Linda O. Johnston - Trained To Protect

That didn’t explain Peace’s actions. What was going on? This was all entirely uncharacteristic of her sweet and sociable dog.

“Peace, are you okay?” There were times she wished she could hold conversations with her lovable pup and this was one of them. Instead of stopping and sitting and acting normal, Peace sprinted out of the kitchen the moment Elissa opened the door.

Throwing her small purse down on the kitchen table, Elissa hurried to follow. Peace wasn’t really a puppy, but nearly three years old. She was smart. She was fast. And Elissa felt exceptionally close to her thanks to their therapy work.

Right now Peace was popping into each room of the house as she reached it down the center hallway: the living room, the bathroom, the guest bedroom and then the master bedroom. She sometimes sniffed the floor, sometimes kept her nose on the ground, all the time appearing as if she was tracking something—and tracking wasn’t one of the many skills she’d learned to become a therapy dog.

“Peace,” Elissa kept saying softly, rubbing her dog’s soft, furry back each time she got close enough. “What is it?”

Eventually, whether because of exhaustion or running out of places to explore, Peace stopped dashing around. She wound up in the living room, on the polished wood floor, next to the tan sofa on its deep-colored wooden frame. The colorations went well with Peace’s golden coat—usually. Right now, the way Peace was panting, all Elissa could do was worry about her.

She knelt on the floor beside her dog, bending to hug her tightly. “Are you okay, girl? What’s wrong?”

Of course Peace didn’t answer.

Or maybe she did. She put her head up and licked Elissa’s cheek.

Hopefully that meant she was all right now.

Elissa wasn’t sure. And she would do everything she could to take the best care of her beloved dog.

It was early morning. Elissa was back in her SUV, driving up the mountain once more toward the Chance K-9 Ranch. This time she wasn’t alone. Peace was tethered safely in the back seat.

The sweet dog was quiet. Finally resting. Sleeping at last.

Elissa hadn’t gone to bed for a while the previous night, still trying to understand her poor pup’s continued restlessness.

She’d taken Peace for a walk but only a short one, since her moderate-size dog pulled on her leash a lot, despite being told to heel and to stay—something else that wasn’t characteristic of her.

Back inside the house Peace had again moved from room to room, as if seeking something. The source of some scent that only she, and not her concerned owner, was aware of?

That’s what Elissa had guessed. And of course that worried her.

So neither of them had slept well. Each time Elissa had woken, which was often, she’d heard Peace stirring on her fluffy bed on the floor beside Elissa’s.

Elissa used that as her reason to get up even earlier than she’d originally planned to walk Peace once more. The quiet residential area had seemed normal to her, with a few well-recognized neighbors outside, some also walking their dogs.

Peace had seemed somewhat calmer but still did more pulling than was usual for her.

Returning back inside, Elissa had showered, changed into the outfit she’d planned to wear for her demonstration, then fed them both a quick breakfast and gotten on the road.

And made herself concentrate on how she would perform her demonstration—or, rather, the best way to encourage Peace to show off how wonderful a therapy dog she was.

It was early enough that traffic wasn’t heavy, although, as always in this sometimes busy southern California area, she wasn’t the only one on the road, either. She stayed just above the speed limit, though now and then another car had passed her on the freeway—less so on the narrower mountain roads.

Finally she reached the turnoff toward Chance. She decided to take a quick drive through downtown, past the local hospital.

As she slowed, Peace awakened and sat up. “Good girl,” Elissa said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Are you okay now?”

Peace was quiet and calm, and appeared like her usual self. Elissa took that to mean a positive response.

She soon stopped at a traffic light and turned onto the street that would take her past the hospital. When she’d looked it up on the internet and gotten the address, she had seen that there was an entire floor devoted to pediatric patients, and another area dedicated to seniors—both age groups that were excellent focuses for therapy dogs.

If all went well and Peace and she were hired, she would definitely introduce herself to the hospital administration and offer to do some demonstrations there soon.

The streets downtown seemed a bit crowded that morning but she had no problem navigating her way to the road to the Chance K-9 Ranch. She checked the time display on her dashboard.

“Looks perfect, Peace,” she said and headed along the road.

She wondered then if Officer Maisie Murran would find a way to visit the demonstration even briefly despite her indication yesterday that she couldn’t.

And her brother? He was even less likely to attend.

The road narrowed even more and Elissa kept an eye out for signs indicating addresses. As soon as she passed a large property labeled Chance Resort, she saw a signpost at the next driveway for the Chance K-9 Ranch.

They had arrived.

The ranch property was surrounded by a large plank fence that probably wouldn’t keep anyone out but perhaps helped to keep dogs inside. The gate was open. Elissa drove through it and up the driveway. She saw other vehicles parked at the top of the rise near what unsurprisingly seemed to be a ranch house—one story high and extending for a substantial distance.

“Let’s go,” she told Peace after parking beside another SUV, a big black one that appeared to be an official police vehicle, with a light on top. Was one of the K-9 officers there after all? Or was it another cop?

Elissa exited through the driver’s door, then opened the one behind it to let Peace out after snapping on her leash. When she turned, she was happy to see Amber exiting the house, holding the leash of a black Labrador retriever. A tall man came out after her, also leading a leashed dog, a German shepherd—Evan, the head dog trainer, whom Elissa recognized from the demonstration videos on the ranch’s website. With them was an older woman Elissa figured must be Amber’s mother. Sonya Belott. No surprises there.

But what did surprise her was that this group of anticipated people was followed by another person with a dog on a leash.

Officer Doug Murran and his German shepherd, Hooper.

What was he doing there? And why did Elissa’s heart both soar and sink at the idea of his watching her initial therapy dog demonstration?

There she was—the reason Doug had brought his dog to the Chance K-9 Ranch early this morning, even though he had determined yesterday not to come here at all.

And his presence was definitely not for the reason he’d even considered coming.

No, he was here on official police business.

A sign had been attached to the front gate near the road that had worried the Belotts enough to call the police and request that he or Maisie be sent to the ranch that morning. Maisie had already left for their previously assigned case, so it had fallen on him.

He’d just finished talking to Amber Belott and her mother, Sonya, as well as chief dog trainer—and Amber’s fiancé—Evan Colluro inside the house. Now he followed as they strode out to greet Elissa.

He couldn’t help liking the big grin on her face or the way she stepped forward and hugged Amber. Her hostess and potential boss introduced her to her mother and to Evan as well as to their dogs.