Real Love
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
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.”
Callie pursed her lips, but gave a hesitant nod of approval.
It was a short walk between the cabin and the RV. Landon knocked on the door and asked, raising his voice, “Dylan, it’s Landon. May I come in?”
Silence followed before Dylan finally spoke. “You’re alone?”
“I’m alone,” Landon confirmed.
“Come in. It’s open,” Dylan said, the raw grief evident in his voice.
Landon stepped inside the RV. It looked like a tornado had ripped through it, clothes scattered across the floor.
“I can’t seem to pack,” Dylan admitted, flopping down on the edge of the couch. He held something in his hands, turning it over and over Rover’s collar.
“Just checking in,” Landon said, gently. “How are you doing?”
“How do you think I’m doing?” Dylan retorted.
“Believe it or not, I have a pretty good idea. Lost teammates in Afghanistan. They were family to me. Long story short, ended up with PTSD and survivor guilt,” Landon murmured. “What happened to Rover wasn’t your fault.”
Dylan didn’t look up, his gaze fixed on the object in his hands.
Landon placed a hand on Dylan’s arm. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Some,” Dylan lied, not wanting to open that can of worms.
Dylan, pinched by exhaustion and grief, hunched over in the RV. Witnessing his despair, a pang of sympathy shot through Landon.
“There is light at the end of the tunnel, Dylan,” Landon offered, gently. “Trust me.”
Landon sensed Dylan fighting for control, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching. The effort not to cry was etched on his face. His mouth was set in a rigid grimace as if it were twisting itself out of shape. “I should have been there protecting him,” Dylan choked out.
“There was nothing you could have done,” Landon reasoned. “You might be dead, too.”
Dylan shook his head vehemently. “I shouldn’t have let Rover out.”
“There’s no way you could have known,” Landon said, firmly. “When my teammates died, I felt the same way. I kept replaying everything in my head, wondering if I could have done something different.”
“I’m tired of losing the ones I love,” Dylan blurted out, his voice thick with emotion. He stopped abruptly, his body stiff with suppressed grief.
A long silence stretched between them. Finally, Dylan muttered grimly, “Maybe it would be better for your sister to stay away from me.”
“Dylan,” Landon countered, “my sister is alive because of you. You saved her life.”
Dylan offered a halfhearted shrug.
“You know what I need right now?” Landon asked, enunciating each word carefully.
“Um ... no,” Dylan replied, hesitantly.
“A distraction,” Landon said, with a hint of a smile. “Callie’s been eager to spend time with you.”
Dylan couldn’t hide the resentment in his voice. “Agent Anderson isn’t available?”
“He’s in town helping the sheriff search for Sutton,” Landon explained.
Dylan nodded slowly. “Sorry, that was out of line.”
Landon dismissed his apology with a wave. “Just be gentle with Callie. Don’t rush things.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Dylan said, dryly.
Landon’s voice softened. “I’m serious. She’s been through a lot. She needs time to sort things out.”
Dylan stilled. “I’m listening.”
“She is experiencing a nightmarish time,” he pointed out.
Dylan rubbed the back of his head, his brow furrowed. “Landon, I’m not sure I understand what you’re suggesting.”
“Get to know Callie,” Landon suggested gently. “Let her get to know you. It might be good for both of you.” With that, he stood and exited the RV, leaving Dylan alone with his thoughts. “Come to the cabin when you’re ready,” Landon called back from the doorway.
Callie found Dylan at Rover’s grave; his camera pointed at the wooden plaque. He swapped lenses with practiced ease, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Mind if I join you?”
Dylan was startled, the camera nearly slipping from his grasp. Callie stood behind him, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips.
“You scared the living daylights out of me,” he said, his breath catching slightly.
“Well, in my defense,” she countered with a playful glint in her eyes, “I do move with a silent, panther-like grace.”
Despite himself, a corner of Dylan’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Go ahead and join me. This ... mope-fest is open to all.”
They settled on a fallen log, the cool mountain air settling around them. Callie glanced at the back of the camera and let out a low whistle.
“Nice shot,” she remarked, her voice soft.
“It is,” Dylan agreed, turning the camera slightly to show her the image. “How did you find me?”
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