Chapter 1
Wilden landed at the Wichita, Kansas, airport and caught an Uber to his grandmother’s house.
He stood on the side of the street, his duffel bag over his shoulder, and stared up at the old-fashioned two-story home.
He had spent much of his childhood here and some of his early adulthood, but there wasn’t much left of the good memories, not once his father had reappeared in their lives.
Wilden slowly walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell.
He got no answer. He rang it again, and, in the distance, he heard a crabby voice calling out, “Go away.” He smiled.
That was definitely his grandmother. He checked the door and found it unlocked.
He pushed it open and called out, “Nan?”
Silence came. He called out again, “Nan, it’s Wilden.” More silence.
He stopped on his way through the house as he heard somebody clomping forward, moving slowly but probably as fast as she could likely go. When he rounded the corner, there she was, lifting the walker and putting it down, taking another step forward. She didn’t even have one with wheels on it.
She stopped when she saw him, tears in her eyes, and tripped on the walker trying to get to him.
Luckily he caught her before she fell and then steadied her, wincing at the fact that she must weigh less than one hundred pounds.
She would be lucky if she weighed even eighty.
She was so tiny. With that thought, he picked her up and carried her to the living room and set her in the one easy chair, still holding her as she sobbed.
He continued to hug her, his arms wrapped around her, holding her safe until she calmed down. He felt the tears in his own eyes, but how could he not? She’d always been his rock. She had been everything to him for a very long time.
However, when his father had returned, everything had changed, and there was no going back to a happy home life at that point. When Nan finally calmed down, he smiled at her and said, “Let me go close the front door, grab your walker and then I’ll put on the teakettle.”
She sniffled several more times.
He reached for a box of Kleenex off to the side and handed it to her.
Then Wilden got up, closed the front door, and moved his duffel bag off to the side.
As he entered the kitchen, it was quite a mess.
Yet she was obviously doing what she could, and whatever heartbreak had happened over his father’s death had probably left her with even more to deal with.
Wilden managed to clear off a spot, found the teakettle, filled it up, and put it on. Then he went back to where she was, still seated but clutching the walker in front of her, the Kleenex in her hand, staring as if not believing it was really him.
“Yes,” he stated, as he awkwardly crouched in front of her, his prosthetic giving him no end of trouble these days, especially the joints. He gave her another gentle hug. “It’s me. I promise.”
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered, the tears collecting once again. “I wanted to call you so many times, and he wouldn’t let me.”
Wilden winced at that. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied, “because it would have meant everything to me to hear from you.”
She nodded. “And yet your father …”
“I know. My father was a control freak, and, if he could make you do what he wanted,” he pointed out, “he would do it.” Wilden sighed. “I know that we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but no need to beat yourself up about it.”
She held up her hand. “I can speak for myself.” Then opened her mouth to speak again, when he interjected.
“You absolutely can speak for yourself. You used to be pretty good at it, as I recall.” He chuckled, glad to see a bit of her spirit returning.
“That’s been a long time ago,” she conceded, “and I feel as if I lost my voice somewhere along the way.”
He nodded at that. “Dad?”
She shrugged, stared off in the distance, and replied, “I know I should be sad that he’s gone, but somehow I just can’t … because I’m too damn grateful.”
He winced as he sat back on his haunches. “It was that bad?”
“Yeah, it was that bad,” she confirmed, staring at him. “Maybe even worse.”
“How did he die?”
She frowned at him and asked, “How much do you know?”
“Nothing,” he stated, with a shrug. “I heard that he died some two weeks ago.”
“It wasn’t even last week,” she clarified. “I guess if today is Tuesday, it was last week. He passed away on Friday.”
His father had literally only been dead for a few days. “How did he die?” he asked, turning to her, and she sighed.
“He was murdered. Shot in broad daylight on the street.”
That shocked Wilden. He didn’t even know what to say.
She nodded and continued. “I’ll only say this once, but, if I could, I would thank the person who did it.”
He grimaced. “Okay, now you’re making me feel really crappy.”
“No point,” she stated. “You’re still recovering yourself, aren’t you?”
He stared at her.
“I found out what happened to you,” she declared, “and that was what, nine months ago now?”
“About that,” he confirmed, with a nod. “It’s not a time I care to go back to.”
“Of course not,” she agreed, staring at him, “but you’re up on your feet, and you seem to be whole,” she noted, but a question filled her tone.
“More or less, yes,” he agreed. “Obviously I still have some issues. I wear a prosthetic, and I’ve been through a lot of physical therapy, plus retraining and all that good stuff.”
“And right now you’re here because of your father?”
He laughed. “Oh, hell no. I’m not here because of him.
I just found out he was gone yesterday. So, I was asked to come check on a K9 War Dog, since I was planning to come back and see you anyway.
Thus, helping to find the dog and sorting out what’s happened to his owner is just an extra bonus to seeing you. ”
“A K9 dog,” she repeated, staring at him.
“Yes. Do you remember the Russell family, Jackson Russell?”
She nodded slowly. “Sure. He lives what? Maybe a mile or two from here.”
“Apparently he’s had a War Dog for a couple years.
However, the dog showed up at the vet clinic, and, when he was scanned, the people I work with got the alert.
My bosses tried to reach out to Jackson but didn’t speak with him, and the people at the clinic couldn’t reach him either.
So, my bosses requested a wellness check.
When the police went to his place, he wasn’t there, and his place was a mess. ”
“So, they sent you?”
“More or less. The local police just noted his place was a mess and how not enough time has passed to declare him missing.”
“And they found no sign of him?” She stared at Wilden in shock.
“No,” he replied.
“Jackson, he’s—” She shook her head and added, “He’s harmless. He’s not in the greatest shape, so it’s not as if he just up and took off.”
“Another reason I’m back,” Wilden acknowledged. “Jackson’s a veteran. I’m a veteran. And this K9 War Dog is a veteran in an animal clinic. Plus, he’s been trying to escape, so the veterinarian put him under lock and key until somebody could basically come take care of him.”
“And that’s you?” Nan asked shrewdly.
“Considering I was coming to see you anyway, it made sense that I be the one to check up on Sarge and Jackson.”
She looked around her house and then outside. “I have a big backyard, but, if Sarge is determined to escape, I don’t know what we can do about that.”
Wilden smiled. “You let me worry about that. First off, I need to contact the vet, let her know I’m here, and confirm that she still even has the dog because, according to her, Sarge was more than determined to get out.”
“Do you think he’s trying to find Jackson?” Nan asked worriedly. “Because he’s a, he’s a good man.”
“I know he is,” Wilden replied. “And he’s a war vet and probably struggling for a lot of reasons, but that just adds to the police thinking that maybe he did something to himself.”
“He would never do that,” his grandmother declared, frowning at him.
“I know that too, Nan,” he stated. “Are you okay if I stay here?”
“Of course, of course, child,” she said, with a smile. “This is your home.” Then she frowned and added, “It’s always been your home.”
Wilden didn’t want to open that wound. That would be a dark journey to take on and not something he was ready for right now. “In that case, I’ll take my bag up, make us tea because the kettle has popped, then contact the vet to let her know I’m in town.”
“Okay.” Nan nodded, still bewildered at the sudden turn of events.
He was trying to remember how old she was and realized that she had to be in her eighties, still living alone, but potentially his father had been living here too, until recently.
He was not an easy man to get along with at the best of times.
Yet Nan had been determined to heal that wound and to bring some semblance of peace and a normal relationship among the three of them again—something that Wilden himself had fought against.
He snagged his duffel bag, carried it up, and stopped at the spare room at the top of the stairs.
It looked as if his father had been living there.
The room was full of stuff, and the bed rumpled.
If anything, a stale smell came from the bed and closet and almost everywhere he went. He headed to the next bedroom.
It was empty, but there was a bed. He quickly dumped his duffel bag on it, opened the window for some fresh air, then headed back to his dad’s bedroom and opened it up for some fresh air circulation as well.
Then, just to confirm Nan was still sleeping up here, he headed to the master.
It was a mess and also looked as if it had been well and truly slept in.
However, depending on that walker his grandmother had been using, maybe she had not been the one sleeping here.
He made his way downstairs and checked the bedroom on the ground floor and sighed.