Carolyn McSparren - Listen to the Child

“What do you do all day now?” Nancy asked.

Kit’s blush intensified. She had that clear, pure redheaded skin that showed the movement of every corpuscle. “I…get my daughter off to school, and pick her up, do housewifely things and exercise and shop.”

“You’re probably getting bored.”

“Getting bored? I’ve been bored out of my mind for the last three months. I can only take so much daytime television, even with closed captioning. And I never did learn to knit.”

Mac realized he’d been cut out of the conversation completely. Kit could concentrate on only one person at a time. He felt annoyed that Nancy had butted in until he heard what Nancy had to say next.

“You said you could use a computer?” she asked.

“I type about a hundred words a minute, actually. You have no idea how much paperwork I had to fill out before my accident.”

“Impressive speed.”

“But anybody can use a computer.”

“Not Dr. Mac,” Nancy said. “He’s a dinosaur.”

Both women looked at him with pity. He made a face at them and pulled Kevlar closer.

“So how would you feel about scrubbing cages and mopping floors?” Nancy continued.

“Since when have you been the Creature Comfort human resources manager?” Mac asked.

“You’ve been muttering about hiring a part-timer. And Mabel’s been telling everybody for a month that if she doesn’t get somebody to take the computer work off her hands she’s going to quit.”

“When did she say that?”

“Oh, about every day. But you veterinary types never listen to us peons.” She turned to Kit again. “You could come in after you take your daughter to school, and leave in the afternoons in time to pick her up. You’ll probably start by scrubbing cages or taking the animals for walks. We never know from one day to the next what we’ll be doing. Are you physically all right? Except for the hearing, I mean?”

“Absolutely.” Kit’s face lit. “But could I bring Kev?”

“Don’t see why not. He doesn’t fight with other dogs, does he?”

“No, and he loves cats. He lives with one.”

Nancy turned to Mac. “Well, how about it, Doctor?”

“We’ll have to discuss it at the staff meeting tomorrow morning,” he said, although he knew in his heart he would press to have Kit hired. It had nothing to do with the fact that she stirred his blood. She was a woman who needed a hand up. Maybe it was time to be Mr. Nice Guy. It would certainly make a change.

“Well, peachy,” Nancy said, lifting her eyes to heaven. “You do that.” She took Kit’s arm. “In the meantime, Dr. Mac’s got one more cat to spay.”

Kit gathered up Kevlar, put his harness on him gently and lowered him to the floor. He sat at once and looked up at her expectantly. “Home,” she said.

He stood and walked off at her heel.

“Now that’s the kind of dog to have,” Nancy said.

“Pretty high-handed, aren’t you?” Mac jabbed.

“Absolutely. You know how she went deaf?”

“No idea.”

“Me neither. But I’ll sure find out.”

Mac pressed his palms against his eyes. “Okay, where’s this cat?”

“There isn’t one. I just said that because if you don’t have at least some peanut butter crackers and potato chips out of the machine, you’re going to pass out facedown in somebody’s intestines.”

“What about you?”

“I brought myself a healthy lunch. Turkey sandwich and an apple. I just finished. You might consider packing yourself a lunch. Or don’t you do that sort of thing?”

“Even I, Miss Mayfield, can make a turkey sandwich,” he said and headed for the conference room.

As he munched his peanut butter crackers, he remembered that he’d promised to drop by Kit’s house in a couple of days to check on Kevlar. In the meantime, he could consult with his partners about trying her out on a part-time basis. The scrubbing and cleaning part of the job required no special skills. She said she had the computer skills already. Why not give her a chance?

MAC HAD PROMISED to check on Kevlar. Tonight— Wednesday—was the night. He nearly lost his nerve when he saw a dark-green van parked behind Kit’s Jeep. Then he told himself that since this was a purely professional call, and since he couldn’t have telephoned ahead to let Kit know he was coming, he’d simply ring the bell and assume she wasn’t having a party.

The instant the bell sounded, he heard Kevlar’s bark from inside the door, and a moment later, Kit opened it.

“Dr. Thorn?” She sounded surprised.

He felt tongue-tied and dry-mouthed. Ridiculous. He drew himself up to his six feet four. “I’m checking to see that you’re looking after Kevlar properly.”

“Oh, really. See for yourself.”

“I don’t want to intrude. You have company.”

“Hey, Doc,” a male voice called from the living room. A stocky young man with a buzz cut stuck his head around the corner of the door. “It’s me, Vince Calandruccio. Adam’s daddy.”

A moment later the largest black German shepherd Mac knew—and he knew plenty—stuck his head around the door as well.

Mac grinned and said, “Hey, Adam, how’s the arthritis?”

At a hand signal from Vince, Adam came forward, carefully sidestepping Kevlar, who stood quietly beside Kit. Mac dropped to one knee and began to ruffle the shepherd’s ears.

“Adam moves a whole lot better, Doc, since you put him on that new stuff. You should have seen him do the police obstacle course last Friday. Fast as he was when he was a pup, weren’t you, boy?”

Mac looked up and saw that Kit was getting only a few words of their conversation because Vince was behind her and Mac had bent his head over Adam. He stood, looked at Kit and spoke slowly. “Since Kevlar seems to be doing well, I’ll be on my way.”

“How would you know?” Kit said. “You’ve barely looked at him.”

“Hey, no, Doc,” Vince said. “Stay long enough to have a beer.”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Interrupt, hell. Me’n Kit been friends since police academy. She worked the Dog Squad for a while until they found out what a great sniper she was.”

“A sniper?” He turned to stare at her. “A police sniper?”

“First woman in the T.A.C.T. squad. First woman sniper,” Vince said proudly. “Best in the business. Take out a gnat’s eye at a thousand yards. You ever get into a hostage situation, Doc, you better pray they send our gal Kit out to save you.”

“Not any longer.” Kit sat in a wing chair beside the fireplace. Kevlar immediately jumped into her lap, turned in a circle and settled down. “Men are supposed to be better snipers than women because their pulse and heart rate are slower, but mine used to be so low that every time they took it they wondered if I was actually alive.”

She shrugged her shoulders as though it didn’t matter, but Mac could tell it mattered terribly. “I could probably train hard enough to get it down again, but my depth perception’s all screwed up.” She touched the scar that bisected her eyebrow. “Besides, who needs a sniper who can’t hear the order to fire?”

Mac had never registered that Kit’s sardonic look came from the thin scar that raised her left eyebrow slightly. “The scar is barely visible. Good stitching.”

“As good as yours?” She raised that eyebrow at him.

He lifted his shoulders. “Close.”

“So how ’bout that beer?” Vince headed for the kitchen with easy familiarity.

Adam followed his master with his eyes, but didn’t rise from his place beside the couch.

When Vince came back with the drink, Mac took the beer, which he really didn’t want, and sat opposite Kit so that she could see both his face and Vince’s. “Where is your daughter?” he asked.