Jed fidgeted while Sherlock, Barton’s detection dog, checked the day’s deliveries. He wanted to get on the road, head on up to Cameron Creek and see how Monte was doing. He’d sensed the other man’s dismay was deep enough to slip easily into real depression. That was not good. Monte had said he was struggling to keep his business afloat. This might be the final hole in a leaky rowboat for him.
Just then Sherlock froze, his black nose twitching, along with the very tip of his stiffly extended tail. He strained upward toward a large box on the middle shelf. A small whine escaped.
“Good boy.” Barton dragged a Kong toy out of his pocket and handed it to the dog after the animal stepped back and sat down. “Good boy. You did well.” Sherlock took the toy and began to lick out the peanut butter f
