Rookie K-9 Unit Christmas: Surviving Christmas

“Nothing except clothes for Patrick and a few toys.”

“Could she have hidden drugs in those?”

“If she did, the proof is back in my old apartment. I left too fast to take much with me.”

“I could have Chief Hayes contact the St. Louis department and suggest they do a thorough search. The problem is, if they do turn up illicit drugs, it will look as if you were hiding them.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

Zoe shrugged. “At this time it’s a moot point. Anybody who thought you were hiding drugs has probably already ransacked the place. You can check when you’re done training here and then involve the police if you need to after Christmas. In the meantime I’ll be keeping careful watch, just in case. So will my colleagues.”

“Mentioning Christmas reminds me,” Sean said. “I can understand why you haven’t put up holiday decorations, but would you mind if I did a few things for Patrick?”

She clapped her hands. “I’d love it! I wasn’t even considering Christmas when I left Mesa in September.”

“Do you know where we can get a tree?”

“I do. The church youth are having a sale. And rehearsals are starting for the outdoor Christmas pageant, too. We can get Patrick involved in that when we go to church on Sunday.”

The off-putting look on his face was disappointing. “We don’t go to church.”

She made a face. “Why not? You used to.”

“Things change. People change.” He lowered his voice to add, “I’ve changed.”

“Fine. God hasn’t. And whether you admit it or not, your little boy needs to learn about faith. If you won’t go with us, Freya and I will take him.”

“I could stop you.”

“You could try.” Although she no longer wore her holster or uniform, she struck a dominant pose, feet apart, hands fisted on the hips of her jeans, shoulders back. Yes, she was being pushy. And, yes, Patrick was Sean’s responsibility. But she cared so much for both of them it was hard to stand back when she thought there was something she could do or say that would help.

“You’re actually serious.” Sean was frowning.

“You’re right. I am.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

“You do that. And while you do, I’ll be praying that you come to your senses.”

“Why do you think faith makes sense?”

Zoe began to smile. “The very definition of faith is belief without seeing. You had it once.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “It’s still in there. All you have to do is look.”

“I have,” Sean argued.

She wasn’t about to back down. Not when she was convinced he needed his former faith in order to complete his healing. “If I could loan you some of mine I would, but it’s an inside job. You can’t borrow it or catch it like a cold. You have to seek the Lord yourself.”

“God gave up on me long ago,” Sean said flatly.

Zoe couldn’t help smiling. Instead of continuing to argue, she merely said, “Then you might want to ask how you got here and why you escaped death when the bomb went off on your way to the airport and when those guys tried to kill you in St. Louis and since then, because it seems to me He’s rescued you over and over lately.”

The expression on her old friend’s face was painful to look at when he focused on his only child and said, “I’d gladly have traded those supposed rescues for Patrick’s well-being.”

Why did bad things happen? She had no idea. But she was certain of one thing. The only way she’d have survived the tragic loss of her baby brother was through a belief that they would someday be reunited in heaven.

And in the meantime, she intended to stand up for earthly justice as best she could. It was foolish to try to discern divine wisdom or assume she could figure out everything that was occurring. All she knew for sure was that she was glad Sean had come to her and brought his son. Anything beyond that would work out for the best.

Zoe didn’t know why she was so positive, but she wasn’t about to argue with her conclusions. If it became necessary for her to act as the law enforcement officer she was, then so be it. Rookie or not, she was ready.

Mulling over the recent call about the fingerprints in the stolen truck, she realized Sean was right. The figure they had seen get into it was no teenager. He’d not only looked like an adult, he’d moved like one. Heavy. Purposeful.

Dangerous? Maybe. Probably. She felt a shiver climb her spine like a squirrel skittering up the trunk of a ponderosa pine. At the same time she was encouraging Sean to relax, she was going to have to double her guard. And keep him from realizing it.

FIVE (#uf9a517b8-5467-5d65-bdec-dcea560e44be)

Their first stop the following morning was to be the training center. Sean had made pancakes for all of them while Zoe tended to the coffee and helped Patrick dress. He had only allowed her to assist the boy because the doctors had recommended changing off caregivers to encourage independence. It had apparently worked because when she entered the kitchen, Patrick was holding her hand and walking. His gait was stiff and somewhat awkward, but he seemed far more capable than previously.

“We came for pancakes.” Zoe helped the boy into a chair and tucked a napkin under his chin.

When she paused and looked to Patrick, Sean heard him say, “Please.”

“My pleasure.” Deeply moved, Sean was turning away to tend the stove when his son added, “Please, Dad-dy.” The frying pan faded for a moment while he regained control of his emotions.

When he looked back at the table, Zoe was beaming. “Good, huh?”

“Very good. Thanks for helping.”

“Freya helped, too. She pulled on the toes of his socks while he tried to put them on. Patrick had to really fight to get them up.”

“By himself?” Sean was astonished.

“Yup. All by himself.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Zoe joined him at the stove. “Why don’t you let me finish cooking while you two eat? I’m used to grabbing a quick cup of coffee and whatever I can chew on the run.”

“Are we in a hurry?” Sean asked, suspicious.

“You do want to get started with your new dog, don’t you?”

His brows knit. “Yes. But I’m getting the idea that there’s more to your suggestion than you’re letting on. What is it?”

“Nothing. Just...”

“Just what, Zoe?” Instead of going to the table, he lingered close to her. “You may as well tell me. I’m not going to eat a bite until you do.”

“All right.” As she raised her face, he saw concern mirrored in the dark depths of her eyes. “They got a hit on the ballistics from the bullet fired in your apartment.”