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handler’s side.
    “No, Prince! Heel!” Shay stood with her hand held out, a red rubber ball balanced in her palm. “Let’s play, boy. Come on.” She bounced the ball with a whack against the wooden floor.
    Bogart paused, looked back at her and then at James.
    Months before, James had worked out a nonverbal secret signal with Bogart after a fleeing suspect—who he later learned had once worked in the K-9 corps—had almost succeeded in calling Bogart off the attack. When he made that hand signal, only he could countermand.
    He signed. “Hier.”
    The dog sprang to his side.
    He felt a surge of triumph to have won his dog’s loyalty back, but when he turned to Shay he saw the sick look of humiliation on her face and felt like a bully. Damn! She was breaking his balls one minute and his heart the next.
    He picked up his rifle and his hat and headed for the door. As he reached the threshold, music began issuing inexplicably from his pocket. He reached in and pulled out an unfamiliar cell phone playing Katy Perry’s “Wide Awake” as its ringtone. It was the disposable he’d taken from Shay.
    “That’s mine.”
    The heat of embarrassment stung his neck as he handed it over.
    Shay snatched it and answered. Her face went white and then she whispered into the phone, “Go to hell!”
    She punched “end” and turned around to face her audience. She didn’t look at the deputy. She shot James a look hot enough to scorch ground. “Telemarketer.”

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    Shay realized too late that she should have been paying more attention.
    She had been holed up in the cabin most of the day, mourning the loss of Prince. Yet the afternoon’s warmth had drawn her out into the sunshine. Needing some exercise, she had walked along the perimeter of the lake to a convenience store/bait stand two miles away where she’d bought fresh-shucked oysters packed in ice to make for dinner. She was nearly to the cabin porch before she saw the truck turning into her drive.
    Eric!
    The cold fear of the night before swept over her again, leaving her weak and tingly. She reached for her phone only to discover it wasn’t in her pocket. Her heart did a sickly double thump. She’d left it to charge in the cabin.
    She nearly ran inside and slammed the door. Yet it was too late to do that without showing him exactly how scared she was of him. Besides, there was no Prince there to protect her. She’d have to depend on the sheriff’s department again … if they would even respond this time.
    She grabbed her left elbow with her right hand, hugging her icy package to her body as she stood in the yard, and waited. She was all alone. She’d better get used to that.
    He climbed out of a truck so old and beat-up she would not have thought a bank executive like Eric Coates would be seen dead in it. Was that the point? No one would suspect he’d be driving it?
    He looked the same, totally put together in jeans and a jacket and loafers. Hard to believe that underneath that polished exterior was an asshole who enjoyed making waitresses cry. That was one of his specialties, finding fault and then humiliating servers he decided weren’t up to his standards. It shamed her now to remember how she’d said nothing.
    As long as it’s not aimed at me. That pitiful excuse seemed unthinkable now.
    He paused a few yards from her and struck a casual wide-legged pose. No doubt, for her benefit. Then he smiled. “Hey there, Shay. How are you?”
    “How did you find me?”
    “Your phone’s GPS.”
    “What?”
    “Come on. You’re supposed to be the techie.” He made quote marks with his fingers for emphasis. “There’s an app for that.”
    She frowned. There were several location apps. Except that she always kept her GPS on off. She certainly didn’t need it to come up here. He must have discovered her whereabouts another way, and was trying to hide the truth.
    Alarm zinged through her. Not an app . “You put a tracking device on my phone!”
    He