3 Panthers Play for Keeps by Clea Simon Read Free Book Online

dog up. It meant she was capable of bonding, which had both good and bad points.
    “It’s too easy for those with disabilities to become isolated,” she said as I followed her into the living room, waiting while she rummaged through a drawer. “Perhaps especially those who have other resources.”
    Rich people, I translated. Because, of course, those were the ones who could afford her services.
    “Richard Haigen undoubtedly has friends.” I tried to keep my voice neutral as she pulled out a small box—it looked like a deck of cards—and put them in her bag.
    “Oh, I know.” We were playing one-up on each other. “In fact, I believe I’ve engaged at least one of them for our session today.”
    She won, if ingratiating herself into Beauville’s elite was winning.
    “This will be important for Spot, too.” She must have seen something on my face. “With a happier, healthier person, he’ll be a happier dog, won’t he?” She didn’t pause for an answer. “I want him to go to a good home, you see.”
    I did, though I wasn’t sure why this was her concern. “People underestimate service animals,” she went on. “They see a dog and think, ‘oh, it’s a pet.’ They see a cat and they think…”
    She gave a dismissive wave of one manicured hand, and I bit my tongue. This was all new to her, and she was an enthusiast. That wasn’t a bad thing, really, but I was beginning to tune her out when what she said next made me focus. “People underestimate the range of a living creature,” she was saying, and I turned to look at her. She couldn’t know, could she? Laurel Kroft was an intelligent woman. She’d observed me working with Spot. And she was spending time with Jim Creighton. I didn’t know what he knew—or what he suspected. And I didn’t think he’d betray me. But people let things slip. Especially in moments of intimacy.
    I felt my eyes narrowing, and could imagine how Wallis would respond, the fur along her spine beginning to rise. Maybe Laurel sensed it too, because she then went off on a tangent, nattering on about money or something. “What these animals do is priceless, and if I’m ever in a position to really help them, that’s what I’d do.”
    Maybe she’d been talking about making a donation all along. Bully for her. I had work to do. “Shall we?” I wanted her to do the signaling, for several reasons.
    She had turned from me, though, so I couldn’t see her face. “Spot.” She cast her voice low, but fairly loud. “Come.” I heard the clicking of nails on the hardwood floor, and resisted the urge to kneel down to greet the dog. “Leash.”
    “Very good.” I was watching her, but I wasn’t thinking simply of the commands. Spot was going to have to learn to obey whoever was in charge, and that meant people who didn’t have any special connection. What I was hoping for, as the dog approached, was some insight into the woman before me. She seemed off-balance, for her, and I was still waiting for an explanation.
    “He was restless last night.” She said finally, after clipping on the leash and handing it to me. “Whining in his sleep and kicking. I think he was having nightmares.”
    “You let him sleep with you?” This was information. I tried to separate it from thoughts of Creighton, and how he’d fit in bed with the hundred-pound dog. I’m good at keeping my face blank. I know I am. But Laurel Kroft wasn’t one of the barflies at Happy’s, and she was trained to read people like I did animals. I thought I saw a smile, but I couldn’t be sure as she reached once more for the door.
    “Sometimes,” she said. And that was all.

Chapter Eight
    “Great.” I let Spot into my car and hit the gas, a little harder than was probably wise. Often, I begin a session with Spot at his home. Today, I couldn’t wait to get gone, and since the pretty shrink was heading out, too, it was easy enough to act like today’s regimen had to involve the great outdoors. I’d focused