Puppy Love Read online

  Puppy Love

  Hayden Hunt

  Contents

  Copyright

  1. Noah

  2. Charlie

  3. Noah

  4. Charlie

  5. Noah

  6. Charlie

  7. Noah

  8. Charlie

  9. Noah

  10. Charlie

  11. Noah

  12. Charlie

  13. Noah

  14. Charlie

  15. Noah

  16. Charlie

  Epilogue

  FREE ‘Record Love’ Excerpt

  Chapter 17

  18. Mason

  19. Caleb

  20. Mason

  FREE ‘Touched Down’ Excerpt

  Chapter 21

  22. Alex

  23. Liam

  24. Alex

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  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 by Hayden Hunt

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  1

  Noah

  As I parked in front of the dilapidated old house, I had to search for the address numbers to make sure I was in the right place. They were hard to make out at first—the blue paint had all but chipped off of the ‘693,’ making the numbers blend into the house. But I was at the right place.

  I got out of my squad car, slamming the door behind me loudly. This had been the first call of my shift, and I was still bleary-eyed and attempting to shake off the ache of tiredness. I hated working the late night shift, only to be followed by working an early morning shift.

  Normally, this kind of scheduling was avoidable, but I was taking every bit of overtime that was offered to me in an attempt to position myself for a promotion in the near future.

  I walked up to the house, carefully sliding the rusty black gate on its hinges. The creaking screeched in my ears as it slid open. I had to admit, the closer I got to the house, the more confused I was about this call.

  I had been told the owner of the house had called about a burglary being committed earlier in the day. Apparently, he had been asleep, and only noticed when he awoke that someone had been in the house.

  But, for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine a robber sizing up this place as a decent possible target. Surely someone who couldn’t even afford a lawn mower to maintain the foot-long dead grass in their front yard didn’t have many valuables inside.

  I stepped up onto the stained cement porch and rang the doorbell. But when I didn’t hear a noise ring out from the other side of the door, I assumed that it was broken and decided knocking would be a better option.

  Within a minute, a frantic, gray-haired old man had arrived at the door. His eyes were nearly bulging out of his head.

  “Sir?” I asked hesitantly.

  “You’re the police,” he stated, as if he were observing the shade of blue that filled the sky today.

  “Yes, I am. I’m Officer Noah Bryant. I’m here to take a report of a burglary. Did you call that in?”

  His eyes lit up as if he suddenly remembered.

  “Yes!” he nearly shouted. “I did! I called it! Someone has broken into my house! Come see!”

  His entire demeanor had changed. He had gone from suspicious and shifty to downright excited. Why someone would be excited about a recent break in, I couldn’t tell you. But it was immediately clear something was off here.

  Unfortunately, the inside of the house wasn’t much of an improvement on the outside. In fact, I thought it might actually be worse. I was physically stepping on trash as I walked inside the house. Old newspapers, empty cups, paper plates—pretty much any kind of trash you could imagine.

  “Follow me!” the old man said as he stepped back into the hallway.

  I did, hesitantly, unsure of what other mess I was going to find as I turned the corner.

  But it was much of the same. How long had he been living like this? And why wasn’t he even the slightest bit concerned about me seeing his house in this state?

  Don’t get me wrong, I’d seen plenty of messy houses in my time on the force. But most mentally stable people seemed extremely embarrassed to need police assistance while their house was in shambles. Most would apologize profusely. But this old man acted as if the mess wasn’t even there. Maybe for him, it wasn’t.

  Obviously, I wasn’t dealing with someone who fell into the ‘mentally stable’ category.

  He led me to a bathroom and opened up a cabinet under the sink.

  “Here!” he stated excitedly. “Look!” He was now on the floor on all fours, his hand pointing into the cabinet.

  I crouched down on my legs, my hand leaned up against the bathroom counter. I tried to keep my balance while also attempting to avoid touching anything too disgusting.

  I peeked underneath the cabinet and saw a gaping black hole. Someone or something had managed to break open both the back of the cabinet and the wall which led into the next room.

  “I see…” I said slowly, trying to piece together his thought process. Was this hole in the wall somehow related to the idea that someone had broken in?

  “You do!” he said eagerly. “You do see! This is how they came in.”

  No, it absolutely wasn’t. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, I could see that the hole led into the next bedroom. It didn’t lead outside. What possible benefit could this hole provide a burglar?

  Nothing. It was clear that, whatever was going on in his mind, it wasn’t following any logical pattern of thought. I had no idea what broke a hole in the wall, but it wasn’t a burglar.

  And based on this old man’s actions, I was guessing even if he did know about the hole in the wall prior to today, he wouldn’t remember it. It was very likely he was once aware of what caused the hole and had forgotten about it.

  In his confusion, the first thing his mind went to was a burglary. I couldn’t very well tell him that this was bullshit, though. I’d had a lot of training on how to deal with people bordering on psychosis, and confronting the delusions head on could sometimes lead to a dangerous situation.

  “I see, so you think they broke in earlier today?” I asked the old man.

  “Yes. I don’t know how… How did they make the hole with no noise? I was sleeping. Why didn’t I wake up? I don’t understand that part. They’re sneaky…” He paused for a moment. “They have new technology. They lasered it. They must have lasered the hole.”

  “And have you noticed anything they might have stolen?” I asked.

  The old man paused. “No… Nothing is gone.” He frowned. Clearly, he hadn’t considered this part of the burglary.

  This concerned me. Like I said, confusion could sometimes be dangerous. The last thing I needed was him to start freaking out because he realized on his own that his delusions made no sense.

  “They stole nothing!” he exclaimed suddenly, as his hand was flung to his head. “I have a bump. Right here, look!” He pointed seemingly at nothing on his head. “Because they implanted me. They chipped me. I knew they wanted to chip me, but I didn’t think they could do it. Because I would wake up. But it’s the new technology. I just forgot about the new technology.” He shook his head defeatedly.

  All right. Obviously this man was in no position to be living on his own. Unless he had some family that could help take care of him, I was going to have to take him in for a psych evaluation.

  Which I absolutely hated. Of all the calls I got, having to
5150 someone was the worst experience for me. For the most part, these people didn’t want to hurt anyone. They weren’t actively causing a crime. They just weren’t in a position to function in the world. So having to handcuff them and take them in really bothered me. Usually, it involved a lot of force that I’d rather not have to inflict on a confused, scared person.

  Despite the stereotypes that were often thrust upon cops, I wasn’t an inherently violent person. In fact, I rather abhorred it. I used force only when necessary, and even then, it gave me a pit in my stomach. But it was part of the job.

  Besides, it would have been much crueler for me to leave this man here unattended. Taking him in to be evaluated was the best thing that could be done for him. They could place him in a care facility that was equipped to deal with his senility and make sure he was safe.

  He certainly wasn’t safe for himself right now.

  “Sir, do you have any family?” I asked him.

  His expression changed drastically again.

  “Oh, no, Sherry!” he gasped as he ran into the living room shouting. “Sherry, Sherry?! Where are you?”

  Well, this wasn’t going to be easy. What a way to start out my shift. At least my exhaustion had left me once my adrenaline began to rush in.

  “Sir, who is Sherry?” I asked as I followed him into the living room.

  “My wife!” he cried. “My beautiful, wonderful wife. And she doesn’t deserve to be chipped. She’s not involved in any of this. It’s me that they want. Will you tell them? That she has nothing to do with any of this? I don’t want them to hurt her. I don’t want anyone hurt.”

  “Sure.” I agreed. “I’ll make sure they know not to hurt anyone else, but sir, it doesn’t appear that your wife is here.”

  He looked around. “No… She’s gone. Good, she isn’t here. She must be at the store.”

  Based on his complete loss with reality, I had a feeling she wasn’t really at the store. I couldn’t imagine anyone else living at this house unless they were in just as bad of a mental state as him. And, of course, if anyone was experiencing that level of mental instability, they probably weren’t in any shape to be doing grocery store trips.

  “So, it’s just your wife here?” I asked, trying to keep him focused on the conversation. “No children?”

  “Oh, we have a son, too. Charlie! I love my boy, Charlie. He’s a good kid. He’s going to be a writer.”

  “Is he? How old is Charlie?”

  “Charlie’s twelve, he’ll be thirteen in August.”

  This one I could also write off as bullshit. A man this old didn’t have a thirteen-year-old son. But I saw this a lot in senile older citizens. They remembered their family members, just not the circumstances of their current lives. It was likely his son was an adult by now.

  “Sir, would you mind calling Charlie for me? I just want to make sure he’s safe.”

  “I’ll go get him from his room!”

  I meant a call on the phone, but of course that wasn’t where his mind went. If he thought his son was thirteen, he didn’t believe he had his own cell phone and a way to contact him by phone. I’d just have to look both of them up by their names and hope to find their contact information.

  “What’s your first and last name, sir?” I called out as he walked back into the hallway.

  “Matthew Shaw, but don’t tell them that.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” I mumbled, because he couldn’t hear me.

  I loved my job, for the most part. I had wanted to be a cop since I was a kid and I did everything in my power to make that happen. I wanted to move up to detective one day. I was more committed to my work than anything.

  But calls like this were hard. A lot of calls were. It was draining to see the worst of the world on a daily basis. But for some reason, old people suffering with senility were particularly hard for me to cope with.

  I thought it just resonated with me because I could see myself in that position, one day. Stuck in my house, alone, going crazy with nobody around to even notice it.

  It compounded on my fear that I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. I really had to put dating on hold to sacrifice for my career.

  Not that I hadn’t dated in the past. I had been with a few women. But none of those relationships seemed to last very long. With my crazy and unreliable work hours, I barely ever got to see any of them. And, admittedly, when I did see them, I was mentally and physically drained.

  Nothing like mental and physical anguish to kill a budding relationship before it really gets going.

  The old man walked back with something in his arms. At first, I couldn’t make out what it was. But I was quickly shocked to realize it was a dog.

  “I couldn’t find him!” he hollered. “Charlie must have gone to the store with his mom, but his dog is here.”

  God damn it, the man had a dog in this mess?!

  The poor thing seemed to be shivering in his arms. He was absolutely filthy. I could tell immediately because his white coat was covered in dirt. He was a smaller dog with a very matted coat. Maybe a Maltese? It was hard to tell when he was so gross.

  Fantastic. So not only did I have to try to calmly get this old man to come with me to get evaluated, but also I had a small dog to take care of. And honestly, I wasn’t that big of a fan of small dogs.

  Still, I felt immediately bad for the little guy. He clearly hadn’t been kept in the best of conditions. This guy probably forgot about this dog on a regular basis. I was sure he didn’t mean to neglect the dog, he just really couldn’t do any better.

  “Can I see him?” I asked the old man.

  “The dog?” He looked nervously from me back to the dog. “You aren’t going to chip him, right?”

  “No, I’m not going to chip him. But I have some dog treats in my car. Is it okay if I give him some?”

  He still looked nervous. This wasn’t unusual for people in his condition. They were always wary of everyone.

  “Here, you can come out to the car with me, if you want,” I suggested. “You can keep your eye on me.”

  This finally put him at ease and he nodded and began to walk toward the door with me. I nearly tripped on my way out, and I had to kick a pile of trash to the side. I immediately heard the splash of something wet. Among the clutter, I had to really search for the source of the noise.

  To my relief, it appeared to be a big metal dog bowl that held water. Well, good, at least I knew the poor thing wasn’t dehydrated. But I didn’t see a food bowl next to it. Though, maybe I just piled the second bowl with a bunch of rubbish, making it impossible to see.

  We walked out to my car as I thought of ways that I could convince the old man to come with me peacefully. I really didn’t want to have to cuff him; it was only going to make him more suspicious and agitated. He might even thrash around and hurt himself.

  It’d be much better to somehow level with him. Use his logic to convince him coming with me was the best idea.

  I opened my glove box and grabbed a bag of treats. I really did keep them in my car at all times. This was something I’d learned to do a few months after I started the job. You ran into agitated dogs pretty often. If you needed to get into a house with a dog going wild in the front yard, a few treats was usually your ticket in.

  I also gave them out any time I pulled over someone with a dog in the backseat, just to be kind. There were a lot of negative stereotypes about cops, and I did my best to create a relationship between myself and the citizens I was here to protect.

  Once I had the treats in my hand, the old man handed the dog over.

  “What’s the dog’s name?” I asked.

  “Her name is Bailey.”

  “Why hello there, Bailey,” I said in a soft voice as I took her from him. The second she was in my arms instead of his, she calmed down considerably. The shaking subsided instantly. Clearly, this man was a source of major anxiety for her.

  I couldn’t blame her for that; animals were very perceptive
of their owners. No doubt his erratic behavior was very obvious to her. Something was wrong with him and she knew it.

  At first, I went to put her down on the ground and feed her the treats, but as soon as she was on the sidewalk, she began to whine. She wanted to stay in my arms. All right, I guessed that was fine.

  I picked her back up and began feeding her with my free arm. She ate every one enthusiastically.

  “So,” I began to say to Matthew, who was staring at me wildly. “I think I know someone who can have that chip removed for you.”

  “You do?!” he asked enthusiastically.

  “Yep, he’s a doctor friend of mine. He can take a look at you and solve the problem. I can take you to him if you want.”

  “Okay!” he said eagerly.

  Perfect. That was a lot easier than I thought.

  I opened up the door and he got into the back of the squad car. As I shut it behind him, I noticed a few neighbors had come out of their house to observe the commotion. I nodded to the nearest neighbor politely, and a thought suddenly crossed my mind. Maybe he could be of some use.

  “Hello, sir, can I speak to you for a minute?” I asked the man, who was still in his pajamas. He wore a tank top and a long, loose pair of American flag pants.

  “Sure, what is it?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Have you lived here a while?”

  “The last twenty years.” He nodded.

  “So, you’ve known this man awhile?”

  “Well, I haven’t seen him for a long time. I mean, I’m at work most of the time during the day, but we used to see each other on the weekend when we both did yard work. I actually thought he might have moved away.”

  There was a twinge of guilt on his face, maybe because he hadn’t bothered to check on the old guy, but I didn’t have time to address that. The longer I left Matthew in the car, the higher the chance he’d start to get frustrated.

  “So, do you know his family then?”

  “I did, yeah. Well, Sherry died many years ago. But I’ve talked to Charlie a few times since he moved away. He was good friends with my youngest son.”