“I understand that, hon, but I think it’s inevitable. Harvey tried to—” At the last minute, in the hope of keeping nightmares down, hers and mine, I changed kidnap to “—make you go with him. The cops need to know about that. Best-case scenario, they pick him up and we never have to see him again, except in handcuffs.”
“God, Dad’s going to be furious with me if I get Harvey arrested.”
I braced against another swoop of vertigo. Eb leaned on my thigh and his solid bulk helped ground me. “You do realize that’s pretty messed up? That your father would be less mad at Harvey for dragging you across the country against your will, than at you for stopping him.”
Cheyenne gave a wet laugh. “Honestly, if I had to stop him, Dad would rather I whack him on the head with your cane than bring the cops into it.”
“Too bad, so sad. This is California, not some redneck town in upstate New York. Harvey wants to come here and act like a thug? He’ll get treated like one, under the law.”
“But what if…” Cheyenne’s voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “What if the judge doesn’t agree? What if they send me back to Dad next week? Mr. Cavannah said the biggest risk is that judges don’t like to break up families without a strong reason.”
“Your recording is a strong reason. Harvey showing up and being a vicious asshole, instead of sending your brother Denver, is a strong reason.” I closed my eyes, which didn’t help the whirling feeling, so I opened them.
Cheyenne was shaking her head, like she wasn’t convinced.
And I couldn’t deny, expecting judges to always do the right thing was optimistic, even for me. I couldn’t promise her a win in court. All I could do was say, “Hey, if it comes to that? If they say you have to go back? Brooklyn and I won’t give up.” I took a breath and promised recklessly, “If they ship you home, we’ll show up there and get you loose. One way or another. Law or no law.”
“You can’t say that. And you’re the one saying we have to talk to the cops.”
“Because it’s your best shot. And we obey the law, almost always. Except when our conscience says no.” I took a breath. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure?” She took her eyes off the whirling emergency lights to look my way.
“A few years back, there was this local guy who had two Dobermans he kept on his business property as guard dogs. He used to abuse them to make them mean. People nearby knew it, and one of the neighbors recorded some stuff and called in the cops for animal cruelty.”
“Good!” Cheyenne said fiercely.
“Yeah. Except when it went to court, the recording was ineligible as evidence and the neighbor changed his story. I think the bastard threatened him. So he got the dogs back. No consequences.”
“This isn’t making me feel better.”
“You’re too tough to let Harvey intimidate you and all three of us were there,” I reassured her. “But the moral of the story is that those two Dobermans vanished from the property a week later. The guy never found a trace of them. He raged and blustered but no one knew anything. So he put in cameras and bought an expensive pair of so-called-trained Presa Canarios. And guess what?”
“What?”
“Those Presa Canarios somehow dug under the fence and escaped and were never seen again. And now he just has his cameras and a lot of old Beware of Dog signs.”
“All right!” She eyed me. “Did you have something to do with that?”
“Me?” I set a hand on my chest and smirked. “If I happen to know someone down in San Diego who rehabilitated a pair of abused Dobermans, and I have a friend who knows camera angles and I’m also good at digging? Pure coincidence.”
“Sure it is.”
“The Presas took some work to place safely,” I admitted. “I’d have preferred to get more evidence and use the courts, but every day he had those dogs was a day they became more traumatized, and they were scary big. A hundred and thirty pounds apiece.” The crimson and gold grew brighter overhead and the world was settling down a bit. I tried a tentative step and didn’t fall over. “Come on. Let’s head back.”
“Don’t wanna,” she muttered but she walked at my side as I hobbled toward home, my leg on fire but the dizziness easing.
Twain and Eb kept Sadie between them, and she seemed to be doing okay, sticking close to her buddies.
“Should we take Sadie to the vet now?” Cheyenne asked. “That might be urgent, right? If Harvey hurt her.”
“Looking for more escapes?” I shook my head. “She’s walking okay, breathing okay, she’s alert, she took treats. I’ll check her over later, but right now what she needs is less handling, less trauma.” Same as you, I thought, but I couldn’t protect the girl in the same way. “We’ll go in the side gate and leave the dogs in the yard for now.” I could give her one more minute to prepare.
We coded through the outer gate lock and then opened the inner gate. I set Twain loose, and bent to unhook Sadie’s leash. She eyed me but didn’t snap as I unclipped her, just scampered after the beagle across the grass. Eb galumphed behind them.
“We’ll give them some decompression time,” I told Cheyenne. “Come on.”
When we slid the patio door open, a bunch of people turned to us. Brooklyn, four cops, and to my surprise, Wynn Cavannah.
