Part 7
Dawn showed itself along the edges of the clouds while snow still crossed the road. Nolan rode on the floor of the transport van between secured crates, close enough for Cedar to see him when he woke.
Fern stayed alert. One ear remained angled toward her puppy; her eyes returned to Nolan whenever the van slowed.
He didn’t reach through the bars.
Claire drove with both hands tight on the wheel. Somewhere between the cabin and Alderwick, a plow driver had passed along crackers and coffee from Tessa, who apparently could organize food deliveries while broadcasting.
“Eat one,” Claire said.
Nolan opened the packet.
“Your hand,” she added.
He looked down. A small cut had opened across his knuckle, leaving a dark mark on the glove lining.
“It’s minor.”
“That describes a scale. It doesn’t clean a wound.”
At a plowed turnout behind Martin’s vehicle, she stopped and got the first-aid kit. Nolan offered his hand without argument.
She cleaned the cut and secured a dressing. Her eyes passed over the older scars without lingering.
“Daniel died in snow like this,” Nolan said.
Claire finished pressing the tape down before she looked up.
“Your teammate?”
He nodded.
“The watch was his?”
Nolan glanced at it. “Bev?”
“She worries.”
Outside, flakes gathered along the parked van’s windshield. Nolan watched the narrow clear strip above the wipers.
“We had bad visibility. Communications weren’t reliable. I made the call to move.”
He stopped, flexed his newly bandaged hand, and laid it flat on his knee.
“Waiting felt worse. Daniel went with me. I don’t think he agreed, but he went.”
Claire stayed quiet.
“I can’t put all of it on the storm.”
“No.”
He looked at her, grateful she hadn’t tried.
“Tonight, I kept wanting to get ahead of everybody.”
“I noticed.”
“Three times, maybe more.”
“But you stayed.”
Nolan rubbed the edge of the watch strap.
Claire packed the dressing supplies. “Knowing what pain can make you do is useful. If you let it be.”
“Is that veterinary advice?”
“The billing gets complicated.”
Cedar woke, yawned enormously, and began chewing the blanket between his crate and Fern’s. His mother nudged his muzzle aside.
Nolan leaned closer. “I should warn you, he steals.”
Fern regarded him without concern.
The clinic parking lot was busy when they arrived just after nine. Inside, the place had acquired food stations, borrowed crates, and people who moved with the quiet authority of having already done several hours’ work.
Bev was serving breakfast from covered pans. Eli slept beside VX18 with the tire-safety magazine spread across his chest.
The mixed-breed had a new card on the kennel: Clover.
Claire had forbidden the use of numbers anywhere except medical and evidence records. The older dog was Gus now. Two of the Malinois had become Iris and Rook. As staff moved between rooms, Nolan heard names spoken gently before latches opened.
Fern and Cedar were given the quietest room. Cedar complained when Nolan stepped back out, until Claire let him sniff the clean outer paper from Nolan’s bandage packet. He carried it beneath Fern’s blanket.
“That was packaging,” Nolan said.
“Now it’s his.”
“He has a very aggressive acquisition program.”
Martin called him into the office.
The deputy looked as though he had aged a week, but his notes were organized and his voice was steady. Dace’s drives contained placement files, fundraising drafts, and messages with private buyers. State investigators were coming when the roads allowed. The Bexley headquarters was being secured, and two staff members were wanted for questioning.
“We’re still matching identities,” Martin said. “But every dog recovered last night is accounted for.”
Nolan nodded.
Martin waited.
“What?” Nolan asked.
“I thought you’d have more to say.”
“Would it help?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then I’ll save it.”
In the waiting room, the television showed Dace’s recorded statement beside footage of deputies entering the sheds. The reporter used allegations and investigation and declined to name conclusions the evidence had not yet established.
Nolan stood long enough to hear the entire report. Then he went back to the quiet room and checked that Cedar was sleeping.
Tessa arrived near noon in a red parka, dark curls flattened beneath her hat. Her voice was nearly gone. Bev hugged her before she could remove her gloves. Martin put coffee into her hand, and Claire pointed to a chair.
Tessa walked past the chair to the observation window.
Cedar lay upside down against Fern, one foot on her shoulder and his folded ear covering an eye.
“That’s the fellow?” Tessa whispered.
“Cedar.”
“I gave him a much more dignified face in my head.”
“He’s been eating medical supplies.”
She smiled. “Good. Let him be little.”
From her pocket, she took a county map folded so often that several creases had begun to split. She spread it on the counter.
Nolan found the clinic first. Then Velora, the trailhead, the hut, the mine buildings, the cabin. Different colored marks indicated calls, plow sightings, occupied houses, Walter’s truck, and the routes emergency crews had managed to clear.
“This woman called twice,” Tessa said, tapping a mark along the ridge road. “First to say she hadn’t seen anything. Then to tell me her neighbor’s porch light was out because he was saving generator fuel. She got him to turn it back on. Denise used it to confirm the bend.”
Nolan traced the route without touching the ink.
“And this?”
“A church basement. They kept coffee ready for the crews. Those two marks are the plow drivers.”
He looked over the map again.
“Half the town was out there.”
“Most were in slippers,” Tessa said. “Still counts.”
By afternoon, the investigators had begun establishing how Veylan operated. Some veteran placements were genuine. Those success stories had supplied photographs and credibility for donations promising lifetime care to retired working dogs.
Other animals had been relabeled, bred, sold, or moved out of sight when they no longer fit the fundraising material.
Fern had worked with a volunteer search team in the north country, finding hikers and vulnerable adults on winter calls. After her handler died, the retirement agreement had sent her to Veylan.
Claire read the file at her desk. Nolan stood beside her while she turned from the rescue photograph to the numbered breeding record.
She closed the folder carefully.
The missing account of Cedar’s escape came from a young employee, Julia Tarrant, who presented herself to investigators after Dace’s arrest.
During the storm transport, Cedar had slipped from a carrier near the maintenance hut. Julia had seen him disappear between the buildings. Instead of alerting Dace, she had left the outer gate unsecured.
He had found the road downhill, then the town.
Nolan heard the statement from Martin.
“Will she face charges?”
“Prosecutors decide that.”
“She left him a way out.”
“She also kept quiet about plenty before that.”
Nolan looked through the office window at Eli waking beside Clover’s kennel.
“I understand.”
Near evening, Claire allowed him a short visit with Fern and Cedar. He entered without turning on the brighter overhead light.
Cedar got up with great purpose, stepped on a fold of blanket, and fell gently against his mother.
“Excellent entrance,” Nolan said.
He sat on the floor. The puppy climbed into his lap and promptly went back to sleep, warm breath dampening his sweater.
Nolan put his uninjured hand palm down beside the bedding, far enough away that Fern could ignore it. After several minutes, she stretched forward and sniffed the bandage on his other hand.
Then she rested her chin close to his fingers.
Beyond the door, Tessa’s evening signoff played from the reception radio. The worst snow bands were moving away. Roads were still dangerous. Crews were still working.
“And if you’re safely home tonight,” she said, her voice frayed, “keep a lamp burning.”
Nolan leaned back against the wall. Cedar snored in his lap, and Fern closed one eye…
To read the rest of the story – CLICK the NEXT button 👇👇👇