 Val found a spot for the litter box where he hoped his dogs wouldn’t get into it, then took a shower. He’d go in the morning to retrieve Janelle, and the day after that, she’d be on her own while he was at work. As he got out of the shower, toweling his hair off and thinking it needed a trim, he was nearly knocked on his ass by three dogs scampering through the house. “Hey, don’t chase the—” Val stopped short. Janelle’s cat was sprawled on the couch, flipping his tail side to side. His dogs were standing at the front door, staring up at it with ears cocked, tails wagging. That’s when he realized there was someone on the other side, knocking. In a hurry, Val dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, then pulled aside a curtain that hung on the window in the door. A man standing outside gave him a nod and lifted one hand in a greeting. He looked like a salesman. He was probably around fifty and about the same height as Val, with a solid build, short salt-and-pepper hair, and piercing black eyes. He looked like the sort of man it was unwise to cross. “There’s no soliciting. How the hell did you get back here anyway?” Val opened the door but left the screen door shut and locked. The man took a deep breath and suddenly looked uncomfortable. Val resisted the urge to glance sideways at the baseball bat he kept against the wall near the door. “I’m not selling anything,” the man said. “Can I come in, please?” “No.” Val started to shut the door. The man put one hand on the frame of the screen door. “I’m Janelle’s father. They told me at the main office up front to come back here. Someone tried to call but got your voice mail.” Val held up one finger, turned, and retrieved his phone. There was a call from the farm’s main number, no message left. “I was in the shower,” he said. “Wyatt Harig. Is Janelle here?” “You’re pretty tall,” Val blurted out and felt his face heat up. Wyatt glanced down and grinned at the same time. He was nice looking when he smiled. Obviously he’d heard that more than once. “Janelle is adopted. And yes, she knows.” He put his hands in his pants pockets and sighed. “Do we have to do this through the door?” “I… uh… don’t really….” “I’m an investigator, and I work in antiquities. I’m not a mob hit man.” “You do sort of look like one,” Val said. Wyatt chuckled. “Nah, they spend much more on their clothes.” Val unlocked the door and stepped back so Wyatt could enter. He was impressed that Wyatt wasn’t bothered by three big dogs dancing around at his feet. Instead he put one hand out for them to sniff and walked between them. Wyatt held out his hand and smiled. “Let’s try again. I’m Janelle’s father, Wyatt Harig. You and your entourage are…?” Val shook the offered hand. Wyatt’s hand was strong, his handshake firm. His hand was as warm as his smile. “Vladimir Mihalic. Val. They’re Cooper, Bear, and Titan.” He pointed to each dog as he said their name. “Good-looking crew you have. Trained to kill on command?” Wyatt asked. “Y-yes.” “Uh-huh.” Wyatt tilted his head to one side and leaned down far enough to pat the dogs. “Not buying it, huh?” “Not in the least,” Wyatt said. “I can tell they’re incredibly vicious.” “I guess the hand licking blew their cover.” Val glanced at the floor for a second and scratched at his forearm. “Would it be alright…? I mean, is Janelle here?” Wyatt had his hands back in his pockets again and was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Val straightened his spine and crossed both arms over his chest, blocking Wyatt from getting farther into the house. “She doesn’t come home till tomorrow. What took you so long to get here?” “I do a lot of fieldwork, and sometimes I’m not in the same place for more than a few nights. Between that and the fact Janelle and I have different last names, it took a while for the message to get to me. I came as fast as I could. A coworker actually contacted me about the accident. He has her name on a list of Internet searches, so I can keep track of her racing career,” Wyatt said. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I just got off a fifteen-hour flight, rented a car, and came here.” Val took a closer look at Wyatt. He didn’t look as if he’d had much sleep, and dark circles underscored his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled in places that made Val think he’d been sitting long hours, and dusty and scuffed shoes completed the picture. “I’d really like to see my daughter,” Wyatt said in a soft voice. “I’ll tell her you’re in town. No promises.” Val walked to the door, opened it, and stood with one hand resting on the handle. Run for the Roses is available in eBook, paperback, through Kindle Unlimited and your local library digital catelog.     Comments are closed.
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