Travis shook his head. “I never got close to the house.”
“But he did,” she thought aloud, remembering that horrible night and feeling her skin crawl all over again. She caught Travis staring at her, and saw her own distorted reflection in his mirrored lenses. “And that wouldn’t be easy.” To underscore her point, she opened the door of the kennels and was greeted by a cacophony of barks, yips and bays. “The natives are restless,” she said. “Even though they’ve already been fed, watered and exercised. You’ll all just have to wait and then I’ll let you out again,” she said to the eager animals, rubbing each dog’s head as she passed.
When she was in a serious training mode, especially with other people’s canines, she took each dog out one at a time and exercised him, then worked with the animal before going through the same routine with the next one. Only after each dog had gone through his or her lessons for the day would she let them join each other in a free-for-all play that a few trainers discouraged. She, on the other hand, believed that dogs, as pack animals, functioned better if they socialized. Business was business, of course, but play was play. And important. This morning, after she was finished working with Atlas, she would let them run, sniff, pee and cavor
t at will again. Just as she had earlier.
“Only five?” he asked.
“Six, counting Khan. But yeah, I’m not boarding any dogs right now. These are all my own.”
“But they don’t have the elevated status of living in the main house?”
“Not all the time. I take turns. But each of these guys…oh, and gals, sorry, Cissy,” she said, scratching her border collie’s shoulders. “They were all raised as puppies in the house. As I said they all come in from time to time, but it gets to be a little much,” she said and glanced at Khan. “He, of course, is spoiled horribly. I call him ‘the chosen one’ and he acts like it.” She petted Khan’s head and he immediately licked her palm. “See what a charmer he is?” To the dog, she said, “You’re really workin’ it today, aren’t ya?”
Khan wagged his tail as if he understood.
“A dog has to earn the right to sleep in my bedroom.”
Travis eyed her. “Khan sleeps with you?”
“Most of the time. Yeah. He’s supposed to stay in his bed, which I’ve got under the window in my room, but more often than not, in the middle of the night he slinks onto the covers of my bed and I’m usually too tired to argue. The worst of it is, he likes the middle of the bed, so I wake up on the edge, don’t I?” she asked and petted him again. Straightening, she glanced at Travis. “That a problem?”
“I guess not, but…”
“But what?” she asked, reaching for a leash.
“I was just thinking that a dog in the bed might not be welcome if…”
“If what? I want to watch television or…Oh, you mean if I have company?” she asked, surprised at the intimacy of the question. “You get right to it, don’t you?”
“It just crossed my mind.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” She snapped the leash onto Atlas’s collar, then reached into a locker in the kennel where she’d placed the plastic bag containing Dani’s sweatshirt. “Come on, boy,” she said to the dog, then, glancing up at Travis, explained, “Atlas is my best tracking dog. So if there’s anything here, if Dani’s been nearby, he should be able to pick up her scent. But I’ve got to warn you it’s not likely.” She led the dog outside. “First, we both know there’s a very small chance that whoever has Dani brought her here. So that’s strike one. Secondly the area around my house has been contaminated with people, fire and tons of water. And thirdly, it’s been several days since we think the perpetrator was on the premises…and he’s not Dani. I don’t think that regular search and rescue guidelines would work here, but we’ll try tracking. I’m just saying you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“It’s all I’ve got right now.”
Shannon put on a pair of gloves, then, trying to stay clinical and shoving her emotions into a back corner of her brain, she removed her daughter’s sweatshirt from the plastic bag. Her heart ached as she let her dog sniff the clothing, and she silently prayed that Atlas would be able to come up with something.
Anything.
Some minuscule shred of hope.
Beside her, Travis tensed.
She gave the dog the command—“Find!”—and Atlas took off, nose to the ground, circling the area, moving quickly, lifting his head only to breathe.
“How will you know if he’s caught her scent?” Travis asked.
“He’ll let me know,” she said, but as she followed and watched Atlas move around the buildings and fields, she feared that the tracking was an exercise in futility.
The shepherd tried.
Atlas circled the kennels, garage, house, stable and burned shed. He slunk, nose to the ground, down the driveway, but never once did he return to Shannon and bark, nor did he indicate that he’d picked up Dani’s scent.
He crisscrossed, doubled back, searching an ever-widening area. Across the paddocks and dry fields, through the woods, along a deer trail, under a fence and into the surrounding fields including the area that was posted with a huge NO TRESPASSING sign, warning that violators would be prosecuted. This very field, where Travis had stood and stared through his night vision goggles at Shannon’s house, was slated for development.
But it was useless.