Chapter 23 Jagg
JAGG
We fell into step together down the riverbank, the dogs running circles around our feet, their paws kicking up puffs of dust and scattered pebbles. A light breeze lifted off the water, carrying the scent of wet stone and moss, cooler than the sweltering world around us.
Beside us, the river flowed in a steady rhythm—gentle, but constant—the quiet gurgle of moving water grounding the moment. It was the only sound besides the dogs’ panting and the soft crunch of our boots on gravel.
For just a second, everything felt still. Balanced. Like we were walking through a pocket of calm suspended inside the chaos.
“You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” I said.
“I am.”
“Training three monsters isn’t taking it easy.”
“Are you scared of my dogs, Detective?”
“Of those hundred-plus pound trained assassins? You’re damn straight I am.”
She smirked and I found myself staring to get the full picture of it. It wasn’t a smile, but the first time I’d seen something close to it.
Breathtaking.
“Well, too bad you’re scared because I was looking for someone to help with attack commands.”
“Based on their display in the woods back there, I’d say they already had their first lesson of the day.”
“No, an actual attack. Attacking another human on command.”
“You know I’m a cop, right?”
“On someone with a bite sleeve, not just some random passerby. But, you know,” she shrugged, “I get that they’re intimidating and all…”
“And I get that you’re good at goading people.”
Her lip twitched. That little grin again.
“I also get that you don’t like people telling you what to do, but I’d like you to make an exception for a medically trained professional.
I know Doctor Buckley told you to rest. I also know that bruised ribs hurt like crazy.
We can either sit here for our chat, or head back up to those rocking chairs I saw on your front porch. ”
“If you’ve truly had bruised ribs then you know that it actually helps to walk.”
I did know that. Despite my doctor’s orders, I’d run six miles the day after a roadside IED blew me six feet into the air. Wept the entire way. Sunny was tough. I respected it but I didn’t like knowing she was in pain.
“When’s your next check-up?” I asked.
“I get the stitches out in ten days.”
“Did I do that? When I tackled you?” The question blurted out before I could catch myself.
“No. It happened when I was pushed to the ground.”
I nodded and released the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“How’s it feeling, really?”
“Like someone poured liquid acid on my skin.”
“Thanks for being honest,” I said and meant it.
“Thanks for carrying me to my truck last night.” She looked down.
My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket, read the caller ID—Mom. I silenced it and slid it back in my pocket.
A spray of water rained against my back as one of the dogs shook the river water from their coat.
“Tango, no.”
“Tango?” I wiped the speckles of mud off my pants. Wasn’t like they’d been washed in a month, anyway.
“That one is Tango and the black one is,” she slid me the side-eye. “Max.”
“Max?” I couldn’t help but laugh. The dog that stealthily stalked me from the side had the same name as me. “Never been so proud to have a dog named after me.”
“After you? Maybe I should have named him Zeus after your ego.”
I chuckled again.
“The third one is—”
“Wait. Hold up. I want to know more about this Max. Where does Max sleep?”
“In my bed.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. Really. Anyway, as I was saying—”
“At the foot of the bed or under the covers?”
She rolled her eyes. “At the foot.”
“I’ll have to work on that.”
She shook her head, the grin morphing into a full-blown smile. I wondered if it was the same smile she’d flashed at the judge to get out of her latest ticket. It was mesmerizing… and almost enough for me to ignore the fact that she allowed dogs in her sheets.
Almost.
“Any other pervy innuendos, Detective?”
“Just gathering pieces to the puzzle.”
“Well gather them somewhere other than my sheets.”
I opened my mouth—
“Anyway…” She cut me off. Probably for the best. “The third ‘monster’ is Athena, a German Shepherd/Collie mix. She’s nine years old. The alpha of the crew.” She pointed to the monster that almost attacked me on the trail.
“Athena? You mean to tell me the dog that almost ate my package for breakfast is a gir—”
She held up a finger. “Might want to rethink that sentence unless you want to lose those balls you speak so fondly of. Although I think the exact verbiage was marbles.” She held up her hand and closed her thumb and index finger together. “Small.”
“Anything is small compared to Tango’s over there.”
“Why are men so fascinated with balls?”
“Clearly you haven’t been with the right men.”
“Are you always this charming with women?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Now I know why there’s no ring on your finger.”
“Says the gun-toting dog-lady.”
“Dogs mind better than men.”
“Dogs break quicker.”
Her brow cocked as she seemed to ponder this insightful comment for a moment.
“Anyway,” she said, “Athena is just as lethal as her male counterparts. Trust me. She’s smarter too.”
“Now look who’s cocky.”
A shrug.
“Why’d you name her Athena?”
“Goddess of wisdom and war.”
“A contradiction by all counts.”
“Not really.”
“Wisdom is to avoid confrontation at all costs. Kind of like that part of Krav Maga you slept through.”
“War teaches you how to handle it. And look who’s begun, what I believe detectives call, leading questions.”
“Because I was about to ask you to tell me why your entire life revolves around self-defense?”
Her face snapped to mine, fire replacing the lighthearted flirty banter we’d fallen into.
“Don’t patronize me, Detective Jagger. You know exactly why I’ve taught myself self-defense.
I have no doubt you pulled my records last night and know about my attack in Dallas.
Assuming you read through the entire thing without falling asleep, you know everything that everyone else does.
I have nothing to add and don’t want to talk about it again.
If you’ve come here to talk about what happened in Dallas, you’re wasting your time.
End of discussion.” These final words were punctuated by her pulling ahead of me a few steps.
I caught up and we walked a few seconds in silence along the riverbank, her eyes locked on the rushing water.
“Okay. No questions about Dallas. But I would like to know if you remember anything else about your attack last night. Sometimes stepping away helps the fog to clear a bit.”
She took a deep breath to calm the anger that had arisen from me bringing up the Dallas incident, then nodded.
“I do remember something else. I was going to call you later this morning, actually. I remember a car pulling into that small lot across the park—you know, the one with that mobile drive-through coffee shop—as I pulled into the park at midnight.”
“Was it following you?”
She blew out a breath, suggesting she’d exhausted the question herself. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“Did it turn around, or park?”
“I’m not sure, but I remember thinking it was weird because the coffee shop obviously wasn’t open.”
A tingle started at the bottom of my spine.
“Do you remember what kind of car it was?”
“No. But I remember what it looked like.”
I stilled, as if already knowing what was coming…
“It was a blue, four-door sedan.”
That tingle flew up to my neck. It was the first thing linking Lieutenant Seagrave’s death to Sunny’s attack, verifying my instinct the incidents were connected.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Trust me. I notice things like that.”
My mind started to race. A blue four-door sedan placed the Black Bandit at both Seagrave’s murder and Sunny’s attack. But I knew that Julian Griggs wasn’t the Bandit because his black truck was parked at the trailhead, and based on my research, the kid did not also own a blue sedan.
“Could it have been Julian Griggs’ car? The pastor’s son?” She asked, sadness washing over her face.
“No. And where’d you hear that name?”
“My father came by this morning.”
Father. Not Dad.
“Interesting man, he is.”
Her eyes rounded in both shock and horror. “You met my father?”
“After I dropped you at your truck, he came to the station looking for you.”
“Oh.” She looked away.
“Why didn’t you call him from the station?”
She shrugged, scratched her head. An uncomfortable tick. Yep, daddy issues for sure.
“Soooo… “ I pressed. “I’m picking up on vibes that you two might not be that close.”
She snorted. “Nice work, Detective.”
I ignored the quip. “Why? Why aren’t you close to your dad?”
“Did you come here to ask me about my father?”
“I’d like to know why the man took the time to shower before coming to his daughter’s aide.”
Her jaw twitched. She swooped down, picked up a rock and hurled it across the water, skipping it eight times before disappearing under.
We walked a few more steps in silence.
“It’s years of family stuff, Detective.”
“I’d have you call me Max, but to avoid any confusion with your current bed partner, you can call me Jagg. Everyone else does.”
“I know everyone calls you Jagg.”
“You do? What else have you heard about me?”
“That you’re aggressive and rude. And a womanizer.”
“Phew,” I swiped my forehead. “Thought you might insult me for a minute.”
She snorted. I didn’t bother to defend myself. Never had. … … And, the labels weren’t entirely inaccurate, let’s be honest.
“Back to you.” I said. “It’s my understanding you recently left Dallas and moved here. Why?”
“Needed a change of scenery.”
“Now I expected better than a cliché from you, Sunny.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She smirked, then took a deep breath. “My mom recently passed, and… I needed a change of scenery.”
The fact that she referred to her mother as mom, instead of mother, suggested the two were close. Closer than her father, for sure.
“This still doesn’t explain why you’re not close to your father.”
“We’re just not close, and that’s that. No big story there.”