Real Love

When Anderson nodded eagerly, she laughed and pushed the container across the table to him.

"Thank you," he said, and quickly moved her leftover chicken and fries to his own container.

Callie smiled indulgently, as she watched him eat her food, but she began to yawn as he was finishing.

"You're tired, sis," Landon commented. "You should get some rest."

"Yes." She grimaced. "I didn't use to be such a lightweight, but I've been falling asleep all over the place today."

"It's your body recovering. It'll pass," Landon assured her.

Callie nodded and then glanced at Scout and Peaches as the dogs returned from a trip to relieve themselves and settled at their owners' side.

"How long do you think you'll be here?" Grace asked Anderson.

He hesitated. "You know there is a chance Sutton might come after you. He is looking for revenge and he won't give up."

"So, we have to wait until he comes after me and you can capture him?"

"I'm afraid so," Anderson muttered. "Probably it won't take long. Sooner or later, he'll make a mistake."

"You think you'll capture him quickly, then?" Callie asked, tilting her head. "Have you got any lead on him or something?"

"No," he answered honestly.

"I'm missing classes," she sighed.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"Don't worry about that now. You need to relax and sleep to regain your strength. Let us worry about the rest," Landon said.

"Well, I'll get ready and go to bed, then," Callie said finally. Callie hesitated, obviously wanting to ask more questions, but another yawn caught her.

"Goodnight, Callie," everyone wished her.

Callie stood up and walked upstairs. Scout followed her.

"Grace, you go and help Callie. Anderson and I can take care of cleaning," Landon offered.

"Okay, goodnight." Grace led the way up the stairs. Callie and Scout followed her.

Landon began to collect the bags and Anderson helped him.

++0++

Grace knocked at the door and stood on the threshold with ointment and gauze in hand.

"I need to take a look at your back," she said apologetically, drawing Callie's attention back from the dog, who had walked over to the bed and dropped to lie beside it.

Callie hesitated briefly, but then nodded. It had to be taken care of. She knew what could happen to wounds that weren't cared for properly and she'd be damned if she'd risk dying of an infected wound after surviving that hell house.

Callie turned her back to Grace and leaned forward with a grimace. Then, she lifted her pajama top.

"Fast or slow?" Grace asked, and when Callie glanced over her shoulder she explained, "One quick yank might be better."

Callie bit her lip, but nodded and then turned to face away from her sister-in-law again.

"Deep breath," she said.

Callie started to suck in a slow deep breath, but halfway through, it became a sharp inhale as Grace ripped the bandage from her back.

She sagged with relief though, when it was done, and the bandage was off.

"Are you okay?" Grace asked, with concern.

Callie nodded, letting her breath out slowly. It had hurt but had been one quick jolt of pain rather than the long drawn-out constant pulling pain.

"How does it look?" she asked, raising her arm and craning her head around to try to see her wound.

"It's healing," Grace said.

That was good, she supposed. But "it's healing" didn't tell her much. Was it a great gaping hole? Probably not, Callie acknowledged. The doctor told her the cut on her back required stitches, so it was probably a large, nasty puckered one. Lovely.

"What does it mean?"

"Less red than it was at the hospital," he added. "I'm going to put the salve on now. It might sting," Grace warned quietly.

Callie gave up trying to look at it and nodded as she turned forward again. She felt Grace brush the ointment on.

She could tell that Grace was trying to be gentle. Her fingers barely feathered over her skin, but it was tender enough that even that stung. Grinding her teeth, she held her breath and waited, trying to keep her mind blank.

She waited patiently as Grace taped the gauze in place, barely restraining a shiver as her warm fingers moved over her skin.

It was actually a relief when Grace said, "Done. You can let go of your shirt."

Grace announced and Callie let her breath out on a sigh.

She squeezed Callie's arm.

Callie immediately lifted her arms, allowing the cloth to drop back down.

Grace had come around and was standing in front of her.

"What happened with Dylan?"

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't join us for dinner. I'm sure he would have unless something happened. Which was the reason why you argued?"

Callie bit her lower lip and looked down. "Because he got mad when I told him Anderson was a caring person. Dylan said I was idealizing him, and that I barely knew him."

"Are you?"

Callie shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe... I got mad when he said that about me. He thinks I'm a silly teenager lusting after Anderson."

"Dylan is jealous, Callie," Grace said, with a knowing smile. "It's as simple as that."

Callie glanced at Grace with surprise. Dylan just didn't seem to be the jealous type. He was too considerate and... well... sweet for that.

"I don't know," Callie muttered, dropping her eyes.

"Yes, you do," Grace said, with a laugh.

"What has Dylan to be jealous of?"

"Of every guy who gives you the up-and-down look."

Callie laughed. Shaking her head, she protested, "No one does that. I'm just plain old me."

"They do," Grace assured her sister-in-law. "Mister FBI agent was doing it, too."

Callie blushed deeply. "Well, I've never noticed it."

"I think it's adorable that you're completely oblivious to how attractive you are, sweetie. I always thought a man would have to hit you over the head before you'd notice they were attracted to you," Grace said, with amusement.

Callie shook her head. "You are great for my self-esteem, Grace. Men preferred leggy blondes with big breasts. I'm just boring me."

"Callie, sweetie, nothing is boring about you," Grace assured her. "It doesn't take much more than a moment in your company to know you're a good, kind-hearted woman. The problem is that you don't have a lot of experience and got burned badly gaining the little experience you do have."

Callie stared at Grace silently, wishing she meant that. She wanted to be loved and desired. That was one of the reasons why Eddie had gotten under her skin so easily.

Grace seemed to read her sister-in-law's thoughts.

"Dylan is not a player, Callie. He is a keeper. He is in it to win it for the long haul. He wants you all... body and soul. I'd stake my life on that one," Grace assured Callie, solemnly. "Now, you should take a sleeping pill and try to get some rest."

Grace obediently took her pill and lay on her bed. Scout climbed at her feet.

By the time Anderson entered Callie's room to check on her, she was sleeping peacefully.

He shifted his attention to Scout. The dog was lying at Callie's feet, head on her knee. Unlike her, however, Scout wasn't asleep. His eyes were open and alert.

"Standing guard," he thought, and nodded at the animal.

Callie wasn't anything like he'd expected. She had an inner strength he admired. Any other girl would have broken down after what she went through.

Anderson shook his head at his own confused thoughts. He shouldn't be feeling any of this.

"She is a great girl," Grace said softly behind him, and Anderson grimaced at her being able to read his mind.

"That she is, for sure. The bravest and toughest I have met. Goodnight, Mrs. Petersen."

CHAPTER 8

Scout's whining woke Callie up. Opening her eyes to the dimly lit room, she took in the open bathroom door and the light spilling out of it. Despite Scout being with her, she hadn't been willing to sleep in complete darkness. Callie had been afraid she might wake up and think she was back in that cage.

Scout whined again and Callie shifted up onto her elbow to peer at the bottom right corner of the bed, but the dog wasn't there. He was standing on the floor beside the bed, whining unhappily. When Callie glanced his way, Scout turned and moved to the door and then back.

"You have to go out, huh?" Callie asked, recognizing the signal. Sighing with resignation, she tossed her covers aside and sat up, wincing as a shot of pain caught her by surprise.

She'd forgotten about her back. Moving more carefully, Callie stood up, glanced around for her robe, and pulled it on.

A more urgent whine followed by a bark from Scout made her wonder how long the dog had been trying to wake her with his whines.

"Okay," she whispered, as she reached the door. "But quietly. People are sleeping."

Scout whined and wagged his tail and Callie opened the door. The dog was out the door at once, completely forgetting his manners. That said more about his urgency than anything else had and Callie hurried up the hall after him, grateful for the night lights in the plug sockets that lit her path.

Scout remembered his manners at the stairs and paused to let Callie go down first. She moved carefully down with one hand on the stair rail. As she led Scout toward the back of the house with the help of the night lights, Callie wondered what time it was. She glanced around for a clock as she crossed to the French doors and began to work the lock but hadn't spotted one before she got the door unlocked. She pulled it open and Scout bolted out just as an alarm suddenly started to blare. Callie froze, only then remembering the alarm system. She'd just set it off.

The sudden screech of the alarm had Anderson abruptly awake. A wash of adrenaline pumping through him propelled him out of the bed and grabbed his gun. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was at the door and dragging it open. Movement at the end of the hall caught his attention as he started forward. Anderson slowed when he saw that it was Landon coming out of the master bedroom.

Like himself, Landon was shirtless. However, he did have his pants on. Anderson realized; he was wearing only his boxers.

"Callie?" Landon barked.

"On it," Anderson shouted, as he hurried forward, but he couldn't be sure Landon heard him. Moving swiftly again, he hurried to Callie's door and thrust it open, only to find her bed empty. The bathroom door was open, and that room appeared empty, too. No Callie and no Scout.

Fear clutching at his chest, Anderson didn't bother closing the door, but continued forward, shaking his head to tell Landon that Callie wasn't in her room. Anderson got to the top of the stairs first and immediately started down, aware that Landon was right behind him.

Groaning, Callie leaned her forehead against the door and closed her eyes as she listened to the thud of feet overhead. She'd woken up everyone, of course.

Sighing, she straightened and turned to peer toward the stairs at the front of the house as she listened to the sounds coming from above. The thudding that had started at opposite ends of the house was converging overhead, and then they started down the stairs.

Callie didn't want to stand there and wait for them, but had no choice. She'd accidentally set off the alarm. This was on her. Besides, what else could she do? Rush outside and hide in the bushes?

"Callie!" Landon shouted, skidding to a halt as he rushed into the room and spotted her by the doors.

"I'm sorry, Landon," she yelled, to be heard over the alarm.

Her brother rushed to the French doors on the living room side of the room and began to punch numbers on a panel there.

"Scout had to go out and I forgot about the alarm!"

The last word was shouted into sudden silence as the alarm died abruptly. Landon picked up a nearby phone and called the sheriff's office to let them know everything was okay.

Callie hardly noticed, however; she was too busy gaping at Anderson and what he was wearing. Or not wearing. The man was barefoot and bare-chested, in his boxers and damn, he looked fine. He was also staring at her as if he'd never seen her before, she realized and bit her lip.

Dylan entered the kitchen, and asked out of breath, "Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine. Callie forgot to turn off the alarm accidentally," Anderson informed him.

"No, I mean because of the intruders," Dylan said, still breathing fast. "Weren't they who triggered the alarm?"

"What intruders?" asked Anderson with concern.

"I was in my bed when Rover gave a throaty growl and barked as if there were someone outside the RV. I quickly soothed him, rubbing his head, and whispered 'Quiet'."

Dylan gulped down a couple of times and continued, "I watched through one of the windows and saw three hulking figures emerge from the forest using a thin beam of light to guide them. They stealthily worked their way toward the RV, and I could hear them whispering. By then, Rover was barking like crazy and opened the door and let him out. I heard some growling and barking, and then the alarm started ringing, and I ran here."

"They were here," Callie muttered, shivering from head to toe. She hugged herself against her fear and wondered how her life had come to this. Grace hurried across the room in a long, pink robe and held her sister-in-law in her arms.

On cue, they heard the roar of a van driving away from the cabin.

Landon called again at the sheriff's office and updated him with the new information.

He set the phone down with a worried expression on his face.

"Well, it was a happy accident, then," Grace said. She patted Landon's arm soothingly and then stretched up to whisper something in his ear. Finally, she turned to Callie and smiled. "We can go going back to bed now."

"I am truly sorry," Callie said quietly.

"Accidents happen," Landon said finally, his hand moving down to the back of his neck now, kneading as if trying to remove tension there.

Then, he gestured behind Callie. "Scout is back."

The dog barked in response to hearing his name. He had blood on his nuzzle.

"Where is Rover?" Dylan asked.

Scout barked again.

"What is it, Scout?" Landon asked, with a worried expression on his face.

The dog, seen that he had his owner's attention, immediately turned and ran outside.

"Something is wrong," Landon said. "Stay inside."

"Rover hasn't come back yet," Dylan said, with concern. "Rover! Come here, boy!"

He called the dog many times without any results.

Landon looked at Anderson, gun in hand, and he nodded. They went outside. Dylan followed them, a few steps behind.

"Shut the door, and set the alarm," Landon instructed his wife.

Grace nodded, still hugging Callie.

Dylan's heart pounded against his chest as he followed Landon and Anderson. Scout was leading the way into the forest.

"Rover!" he shouted, turning in a circle. "Rover! Where are you?"

Suddenly, Scout stopped and whined. Rover was lying on his side in a pool of blood and struggling to breathe. He had a gaping hole in her chest, and eyes open wide, involuntarily having leg spasms.

"Rover, no!" Dylan let out his breath in a sob. Landon tried to hold him back, but it was already too late.

"Oh, Rover," he cried. He fell on his knees, placed a hand on his faithful companion's side, and cried. Tears ran down his face and struggled to process what had happened.

Scout lay at Dylan's side, licked his hand, and whined.

The world blurred, as Dylan caressed Rover's fur. The dog was whimpering and struggling to breathe.

Anderson crouched and looked at the ground, using a pencil lantern. Every detail, every scuff mark, every stray thread held a story, and it was his job to decipher them.

"Your dog gave a hell of a fight. Two of the men cornered him while he attacked the third one."

A glint of metal caught Anderson's eye. Nestled beneath the dog's body. "They cut him with this," he said, picking up the knife with two fingers.

"We have to help him," Dylan begged.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the whimper of the wounded dog. But in that silence, Dylan heard the echo of a struggle and the unwavering loyalty of a friend.

Dylan didn't notice Landon come up behind him, not until his hands were on his shoulders. "It's too late."

Dylan hated tears. He had shed too many when Billie died.

The dog's breathing became slower. Life was escaping from him quickly.

"Thank you, Rover," he whispered, in the most loving tone. "I'm going to miss you, Buddy."

The forest fell dead silent when Rover passed away.

Scout let out a long, painful howl.

++0++

They buried Rover in a quiet clearing in the forest, sunlight filtering through the leaves and dappling the mossy ground. Dylan grazed a finger over the small wooden plaque, tracing the engraved letters: "Rover, faithful companion and friend."

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Callie said at his side, her voice laced with sympathy. "Simple."

Dylan could hear the forced cheer in her voice, how worried she was for him. He thought that Rover would be glad, at least, to spend eternity in a place like this, nestled amongst the whispering pines.

A memory flashed through his mind: Rover, tail wagging furiously, retrieving his favorite ball for the hundredth time. A small sob escaped Dylan's lips.

He rose to his feet, flanked by Callie and Grace. Callie linked her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder, a silent offering of comfort. Dylan blinked away a tear.

A gentle breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves and carrying the faint scent of lilies.

CHAPTER 9

Sheriff Thomas greeted everyone entering the cabin with a hearty, "Good morning." Agent Anderson stood beside him; his expression grim.

"Good morning, Bert. I was making some pancakes, would you like some?" Grace asked the sheriff, with a smile.

"No, thank you, Grace. I'm trying to watch my weight," he replied.

"Any news?" Landon asked, placing his cup of coffee on the counter.

Sheriff Thomas cleared his throat. "We're dealing with Sutton, that's for sure. The FBI identified two of the men the dog bit. We're keeping an eye on hospitals and clinics in the area. They came in through a backroad, no sign of them on traffic cameras. They're not in town anymore, but must be staying close to Middletown. I asked Nearville Sheriff for help with the search."

Landon nodded curtly.

"John Harding said some people were driving around his farm asking about Callie," the sheriff continued. "He had his Remington handy, just in case. He got the plates - turns out the pickup was reported stolen."

"Who were they?" Grace asked, a tremor in her voice.

"A couple of rough-looking characters. By the time I got there, they were gone. Descriptions match what the FBI found in their system," Sheriff Thomas explained.

"Sutton is not going to give up," Anderson said, his gaze meeting Callie. She shivered. "Callie, you need to stay here," he said, sharply.

Callie offered a meek nod.

"I'll be a good girl," she said sheepishly.

"Dylan will be staying in the cabin, too," Landon informed them. "I convinced him the RV wasn't safe."

Anderson pressed his lips together, a frown creasing his brow. "That is wise," he finally conceded.

"I don't expect trouble during the day, but I'll keep an eye out. Agent Anderson will help my deputy check the empty cabins. Have a good day, everyone." Sheriff Thomas tipped his hat and walked out.

"I'll come with you, Sheriff. See you all this evening," Anderson said, following suit.

"Where is Dylan?" Callie asked.

"He is in the RV, gathering his stuff," Landon informed his sister. A wave of sadness washed over him. "He is still grieving."

"I'll go talk with him," Callie offered.

"No, please, let me," Landon insisted. His sister rolled her eyes, so he added, "I know what he's going through. I think I can help."