Chapter 8
Tristan
Iwake up alone in bed and no dog in sight. My eyes search for some sort of note, but there's nothing. I get dressed and take a look around. The space feels different without Emma in it. I need to talk to her desperately. I don't know where we stand or what direction we're taking with 'us'.
Us is a nice word for it. I want there to be an 'us'. I'm not used to taking things as fast as we did last night, but that's what she does to me. She makes me forget myself, and I think that's a good thing for me. What can I bring into our relationship?
I'm good looking, hardworking and loyal. I sound like Buddy. He's probably got more of a chance with her than I do. I hate to leave Emma's apartment without saying goodbye, but looks like she's taken the lead on how things are going to be with us. I need to change that.
I go down the stairs and see that the shop is already open and serving customers. I go to the grooming area where we were last night and see two young girls setting up their gear to work.
"Hey, have you seen Emma?"
"She was here a minute ago, but I don't know where she went. Do you want to leave a message with us?"
"I'd rather write a note."
"Luna, the cashier can help with that. She'll get it to Emma."
"Thanks."
I look around the pet shop, but I can't seem to find her. Is she hiding from me? I thought we left things on good terms after that third time we had sex. She's got some stamina. I was exhausted after that and now I'm going to be late to the office.
The lady at the cash register eerily resembles Emma and I wonder what the other two sisters look like.
"Hey, are you Luna?"
"And who is asking?"
"Hi, I'm Tristan. I wanted to leave a note for Emma. No one seems to know where she is."
"Maybe I can help you with whatever it is that you need."
"Nope, it's got to be Emma."
"Ooookay. Here's a notepad. Write a message and your number. I'm sure she'll get back to you ASAP."
"Thanks."
I don't have any hope that a brief note will be able to impress upon Emma how much I need to talk to her, so I just say I need to talk to her and that I want shared custody of our pup. I like how that sounds. I add my telephone number and fold the note in half.
"Here. Thanks so much, Luna."
She offers me a smile and a nod and goes back to register duty. I keep looking around for Emma for a few minutes, but I'm already late enough. I have to go shower and change clothes at home. I send a quick text to my boss saying I'm late and then leave Furrylicious for now. I'll be back.
After a hurried shower at home, I go into the Storyville police station. Things seem as usual, except I've changed and I don't feel normal anymore. A piece of me is at Furrylicious, and I need to settle things between us. I sit down at my desk and write up the incident report from the night before.
Around noon, the sheriff calls me over to his office. We usually have lunch together. He's in his fifties, and we get along pretty well.
"Hey Tristan, I got us lunch from the Storyville Diner. Chili and cornbread. Comfort food at its best."
"Hey, Marc. Sorry I was late today. I'm exhausted. Got almost no sleep last night."
I hope I am able to say that with a straight face, because it wasn't the dog emergency that kept me awake, but pleasuring Emma all night long.
"Yeah I saw that report you put in late this morning. Where's the dog now?"
"At the pet shop. The vet is checking him out."
"Can you go today and deliver the paperwork with the fine to the owner?"
"I…"
"Do I need to send someone else? You seem unusually involved with this case."
"I mean. The poor thing was tied outside, left on its own to endure the elements. Who does that?"
My anger starts rising as I remember the state Buddy was in when I found him. But, no. I can do this. I have to do this. Facing the owner needs to be done.
"The shelter is waiting for the dog once they're done with him at Furrylicious."
"You talked to them already? I want to foster the dog."
"I knew it. You are too soft-hearted. You barely step foot in your cabin. Who is going to take care of the dog when you're out?"
"I've got a shared custody kind of deal going on with the groomer at the pet shop."
"That doesn't sound suspicious at all. Is that who helped you with the dog?"
"The dog, as you keep calling it, is named Buddy. And yes, Emma Matthews checked him out last night and groomed him."
"How late were you out there? Did the storm catch you?"
I am suddenly speechless as I try to figure out in my mind what to say to my boss.
"Ah, it's like that, is it?"
"Yes. I mean, no. Buddy and I had somewhere comfortable to sleep. I actually overslept."
"Right. Well, try to keep your cool when you go visit the owner, or should I say Buddy's ex-owner."
I finish my food and go to the clerk to get the paperwork I need to deliver.
This is one part of my job that is difficult because even though they're in the wrong, I'm pretty sure there'll be pushback from the owner.
I check my phone for the thousandth time to see if I got a message from Emma, but there's nothing.
The roads are clear of snow now, but I'm glad they approved my snow tires just in time for the first snow of the season. With storms like last night's it's imperative to be safe. Emma comes to my mind, and I wonder what she's driving.
Is it too alpha male of me to check on that? It just feels like something I should do. Ah, there it is, it feels like something a boyfriend would do for his woman. Oh, well. Except my feelings for Emma are strong, even though we've only known each other for a day.
What I should probably do is calm down and focus on my work. I come to this conclusion as I'm slowing down in front of Buddy's ex-owner's house. Yes, I'm calling him an ex because he or she will not get that puppy back. Over my dead body and all that.
As soon as I turn down the engine of my car, I see a curtain move. I guess someone is watching me. I get out of my patrol car and go knock on the door. I have to knock two more times before someone comes to open.
"Good afternoon. I'm here about your dog."
"Have you seen him? He's run away."
"He didn't run away, he was tied up in the middle of a snowstorm and I took him with me."
The person in front of me, a woman in her sixties or seventies, frowns at the news I give her. I'm braced for her reaction to my news.
"Did you bring him back with you?"
"No, he's been removed from your custody and you have to pay a fine. Here are the papers."
I offer her the paperwork, but she doesn't even acknowledge its existence.
"You were neglecting that dog."
"I forgot he was out there. I had something to do last night. He's my dog."
Should I tell her in what state Buddy was or just leave the papers on her doorstep for her to stew on?
"The dog was severely matted and looks to be malnourished. That doesn't happen overnight."
"Are you accusing me of something, officer…Chandler?"
She leans in to see my name tag, then backs up as if in fear of me.
"Just take the papers and pay the fine. Be grateful I'm not arresting you."
At that moment she shuts the door in my face and I have to abruptly step back to avoid falling down on my butt. The one good thing? A message just came in from Emma saying Buddy is okay and inviting me to have dinner with her.