Part 6
Caleb waited until Dwyer had passed the equipment truck before turning back to Rook. The dog had found a small patch of shade cast by the command table and moved his front paws into it.
“You and me both,” Caleb murmured.
He crouched, checked beneath the vest straps, and loosened one slightly. Rook pressed his nose into Caleb’s shoulder, then leaned back to allow the familiar inspection.
The cuffs had left red bands around Caleb’s wrists. He rolled one hand slowly while the other rested on the dog’s chest.
When the explosive material was secured and the safe area enlarged, troopers began letting customers return to their vehicles. Few went straight to them.
Walter reached Caleb first.
The old Marine had put his cap back on. He took Caleb’s hand with both of his own, the skin along his knuckles rough and pale from old scars.
“I watched you let that fellow cuff you,” he said. “I kept waiting for you to put him on the floor.”
“Couldn’t risk it.”
“I know that now.” Walter looked down at Rook. “And this one sat there while they dragged you away. I worked good dogs. I never saw one hold an indication through all that.”
Caleb’s fingers went to the shepherd’s collar.
“He’s had a lot of practice listening.”
Walter gave a short nod, but his mouth trembled before he spoke again.
“You kept us in there until somebody finally understood.”
“You got them out,” Caleb said. “I needed you.”
Walter looked away toward the kitchen exit, where Loretta was talking to two state troopers. He cleared his throat and released Caleb’s hand.
The young mother approached with her son on her hip. She stopped outside Rook’s reach, though the dog was now panting softly, his face relaxed.
“My little boy was playing right there,” she said.
Caleb nodded. He remembered the toy truck rolling against his boot.
“I thought you were the thing I needed to keep him away from.” Her voice caught. She shifted her son higher and tried again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And thank you.”
The boy clung to the shoulder of her blouse, watching Rook over the fabric.
She held out a hand, then drew it back.
“Can I?”
“He’s off duty now. Let him come to you.”
Rook took a step and touched her open palm with his nose.
She laughed through a breath that almost became another sob. Her fingers moved over his forehead, cautiously at first, then with both gratitude and relief. Rook accepted the attention without crowding her.
The boy reached one hand toward an upright ear, stopped when his mother caught his wrist, and settled for watching.
A few more customers gathered nearby. Some spoke. Others only nodded, as though they couldn’t find a suitable way to begin.
Baines stood behind them, his tie pulled loose. He kept rubbing the back of his neck. Eventually he came forward far enough that Caleb could see him.
“I need to say this where people can hear it.”
The nearby conversations stopped.
Baines looked briefly toward the diner, then made himself face Caleb.
“I decided what you were before I heard a word you said. Then I lied on the phone to make sure they came to get you. You were trying to keep us alive, and I made it harder.”
Caleb watched him.
“I was wrong,” Baines said. “I’m sorry.”
“You were worried about your place,” Caleb answered. “Next time, hear the warning before you decide who’s giving it.”
Baines nodded. He didn’t try to offer breakfast or make a joke. He stepped aside and stayed there.
Captain Sutter approached with Caleb’s wallet.
“Recovered this from the counter. Check that everything’s there.”
Caleb opened it. His license and military identification were tucked together, the way he’d left them before Dwyer took it.
“All here.”
“We’ve got your contact information. Investigators may need another conversation, but there’s nothing keeping you here now.” Sutter glanced at Rook. “I believe somebody’s due a meal better than eggs.”
“He’ll collect.”
“See that he does. Enjoy your leave.”
Caleb put the wallet away and gathered the leash.
The crowd opened a path without being asked. Applause started near the back, then spread, mingled with scattered thanks. Caleb lifted one hand in acknowledgment, uncomfortable with having nowhere to put his eyes.
Walter gave him a final nod. Loretta, standing near the cordon, held up the empty coffee mug she had recovered from his table.
“Next one’s fresh,” she called.
Caleb smiled at her.
“Appreciate it.”
He turned toward his truck.
Rook fell in beside his left leg, leaving the crowd and the equipment behind. At the passenger door, the dog waited while Caleb folded the seat cover straight. Then he hopped up, turned once, and curled onto the worn fabric.
Caleb set a hand on the steering wheel and sat for a moment before starting the engine. Beyond the windshield, troopers were carrying cases through the propped diner doors. A woman stood beside her car fastening her little boy into his seat.
Rook’s eyes closed. His breathing settled into a slow, even rhythm.
Caleb eased out of the parking space and waited for a gap in traffic. When it came, he turned toward the coast, the dog asleep beside him.