Kurt (The K9 Files Book 12), Page 3

  “Wow,” he said; then he frowned. “Medically discharged?”

  “Yes, an underwater accident,” he said. “Took my lower leg, compromised my lungs, crushed a few ribs.” He shrugged and said, “You know how accidents happen.”

  “Apparently,” he said. Studying Kurt’s legs, he asked, “You lost a leg?”

  For that answer, Kurt reached down and hitched up his jeans, so Amos could see the prosthetic.

  “Wow, okay then. So what are you doing back in town?”

  “I’m here,” Kurt said, wondering if maybe Amos would be of help, “looking for a War Dog last seen in this vicinity.”

  Amos frowned. “War Dog?” he asked cautiously.

  Kurt explained the problem.

  “Interesting,” Amos said. “I did hear a dog was around here and that she was attacking people.”

  “Well, I don’t know that Sabine would attack people,” Kurt said, “because that certainly wouldn’t be normal behavior for her.”

  “Normal or not,” he said, “that’s the rumors and that’s the reports we’ve had.”

  “Anybody find her yet?”

  The detective shook his head. “No, not yet. So you are looking for it too?”

  “I am. I thought maybe she was following me in the bush back here. But I didn’t catch sight of her.”

  “Well, I certainly won’t be upset if you catch her,” the detective said, “because that’s an open case, and we’re still trying to find her before she attacks somebody else.”

  “Well, I guess it depends on who she was attacking. If it was stupid kids like that, who were just looking for trouble, then they deserve every bite they get,” he said calmly, leaning against the rental truck, his arms over his chest, as he studied the detective. He understood that there would be a certain amount of bad feelings between him and the community because he had certainly caused his own share of trouble. “And I’m not here to cause trouble for anybody. I want to save the dog.”

  “Interesting,” Amos murmured, as he studied Kurt. “I really want to believe that you’ve had a change of heart and have done some growing up, but I’m not sure anybody will put the time and effort into a dog like that.”

  “And isn’t that just too damn bad that that’s hard to believe?” Kurt said. “But if you don’t trust me, you can call my boss.” And he gave him Badger’s card, with the number for Titanium Corp.

  “Fine,” he said, “I will do that.”

  “Good. In the meantime, I have to find a motel or a place to stay.”

  “And please stay out of trouble,” the detective said, shooting him a hard glance, as he walked back to his cruiser.

  “Always,” Kurt murmured. He hopped into his truck and turned on the engine and waited, windows open for the heat, until the detective left. Then he pulled the truck slowly forward, and, just as he pulled out, a shot rang out, and a force slammed into his shoulder.

  He hit the brakes and fell over sideways out of sight, as he lay here, swearing to himself.

  His shoulder burned hard and fast and he didn’t know if the bullet had gone in or if it was just a burn. He clamped his hand tight around the injury, as he searched the front of the truck for something to stop the bleeding. That shot had been targeted just a little too perfectly after the detective was gone for it to be accidental.

  In his mind Kurt could see the five kids first and foremost as the shooters. But he couldn’t prove that. Not without the cameras. He lay still, listening for footsteps coming closer, but instead heard several running away, not coming to help. Or to hurt. He shifted so he could look in the direction of whoever was taking off. He fired up the truck and, holding his shoulder, drove after them.

  The five kids were up ahead, one holding a handgun. They took one look at Kurt and screamed in terror. He drove the truck right inside the group, splitting them up. Another vehicle raced around him, and the kids bailed into the new vehicle. Kurt, swearing at the interference, tried to read the license plate as they took off. It appeared to be smeared with mud and was illegible.

  He didn’t know if the detective was still around or if he’d even give a shit. But, in this case, Kurt was an innocent citizen, and that wouldn’t wash in his world. He pulled off to the far corner of the parking lot and swore now at the pain in his shoulder. He didn’t want to go to a hospital ever again, and he sure as hell didn’t want to deal with doctors’ questions or cops called because of a gunshot wound. Kurt had to figure out what he would do with those damn kids, but first and foremost he needed his shoulder looked at. He thought about his options for a long time.

  “It’s a bad idea. Don’t do it,” he muttered. “But then, if not that, what?”

  He pulled out his phone and looked her up online. She still had the same name. She lived about twenty minutes from here. He hadn’t found an online mention of her cell phone number yet, but, when he saw her name at a clinic and a cell phone for after-hours assistance, he quickly dialed it.

  When he heard her voice on the other end, he said, “I don’t have any right to ask you”—without bothering to identify himself—“but I need an injury looked after.”

  “Kurt?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m back at the truck stop, looking for the dog,” he said. “I’ve been here all afternoon, and five kids came out of nowhere, and one shot me.”

  “Oh, my God,” she cried out. “Go to the hospital.”

  “No, I don’t want to do that. Do you remember Amos Packard, the local cop? He already warned me to stay out of trouble.”

  “That’s very presumptuous of him,” she said flatly. “He doesn’t know anything about you.”

  “No, and neither do you by rights,” he said. “But I was really hoping you could check to make sure the bullet was out.”

  “You know that I’m a pediatrician, right? I’m not a doctor doctor.”

  “Oh, that’s doctor doctor enough for me, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “You really need to go to the hospital,” she said calmly.

  “And that’ll just bring up all kinds of questions which I don’t want to deal with.”

  “You do have a legitimate reason for being here, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I told you about it.”

  “Well then, go to the hospital,” she said, “and get it looked after.”

  He swore and said, “Fine,” and tossed his phone on the bench seat, but he didn’t hang up the call. He reached for the glove box to see if anything inside there could be useful.

  “What are you doing?” she asked through the phone suspiciously.

  “I’ll look after the damn thing myself,” he said.

  “Don’t do that,” she said. “It’ll get infected.”

  “Well, I won’t start opening up case files and bothering the cops. You know they’ll take one look at me, remember my history, and then just say something like You deserve it.”

  “Well, I would hope not.” But doubt was in her tone.

  “You know that’s what they’ll do,” he said. “You’d like to think that they won’t give a shit about the past, but Amos already warned me. Besides, this isn’t bad,” he said. “I just need some antiseptic to clean it up. I’ll go to the drugstore and get it.”

  “Don’t bother,” she said. “Come here.”

  At the resignation in her tone, he snorted. “Don’t do me any favors. I don’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe me anything,” he said. “I’ll just go to a drugstore.”

  “Covered in blood?” she asked calmly. “I’ve got everything I need here.” She quickly ran off her address and said, “I expect you in twenty.”

  He snorted at that, but he headed down the highway in her direction. He just hoped, with the pain kicking in, that the damage wasn’t more than he thought. It didn’t seem like it was more than a flesh wound, but it was killing him regardless, and that worried him a bit. As he pulled into her driveway, he watched a couple kids skateboarding up and down the road. Tha
t was something he’d never had a chance to do. Not the activity itself. Not the time spent with like-minded people either.

  At that stage in his life, Kurt had been still fighting for food on the streets.

  The front door to the house opened, and there she stood in shorts and a T-shirt, hands on her hips, as she glared at him.

  He shut off the engine, opened up the truck door, and hopped out, almost dropping to his knees. He grabbed the truck door to hold himself upright, and she was there in a heartbeat. He wrapped his arm around her, and she said, “I didn’t think I came home early today for this, but now I have to wonder.”

  And he closed his eyes and said, “I didn’t think I needed help either.”

  “You needed help back then too,” she said, “but you wouldn’t let me get close enough.”

  He smiled at the memories, as she half supported him inside the house and then into the kitchen. When he finally sat down on a kitchen chair, he said, “If I go to sleep, just let me sleep. Okay?”

  “Nope,” she said. “You pass out on me, then I am calling an ambulance.”

  “You always were a hard-ass,” he murmured.

  “Yep, sure was,” she said.

  “I always loved that,” he said.

  She snorted. “You couldn’t have proven it by me.”

  “Yeah, I feel like I should have stayed in town, but I knew it was bad news for me,” he murmured. “And, even worse, it was bad news for you.”

  “I’m not sure what brought this on,” she said, “but it was a long time ago. Time to move on with your life.”

  Not a whole lot he could say about that. It was the truth.

  Chapter 3

  Laurie Ann quickly pulled his T-shirt up over his shoulder and whistled. “That’s an ugly burn.”

  “But it’s just a burn, right?”

  “Well, it went through the top of the upper arm and shoulder. That’s an odd trajectory.”

  “I had just lifted my arm to move the sun visor.”

  “And so you shifted away from where you were sitting straight?”

  “Yeah,” he murmured. “And I figured that’s what saved my life.”

  “They were gunning for you?” She stared at him in horror.

  “It was the kids,” he said. And he explained, slowly, enunciating carefully, as she listened to the pain in his voice.

  “Wow,” she murmured. “You’re still a hard-ass too, aren’t you?”

  “Would I let the five of them beat me up? No,” he murmured. “You know that’ll never be anything I can do.”

  “No, and you shouldn’t have to,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn’t lay all five of them on the ground.”

  “Maybe, if I knew just where they were at, I would have,” he said, describing how the unmarked vehicle took the gang of kids away. He took a long slow deep breath. She held out the alcohol to clean his wound, and he nodded. As soon as the antiseptic solution washed over the open wound, he sucked in his breath and closed his eyes, willing himself not to screech like a two-year-old.

  “It’s almost done,” she said. “Any idea where the bullet is?”

  “It’s probably in the damn back seat of the truck,” he said. “It didn’t get that far.”

  “You’ll have to wash out the truck too. A lot of blood is on your shirt, so I’m sure some is on the truck seat.”

  “I know,” he said, “but the inside of the vehicle isn’t exactly what I’m worrying about at the moment.”

  “No, let’s get this taken care of.” She looked at it for a long moment and then shook her head. “You need some stitches in this.”

  “So put them in,” he said.

  “I can’t just turn around and do that. You should go to a clinic,” she said in exasperation.

  He looked at the wound in surprise. “Then bring me the supplies, and I’ll stitch it.”

  She stared at him in shock, wondering if he was serious, but the look on his face said not only was he serious but that he’d done it before.

  “Knothead,” she muttered.

  “Yep, still the same knothead you used to know and love.”

  “True. That was a long time ago.”

  “It was a good thing I left.”

  She nodded. “It was, indeed.”

  “I straightened up and became somebody,” he said quietly. “I would have ended up dead—probably murdered in some back alley—if I’d stayed.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt it,” she said. “Believe me. I’m not arguing with you.”

  He snorted. “Of course not, but I’m not a bad person.”

  “You weren’t a bad person back then either,” she said quietly. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She returned with a medical kit.

  He studied her with interest. “Your family hated me.”

  She just gave him half a smile. “Yeah, they did, but,” she added, “nothing was wrong with you back then. You just needed a way to straighten up and to find some purpose in life.”

  “The navy gave that to me,” he murmured. “Best thing I ever did.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I really am,” she murmured.

  He looked up at her, smiled, and said, “As much as I wanted to stay with you, I was more afraid of dragging you into the gutter where I was.”

  She looked at him, smiled, and said, “I really do understand.”

  “And I’m glad,” he said, “because, at the time, I didn’t even understand—not until later—when I realized just how much I’d improved my life and what I was like before.”

  “I hear you,” she said. “I didn’t ask you to stay because I also knew that you needed to go.”

  “The things that we do when we’re young and stupid, huh?”

  “Exactly,” she said with a chuckle, “but it’s not all bad.”

  “I know. Not all bad,” he said. He looked at her searchingly. “So did you marry and have kids?”

  “Something like that,” she said lightly.

  “Divorced?”

  “Never bothered with the marrying.”

  “Wow,” he said. “I thought for sure you would have married and had your four kids, a fancy little house in suburbia with a white picket fence.” As he looked around, he nodded. “This is kind of what I always thought of you having.”

  “Maybe,” she said, “although I would love a place a little farther out of town.”

  “We all would,” he said. “All the time I was recovering from the accident, all I could think about was my life being in the navy. But I can’t do that anymore now, so what would I do?”

  “And did you find answers for that? What will you do? Unless tracking down dogs is one of them?”

  Such curiosity and honesty were in her question, so he answered in the same way. “I’m doing it as a favor for Titanium Corp. They were the ones who helped me get rehabilitated into work life again,” he said. “When they told me the dog was missing in this area, I jumped at it.”

  “Of course. You’ve always loved animals.”

  “Well, my father raised them,” he said. “At least before he tossed me into the foster system.”

  “I don’t think he tossed you in it as much as he was a drunk, and you got pulled away from him.”

  “At thirteen, it made me a very angry young man.”

  “That it did,” she said. She finished the stitching and put some antiseptic gel and a bandage on his shoulder. “There you are. All stitched back up again.”

  He looked down at it, nodded, and said, “Thanks. Those are handy skills.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve already doctored yourself a few times.”

  “I had to,” he said. “Sometimes, on missions, you don’t get a whole lot of choices.”

  She nodded. “And I’m glad to hear that because it shows a complete change from who you were to who you are now.”

  “You have no idea,” he said with a big grin. “As much as I don’t like who I was, I certainly understand that that person is who I needed to be in order
to understand where I am now.”

  “Good,” she said with a gentle smile. “And stop being so hard on the person you were. I really loved that man.” He gave her a warm smile that made her heart pound.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, “because he really needed to be loved. Because he didn’t love himself.”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “Well, this seems oddly familiar.” She motioned at him, sitting here at the kitchen table. “Remember?”

  One of the times when Kurt had been badly beaten up, he came running to her, and she’d fixed his nose and some of the bruises and cuts on his arms. “You were always telling me back then how you would be a doctor,” he murmured.

  “Well, I did get caught that night by my parents,” she said. “I was grounded for weeks afterward.”

  “Right. I came to your bedroom.” He shook his head. “If I should ever have a daughter, I’ll be horrified at the thought of all those men out there, ready to prey on her.”

  “Yet you weren’t preying on me,” she said. “You were coming home.”

  He looked at her in surprise and then nodded slowly. “I was,” he said, “and that makes it all the sadder.”

  “Yes, and no,” she said. “It also is very enlightening.”

  “Maybe. Did you have a good thirteen years?” he asked, his gaze still searching, still curious as he pulled his t-shirt on.

  She turned away and busied herself, cleaning up. She didn’t know what to say.

  “Or not, I gather?”

  “Well, I had some absolutely incredible moments,” she said, thinking about the birth of her son. “And then some really tough moments. School was difficult. I did get through med school though. As you’re well aware, I’m a pediatrician, and I had a child, so I have those two things I really wanted out of my life.”

  “Absolutely. So where’s your child? Is it a boy or a girl?”

  She turned, smiled, took a deep breath, and said, “A boy. His name is Jeremy.”

  “That’s a good solid name,” he said. “How old is he?”

  Just then Jeremy and Frank dashed through the front door. “Hey, Mom. Who’s here?”