for Olivia,” she pointed out, that image—the one of the girl, her eyes wide, begging for help—filling her mind again. She’d failed to save her, and that knowledge was worse than the pain in her head, worse than the nausea. “She’s terrified and alone. She doesn’t care who knows what. All she cares about is getting home.”
“You’re wrong. It does matter for Olivia,” Agent DeMarco responded. “There’s a chance that we can reunite Olivia with her family, but only if the kidnappers aren’t scared into moving early. All we have to do is find Olivia’s kidnappers, and we’ll find her. We’ll find them all.”
His words made her heart jump, and she was almost ready to spring up from the chair and start looking in every place they could possibly be. “Then why are we sitting here? Why aren’t we out searching for them?”
“Chief Andrews said you’d ask that,” he responded, a half smile curving his lips. “He told me to assure you that he has a K-9 team working the scene.”
But Laney knew they’d not find much. Olivia had been driven off in a van. Even her retired search dog, Jax, who had been one of the best air scent dogs in the country, wouldn’t be able to pick up her scent under those circumstances.
She recognized that, but still, she wanted to be in on the action in a way she hadn’t wanted to be since the accident that took her teammates’ lives. The accident that had prompted her to leave her search-and-rescue work behind and put Jax into early retirement. The thought stole some of her energy, and she sank back against the chair. “That’s good. If there’s something to find, they’ll uncover it.”
“That’s what I’ve been told. You’ve been working with them for a while?”
She had. For nearly two years now. She volunteered her time to ensure high-drive, problem dogs were given the chance to succeed. She’d helped train several dogs that had been like Murphy—problematic but with obvious promise. Although Kent made repeated offers to make her role with the department more permanent, she was reluctant to fall back into the stressful life of a contract employee. Besides, her own clients kept her busy enough. “Unofficially. I own a private boarding and training facility in Davidsonville. Murphy is the most recent in a line of MPD K-9s I’ve worked with.”
“Murphy.” His smile broadened. “He’s quite a dog.”
“He’s quite a problem child, but we’re working on it.”
“He came through for you tonight,” he pointed out.
“Yes. Though technically, he’s supposed to leave the vehicle only on command.”
“Well, in this case, it’s a good thing he didn’t.”
“I think seeing the gun set him off. We just started working with firearms last week, and he’s making good progress.” Better than she had hoped. She was pleased at how quickly Murphy was improving after being booted out of the MPD K-9 program once. He was a little high-energy and distractible, but he possessed the important shepherd traits—intelligence and loyalty.
Agent DeMarco smiled. “Andrews and the K-9 handlers certainly seemed happy the dog came through for you.”
She forced herself out of the chair, every muscle in her body protesting. “Speaking of which, I need to talk to Kent. I don’t suppose you have my things?”
“Purse? Cell Phone? House keys?”
“Yes.”
“They’ve been collected as evidence. Your Jeep was impounded, too. And your clothes—” his gaze dropped from her face to the cotton hospital gown “—were also taken as evidence.”
“I guess I’ll be flagging a taxi in this hospital gown,” she responded. She wasn’t going to stay in the hospital any longer than necessary. Her business was thriving. That meant plenty of work to do at the kennel. She was hoping that would keep her mind off her failures. She didn’t need to spend months mourning what she hadn’t been able to do for Olivia. She’d been down that path before, and it hadn’t led to anything but misery.
“Leaving in a hospital gown isn’t going to work. It’s a surefire way to get the wrong people’s attention. When you leave, we’re going to do everything possible to make sure no one notices you.”
“That’s going to be really difficult with—”
There was a sudden commotion outside the door, a flurry of movement and voices that had Agent DeMarco pivoting toward the sound.
“Stay there,” he commanded, striding toward the door and yanking it open.
His broad back blocked Laney’s view, and she moved closer, trying to see over his shoulder. A police officer stood in the doorway, back to the room.
“Ma’am, I told you no one can enter without permission,” he said to someone Laney couldn’t see.
“Ridiculous,” a woman responded, the voice as familiar as the morning sun.
Great-Aunt Rose. Someone must have called her.
“Aunt Rose, don’t—” Laney began.
Too late. Rose somehow darted through the blockade of masculinity, slipping past the officer.
Agent DeMarco stepped to the side, letting her by. Obviously he wasn’t worried about a five-foot-nothing octogenarian. The officer, on the other hand, looked quite disgruntled.
“Do you want me to cuff you, ma’am?” he shouted.
“Don’t be silly, boy. I’m too old. You’d break my brittle wrists.” Rose smoothed loose strands of silver hair back into her neat bun, then brushed invisible lint from her beige slacks. Her gaze settled on Agent DeMarco for a moment before her focus shifted to Laney.
“You’re awake! Thank the good Lord for His mercy!” she cried, hefting an oversize bag onto the bed.
“Yeah,” the officer sputtered. “She’s awake, and I’m going to lose my job.”
“Now, why would you go and do something like that?” Aunt Rose asked, completely unfazed by the commotion she’d caused. Typical Rose. Always in the midst of trouble and never quite sure why.
“My aunt is notorious for getting what she wants,” Laney cut in. “I’m sure Chief Andrews will understand the position you were in.”
“He might, but I don’t,” the officer responded irritably. “But I guess as long as she’s your aunt, I’ll go back to my post.”
He returned to the corridor, closing the door with a little more force than necessary.
“You’ve annoyed him, Aunt Rose,” Laney said.
“And you’ve annoyed me. Getting yourself shot up and tossed into the hospital and interrupting a perfectly wonderful book club meeting,” Rose responded. She touched Laney’s cheek and shook her head. “What in the world happened? I mean, Tommy said you’d been shot...but I figured he’s so old, he probably got it wrong.”
“Tom is barely sixty, Aunt Rose, and you know it.” Laney sighed. Her aunt
