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

attractive with a boyish name. I didn’t, and I worried for that little maid, but I was glad the man had a friend.
    At least Haigen had perked up when I started talking about Spot. Partly, I figured, that was because he needed a project. Partly, I hoped, it was because he liked animals. That could have been wishful thinking; I wanted the best for Spot, if not this rich guy. Still, getting him used to working with a service dog would be good training for both of them, not that it would soften the blow as his world went dark.
    “Caught in a box… ” It was a wisp of a thought, accompanied by a faint scent of trees and leaf mold. Too faint. I cranked down the window a crack. I’d been driving aimlessly, enjoying the ride. For Spot, however, the enclosed car must have been dull as—well, a dog could find something of interest even in the plainest dirt. The air that came streaming in was cold, frosty even. But the thaw had held, and the air had to be rich with information and intrigue for an animal like Spot. Sight was the least of it.
    “You must think we’re so limited.” I knew Wallis did. “But because of that, your new person will need you.”
    That’s when it hit me. All the answers I couldn’t get from Creighton, maybe I could get from Spot, now that he was making the effort, communicating with me telepathically in phrases I could understand. It was a rare opportunity, and even as I warned myself that this kind of communication tended to be limited—even as I reminded myself that I had to be careful against misinterpreting, against over interpreting the canine’s half-phrased thoughts—I made my decision. I had to try. I hung a hard left and headed toward the highway.
    Spot’s ears pricked up as we cruised along the edge of the preservation land. And when I pulled into the service road we’d driven up the day before, I could feel his other senses on alert. Yes, he was all dog, made to work. But revisiting a trail like this one had to be a challenge.
    Unless…I paused. What with the tension between me and Dr. Laurel, I’d never followed up on what she’d said about Spot. Dream chases and nighttime whimpering could be a sign of distress. They could also signal involvement, unfinished business—much as human dreams may. As we pulled into the parking area, I reached out to place one hand on Spot’s broad back.
    “Is this okay?” I wasn’t sure how to translate my concern, and hoped that the physical contact would help. “Is it too much?”
    “Out!” He didn’t pull away exactly, but even without any special connection I would have been able to tell what he wanted. I walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger side, taking the lead in my hand.
    “Heel.” I was being paid for this, I might as well do it. Besides, I needed to exert some control over what happened.
    Spot’s training was good, and he waited, body still. His mind was racing, though, shooting off a rapid-fire series of images, chronicling the woods and its inhabitants. After about forty-five seconds, I gave him the go-ahead signal and he started toward the woods, pausing at the edge of the pavement for one backward glance.
    “Follow?”
    “Yes,” I said, not knowing if I had agreed to tag along or if he was asking permission to seek out that rich, strange scent once again. “Follow.”
    With that he was off, and even as I let out the lead, I had to trot to keep up. All around us, I could hear the sounds of the awakening woods—a litany of chirps and chatter that fell into muted silence as Spot and I approached. Spring was coming, after another hard winter, and everyone was ready to get down to business. To eat, to find a mate. To do what one could before some terrible jaws came clamping down.
    “Wait!” It was a command, so clear I stopped short without thinking. Spot, about twenty feet ahead of me, was frozen.
    “What is it?” I didn’t dare speak the words out loud, but my question must have been