Chapter 5 #2
Maddox wanted to argue but couldn’t find the angle because Jade was right, even if Maddox didn’t want her to be. Kids did need to see that cops were human and asking for help wasn’t weakness. She just didn’t want to be the one demonstrating it.
“I’m not doing role-play exercises,” Maddox said finally.
“I wouldn’t ask you to. Just be yourself with them.” Jade paused. “Like you were at the Spring Safety Day. With Emma.”
Maddox stiffened. “You were watching.”
“I was observing the event, but yes, I saw you with her. You were patient and explained things clearly. That’s what kids need.”
The observation sat uncomfortably in Maddox’s chest. Being seen when she didn’t know she was being watched felt like an invasion, even if nothing about it had been inappropriate.
“Can we just go over the timeline?” Maddox said, redirecting.
Jade let her, and they worked through the logistics. The conversation became easier for her when it was something practical in Maddox’s control. She noticed they were surprisingly efficient together, and Jade anticipated questions before they were asked, filling in details without overlap.
Zeus shifted during the planning, stretching out and moving closer to Jade’s chair. Maddox noticed but didn’t comment. He was just repositioning like dogs did.
But then Jade reached down absently, her hand extending toward Zeus’s head. Maddox opened her mouth to warn her—Zeus didn’t warm to strangers, he tolerated them at best—but the words died in her throat.
Zeus leaned into Jade’s touch. Actually leaned into it, pressing his head against her palm, his ears relaxing, a soft contented sound escaping his throat.
Jade’s hand stilled. She glanced at Maddox, suddenly uncertain. “Is this okay? I should’ve asked first.”
Maddox stared at her K-9 partner. Zeus, who growled at most people outside the department and maintained professional distance even with officers he worked alongside daily and trusted exactly one person completely, was leaning into Jade’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“He doesn’t usually warm up to people,” Maddox said, her voice coming out rougher than intended.
Jade’s fingers moved gently behind Zeus’s ears, scratching in that spot most dogs loved. Zeus’s eyes half-closed, his tail giving one lazy wag. “Maybe he knows I’m safe,” Jade said quietly.
The words landed heavier than they should’ve and loaded with subtext Maddox didn’t want to analyze. If Zeus trusted Jade, what did that mean? He’d never been wrong about people before. His instincts were sharper than hers, unclouded by pride or fear or the need to maintain control.
Maddox stood abruptly. “I think we’re done for now.”
Jade’s hand left Zeus’s head. “Same page for next Tuesday?”
“Yeah, same page.”
Maddox moved toward the door, and Zeus stood slowly and reluctantly, glancing back at Jade before following his handler.
Traitor, Maddox thought, but without any real heat.
In the hallway, she didn’t look back, couldn’t afford to because Jade was still sitting in that office probably smiling that small knowing smile and seeing exactly what Maddox was trying so hard not to see.
That Zeus had just chosen Jade, and Maddox had no idea what to do about any of it.
Maddox spent Friday avoiding the problem by drowning herself in paperwork and patrol calls. By Saturday morning, avoidance had morphed into over-preparation, which was how she found herself at the K-9 training facility running Zeus through drills for the third time.
“You’re over-preparing,” Riley said from the doorway.
Maddox didn’t break stride. “I want it smooth.”
“It’s an elementary school, not a tactical assessment.” Riley crossed her arms, leaning against the frame. “You do these demos twice a month. What’s different?”
Maddox sent Zeus to find the hidden training sleeve. He located it in seconds, returning to heel position with perfect precision. “Nothing’s different.”
“Right” Riley’s tone suggested she wasn’t buying it. “So you always run the same drill three times in a row?”
Zeus sat, watching Maddox, waiting for the next command. She could feel Riley’s eyes on her, too, reading the situation the way good cops did.
“The therapist is coming,” Maddox said finally. “Jade.”
“Ah.” Riley’s expression shifted to something knowing. “And you’re worried about…what, exactly?”
“Nothing. I just want it professional.”
“You’re always professional.” Riley pushed off the frame, moving closer. “You’re worried she’ll see something.”
That was a direct hit. Maddox lasered her focus on Zeus, not Riley.
“She seems solid,” Riley continued. “I saw her stand up to Torres in the parking lot at the safety event in the park. Didn’t back down, even when she got in her face about the group sessions.”
Maddox remembered. She’d been loading Zeus in the K-9 vehicle, close enough to hear Jade’s firm voice explaining that officer wellness wasn’t optional and Torres could take her complaints to Chief Marten if she had a problem with the program.
Instead, Torres had walked away.
“She has a backbone,” Maddox admitted. “Doesn’t mean I want her analyzing me in front of kids.”
“Maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll just do her job and you’ll do yours.” Riley studied her for another moment, then nodded. “Zeus looks good. The demo will be fine.” She headed for the door and paused. “For what it’s worth, Jade’s not the enemy. She’s just trying to help.”
After Riley left, Maddox ran Zeus through one more drill, and his performance was flawless as always. The problem wasn’t Zeus; it never was.
She packed up and headed home.
Evening settled around the house, quiet except for Zeus’s steady breathing from his bed in the corner. Maddox tried to relax—TV on, dinner eaten, routine followed—but her mind kept circling back to the planning meeting.
To the way Jade had reached for Zeus without hesitation, the way Zeus had leaned into her touch like he’d been waiting for it, that soft sound he’d made that he only made for Maddox. Except now he’d made it with Jade too.
Zeus had never been wrong about people, and he had an accuracy that Maddox had learned to trust absolutely. If he’d accepted Jade that completely, that quickly…
What did that mean?
Maddox shifted on the couch, irritated with herself. This didn’t matter. Tuesday’s demo was just work. Except Zeus had chosen Jade, and Maddox couldn’t stop ruminating about it.
She went to bed earlier than usual, but was restless.
Sleep came eventually, though it brought no peace.
Her dreams filled with fragments of memory: Zeus’s tail wagging, Jade’s quiet voice, children’s faces watching, the feeling of walls cracking that she couldn’t repair no matter how hard she tried.
Despite her fitful dreams, she stayed asleep all night, though she didn’t feel rested when she awoke.
The weekend passed in a blur of restless energy and too much thinking. By the time Tuesday morning arrived, Maddox had convinced herself she was ready with the demo planned, Zeus sharp, and expectations managed.
But she wasn’t ready.
She arrived at Riverside Elementary fifteen minutes early, Zeus already focused beside her in the parking lot. The spring morning was bright and clear, the kind of day that made the school’s cheerful yellow exterior look almost offensively optimistic.
Jade’s car pulled in three minutes later.
Maddox watched her gather materials from the passenger seat and saw she was wearing casual clothes—dark jeans, soft green sweater, her hair pulled back in a practical ponytail—not the usual professional attire from the office.
She looked approachable and warm, like someone kids would trust immediately.
Maddox bit the inside of her cheek and narrowed her eyes.
“Morning,” Jade said, crossing the parking lot with an easy smile. “Ready for this?”
“Zeus is ready.” Maddox opened the back of her K-9 vehicle, gathering equipment. “That’s what matters.”
“You’re ready too.” Jade’s tone held quiet confidence. “You’re good at this.”
Maddox didn’t respond, just shouldered her bag and headed for the entrance. Zeus fell into step behind her immediately, his attention shifting into work mode.
The gymnasium smelled like floor wax and lunch trays from down the hall. Fifty-some second and third graders sat cross-legged on the polished wood floor, their energy barely contained by the three teachers trying to maintain order. The moment Maddox and Zeus walked in, the noise level doubled.
“A police dog!”
“Look how big he is!”
“Can we pet him?”
Maddox caught the lead teacher’s eye—Mrs. Patterson, according to her nametag—and received a grateful nod. She moved to the front of the assembled kids, and the room gradually quieted as children watched with wide eyes.
“Good morning,” Maddox said, her voice carrying without shouting. “I’m Officer Shaw, and this is my partner, Zeus.”
Zeus sat on command, still and focused despite fifty pairs of eyes locked on him.
“Zeus is a Belgian Malinois,” Maddox continued. “He’s trained to help me keep people safe, but before we show you what he can do, we need to talk about safety rules around working dogs.”
She explained the basics, and the kids listened with surprising attention, asking questions that Maddox answered clearly and directly.
Jade stood to the side, watching but not interfering. Maddox was acutely aware of her presence and the way she observed the demo. Maddox pushed the thought of being watched and seen aside and continued.
“Zeus responds to both verbal commands and hand signals,” she said, then demonstrated, each command executed with precision. Zeus’s focus was unshakeable.
The children were mesmerized.
“Now we’ll show you how Zeus helps me find things,” Maddox said. She pulled a training sleeve from her bag. “Mrs. Patterson, can you hide this somewhere in the gym while Zeus and I wait outside?”