Page 286 of Track of Courage

Flynn turned into the parking lot of the Copper Mountain clinic.

“Just drive me up to the entrance,” Dawson said. The last thing he needed was Flynn seeing him lose it, but the pain in his knee had bled into his brain, taken over.

He might not even make it to the snowbank.

She pulled up to the ER entrance. Glanced back at him, then at Caspian, who’d ridden the entire way with his head on Dawson’s chest as he lay in the back seat.

“He’s so sweet,” Flynn said as she put the car in park. “Shasta said that he sat at her feet the entire time, until I showed up. Then he escaped out of the building, sniffing my car. Clearly he loves you.”

He glanced down to see Caspian looking at him, worry in his big brown eyes. “I thought he just liked me because I rescued him.”

“Please. This dog is obsessed with you. What does he have to do to prove it?”

Funny, despite the grasp of pain, a warmth swelled inside him. Maybe it was just that easy. Show up and never give up.

“Should I keep Caspian?” Flynn asked. The plows were out cleaning the hospital parking lot, the snowbanks nearly over his head.

Dawson only debated a second. “He’s a service animal. Let him out.”

Probably it had nothing to do with the fact that the dog, in fact, seemed to keep his world from completely spinning off its axis.

Caspian got up, and as Flynn opened the door, bounded out.

Flynn headed inside as Dawson eased himself out of the seat, holding on to the door.

Caspian did his scouting circle, returned, and sat next to Dawson, whined as Dawson grimaced.

“What you said, buddy.”

Flynn emerged from inside the ER with a wheelchair. Oh, this was fun.

But he eased himself into it. “I got it from here.”

She cocked her head.

“Go to the sheriff’s office and get yourself into that interrogation. Find out if Conan knows where Mars is.”

“You got it, boss. But call if you need a ride. Moose is headed back to Anchorage later today.”

Maybe he should be on that plane.

“Go catch bad guys,” he said to Flynn, then rolled himself through the automatic doors, Caspian at his side.

A nurse met him at the entrance. A woman in her mid-forties.

“No dogs, sir.”

“He’s a service dog. My service dog.”

“He isn’t wearing a vest.”

“And I’m not wearing my badge. But I can promise you we’re both legit.”

She looked him over. “He needs a lead, at the least.”

He reached for his belt, pulled it off, and wrapped it around Caspian’s collar. “I’m blaming you if I lose my trousers.”

The nurse rolled her eyes. “Let’s get you into the ER.”