Page 3 of A Furever Home (Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #8)

brOOKLYN

So many flashing lights.

I’d let go of Arthur—albeit reluctantly, though he was in good hands—and come to find Kevin. Because that felt like a vaguely logical thing to do.

Smart kid had finally run when Arthur ordered him to.

Well, after multiple attempts, but yeah, when the shot went off, the kid ran.

He’d apparently sent the sheriff’s deputy and her partner around to the back.

While she and the other officer dealt with Frank, Kevin had then flagged down the paramedics and, once Frank was secured, they’d hustled to get to Arthur.

Now the teenager paced back and forth on the sidewalk, phone in hand, glancing from the side yard to the house behind us.

“I can’t believe the guy shot Arthur. Did you see that?

Arthur has to be okay. Right? That Frank guy would’ve shot the dog, too.

That dog was not a coyote. Sure, they sometimes come to the river, but they mostly stay in the forest over by the base.

And there was a fence. I doubt the dog was even attacking his chickens.

Something else probably did, so he had no reason to shoot at her.

Or him. I didn’t get a good look. Did you? ”

Before I could answer, he drew in a breath.

“I still can’t believe?—”

I held up my hand. “Have you called your dads?” Dads…right? That’s what Arthur had said? I’d been a little focused on the man who was putting himself between the gun and the kid with the dog. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen. And yes, I’ve called my dads. Well, I called Alec because I hoped he’d be a little less angry. When I realized I’d miscalculated, I hung up and called Dad.”

“Did you hang up on him too?” I eyed his phone with the suspiciously dark screen.

“You’ll be okay.” At the female paramedic’s voice, I spun to see her and her partner wheeling the stretcher.

Arthur looked deathly pale against the white sheet, and panic surged within me. I wanted to stalk over and demand to know if he was going to be okay.

Except they appeared to be very focused, and anything that might delay the trip to the hospital would be bad.

I heard shouts of, “Kevin. Kevin!”

The young man and I pivoted to see two men being held back by a female police officer from one of the four patrol cars now parked haphazardly along the street.

“You can’t go down there, sirs.” The woman couldn’t be more than perhaps twenty-four…so a couple years younger than me. Not much of a force to be reckoned with, against two determined guys a decade older.

“Dad!” Kevin waved.

The officer glanced at us as I encouraged Kevin to move toward two rather harried-looking men.

The shorter and slimmer of the two kept running a hand through his straight brown hair.

The taller and broader guy waved agitatedly at Kevin.

And despite Kevin being skinny and not tall for thirteen, he really did favor the bigger guy with matching snub noses and wavy hair and something about the shape of their eyes.

Dad, I presume. And the other one must be Alec.

“Officer—” I called.

“Branson.”

“Right.” I tried to smile even as the ambulance pulled away, siren blaring.

Using that momentary distraction, Kevin’s fathers slipped past Officer Branson to snatch the young man into their arms, the likely bio dad sweeping him into a hug while the shorter guy hugged them both and clutched the kid’s sleeve like he wasn’t ever going to let go.

After a moment, the bio dad said, “Let’s get you home. ”

“Hey—” Branson shouted, striding toward the huddled family.

“Officer Branson?”

She met my gaze.

“He just saw someone get shot?—”

“Which makes him a witness. We’ve got officers who’ll need to take his statement.”

“I’d prefer you start with me. I saw what happened.” Whether I could be a great witness was an entirely different story. Everything had happened so fast.

“And you are?”

“Brooklyn. Brooklyn West. I was walking down the street, and I heard a gunshot, and?—”

“Sir.” She held up a hand. “I’ll need to take your statement as well, but perhaps not at this exact moment.” Even as she said the words, the front door of the house opened.

The sheriff’s deputy and the other officer guided a handcuffed Frank down the driveway and to their car.

Frank whined, “Someone’s got to look after my chickens. That damn coyote will come back and eat them?—”

“It’s not a coyote!” Kevin actually yelled the words. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. The dog’s a pittie?—”

“Kevin.” The dad who had his arm protectively around the boy squeezed his shoulder. “Maybe let’s let the police do their job. He had a gun.”

“He shot Arthur. But he didn’t have to shoot him. We could’ve caught the dog?—”

“Damn coyote probably has rabies.” Frank tried to angle himself toward the deputy propelling him by the arm. “Kathleen?—”

“That’s Deputy Olson to you. You can’t shoot people. I’ll see about your chickens, but you’ve been advised of your right to remain silent, and I suggest you do that.” She tucked him into the car with way more gentleness than I would have, had our situations been reversed.

“Is that blood?” Officer Branson pointed to my hand.

“Well, yeah?—”

She yelled at a burly young cop down the block, “Quakenbush, call another ambulance.”

Quakenbush? Unfortunate last name. I waved my hand at him.

“It’s Arthur’s blood. I’m okay, I swear.

Although if I could get something to wipe it off.

.." I took a good look at my wrist, remembering the feel of his hand on me. I’d bet he was normally a strong guy, but he’d felt weak as he’d asked me to stay.

As he’d listed off all those things that needed tending to.

“I’ve got a first aid kit with disinfectant wipes.” Quakenbush gestured for yet another police officer to help hold back the gathering crowd, then strode off toward one of the cop cars.

A thin voice that was meant to be strong echoed in my brain. “Call his dads, and…and… yeah, the shelter. Tell them I’ll be late for evening feeding.”

Arthur’s instructions for me flashed back in an instant.

Call his dads. Check. Well, I hadn’t actually been the one to call them, but Kevin had.

And I’d have offered him physical comfort while he waited, if that’s what he’d needed.

Along with Kevin’s fear, though—appropriate given Arthur getting shot—I’d sensed a whole pile of righteous indignation and independence from the young man that didn’t invite a hug from a stranger.

Kevin’s dads kept murmuring things to him.

I couldn’t hear, which was probably their intention, but I was impressed they were keeping it together.

If my baby sister Cheyenne had pulled this crap?

I’d be hollering my head off at her stupidity.

Bravery…and stupidity. Kevin could’ve got himself killed.

For a dog. My sister likely would’ve done the same thing.

Call the shelter.

“Uh…?” I was about to stick my hand in the air to get their attention when Quakenbush approached wearing gloves and carrying a first aid kit.

He laid the zippered kit on the patrol car trunk and started rummaging through it. While he was busy…

“Hey? Kevin?”

“Yeah?” He eased out of his dad’s hold and stepped toward me, straightening his shoulders and jerking his chin up although I could see his face was flushed and his eyes glossy.

A protective hand landed on his shoulder. The slimmer guy I assumed was second dad Alec met my gaze. “You said your name was Brooklyn, right? And you helped?”

How much I’d helped, I wasn’t certain. Questionably, I’d run toward the gunshot. Still… “Yeah, I tried to help.”

“You kept our son from getting killed.” The taller dad offered a tiny smile. “Thank you.”

I cleared my throat but then the police officer grabbed an alcohol-wipe and set about cleaning my wrist. I spoke past him.

“Really, no thanks necessary. I’m just sorry—” An image of Arthur’s jeans going dark with blood filled my mind.

“I wish things had ended differently. Oh, meaning that no one got shot.” Lest they think I’d somehow meant their son should’ve been killed…

“Well, we’re grateful,” the big guy said.

“I might need your help.” Frustration welled within me. I would’ve been happy to clean myself—given there wasn’t any injury—but Quakenbush seemed determined. As long as that meant he finished quickly, I was okay with that.

“Whatever it is, you just ask.” The dad winced. “I should introduce myself. Apologies. I’m Joe, and this is my husband, Alec.”

I waved with the arm not being tended to. “Better circumstances, right? I’m new in town, and this wasn’t how I envisioned meeting people.”

Joe offered a sheepish smile. “That’s true. How can we help? Is there something you need us to do?”

“Arthur said something about a shelter? Did he mean Safe Haven Animal Rescue? I’ve heard about it, of course, but I haven’t had time to go there myself.

” One item on my long to-do list was to take my brochures there and see if they would stock them.

Once I had better brochures for my doggie daycare.

A redesign was even higher up on that to-do list.

“Oh, of course, Arthur’s dogs will need to be fed and walked. And all the shelter pets too.” Kevin grabbed his father’s arm. “We can go, right, Dad?” His gaze passed between his two dads—almost like he figured if one said no then the other might agree.

“I promised Arthur I would go.” I eyed Quakenbush. “If you’re done with me for now.”

“Statement.” That came from Officer Branson.

“Surely you can take my statement at the shelter.” I glanced over to Frank’s house. “And what about the chickens?”

Officer Branson pursed her lips. “They’ll be fine for a few hours. I can call Pam. She organized fosters before Safe Haven opened. I’ll see if she can take care of the chickens. And I’ll call Shane. He’s the manager of the shelter?—”

“Shane’s in Europe with Theo and Mimsy.” Kevin jutted his chin as if daring any of us to argue.