Page 29 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

“I’m Ok ,” Cady said.

Matt breathed in relief. “Are you in labor? Do you need Todd?” The chief deputy was still handling the accident investigation, but Matt was sure Bree would relieve him if Cady was in labor.

“No.” She sounded grumpy. “This is the first time I have ever uttered these words, but I cannot handle this dog. I need you to come and get him.” She didn’t need to say the name Turbo . Matt knew.

“What’s going on?”

“He got out. Again. I can’t contain him. I don’t even know how he does it. He’s too smart, too athletic, too ... everything.” She ended the last word with a sob. “Since the last time he got loose, Todd put a GPS tracker on him. This morning, I trekked all the way out to the pond to get him.”

Matt smoothed his beard, guilt ripping through him.

Cady never complained and rarely cried. She poured her heart into saving dogs.

But his sister was nine months pregnant.

She didn’t need any additional stress, and she certainly didn’t need to be trekking across acres of meadow to fetch an errant dog. “I’ll come and get him right now.”

Cady sniffed. “ Ok .”

Matt pictured the Malinois he’d watched in K-9 training. Belgian Mals were nicknamed “Maligators” for a reason. When they latched on to a bite sleeve—or a suspect—they held on.

“Has he snapped or shown aggression at anyone?” Matt asked.

“No. He’s boisterous, not vicious. But he has superpowers.”

“That’s the breed.” Ironically, Turbo’s lack of aggression now worried Matt.

Was Turbo too friendly? Too soon to say.

He’d worried about the same thing with Greta, but she’d been successfully trained to bite.

Now she thought pursuing and taking down a suspect was a great game.

Hopefully, Turbo would also respond to K-9 training.

“Yeah,” Cady agreed. “If only people who wanted them knew that.”

“I’ll be right there.” Matt ended the call.

Bree was watching him, her eyes sharp with concern. “Is Cady Ok ?”

Matt relayed the conversation.

“Go!” She waved toward the door. “We’ll catch up later.”

Matt drove to Cady’s place. His sister and Todd lived in his old house. She’d based her canine rescue there for years, so when Matt moved in with Bree, it made sense for Cady and Todd to take over the property.

He parked near the kennels. Cady was standing in the grass, staring up, one hand braced on the small of her back.

Instead of greeting him, she pointed to the roof of the kennel.

Matt squinted into the setting sun. Silhouetted against the orange sky, Turbo stood on the one-story roof, tail wagging, tongue lolling.

“How did he get up there?”

“That’s my guess.” Cady pointed to the trash cans lined up next to the building.

Matt held back a laugh. “The dog needs a job.”

“Or three.” Cady arched backward, stretching.

“You feeling Ok ?”

“No. Everything hurts, my bladder has been squashed to the size of a thimble, and I have vicious heartburn. Forget about eating.” She patted her solar plexus. “There’s no room.”

“It won’t be for much longer.”

Cady rubbed her stomach in slow circles. “I want to be done with this part, but I’m also terrified of what comes next.”

“You’re going to be a great mom.” Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Can I help? Other than taking this knucklehead off your hands.”

“That’ll do it for now.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I have the rest of the dogs covered by volunteers, but that”—she jabbed a finger at Turbo, who looked like he was having the best day of his life—“is too much.”

“I’ll handle him.”

“How are you going to get him down?”

Matt fished a tennis ball out of his pocket, turned, and threw it into the adjoining field. The ball was still in the air when Turbo bounded after it. Using a trash can as a jumping pad, the dog bounced to the ground and shot off after the ball without breaking stride like Super Mario.

Cady handed Matt a leash. Turbo raced back to Matt, dropped the ball at his feet, and barked.

Matt scooped up the ball and threw it as far as he could.

The dog shot off across the grass. When he returned the second time, Matt commanded him to heel in German.

The dog snapped into position, his body quivering with anticipation of the next command.

Intelligence and obedience were not Turbo’s issues.

Matt snapped a leash onto his collar. “We’re going for a ride.”

Turbo vibrated.

“Where are you taking him?” Cady asked.

Matt laughed. “I don’t want you to worry about him at all. I’ll figure out something for him. He’s got skills. They just need to be channeled.” He leaned over and kissed his sister on the cheek. “It’s almost dinnertime. I hope you’re done out here for the day.”

“I’m not hungry at all, but I’m going to put my feet up.

They’re so puffy. I have cankles, and I waddle.

” She turned and headed for the house. She did not waddle one bit.

Being six feet tall and athletic, she carried the pregnancy well, but Matt kept his mouth firmly shut.

Now was not the time to disagree with his sister about anything.

He loaded the dog into his Suburban. “I guess you’re going back to the station with me.” Luckily, Turbo was friendly, even if he was a handful.

Matt hadn’t driven two miles before Turbo leaped over the seat to ride shotgun.

“Dude,” Matt said. “The airbag could kill you.”

Paws on the dashboard, tail wagging, Turbo didn’t care.

When Matt led the dog inside the station, Marge was putting on her coat. Her purse sat on her desk. She greeted Turbo with a dog biscuit. “Who’s a handsome boy?”

Turbo wagged and wiggled like a puppy. For a powerful, elite canine, he had no pride.

Marge stroked his head. “Is he yours now?”

Matt raised a hand. “This is temporary. Cady is too pregnant to deal with his energy.”

“And a newborn isn’t going to make her life any easier.” Marge zipped her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder.

“No, it isn’t.” After Marge left for the day, Matt took Turbo back to the conference room, where the dog paced around the table, sniffing everything.

Bree tensed as he sniffed her boots. She extended a tentative hand, and the dog shoved his head under it with an enthusiastic wag.

“He likes you,” Matt said.

Bree just nodded. Turbo snuffled away, investigating the entire room and walking laps around the table.

Two years ago, Bree had been terrified of dogs.

She still carried the scars from a childhood mauling.

But Brody and Ladybug had worked their way into her heart.

Except for intense canines—like Greta—Bree had made great progress toward overcoming her fear.

But Matt knew that Turbo was just as intense and intimidating as the department’s working K-9.

“Does he ever get tired?” she asked.

“No.” Matt sighed. “Todd’s been running with him every morning, but it isn’t enough. Also, this dog needs more than just physical exercise. He needs mental stimulation. He needs to work.”

“What are you doing with him tonight?”

“What do you think about taking him home with us?” Matt asked hopefully.

“I don’t have any other suggestions. It’s a lot to ask of Brody and Ladybug, though. The last time you brought him to the house, he tormented them relentlessly.”

“You’re right,” Matt agreed. Brody was an impeccably mannered senior and Ladybug was more couch potato than canine. “Neither of them will want to roughhouse. He can spend the night in the tack room. I’ll put a bed in there. The door is too thick for him to chew through, at least in one night.”

“Worth a try,” Bree said. “But if he’s going to be with us for any length of time, he’ll need a kennel.”

With a concrete base and steel fencing. High fencing. Prison fencing.

Most working K-9s lived in kennels. They weren’t pets, at least not until they retired. Brody had always been different.

“I’ll take him for a run. That should help a little.” But it wasn’t a long-term solution.

“Why don’t we head home? We can have dinner with the kids, then regroup afterward. I have a stack of reports to write, and I could use a break and a change of scenery.”

Matt helped her pack up the files she wanted to bring home. “What we really need are those DNA reports from forensics.”

Bree held up crossed fingers. “Hoping we get those tomorrow. I have to check in with Todd before I can leave. Meet you at home.”

She headed for her office.

The lean dog followed Matt outside to his vehicle. This time, he retrieved Brody’s harness from the back of the vehicle and put it on Turbo. Then he tethered the harness to the seat belt in the back seat. “Stay.”

Turbo’s tongue lolled. The dog was quiet for the drive out to the farm. After parking, Matt opened the rear door, expecting the dog to be restrained, but Turbo vaulted from the vehicle. Matt glanced inside. The middle section of leather leash was gone. “You ate the leash.”

Turbo did not look sorry. Matt called him to heel, and the dog fell into step beside him. Luke was in the barn grooming his bay horse, Riot. Turbo ran to Luke for scratches. The horse lowered his head to greet the dog. The two animals sniffed noses. Turbo barked and dropped into a play bow.

“I don’t think he wants to play with you,” Luke said. “Sorry, Turbo.”

“I’m going to change into running clothes. Would you keep an eye on him for five minutes?” Matt asked.

“Sure.” Luke returned to brushing saddle marks off his horse’s back. “Just shut the door on your way out.”

Matt changed and returned with an intact leash.

Though he’d been working with the dog’s obedience commands, Matt wasn’t 100 percent sure of his off-leash recall.

He snapped on the lead, and they headed out the door.

Matt maintained a strong pace, but the dog kept up effortlessly.

After a five-mile run, Matt was winded. Turbo was fresh as a furry daisy.

They returned to find Bree’s SUV parked at home.

Matt went to the barn and put the dog in the tack room with a bed and a bowl of fresh water. “I’ll be back with your dinner in an hour.”

In the house, he found Bree in the office and greeted her with a kiss. “Well, I tired out one of us.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t the dog.”

“You’d be right.” Matt ran upstairs and showered.

After dinner, he returned to the barn and fed Turbo.

The dog seemed content lying on the floor of the tack room.

Matt closed the sturdy door and fastened it on the outside with an extra carabiner clip.

The door was thick enough to hold a thousand-pound animal. The dog should be fine overnight.

He went back to the office to help Bree with report writing. Sometimes it felt as if 80 percent of crime investigation were paperwork. They worked until midnight, then went to bed. It felt as if Matt had barely closed his eyes when Bree’s phone rang on the nightstand.

Matt checked the time on his own phone. Just after one o’clock in the morning.

If it were his phone ringing, his sister’s labor would be the most likely reason.

But it was never good news if the sheriff got middle-of-the-night phone calls.

Stretched along the foot of the bed, Brody groaned in protest. Ladybug, who was curled into an impossibly small ball behind Bree’s knees, squeezed her eyelids tighter.

Neither dog was interested in getting out of bed.

Bree sat up and answered, her voice scratchy with sleep. “Sheriff Taggert.” She listened for a few minutes, then said, “Text me the address. I’ll be right there.” She lowered her phone and ended the call.

“Someone’s dead?” Matt got out of bed, adrenaline cutting through the fog of sleep.

“Yes.” Bree swung her legs off the mattress and headed for the bathroom. The second she vacated the pillow, Vader claimed it. Bree emerged a minute later, still swiping deodorant under her arms. Tossing the stick onto the dresser, she grabbed a clean uniform from the closet and dressed.

“Details?” Matt stepped into a pair of cargo pants and tugged a shirt over his head.

Bree fastened her duty belt, withdrew her weapon from the gun safe, and tucked it into her holster. “Zucco says it’s another bloody murder.”