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other critter that had gone through this place.

Once he found a decent clump of black fur against a bramble bush, he finally felt like he was on the right path. Emboldened by that, he went farther and farther into the brush. When he was four miles off the road, he checked his GPS on his cell for what was close by and realized a small Mexican village was up ahead. Just one of those hit-and-miss kinds of areas.

He had crossed the border.

This section of the border had no divider. Now that he was in the Mexico side of life, the dog could be anywhere. Caleb kept moving, keeping track of where he was, and sending Badger several updates as he walked. Caleb used photos to show what he found, as he kept going. When he came to the village, he stopped and smiled, grateful that he had Spanish as his native language. His last name may sound totally American, like his dad, but Caleb was proud of his mother’s cultural heritage too.

At the small cantina, he asked for a glass of water and then had a cold beer. While talking to the owner, Caleb asked if the dog had been seen around here, showing him a picture of Beowulf. The owner looked at him, frowned, and then nodded. “A big dog came by here a couple weeks ago maybe. Maybe twice that now,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know for sure if it is this particular dog.”

“Did you ever see anybody with him?”

“Yes,” he said, “but I don’t know who it was.”

“White man or Mexican?”

“White man.” That was an immediate answer.

“But a stranger?”

He nodded. “And that also is unusual. We don’t get many around here.”

Caleb looked around and saw a half-dozen small houses. “He was probably heading into town.”

“Most likely,” the cantina owner said with a shrug. “We don’t care about them here.”

“I know, but you’re so close to the border that it’s an easy place for men to disappear from.”

“They always blame the border crossings on us,” he said. “But lots of people come through here, looking to get away from their own law,” he said with a sneer.

“It’s the dog I’m interested in,” Caleb said. “It’s a very well-trained animal, and I’m worried about him.”

“Why? It’s just a dog.”

Caleb had seen that attitude more than a few times himself. “That’s true,” he said, “but I want it back.”

“How come it took you so long then?” he asked in a challenging manner.

And Caleb got his first inkling that the guy might know more than he had let on. “Well, there’s money in it,” he said. “So, if you find anything out about the dog, let me know.”

“What kind of money?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “It’s still just a dog.”

“It is just a dog to you,” he said calmly, “but it’s my dog.”

At that, the guy nodded slowly. “I see.”

“So let me know.” He opened his wallet, so the guy saw he had plenty of cash, which was a risky move in many ways, but sometimes witnesses needed to be convinced. And he carefully pulled out a Titanium Corp business card and wrote his cell phone number on the back. “There’s money if the information’s good.”

Caleb nodded, slowly paid for his beer, got up, and walked out. As he stood outside, he wondered how long before somebody would come after him. That was the thing about cash. Absolutely no reason to give up any info if they could just take the cash from him. And the attack would come sooner than later. Particularly when he was on foot.

Chapter 6

Not one to waste time, Laysha quickly settled into doing the refinishing work on the now heavily sanded hardwood floors upstairs. It would take days and days of coats and coats, sanding between each, and more coats. But she hadn’t gotten a coat on last night because they were so late stripping down everything. She would start fresh this morning. She kept checking her watch, wondering when Caleb would come home today, and it was a terrible thing because, with the wedding tomorrow, he needed to at least contact his brother. Just when she had finished the bedroom floor she had been working on, she sat in the hallway, ready to start the other bedroom, when her phone rang. She pulled it out. “Hey, Jackson. How are you doing?”

“Have you heard from my brother?” asked the groom-to-be.

“He’s here but not right now.”

“He’s in town?” Jackson asked, his voice rising.

“Yes. He did arrive.”

“He could have at least let me know,” he said.

“I think he’s of two minds as to whether he wants to show up for the wedding or not.”

Jackson went quiet for a long moment. “I guess I can understand his feelings about it,” he said, “but she was my girl first.”

“Which is, of course, why he’s struggling because he knows now full well that it was your baby that she tried to pass off as his. It’s never a good idea to keep secrets.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. She and I have had that one out several times too,” he said, but fatigue hung heavy in his voice.

“That may be, but you never broached it with your brother. So he’s afraid that you guys carried on the whole time he was away on missions.”

At that, Jackson paused. “Not the whole time,” he admitted. “Just at the end, when it was obvious their marriage was over.”

“Obvious to who?” she asked sharply. “He was overseas. Just because she decided to walk out, she still hadn’t walked out. So you guys were cheating behind his back.”

“Look. I don’t want to argue with you over it,” he said. “Sarah and I were meant to be together always. We had some rocky roads, and obviously there was some roadkill on the way. Unfortunately that was my brother.” He added, “But I really want to make it up to him.”

“And yet you’re calling me,” she said.

He snorted. “Of course I am. My brother’s

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