Into the Storm (8 page)

He then rotated his bum shoulder. It was clearly bothering him, especially in the cool air with no shirt on. He flexed his neck muscles, too, as if he were running a marathon or preparing for round two of a boxing match.

It was crazy. What did Jenk think? That the hard work he was doing here tonight would ever end? The little dude wanted Tracy to be his girlfriend, or—even worse—his wife. But a woman like Tracy wouldn’t be content to do the laundry, cook dinner every now and then, perform gymnastic sex acts on command, and then cheerfully wave good-bye when duty called. “Have fun with your SEAL pals, honey! See you in a few weeks! I’ll be fine here on my own, doing jigsaw puzzles and watching Jane Austen movies until you come home.”

No, with Tracy, there would be tears. Demands. Endless hours of confusing conversations on the couch. The gymnastics would be all Jenk’s—as he leaped through hoops in a futile attempt to placate her.

Still, Izzy couldn’t help feeling jealous. Apparently, when Tracy had done her weird half-flirting thing with
him
back at the TS Inc office, it hadn’t meant dick. Although he guessed it was possible she flirted like that with every and anyone—like it was her default mode.

From the other end of the deck, another door slid open. It was the door to the guest room and…“Oz!” Izzy shouted. “No! Sit! Stay!
Shit!
”

The dog streaked past him, ignoring him completely, going hell for leather across Tommy’s perfect lawn. He disappeared into the darkness of the privacy shrubs on the property line.

Charlie woke up, because of course Izzy’d shouted into his ear. He started to cry as Tracy stepped uncertainly out onto the porch. “He was at the door,” she said, pointing out to where the dog had last been, “as if he needed to go out.”

Jenk must’ve heard the commotion, because he came to the other slider.

“Tracy let the dog out,” Izzy informed him. “Arf. Arf, arf, arf.”

“What?”
Jenk came outside. “Oz!” he called into the night, snapping his fingers and whistling. “Here, boy!”

“Yeah, you know, the way he was going, I think he’s in Laguna Beach by now.” Izzy sang as softly as he could into Charlie’s ear, jiggling him slightly. “Get back, honky cat. This living in the city just ain’t where it’s at…”

“I’m so sorry,” Tracy said, her Little Mermaid eyes opened wide. “I thought the yard was fenced.”

“It’s not,” Izzy and Jenk said in unison.

“Oz—the dog—is a wedding present for Tommy’s niece Mallory,” Jenk said.

And that was an understatement. Oz was
the
wedding present—from the groom to the bride. Mal had been doing a photography job at an animal shelter and had fallen in love with the little dog, whose owner had just died. The apartment she and her intended, David Sullivan, were living in didn’t accept pets. But Sully managed to make some kind of deal with the landlord and, voilà.

“It was a surprise,” Jenk continued. “Tommy was hiding Oz here, as a favor to Sully, the groom.

“I think we better call him, tell him to hit the mall. Slippers make a lovely gift,” Izzy suggested. “Get back, honky cat—whoo!”

Charlie actually laughed—the only one of them enjoying himself.

“Oh, my God,” Tracy said, lowering herself down onto one of the deck chairs, her head in her hands. “I am
so
fired.”

The evening had gone completely into the crapper.

Jenk had been on the phone for the past twenty minutes, rounding up a search party, calling in all the favors from his teammates in Team Sixteen that he’d ever been owed.

He hated wasting all those favors on a lost dog.

Yeah, the night had definitely tanked.

And that was
after
having to listen to Tracy go on and on and
on
about her ex-boyfriend, Lyle, the superlawyer. It was obvious that she was still completely hung up on him, although, okay. Small victories. The no-shirt trick had worked like a charm.

Tracy no longer saw him as Ginny Jenkins’s Cheez-Doodle-eating, chubby little brother. That mission was accomplished.

But the campaign was far from over and looking to be a lengthy one. And not particularly pleasant, because it was clear Jenk hadn’t heard the last of Lyle, who apparently billed upwards of—holy shit—six hundred dollars an hour. The son of a bitch was coming to visit next week. That oughta be tons of fun, before, during, and after.

But right now, his goal was to find a schnauzer in a haystack.

Lindsey had come right over, God bless her. She, in turn, had made some phone calls, too. As a result, a large portion of the crew from TS Inc were either here or on their way to help. Right now, Sophia Ghaffari, Tess Bailey, and Jim Nash had teamed up with Petty Officers Danny Gillman and Jay Lopez. They were working their way north, armed with a leash and chunks of microwave-defrosted hamburger that Lindsey had grabbed from her own freezer after getting Jenk’s call.

The woman was not only efficient, she was also a quick thinker and good at taking charge of a chaotic situation.

Chief WildCard Karmody was helping out from his own house. He’d called up a map of the area on his computer, and Lindsey had quickly put him in touch with all of the searchers via cell phone, so he could direct them and coordinate their movements.

Two other chiefs from Team Sixteen—Stan and Cosmo—had brought their wives along to help. They were both using their own cars, looking to spot the missing dog as they drove slowly through the neighborhood—also Lindsey’s idea.

Izzy was keeping Charlie occupied by singing to him in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

Tracy—God help them all—was in Tommy’s kitchen, making coffee.

Jenk’s phone rang. It was Lindsey. “Sam and Alyssa called me back. They’re on their way over.” She was talking really quietly. It was hard to hear her, and he put his finger in his other ear. “I told them to call Chief Karmody—to work out of their car, trying to spot Oz, is that okay with you?”

Not only did she take charge, but she made sure everything she did had his approval.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thank you.”

“S’all right,” she said. “Happy to help.”

“Which group are you out with?” he asked.

“I’m solo,” she said. “I’m just a few houses away. I’m trying to think like a frightened schnauzer. Remind me again what a schnauzer looks like?”

“Small,” he told her. “This one’s about fifteen pounds. Kind of like a terrier, but with softer hair. Salt and pepper—black hair with white eyebrows that make him look like he’s perpetually surprised. He’s pretty cute. Floppy ears, stubby tail.”

“Does he bite?” she asked.

Good question. “I don’t think so, but be careful. Any animal that’s cornered could bite.”

“Speaking of cornered animals,” Lindsey said. “Both Dave Malkoff and Larry Decker are on their way over. You might want to organize that so they go in two different directions.”

“Yeah,” Jenk said. “Wow. Thanks for the heads-up. That could be…” He had to laugh. “Exactly what this evening doesn’t need.”

“Or you could just leave Tracy and Izzy to handle it,” Lindsey suggested. “And you could come help me, because I think…I’m face-to-face…with…Hello, baby. Hello, aren’t you a cutie? Look at your big brown eyes…. a very nervous schnauzer named Oz.”

Well, this was just perfect.

Dave got out of his car just as Decker got out of his truck.

And of course, he came right over to Dave. Apparently Sophia was the only person Deck hid from.

“I came to your office, but you’d already left for the day,” Decker said, no greeting, just boom, right into it. Just like the man Dave had always admired would have done.

Dave nodded. “Yeah, I was, um, avoiding the possibility of violence.” Even after he’d vented, he’d retained an overwhelming urge to slam his fist into Decker’s face.

Which probably would’ve ended with Dave in the hospital, with a broken hand. So he’d gone home early.

“I know you don’t think so, but everything I’ve done has been to make things easier for Sophia,” Decker started to explain, but Dave wouldn’t have it.

“Bullshit! You’ve been making it easier for yourself.” Dave was thoroughly disgusted. And that potential cast on his hand still hovered out there in the extremely likely future. Never before had he wanted to hit someone so badly. “You know, I used to like you. No, not just like. Respect. Admire. Adore even. Yes, I adored you. That was before I realized what a selfish prick you really were. Or maybe you weren’t at the time. Maybe you’ve just turned into one.”

Decker was silent, denying nothing, and Dave couldn’t stop himself.

“Come on, Deck,” he said. “Run your pattern. What is it you usually say?
Dave, you have no idea what Sophia went through.
Except, guess what? I do. I have an idea. Why? Because I’ve spent the past year and a half talking to her. Ready to listen if and when she was ever ready to talk. Which she was and she did. A little. Not much. She probably would have said more about what she went through if I’d’ve been you. For some reason she trusts you. Cares about you. Yeah, funny, isn’t it? She still thinks of you as a friend. Maybe even as her hero.”

Decker turned.

“Perfect,” Dave got louder. “Walk away. What is it you tell yourself, huh? That the best way to be Sophia’s friend is to stay away from her? Stop lying.” His voice shook. “You’re better than that. And she needs you to be her friend. Still. Even after all this time, she needs you.”

“To be her friend,” Decker repeated. He’d stopped walking, but now he turned back to look at Dave. In the dim streetlight, his eyes were shadowed but not impossible to read. He was unsure of himself, even though his stance was pure alpha certainty.

And Dave knew exactly what he was thinking. “Her friend,” he repeated, too. His stomach hurt, but he said the words. “Or even…more.”

And there it was. Sitting between them. The truth about Sophia.

“She’d want that?” Decker asked quietly.

It was hard to believe he hadn’t known—that this wasn’t what he’d been hiding from all these months.

But Dave answered him anyway, because apparently some things needed to be said aloud. “Eventually,” he told Deck. “I believe so. Yes.”

“I don’t…” Decker started. “I’ve made a point never to fraternize with people I work with.”

Fraternize? “So don’t work with her,” Dave told him. “Talk to Tom. After this training op, make it clear that you want separate assignments. It won’t be hard to do.”

Decker just stood there, looking at him. “These past few months,” he finally said, “when I’ve requested you be on my team…Your unavailability wasn’t an accident, was it?”

Dave gave him the truth about that, too, as he started toward the house. “No, sir.”

Deck nodded again, following him. “I wish you’d been up front with me about that.”

“I wish,” Dave said, as he rang the doorbell, “that I still gave a damn what you wish.”

Izzy assigned Dave and Decker to two different search parties on two different ends of the neighborhood, got a finally-sleeping Charlie settled in his crib, then went in search of Tracy.

He found her in the kitchen, no longer trying to pretend that she wasn’t crying.

“Hey,” he said.

“Go away,” she told him. “Just leave me alone in my misery.”

It was high drama. He half expected her to turn triumphantly toward him, her arm in the air, proclaiming, “Acting!”

He’d say, “Genius!” She’d say, “Thank you!”

Although she was probably too young to remember Jon Lovitz on
Saturday Night Live.
Unless she’d caught it on reruns. But no, she was
Sex and the City
all the way. No doubt she’d studied that program to know how to dress, how to think, what to do, how to feel.

Right now, for example, it was the proper time for stormy tears. God damn, but he was tired of crying babies.

“It’s a little bit funny,” he sang. “This feeling inside…”

She turned to stare at him. “What?”

What do you know? It worked with Tracy, too.

“Why are you singing that song from
Moulin Rouge
?” she asked.

“It’s not from
Moulin Rouge,
” he educated her. “It was
in Moulin Rouge,
but it’s an Elton John song.” If she didn’t know who Elton John was, he’d put her out of her pain. He’d just snap her neck right here and now.

She wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I know it’s an Elton John song,” she sounded vaguely insulted. “Why are you singing it to me?”

“Because I’m tragically in love with you,” he said, then realized that she actually believed him. “I’m kidding,” he quickly backpedaled, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that it was too late.

So he tried to prove he was only kidding by slamming her with reality. “You know, the chances of finding Oz before Tommy gets home are slim to none. The chances of finding him at all are…” He shrugged. “Highly unlikely.”

It was a shame he’d had to do that, because she’d stopped crying. Of course now her eyes filled up again.

“I know,” she said bravely. “I’m so stupid. This is all my fault.”

She was looking at him as if she wanted to be comforted. No doubt about it, she wanted strong arms around her, with a little,
Aw, honey, no it’s not. It was a mistake anyone could’ve made. Cheer up, we’ll find the dog…