect control. “I use a badge and a gun, now.”
Sean sighed. “That’s my Zoe. Saving the world, one friend at a time.”
He wasn’t happy with the role reversal. Men were supposed to rescue damsels in distress. He snorted quietly. That was not likely to happen when the woman in question was his old friend, Zoe Trent.
Zoe didn’t slow much as she entered the open garage. If she hadn’t been concerned about the whole situation, she might have laughed when Sean braced himself on the dash with both hands.
“I’ve been taught defensive driving,” she said. “Don’t panic.”
“Defensive is one thing. Driving through the back wall of a garage is another.”
“Ya think?” A soft chuckle erupted. “Don’t worry. I have complete control.”
“So you say. If you don’t mind, I’ll get out now.”
“I don’t mind a bit.” She was lowering the mechanized garage door behind them with the push of a button. “This side door to the house isn’t locked. Go on in with Patrick. I’ll bring Freya and the groceries.”
“You get the dog. I’ll get the food.”
“Now who’s being bossy?”
“I am.” He’d already bent and picked up his son when she joined him and asked, “Is there a problem with his motor skills, too?”
“Some. Why?”
“Because I thought it would be good for him to walk more. He can lean on Freya again if he needs support.”
“He falls easily.”
“And how did he learn to walk in the first place?”
She noted Sean’s sigh. Perhaps she was being too outspoken. Then again, maybe bluntness was just what he needed. It was possible to love someone or something so much you didn’t give it the opportunity to learn and grow. The same was true of the canines in the various programs. If they weren’t pushed, they’d not only fail to make progress, they might regress. Training was a daily necessity, as was affection. Each had its place and time.
Leading the way, Zoe entered with the dog at her heels, leaving the door open behind them. When she turned, Sean was gently lowering Patrick to the floor and bending to speak to him.
“I’ll be right back, buddy. I have to go get your tangerines and the other stuff we bought. You watch the dog for us like you did at the store, okay?”
The tousled, blond head nodded without hesitation. “Good da.”
“Dog.” Sean put emphasis on the final letter. “Daw—guh.”
To Zoe’s surprise and joy, Patrick repeated it perfectly. She would have cheered if she hadn’t seen moisture gleaming in his father’s eyes. Every small step was a triumph, every properly annunciated word a victory.
“Thank You, Lord, for letting me be a part of this amazing healing process,” she whispered, blinking back her own tears. She’d thought her offer of assistance was meant for one person, and it was actually going to benefit at least two.
Make that three, she added. Not only had her heavenly Father reunited dear friends, He had placed her in a position to render aid and share blessings. No amount of threat, no lowlife with an evil agenda, was going to steal that from her. Not now. Not ever again.
* * *
The scheduled visit with lead K-9 trainer, Sophie Williams, and Ellen Foxcroft, the founder of the assistance dog program, took place as scheduled at Zoe’s house. Sean liked both women, and Zoe’s introduction of him and his disabled son wasn’t maudlin. As a matter of fact, it was so uplifting he wondered if she’d talked her associates right out of helping him.
“I never claimed to be totally helpless,” he told the women with a nod toward Patrick. “But as you can see, there are special circumstances. I not only need to be able to function for my own sake, I need to be there for my son. As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m not myself.” His elbows were propped on his knees, his hands joined between them while he toyed with his wedding band.
Ellen mirrored his pose. Her reddish hair hung in a single braid down her back. Her gaze was tender. “I know how hard this is for you, Mr. Murphy. The human body sometimes deals with intense trauma in ways that go against everything we expect. That doesn’t make us less of a person. It’s how we cope with the aftereffects of disaster that will define who and what we become. By asking for help you’ve taken a big step, and I want to tell you how impressed I am.”
“Just get me well for Patrick,” Sean said with passion. “I don’t care what it takes. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it. I promise.”
“I know
