“What’s wrong?” Alana asked more quietly.
“I asked Tanya to take care of Duke for me while I was gone.” He dumped a scoop full of food into the bowl and watched Duke tear into it, switching between eating and drinking. “She didn’t.”
“Oh.”
“Slow down there,” he said, stroking Duke between the ears. “Slow down. It’s okay. I’m back.”
At the sound of Lucas’s voice, the dog leaned against his legs, easing into the scratch. When he stopped, Duke went back to the food dish, but this time with a little less zeal.
“Maybe she’s sick.”
Lucas huffed bitterly. “Drunk, you mean. Or high. Or both.” He dug his keys out of his jeans pocket.
“I’m coming with you.”
He glared at her across the truck’s hood. “Why? You think I’ll hold back because you’re around?”
Her gaze didn’t flinch. “No. I don’t think you should have to do this on your own.”
“I’m never alone,” he said again. The ghosts of failures past stayed with him every minute of every day.
She didn’t bother to respond, just opened the passenger door to the truck. Duke scrabbled out of the doggie door and hurtled into the backseat. Alana got in and closed the door. That left him with three choices: physically hauling her out, making a huge scene in front of the neighbors until she got out under her own power, or taking her along.
He’d never laid hands on a woman in anger, and Alana wouldn’t appreciate being a spectacle in front of the neighbors. He got in and slammed his door.
? ? ?
THE DRIVE OUT to Tanya’s cabin passed in silence. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, and some observing part of him noted his white knuckles on the steering wheel.
“Breathe,” Alana said quietly when he turned down the rutted lane leading down to the creek.
“I am breathing.”
“You aren’t. Exhale.”
He did, and realized when he exhaled that he had been all but holding his breath. Nature took over and he drew a full breath at the bottom of the exhale. The fury simmering in his veins dialed down to the upper edge of the red zone. He braked to a halt by the cabin and got out, leaving his door open for Duke to follow.
The cabin had the vast silence of an uninhabited building. The door was locked, but Lucas knew the trick for getting in, a specific twist, jerk, and hoist of the handle that released the aging lock. He pushed the door open and stalked inside.
The main room was empty. Dishes crusted with the remnants of heated-up canned spaghetti sat in the sink. He crouched by the hearth and held his hand over the charred logs and ashes. Stone cold, not even lingering heat held in the rack. Through the back windows he saw Alana walking around the house, the late afternoon sunlight gleaming off her caramel leather jacket, then head down the path to the creek.
She was almost as good as a deputy, he thought, then strode to the closed bedroom door. He stopped with his hand around but not touching the knob, listening for signs of life. Snoring, sheets rustling. Anything could be on the other side of this door. Tanya, fast asleep as her toxin of choice worked its way out of her system. Tanya and a bedmate.
He opened the door. The bed was unmade and empty. The room smelled of stale dirty laundry scattered on the floor, alcohol sweat, and the underlying sweet scent of pot.
“Fuck.”
Alana’s flats slapped against the floorboard behind him. “I didn’t see her out back,” she said. “Duke chased a rabbit into the trees.”
He blew out his breath. “She’s not here. I’d guess she hasn’t been here for a couple of days, which means she’s partying somewhere.”
“Do you want to go get her?” He looked at her, hands on his hips. “I assume you have a pretty good idea where she is.”
He did. He knew three or four likely spots in Chatham County alone. “If I go get her, I’m going to have to arrest her and whoever she’s with,” he said. “She knows that, and she knows I won’t do it.”
“All right,” she said, accepting his answer without questioning it. “Now what?”
“Now I call the station and ask Mary to let the guys know they should watch out for her truck. Then I wait. I’ll go get Duke.”
He went outside and made the call, then whistled. Duke came trotting out of the tall grass around the creek, tail high, ears perked, gaze alert. When he peered back inside the cabin, he found Alana in the kitchen nook, running water into the spaghetti pot to soak off the crusted sauce and noodles.
“It’s a waste of time.”
“It’s my time to waste,” she replied, then dried her hands.
San Diego felt like a lifetime away.