“Interesting.”
“Not only that. There’ve been two backweavers this morning. That comes from sloppy teaching technique. You never correct a dog in mid-weave. You let him finish and then take him back to the beginning. If he misses a pole and you stop him and make him go back and catch it while he’s in the Weaves, he’ll do it in the competition if he misses a pole. Backweaving reflects on both the handler and dog. Big fault.”
Scott felt his stomach tighten with something more than a lack of breakfast as he surveyed the ring. He supposed Cole knew about such things as flyoffs and backweaves. He had admired her and Hugo for what they had accomplished so quickly but he was beginning to think he didn’t fully appreciate all that went into it.
“Where’s your dog?”
Scott tried not to let his irritation show but decided he’d answered enough questions for one day. “I’ll bring her by the next time I see you. Bye.” He turned and walked away.
Undeterred, she called after him. “You do that. We make all the big tournaments and lots of the smaller ones.”
“Next up, Hugo.” The announcer’s voice rang out over the sunny day as Scott approached the entry gate of the ring.
He was late because he had had to check in with Lattimore, privately, after the task force meeting. Lattimore was pleased with Cole’s ability to form a relationship with their target so quickly but Scott was less enthusiastic. He was beginning to share Cole’s hunch about Shajuanna.
He just wasn’t getting a vibe that said she might be involved with puppy mules. That didn’t let her off the hook for drug use or dealing. But this particular method required a calculated indifference toward animals that he didn’t see in Shajuanna. Whatever else might be going on at chez Collier, Shajuanna was taking good care of her children and her dogs.
Scott leaned his folded arms against the uprights that held up the ring fence. Of course, if criminals all looked and acted like criminals he wouldn’t have a job. The local police could just go out and round up the suspicious on a daily basis.
Hugo was fast off the start, flying over jumps. Scott watched with new interest as Cole ran with him and then ahead, sometimes stopping short as she used both vocal and hand commands to direct her partner through the course. Hugo barked a couple of times in exhilaration, for instance, after he made it through the Weave poles. She had slowed him down and that cost them both points, but he completed it without mishap.
It wasn’t until Hugo shot through the tire jump at the end that Scott realized he had been holding his breath. A little shot of pride sped through him as they completed the course with no major fouls.
This time at the end, Cole turned away as Hugo came racing toward her. When he jumped up on her back, she caught him behind his rear legs. With his front legs clamped over her shoulders, she carried him out of the ring, piggyback style. That earned them extra applause.
Happy to have an excuse to act on his genuine feelings, “Sam” embraced “Noel,” Hugo and all, as they exited the ring. “Great run. You’ve got a real talent.”
Grinning, Cole released Hugo from her back and ran a forearm over her sweaty brow. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely. You and Hugo could become champions.” Scott snatched up the towel sticking out of her backpack and handed it to her.
She shrugged as she toweled off her face and arms. “It’s too much for him to do both, patr—I mean, compete often.” He saw the pain of her almost-gaffe cloud her gaze but she continued. “Because he’s so big, Hugo’s tendons and joints get a lot of pounding in the ring.”
“But you could be champions. Believe it.” He slung an arm around her neck. “You’ll have to show me the different moves next time you practice so I can learn this stuff.”
Cole frowned but didn’t remove his arm. “You don’t need to do all that.”
“You know men and sports. We need to know all the terms and nuances so we can talk the talk with the boys.”
“Don’t you mean the girls? I saw you talking to those women. Weren’t they at the last meet?”
“Yeah. I guess they are like Agility groupies. One even has her granddaughter with her.
“Ah, and here’s your favorite person.”
Scott pointed out Shajuanna and her entourage turning into the parking lot.
What they actually saw was a big motor coach emblazoned on the sides with the Swag-Grr TV show logo in purple and gold and diamonds.
Scott shook his head. “Does she ever go incognito?”
“Don’t hate the playa, hate the game.”