Eternal by C. C. Hunter Page B

so slightly, as if he knew she was purposely pulling back, but he opened the glass door wider to let her in.
    The aroma of wood and leather filled the room, along with light traces of Chase’s smell and his beloved Baxter.
    â€œSit down,” Chase said. “I’ll grab the files.”
    She didn’t feel comfortable enough to sit. Alone, she stood by the large coffee table and brown leather sofa and studied her surroundings. She gazed up, a little awed by the high ceiling and immaculate decorations. Against one wall was a huge pine cabinet holding a large television. She envisioned Chase there, Baxter curled up beside him watching TV. Next to that, she noted a few framed pictures decorating some of the shelves. She listened to make sure he wouldn’t catch her snooping. Hearing him rummaging through a drawer, she edged closer and stared at the first image—two girls, their arms around each other, laughing like best friends. The second was a group picture. She picked up the image that appeared to be a family portrait.
    She recognized a young Chase, probably thirteen, tall and a little lanky, but already showing signs of becoming a man. The girl, who looked like his sister, was one of the girls in the first photo. Della sighed, thinking about her own sister, and how little they were a part of each other’s lives now.
    Touching the glass, she passed her finger over the images of the other people.
    Family. Family lost. Her chest suddenly felt empty remembering the pictures of her own family. Pictures now hidden in a drawer, not on public display. Did that mean losing someone to death was easier than watching them turn their backs on you?
    She studied Chase’s image in the photo. Happy. Surrounded by people he loved. Now they were gone. She supposed it hurt both ways.
    Her sinuses began to sting. Swallowing, she put the picture back.
    Baxter inched closer to her and sat next to her leg. The animal stared up with intensity. His gaze didn’t come off threatening, just evaluating.
    She dropped her hand and let him smell her again. He bumped her knuckles with his wet nose and breathed in her scent. Not just once, but twice. Slowly, his tail began to wag, and he moved in closer, lovingly leaning his head against her leg.
    It was almost as if the dog could smell Chase’s blood inside of her. Was that possible? Did she smell different now that she had his blood? She lifted her hand up and sniffed her own wrist near her vein. She didn’t detect anything different.
    She knelt down and stared into his large brown eyes.
    She leaned close to the dog’s ear. “I’m not out to hurt him, just work with him.” She whispered the words so low Chase wouldn’t hear. “Not that I haven’t wanted to kick his ass a couple of times.” She ran her hand over the dog’s side.
    Moving her hand up, she touched the collar and felt some engraving in soft, aged leather. Brushing the hair back, she turned the collar in a circle to read the inscription.
    The tap of footsteps moved into the room. “Never turn your back on a challenge,” she repeated what she’d read. “Is that for the dog or you?”
    â€œBoth,” he said.
    A flash of emotion touched his eyes. She had a feeling the saying meant something, but what? She batted back the curiosity. She was here to work the case, not get chummy.
    â€œYou two made friends?”
    He held two files in his hands.
    â€œLooks like it.” Della stood and walked to the large table. The dog followed her and rubbed against Chase as he joined them in the center of the room.
    She dropped into a chair. Chase sat in the one next to her. Not so close their shoulders touched, but close enough she thought about his nearness.
    He nudged the files over to her, his brows tightened. “I’ve already gone over them. Dozens of times. I’m not sure they are going to help. Getting more information would require we pay either