Part Five
 

Lee Stetson woke up shivering.  Reaching around for his blanket, he realized he wasn’t in his bed or even in his apartment.  He was lying outside, on the cold ground.  There was darkness everywhere, but his eyes were open.  Was he suddenly blind?  Where exactly was he?   When he tried to sit up, his throbbing head made him dizzy, forcing him back to a prone position.

Reaching his finger up to his head, he felt a wound to his temple that had started to scab.  His hair was matted with what he assumed was his own blood.  The smell around him was repulsive.  Then he realized the repulsive smell was coming from his festering head wound.

“Help me,” he called out, but his throat was parched and he barely uttered a sound.  His head was pounding so badly, he couldn’t think straight.  What had happened?  No matter how hard he tried to think, he couldn’t remember anything.  Slowly, he pushed his hands against the ground in another attempt to sit up.  Dizziness overcame him and he fell back onto the dirt, unconscious.

*****     *****

When he awoke again, it was no longer dark.  Now, Lee Stetson was on a bed, but his vision was very blurry.  The smell was gone.  Reaching up, he felt a small scab on his head; his matted hair had been cleaned and shaved short.  He was still trying to remember what happened and how he got here – wherever that was; he still didn’t know.

In the background, he could hear voices, but he couldn’t understand them.  The voices weren’t speaking English.  They were getting closer.  Lee tried to shout to get their attention, but he was too hoarse to utter a sound.  Turning his head, he lifted his hand, trying to get their attention.

Finally, someone came over to him.  It was a man dressed in white, maybe a doctor or an orderly.  Was he in the hospital? The man spoke to him, but his head was pounding so loudly, he didn’t understand.  All he heard was ringing in his ears.  Lee touched his hand to his lips and the person nodded.  A few minutes later, he came back with a cup of water.

“Thank you,” Lee croaked out, trying to focus his eyes on the man who was offering him aid.

“Shh,” the man warned him.  “Listen to me; if you want to live, stay silent.”

Sipping at the water, Lee squinted; still not totally comprehending his predicament.  Contemplating what the man told him, he had to risk one question.  In a hushed voice, Lee asked.  “Wh…where am I?”

The man glanced around before continuing in a quiet voice in highly accented English.  “You’re in a prison clinic, near Baghdad.  You’ve been here for several weeks.  You were found, almost dead, in the desert.  Do you remember what happened?”

Lee shook his head and rubbed his eyes, but still, his vision was blurry.

“You’re lucky to be alive.  You were grazed in the head by a bullet,” the doctor explained.  “You spent your first night in the morgue because they thought you were dead.”

“My eyes…” Lee whispered.

Taking out a small light, he shined it into each of Lee’s eyes.  “You have a concussion.  Give it some time; your vision should improve.  They will move you to a regular cell when they think you are well enough.  The longer you stay here, the better chance you have to survive.  And whatever you do, avoid speaking English.”

Lee nodded to the doctor that he understood.  Closing his eyes, he started piecing together what he remembered.  ‘Baghdad?!'  Then it came to him; he was in Iraq.  His hand rubbed his temple, wishing the pain in his head would subside.

“Mara!” he said aloud, and then he worried if someone had heard him, but most of the other patients in the ward were sleeping.  It was coming back to him now.  The chopper was too small to take them all.  He had stayed behind; planning to cross the border by car, but someone had found out about their exit plans and tried to thwart them.  Resting his head back on the bed, he hoped that Mara and her friends had made it across the border.

It was a while later that the man returned to him with food and some more water and helped Lee sit up.  “Drink slowly, but drink it all.  Nibble at the food.  You haven’t had anything solid in you for weeks.  You’ll need your strength.  Do you speak Arabic?”

Lee nodded before he put a piece of bread into his mouth.

“Good.  Use it whenever you can.  I’m your doctor.  I will try to keep you in the clinic as long as possible.”

“I haven’t committed a crime,” Lee countered in a whisper.

“You’re a foreigner, found shot in the desert.  In this country, that is enough of a crime,” the doctor warned.  “Eat slowly; I will do all I can to help you, but that may not be enough for you to survive.”

Lee chewed on another piece of bread, washing it down with water while he thought about his fate.

*** *** ***

The doctor did a good job keeping Lee in the clinic.  It was apparent the man truly cared about his patients. The first time they tried to move him, Lee was instructed to feign dizziness.  The guards allowed him to stay.  Several more weeks passed before they came for him again.

Lee wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious, but he had counted over two months in the infirmary.  When the guards came a second time to take him to the general prison, there would be no ploy to keep him in the infirmary.  His eyesight had returned to normal, his headaches were gone, even his strength was returning.

The cellblock Lee eventually was placed in held only foreign prisoners.  Allegedly, the foreign section was less hellacious than the other sections of the prison.  If that was the case, Lee wasn’t sure, but his cell was terribly overcrowded.  Being the new man in the cell, he would have to sleep on the floor until a bunk was available.

Food was less than appetizing and not nearly enough.  Fights often broke out when their rations were given out.  Lee held his own, but it was grueling.  Despite how much he hated doctors and hospitals, he wished he were back in the clinic where life was more comfortable.  Most nights he went to sleep hungry and cold.

There were many languages spoken in the prison, mostly Arabic, but also, French, German, and occasionally, a word or two of English.  He kept to himself, not knowing whom he could trust.  Some inmates tried to beg extra food from the guards by turning in fellow inmates.

Days in his cell soon turned to weeks.  Weeks turned to months.  The cell was hot as an oven when summer approached and they sweltered in misery for months.  The stench at times was overwhelming.  Showers were infrequent; the conditions were horrid.

When the weather turned cold again, they shivered in their thin prison uniforms – there was no heat.  Christmas had passed without any ceremony.  Lee remembered the Christmas holiday he’d spent at Amanda’s house.  She served a traditional Christmas goose and all the trimmings.  The thought of the delicious smells and tastes filled his senses…  Then his stomach started to growl as if he needed a reminder about how hungry he was.  Shaking his head, he tried to force the cherished memories to the back of his mind.  Christmas wasn’t celebrated in Iraq.  It was just as well, there was nothing for Lee Stetson to celebrate.  The New Year was rung in with little change in his life.  It was hard to believe that he’d been away for over a year.

“I miss you, Amanda.  I love you so much.  I’m coming home to you.  I promise,” he whispered one night while he shivered, too cold to sleep.  He knew it was mid-February 1989 and they should have been celebrating their second anniversary.  Unfortunately, they hadn’t even gotten to celebrate their first.

His mind often wandered to thoughts of his wife, wondering what she’d been told.  Had Mara gotten out safely?  Was anyone trying to negotiate his release?  He had many questions, but nobody to answer them.  There was never a lawyer or judge to discuss a plea or a sentence.  Lee Stetson had no idea how long he was going to be stuck in this hell-hole or for what reason, assault, smuggling, espionage?

Lee couldn’t decide if the cold nights in the cell were worse than the hot ones.  He missed Amanda more when the weather was cold.  The thought of cuddling up with her in front of the fireplace at his apartment was enchanting.  He would remember the scent of her perfume and the feel of her soft hand in his.  When he opened his eyes, the memory would be besieged by his bleak reality, but the heat of the oppressive summers was almost unbearable.

***

The warm weather returned all too soon and tempers flared one particularly hot afternoon.  What started the brawl, Lee didn’t know.  Punches flew and there was no way to escape the dispute.  Blood spewed everywhere and before he knew it, Lee was amidst the fighting.  By the time the guards made it to the cell, two men were unconscious and they were all bleeding or had broken bones.

Lee Stetson had a split lip, and a swollen eye, but had come out of the fracas unscathed compared to the rest of his cellmates.  After a short visit to the clinic where he was cleaned up, he was then locked in an isolation cell for punishment.

Solitary confinement had been known to make a sane man go crazy.  Scarecrow remembered his Agency training and kept his mind alert.  Some days, he rebuilt the engine in his ‘Vette or changed its oil and the tires over and over again before taking it out for a spin on the track.  Other days he would remember turn by turn, the route from his apartment to Amanda’s house.   He’d recall the buildings, businesses, and houses along the way and try to recall what cars belonged in which driveways.  It killed the time and in a strange way, made him feel closer to his wife.  In many ways, the time in solitary was easier to tolerate than being stuffed in an overcrowded cell.

When he was reintroduced into the general prison population, there were fresh faces in the cell he was assigned to.  Again, Scarecrow was relegated to sleeping on the floor; however, this was something he became accustomed to.

The heat again was an issue that summer.  For a few weeks, the heat was so intense, men were collapsing, many died from it.  The smell was awful.  A new inmate was never welcome – it meant more heat, less food and the appalling stench.

It was an afternoon in late September.  The summer heat was beginning to wane when the door to their cell opened.  A man was forced into the cell and literally was pushed into Lee.

“Sorry, mate,” the tall, gangly man, with short, reddish blonde hair and a toothy grin said immediately when he was pushed into Lee Stetson.

Lee raised his brow, ever cautious of the new inmate.

“Do you speak English?” the man asked with a British accent.

“Yeah,” Lee whispered succinctly.

“Good.  I can’t speak a word of Arabic.  John Bainbridge.  My friends call me Jack.  Am I being too forward by saying it’s nice to meet you?”

Lee eyed the man suspiciously, but tried to ignore him.  There were few true friends in prison.

“You don’t say much, do you, mate?”

Lee realized the man wasn’t going to shut up so he answered in a whisper, “Lee, the name is Lee.”

“Been here long?”

“A lifetime.”

“American?” Jack asked while he studied Lee carefully.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Lee commented.

Jack glanced about the cell and at the other inmates.  “From the looks of things, I’m guessing I’ll be here a while.  I thought it would be a good idea to make a friend instead of another enemy.”

“Yeah, I’m American.”

“I’m from England.”

“I figured.  The Midlands?” Lee assumed from the distinct accent.

Jack nodded.  “Birmingham, England.  How did you know?”

“Your accent.  I had a friend from there.  Same accent.”

“Have many friends in England?”

“A few,” Lee replied brusquely.

“What are you in here for, friend?” Jack asked.

“Does it really matter?” Lee snapped, but he could tell from the other man’s reaction that Jack was unsettled by his answer.  In a quiet voice, Lee whispered.  “This is not a prison in the UK or the States.  The walls have ears and if you think you're being paranoid, you’re probably not.  Be careful who you talk to and trust.  Understood?”

“Can I trust you?” Jack asked.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Lee answered.

Jack was silent for the rest of the night, but stayed close to Lee in the following weeks.  Over the next few months, a tenuous friendship formed, more out of loneliness, than desire.  They rarely talked about their personal lives.  Lee was still wary of the other inmates, but both men needed a buddy, and something to cling to.  The drudgery of their predicament was starting to drive them both crazy.

The seasons changed again, and a new year was ushered in with no ceremony or celebration.  Lee and Jack stuck together, providing each other with the thread to make it another day.  When the cold weather came, the two men huddled together, in a futile attempt to keep warm.  They watched each other’s back while the other slept and protected one another when fights broke out.

The days began to get longer in the spring of 1990, which meant the temperature in the cell would again become like an oven.  One hot spring afternoon, Jack started to pick a fight with the biggest guy in their cell.  Before it turned into an all out brawl, Lee grabbed Jack and forced him towards the back of the cell.

“What the hell are you trying to do, get us both killed?” Lee snapped at his friend.

“I can’t take it any longer, Lee.  I’m hot, I’m thirsty, I’m hungry.  I can’t take this stench.  This is no way for a grown man to live; the rats live better than we do.”

“You have to find something to live for, Jack.  What about your wife?” Lee asked.

Jack shook his head.  ”We’re divorced.”

“Do you have kids?”

“A daughter,” Jack nodded, swallowing hard.  “Catherine.”

Lee heard the change in Jack’s voice.  Hope now crept back into his face replacing the vacant stare he had a few minutes ago.

“How old is she?” Lee pressed.

“This is June, right?”

Lee nodded.  “Sounds about right.”

“Catherine will be fifteen end of this month,” Jack admitted.  “I’ve been overseas most of her life, but I always send her flowers for her birthday.  This will be the first year…”

Lee’s heart went out to his friend.  He knew the feeling all too well. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “You’ll make it up to her, Jack.  We’re getting out of here.  I promise you; you’ll be home before she turns sweet sixteen.”

“Ever the optimist,” Jack commented, sighing heavily, but now, there was a little hope.  Then he asked Lee a personal question.  “Are you married?”

Lee nodded, a grin on his face grew, and he whispered her name.  “Amanda.”

“How long have you been married?”

His smile faded and a flat voice answered.  “A little over three years.”

Jack winced; he knew Lee had been imprisoned for almost that long.  Shaking his head he asked, “How do you keep going, mate?”

“She’s worth the wait.  I’ve never met a woman like her, smart, funny, beautiful...  Her hair is dark and silky, and she has the warmest brown eyes you could ever look into.  Her smile can light up a room…” Lee’s voice stopped, but the memory filled him with such pleasure.

“She sounds very special,” Jack replied.

“She is.  That’s why I keep going on - day after day, Jack.  What’s one more day?”

“And then another…”

Lee nodded. “We only have to make it through one day at a time.”

The long and hot summer continued on, and the guards were particularly vicious.  They often yanked a prisoner from their cell and physically tortured them for sport.  Sometimes, they were returned to the cell, their bodies mangled and spirits broken.  Most were never the same and many simply never came back.

When he didn’t think he could go on anymore, Lee Stetson got the thread of hope he needed that August of 1990:  Iraq invaded Kuwait.

“Why are you so excited about a war when you’re a sitting duck in Baghdad?  Besides, a little country like Kuwait is no match for the Iraqi army.  Does Kuwait even have an army?” Jack asked his friend.

“The world won’t sit idle.  They’ll counterattack.  They’ll topple this regime.”

“I hope you’re right, my friend, but when will that be?  It could be months or even years.  Hell, Iraq and Iran were at war for years.  Nobody cared.  Not to mention, we’re several hundred miles from Kuwait.”

Lee snapped.  The years of being cooped up without any chance of getting out overcame him.  He grabbed Jack by the neck and lifted him off his feet.  “I’ve had enough of this damn place!” he shouted at his friend.

Lee held the man off his feet, squeezing his hand tighter and tighter around his neck.  Jack’s face started turning purple; he was unable to breathe.  His eyes were bulging out of his head.  Suddenly, Lee realized what he was doing; his hand loosened his grip and returned his friend to the floor.

Jack gasped for breath and Lee pushed his way through his crowded cell to the bars.  Lee began bashing his head on them.  He wanted to die.  He couldn’t take it any longer.

“Lee, stop!” Jack shouted hoarsely while rubbing his sore neck.  He pulled Lee away from the bars. “Stop it, Lee.”

“Why?” he shouted back; overwhelmed with emotions.

Jack rasped out one word.  “Amanda…”

Lee stopped.  Tears flooded his eyes and he grabbed his friend and hugged him.  “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“We’ll get out of here, Lee.  Somehow…”

“Soon,” Lee whispered with renewed determination.  “Real soon.”

End part Five
 
 
 
 
 
 

Heartstrings
 

Part Six
 

Agency - Spring 1988

Amanda King was reluctant to leave the Q Bureau, feeling in many ways, that it was her last link to her husband and partner.   Billy Melrose however, had made his decision and Amanda decided to take her new assigned desk in the bullpen with an open mind.  The bullpen was noisy, fast paced and crowded, everything the Q Bureau wasn’t.  She missed the solitude that it had provided, but being around people kept her from brooding about the past.  Publicly, she put on a happy demeanor, but grieved for her husband in private, knowing the pain of losing him would take a long time to heal.

When she was called into Billy’s office one morning, she was taken by surprise at the turn of events.

“Amanda, have a seat; you know Denny Dinkens, don’t you?” Billy asked after she sat down.

Nodding, when Billy mentioned his name, she remembered him.  “Yes, of course, we met once before.”

“At the British Embassy, last year,” he reminded her.

”It’s nice to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Denny answered.  He was a big man, a few years older than she was and several inches taller.  He was slightly overweight and starting to bald.  His attempt at combing over his bald spot only made it that more obvious.

“Billy told me about you losing your partner.  Scarecrow was a good agent.”

“He was the best,” Amanda nodded.

“Have you thought about taking on another partner?”

Amanda glanced at Billy with alarm, then back at Denny.  She’d only met the man once and didn’t even know what department he worked for.  “I really haven’t given it much thought…”

“Denny has an opening in his department and was thinking that you might be interested in filling it,” Billy started to explain.

“How do you feel about dogs?” Denny asked.

“Dogs?” Amanda repeated.

“You’re not afraid of them, are you?” Denny questioned.

“I like dogs just fine.  When I was a little girl, we had a boxer.  That dog could drool…”

Denny interrupted her ramblings, patting her hand gently.  “Amanda, we need someone to replace Marcus Banks.  He’s retiring due to health issues.  He’s leaving at the end of the month.”

“Marcus is Sasha’s trainer; Sasha’s the bomb sniffing dog?” she questioned in alarm.

“She’s the one.”

“I like dogs,” Amanda repeated, but continued on with little enthusiasm, “But I don’t know the first thing about bombs or how to handle a bomb sniffing dog.”

“Carol, our other trainer, will teach you the ropes.”

“Bombs though?!  I um, I’m flattered, but I really think it’s too soon to think about such a drastic change in career paths,” Amanda answered.

“You aren’t responsible for defusing them, Amanda,” Denny reassured her.  “The bomb squad does that.  Your job would be to help Sasha detect them.  You know, at the airport, hotels and on other assignments…”

“I have to admit, it’s not something I ever thought about.”

“Unfortunately, I’m in a bind with Marcus being ill.  Carol and I can handle the workload for a few weeks, but we need to bring someone on quickly.  Billy, here, speaks very highly of you and tells me you’re very composed under pressure.  I think you’d be perfect for the job.”

“How many other trainers are there?”

“Other than myself, there’s Marcus and Carol.”

“I’d really like to think about it.”

“I can’t wait too long, Amanda.  I’ll need an answer by the end of the week at the latest,” Denny replied, putting his hand up on her shoulder.  “You see, it’ll take a few weeks to get you up to speed.  You’ll need to be introduced to Sasha and learn her routine.  It’ll take a few months before you’d be certified.”

“Certified?”

“Yes, it’s a requirement for the job.  Once you’re comfortable with Sasha, you can apply for certification.  You won’t be ready for the June certification.  That’s only six weeks away, but maybe, for the September class.”

Amanda was totally overwhelmed.  She glanced at Billy for guidance.

“Carol’s down at the kennel now, isn’t she, Denny?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Amanda, why don’t you call her and arrange to stop down there tomorrow morning before you come to the office?  I’m sure you could make an informed decision if you talked to her,” Billy suggested.

“I’ll do that.”

With some trepidation, the following morning, Amanda arrived at the kennel where Sasha trained.

“You must be Mrs. King,” Carol, a petite, blonde woman greeted her pleasantly.  “I hear you’re thinking about taking Marcus’ position.”

“Call me, Amanda.  I’m not sure about the job yet…”

“Amanda, I’ve heard so much about you,” Carol explained, tugging on her long blonde braid.

“About me?” Amanda gasped in surprise.

“Of course, you worked with Scarecrow; the only woman who could tame him.”

Amanda blushed, and stared at the younger woman, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry.  That was insensitive.  I heard he was killed on duty.  I’m very sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset you or embarrass you…”

“It’s all right.  He was a wonderful partner and I truly miss him.”

“Sasha’s a great partner.  You want to meet her?” Carol asked.

Amanda nodded and followed the other woman into the training yard where the dog was running around.

“That’s a big dog.  How do you handle her; you’re so tiny?” Amanda asked.

“She’s well trained.  She knows voice commands and hand signals.  My two year old could handle her.”

“Isn’t this a dangerous position, you know, working with bombs and explosives?” Amanda asked.

“Safer than the average field agent’s job; we don’t get shot at.  Sasha does most of the work.  Our job is to interpret what she tells us and keep her in good shape.  Why don’t you hang around and watch, while I put her through her morning routine.  After that, we’ll formally introduce the two of you and see what you think,” Carol suggested.

Amanda watched Sasha’s morning workout and was very impressed by her intelligence and abilities.  She studied how easily Carol handled the dog and the bond the two of them shared.  When the workout was complete, Carol brought the dog over to where Amanda was sitting and introduced them to each other.

“Amanda, this is Sasha.  Sasha, say hello to Amanda.”

Sasha presented Amanda with her paw.  Amanda shook her paw and then petted the dog.  Sasha barked and licked Amanda’s hand, before sitting down next to her.

“Well, I can see she already likes you.”

“She’s really well behaved.”

“What do you think?  Are you interested?  I have to admit, I’d love another woman trainer around here.  Women are better with animals than men are, despite what Marcus or Denny will tell you.”

“I was skeptical when Denny first asked me yesterday, but now, I have to admit, I’m rather intrigued.  How long before I could handle her?”

“A couple of weeks, you need to get to know each other.  Learn to trust one another.”

Amanda left that day feeling very drawn to the idea of becoming one of Sasha’s trainers.  She spoke with Billy Melrose the following morning.  After a long discussion, and a big hug, she went to her desk in the bullpen and called Denny Dinkens.

The next few weeks, Amanda trained day and night handling Sasha, the German Shepard.  There was a lot for Amanda to learn; hand signals, verbal commands, as well as learning the signals that Sasha gave when she’d ‘hit’ on something.  They both trained hard and were soon becoming a team.

It was a hot afternoon in June, when Carol called out to Amanda in the yard.  “Amanda, throw on a clean jumpsuit and harness up Sasha.”

“A training run?” Amanda asked, tucking a stray hair away from her face.

“We’re going to the Estoccian Embassy.”

“Is this for real?” Amanda asked again.

“We won’t know until we get there, Amanda!” Carol answered.  “I’ll meet you in the van.”

Amanda handled Sasha when they got to the Embassy.  She knew Carol was nearby, but was focused on what she was doing.  When Sasha signaled a ‘hit’ Amanda’s body started to tremble.  Remembering her training, she reached down and petted her.  “Good girl, Sasha.  It’s the package with the string tied around it,” Amanda whispered as she backed herself and Sasha away from the box in question.  “You need to evacuate the rest of the building.”

“You did really well,” Carol said when they loaded the van back up.  “You want me to drive?”

“You better.  I’m still shaking.  I was scared to death.  I kept hoping it was a false alarm.”

“They usually are.  I don’t remember anyone’s first call being the real thing, but you let Sasha do her job.  Remember to trust her.  To Sasha, they’re all training runs.  Let’s drop off Sasha and give her a treat, then you and I are going for a beer.”

”I could sure use one!” Amanda laughed.

It was a couple of hours later when Carol and Amanda sat in a bar, each sipping a beer, chatting and talking.  Amanda had finally relaxed and was enjoying herself for the first time in a long time.  Denny came into the bar and walked over to their table.

“Great job today at the Embassy.  Can I join your celebration?” he asked.

“Sure, pull up a chair,” Carol answered.

“Most recruits don’t end up with a live bomb their first time out.”

“That’s what I tried to tell her,” Carol laughed.  “But she didn’t believe me.”

“Since you seem rather comfortable with your new position, Amanda, I guess we better get you certified,” Denny replied.

“I better get going.  I have to pick up my son, Kyle, at daycare,” Carol said after glancing at her watch.

“Thanks for the drink, Carol,” Amanda said as her co-worker left.

Denny pulled his chair closer to Amanda and patted her on the back.  When the waitress came over with his drink, he picked it up and offered a toast.  “To Amanda King, my newest trainee.  I’ve got plans for you.”

Amanda drank to the toast, but felt a bit ill at ease with the way Denny was looking at her.  When her new boss was almost finished with his beer, Amanda decided it was time for her to get back home as well.

“I better get going, myself,” Amanda said as she started to get up.

Denny grabbed her arm, tightly and forced her back into her seat.  “Amanda, don’t tell me you have to get home so soon.  I happen to know your kids aren’t in daycare.  Have another drink with me.  It’s not everyday that you detect your first live bomb!”  Denny grinned at her.

Amanda flashed a fake smile back at him.  Denny leered at her.  Glancing at her watch, she argued.  “One quick drink; I do have to pick up the boys from soccer practice.”

When they’d finished their drinks, Amanda again started to leave.  “I really do have to go now.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Denny suggested.

“You don’t have to.  Stay and have another drink.”

Despite her suggestion, Denny got up, placing his arm around her back, much like Lee used to do and led her from the bar.  They walked to her car and before Amanda could get the door open, Denny’s lips were on hers; his overweight body was crushing her against the door.

Amanda pushed him away.  “Mr. Dinkens, I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Oh, no, Amanda, I’m fine.  I think we need to get to know each other a little better,” Denny Dinkens answered, his hands reaching out for her body once more.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.  You’re a married man.”  Grabbing his hands and forcing them away from her, Amanda opened her car door and slipped inside.  “Goodbye, Mr. Dinkens.”

The next few months, Amanda trained hard to prepare for her upcoming certification testing in the end of September.   Carol spent most of the time training her, except on rare occasions when Denny would step in.  Luckily, for her, there were no repeat performances by Denny.  Amanda had assumed that she’d made her point clear; she wasn’t interested in him.

The certification trials finally came.  Amanda felt she was ready, but she was still nervous.  There were about two dozen candidates being tested that day.  Most were from the various government agencies, FBI, DEA, and ATF, but also some police departments from around the state.

They were evaluated by a panel of judges on several different levels and competencies.   She was comfortable working with Sasha, and they did well in the morning practical.  Then, in the afternoon, the candidates were told they’d be randomly assigned a dog to go through the paces again.  When her turn came, she took her time, and carefully observed the dog she was assigned.  With Sasha, she was confident; with her assigned dog, Bear, she was worried.  The course was intense enough with a dog she was familiar with, but with Bear, it was particularly grueling.

When the day came to an end, Amanda was confident she’d passed, and would be certified.  The judges explained their scores would be mailed to the office within the next few weeks and those who were certified would receive their certificates within a month.

Amanda began to walk back to her car with Sasha, when she heard her name being called.

“Mrs. King,” the voice called out to her.

“Yes?” she replied, turning towards the voice that called.

“You’re a talented dog handler,” the man said.

“Thank you, but I have to give Sasha most of the credit.”

The man held out his hand to shake Amanda’s.  “Let me introduce myself.  I’m Ronald Holt, with the ATF.  You performed extraordinarily well.  You have a sixth sense when it comes to handling a dog.”

“Mr. Holt, it’s nice to meet you.  As much as I’d like to take the credit for my performance today, I again have to remind you, Sasha does most of the work.”

“Please, call me Ron.  Sasha is a great dog, and you’re a natural with her.  You also worked quite well with Bear.  He’s not the easiest dog to control, yet you handled him as if you’ve been working with him for years.  How long have you been working with Sasha?”

“Almost six months.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.  Normally, someone with only a few months experience wouldn’t have scored as well as you did.”

Amanda blushed.  “That’s nice of you to say, but how would you know the scores?”

“Because I was one of the judges, Mrs. King,” he answered and he handed her his business card.  “Any thoughts of leaving the Agency?”

“No, Ron, I’ve been there for quite some time.”

“In any event, keep my card.  If you ever find yourself wanting a change, please make sure I’m the first person you call.”

“I’ll keep it in mind…”

In the coming weeks, Amanda was on pins and needles waiting for her scores.  Each day, she’d check in the office to see if they arrived.  Finally, in the middle of October, the letter from the board was in her mailbox at the office.  She pulled the letter out of its slot and noticed immediately that it had already been opened.  A little perturbed that someone was peeking at what was private, she took it to her desk.  When she sat down, she removed the letter.

“I passed!” she sighed with relief, but then she glanced at the score – it was only an 80.

Then Denny came by her desk.  “I see you got your scores.”

“Yes, and I noticed the envelope was open.  Did you look at them?” Amanda questioned.

“Of course; I needed a copy for your six month review.  I thought you said you’d done rather well, Mrs. King.  A score of 80 is hardly commendable.  You needed at least a 75 to stay in the position.”

She nodded, somewhat deflated given what she was told by one of the judges that day.  “I thought I had done better myself.”

“All right, come into my office and we can discuss your strengths and weaknesses,” Denny suggested as he walked towards his office, “And if you wouldn’t mind, how about bringing me a cup of coffee.”

“Here you go,” Amanda said when she handed him his coffee mug.

Denny reached for his mug and then took Amanda’s mug and placed them both on his desk.  Without warning, he reached for Amanda’s other hand and pulled her to him.  “Come here, Amanda.  We’ve hardly spent any time alone together.”

She struggled to pull away from him, but his hold on her was quite complete.  He captured her lips with his and tried to draw her closer, into a passionate kiss.  Finally, she wrestled free and slapped him across the face.

“Mr. Dinkens, I thought I made myself quite clear.  I’m not interested.”

“Come on, Amanda.  Your act as the good little agent is old and I’m not buying it.  We both know you were bedding down Scarecrow.  I know the last time I came on to you was too soon after his death, but it’s time to move forward.”

“I don’t care what you’re buying, but I’m not for sale and my relationship, whatever it was with Lee Stetson, is none of your business!” she huffed indignantly as she started for the door.

“Come on, Amanda,” Denny answered as he hurried to the door, blocked it and then closed it.  “Do you really think I wanted another woman around here to fetch me coffee or to train Sasha?  There were a handful of people who wanted your position.  I picked you, because I figured if Scarecrow kept you around for so long, that you were probably good in bed.  It’s time to get back in the game.  I promise I can make your job here, very satisfying.”

“I’m plenty satisfied with my job as it is.  Now, if you’ll excuse me…” she tried to push past him, but he blocked her.

“Amanda,” he said, grabbing her hands tightly in his, “Your certification scores were less than promising, given the time you spent with Sasha.  I could easily dismiss you from the team.  If you’d like to reconsider my plan, we could do some remedial training to help you… improve.  Do you understand?”

“If I don’t sleep with you, you’ll fire me?”

He grinned at her; obviously pleased that she understood his meaning.  “Remember, you said that, I didn’t.”

“I could make a formal complaint…”

“Mrs. King, you were sleeping with Scarecrow for how long?  I’m a happily married man who’s been with the Agency for thirteen years.  My personnel record is unblemished.  I’ll just say that you were confused because of the emotional trauma you’ve experienced since you lost your partner.  Who do you think they’re going to believe?” he replied in a condescending manner.

“You make me sick,” Amanda spewed at him, as she struggled again to be free of his grasp.

“I’ve always wanted a feisty woman.”

Unable to stand him anymore, Amanda thrust her knee into his groin and Denny dropped to the ground, where he writhed in agony.  She pushed past him quickly and slammed the door.

*** ***

In the upcoming weeks, Amanda made every attempt to avoid being alone with Denny.  She enjoyed her job working with Sasha and Carol, but moments with Denny were tense.  When she was out in the training field, she would notice him at the window, ogling her.

The next few months were a living hell for Amanda.  If there was an event, which called for Sasha’s skills on the weekend or at night, she always seemed to be assigned to them.  If they had an emergency call at night, Denny made sure Amanda had to take it.

When the holidays approached, it only got worse.  Thanksgiving Day, just when she sat down with the family to eat, the phone rang - another emergency.  The last straw was on Christmas Eve, when Denny was supposed to be on call.  Somehow, he wasn’t available and she had to handle the situation.  She couldn’t go on working day and night.

After the holidays, she went to see her old supervisor, Billy Melrose, for some fatherly advice.  “Happy New Year, Mr. Melrose.”

“Happy New Year, Amanda,” Billy greeted her with a warm hug, “I can’t believe it’s 1989.  Where did another year go?”

“They seem to fly by so quickly now, Sir,” she agreed.  “How was your holiday?”

“It was very nice.  So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked.

“Sir, I’m a little uncomfortable speaking to you about this subject, but I’m having a little trouble with my boss.”

“Denny!  Really?”

Amanda nodded.  “I think I’ve gotten on his bad side.  He keeps scheduling me for evenings, weekends and holidays…”

“You are the newest member of his team, Amanda.  You’ll have to do some of the nights and holiday work.  You know that.”

“Sir, I worked Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve.  I don’t want special treatment.  I only want equal treatment.”

“Perhaps he’s wants you to have the experience.”

“It’s not just that, Sir, there are other issues.  Denny can be very demanding in other ways,” she started to explain, but didn’t go on.   If she couldn’t get Billy Melrose to understand the real problem, she knew nobody else would believe her word over Denny’s.

“Have you sat down and talked to him about it, one on one?” Billy suggested.

She sighed heavily, knowing the results another one on one visit with Denny would bring.  Filing a formal complaint against Denny Dinkens wouldn’t do anything but exacerbate the problem.  “I haven’t talked to him about this specifically.”

“Would you like me to speak to him for you?”

“NO!” she gasped.  “No, Sir.  I’ll handle it myself.  You’re right.  I need to talk to him.  I think I’ll do it today.  It was good seeing you again.”

“It’s always good to see you, Amanda,” Billy replied as she got up and headed for the door.

Amanda drove back to the training facility and went in search of Denny.  She’d had enough.  She was good at her job; he had to acknowledge that and give up his personal crusade against her.

“Denny, can I speak with you?”

“Certainly, Amanda, come on into my office,” he grinned pleasantly as he walked down the hallway with her.  “What’s on your mind?”

“I think you know, Denny.”

“Have a seat, Amanda,” he requested as he closed the door.  “Is there a problem I’m not aware of?  Something bothering you?”

“Denny, I’m tired of working every night, weekend and holiday emergency that comes up.  I don’t mind pulling my fair share around here, but I seem to have taken the brunt of the calls over the holidays and every weekend beforehand.  I do have a family and I’d like to spend some time with them,” Amanda explained in a cool voice.

“All you need to do is say the word, Amanda.”  His response came in a sickeningly sweet tone.

“If you don’t abandon this crusade against me, I’ll be forced to submit a written complaint to your supervisor.”

“Now, why would you do that?” Denny knelt down beside her and turned her face toward his.  Ever so gently, he brushed his lips against hers.  “I promise you, Amanda, you’ll never regret the time we spend together.”

Amanda slapped his face.  “Forget it, Denny.  I’d rather work every night and every weekend for the rest of my life, than ever sleep with you.”  Then Amanda pushed him away and stormed out of the office.

“You bitch, if you think your schedule was a nightmare before today, just you wait…” he called after her.

Later that week, she made a lunch appointment with Ronald Holt.  Although she did enjoy working with Sasha and Carol, she refused to work with the likes of Denny Dinkens.

“Mr. Holt, thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” Amanda greeted him when the ATF agent came into the restaurant.

“I was pleasantly surprised to hear from you, Mrs. King, and please, call me Ron.”

“Only if you call me, Amanda.”

“So, Amanda, are you seriously considering leaving the Agency, or are you up for a promotion and want bargaining power?”

“I’m interested in other opportunities outside the Agency.  You were kind enough to ask me to call you first, so I did.  Tell me why I want to work for The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms instead of the DEA or the FBI?”

“Working for ATF, you can make a real difference in the lives of regular people.  I’m not saying that your work for the Agency isn’t important, but there, you protect the elite members of society: royalty, the rich and famous, and of course, national secrets.  Our office protects real people, the ones in your neighborhood - the families. Amanda, you’re a mother of two boys, who lives in Arlington and works inside the Beltway.  Think about it.”

“I see you did your homework on me,” Amanda commented.

“You impressed me from the day we met and trust me, that’s not an easy thing to do.  You’re a natural.  You could communicate with your dog on a different level.  I want you on my team.  So, what’s it going to take?”

“No references, no background checks?” Amanda teased, but secretly, she wanted to know if he’d be concerned about the complaint she intended to make about her boss.

“You work for the Agency now, Amanda, so we both know your background is squeaky clean.  Billy Melrose is an acquaintance of mine; I mentioned I met you at the trials.  He speaks very highly of you and your abilities.  Besides, you scored a 97 at the certification trials and that included working a dog you’ve never met before.”

“A 97!” she gasped.

“Didn’t you see your scores?”

“They were put in my personnel file.  I knew I passed,” Amanda replied, stunned by the revelation that her scores had been altered.

“Denny always was a little backhanded,” Ron mumbled.  “If you come to work for us, you’ll be assigned a dog – full time.  They don’t stay at a kennel at night; you’ll be provided a crate, but the dog lives with you.”

“My sons would love that.”

“Remember, he’s not a pet, but a working dog, like Sasha.  We prefer to have them living with their trainer.  We cross train some of our dogs for bombs and drugs.  Most have a specialty, but sometimes, it comes in handy.”

“Should I fill out an application or what’s the procedure?”

“We’re always hiring qualified candidates.  You can fill out the paperwork whenever you want to start, Amanda.  Give me a date and I’ll be waiting for you in front of the building with your ID waiting.”

“Seriously?” she asked.

Ron Holt held out his hand.  “Welcome to the ATF, Amanda King.”

Amanda’s mind was made up.  That night, she wrote a letter of complaint outlining the sexual harassment and threats Denny had made against her and she sent it to the personnel office.  It wouldn’t do her any good, she realized, but if he did it again, he could be stopped.  Two weeks later, Amanda King was the newest member of the ATF.

End Part Six
 
 
 
 
 

Heartstrings...
 

Part Seven
 

February 1989

The first day at her new job, Amanda King was made to feel very welcome by her co-workers.  Their facilities were larger than the Agency’s kennel and more modern.  It had an inside training area for the cold, wintry days and an outside training facility.  Ron Holt showed her around and introduced her to the people she’d be working with.

“I’m impressed,” Amanda said with relief and excitement.  “This place is a lot bigger than we had at the Agency."

“Our facility here is state of the art; it needs to be.  Our role in the DC area is multifaceted and essential. Come on,” they walked into the kennel and stopped at a run that held a yellow Labrador retriever.  Ron said, tilting his head to the side, “I want you to meet your new partner.  He’s a bit on the young side, but I doubt you’ll have any trouble handling him.  His name is ‘Luke’.”

“Hi, Luke,” she greeted, patting his head.

“Why don’t you put a harness on him and let him accompany us, while we finish the tour?  When we’re done, you can put him through his paces; see what he needs to work on.”

“Come here, Luke,” she called and he came right out, and licked her hand. Harnessing up her new partner, they continued the tour and she met the rest of the crew at the facility.

Training with the ATF proved to be pleasant, but hectic in the first few weeks.  Amanda was happy she had made the transition and when winter turned to spring, her life soon began to fall into a routine.  For the first time in a long time, Amanda felt less alone than she had since Lee had died.  Again, she enjoyed the time she shared with her family.  The boys loved having a dog in the house and only had to be reminded occasionally that Luke was not a pet, but a working dog.  Working for the ATF gave her confidence and a feeling of self worth. Although nothing could ever replace Scarecrow, Luke proved to be an excellent partner.

***

Autumn 1989
 

“Amanda, you’re still up!” Dotty exclaimed excitedly, when she returned home, well after midnight.

“I was grooming Luke and I fell asleep on the couch.  How was your dinner date?” Amanda asked, yawning and stretching.

Dotty flashed her left hand in front of her daughter’s face.  “Sweetheart, Curt finally popped the question tonight!”

Amanda studied her mother’s hand, now sporting a rather impressive diamond ring.  “Oh my gosh, Mother, it’s gorgeous!  I’m really happy for you.”

“It’s something else, isn’t it?”  Dotty boasted.  “He even got down on his knee, and you know at our age, we’re not always certain we can get up.”

“You’re terrible,” Amanda laughed and pulled her mother into a hug.  “Have you set a date yet?”

“We don’t want to wait too long, but Christmas would be too soon, don’t you think?  It’s barely two months away.  I think Valentine’s Day would be so romantic.  I wonder what day it falls on next year.”

“Wednesday.”

Dotty glanced at her, a surprised look on her face.  “Are you sure, dear?  I was really hoping it would be near the weekend.”

“I’m pretty sure of it,” Amanda answered, remembering that she and Lee were married on the 13th back in 1987, so Valentine’s Day was on a Saturday that year.

“You have such a good memory for things like that, Amanda.  You always have.  What do you think?”

“I think Valentine’s Day is a lovely choice,” she smiled as she whisked a stray tear from her eye, hoping that her mother wouldn’t notice it.

“Now, don’t get all mushy on me, Amanda King.  I’ve been underfoot here long enough.  You and the boys don’t need me around anymore.  Anyway, the boys will be fighting over who gets my room in the morning.”

“You’ve never been in the way here, Mother, I hope you know that.  I don’t know what I would have done without you and I’m not only talking about when the boys were little,” she whispered, trying to keep her sudden, melancholy feelings repressed.

Dotty slung her arm around her daughter.  “I know I was welcome here, darling, but it’s time for us both to move on.  Besides, I’m only moving across town, sweetheart, not out of the state.  I’ll only be a phone call away.”

“I know, but we’ll miss you all the same,” Amanda said.

“And I’ll miss you too, sweetheart, but it’s time for me to move on with my life.”

“You’re right, of course,” she answered, hugging her mother.  “I hope you two will be very happy.”

“Thank you, now, it’s late; you better get to bed.”

“You’re right.  I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” Amanda answered, as she stood up, called for Luke, and went up the stairs to bed.

***

February 1990
 

The night before the wedding, Dotty was remarkably calm.  Amanda was distant.  “Penny for your thoughts,” Dotty called out to her daughter after the boys had gone to bed.

“Hmm, Mother, what did you say?”

“You seem rather preoccupied, sweetheart.  I’m the one getting married tomorrow.”

“I’m trying to make a mental list of everything that needs to get done tomorrow,” she answered.

“Are you sure that’s it?  You seem a little down,” Dotty questioned.

“I’m going to miss having you around the house.”

“Amanda, I’ll miss you, too, but I’m ready to move on with my life.  Maybe it’s time you do the same.”

Amanda glanced at her mother, not sure what she meant.

“You’re a wonderful mother and probably the most loyal agent the ATF has ever had, but there’s more to life than work.  Phillip will be going off to college in a little over a year; Jamie won’t be far behind.  Where’s that going to leave you?” Dotty wondered aloud.

“I’ll finally get to sleep in late and stay in my PJ’s until noon on the weekends!” Amanda joked.

“You need to get out.”

“I get out plenty.  I take Luke to the park every weekend…”

“Amanda, when I say go out, I mean without the dog,” Dotty replied, rolling her eyes.  “He’s a great companion, but it’s time you found a life outside of this house again.  Lee would want you to.”

Hearing his name, Amanda swallowed hard and tears flooded her eyes.

“I thought there was more to this than me getting remarried,” Dotty sighed.

“Mother, you don’t understand…”

“Don’t I?” she retorted, tilting her head slightly.  “Amanda, I buried a husband once.  I know you and Lee weren’t married, but you were planning on it.  In some ways, that might have made it harder on you.  I know how much you loved each other.”

“He was a very special man,” Amanda whispered, wiping a tear from her eye.  She couldn’t share with her mother that today was her third wedding anniversary.  Most days, she could cope with the emptiness, but on certain days, it was hard.

“And you’re very special, too.  It’s been two years, Amanda.  You’ve got to let him go.”

“Mother, I’ll love Lee Stetson until the day I die.”

“I know that.  I’ll love your father until the day I die, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love again.  It’s different with Curt than it was with your father.  It’ll be different for you.  You’ll see,” Dotty remarked.

“All I want now, Mother, is for your wedding day to be special.”

“It will be, sweetheart, thanks to you.”

The next day went off without a hitch.  The boys escorted Dotty down the aisle of their small church to an impatiently waiting Curt who looked more dapper than ever in his tuxedo.  The reception, held at Curt’s country club, was elegant and lovely.  The night was over before Amanda realized it and she was hugging her mother and new stepfather goodbye.

“Mother, it was a beautiful wedding.”

Dotty hugged her daughter tightly.  “Oh, darling, it really was.  Thank you so much for everything.  I’ll talk to you when we get back.  I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mother,” Amanda called out while the car driving her mother and Curt pulled out of the parking lot with streamers and soaped up windows announcing that they were ‘Just Married’.

***

The spring bloomed early that year and Amanda kept busy at work and at home.  Without her mother to help with cooking, cleaning and keeping the boys on schedule, Amanda found herself running day and night.  School let out of for the year in late May and Amanda put the boys to work doing a lot of chores to help around the house.  She was surprised at how much they actually did help out, without her constant prodding.

When Iraq invaded Kuwait in August of 1990, there was little notice given to it at the busy King household.  Everyone was thinking more of September, when school would start again.  Amanda was relieved that Phillip could now drive so he could help out with running errands around town.  None of them were aware of the changes that would again be thrust into their lives in the coming weeks…

Amanda was walking into the office with one of the other agents, when they met their boss.  “Paige, Amanda, I need to see you in my office,” Ron Holt requested when she arrived at the office with Luke.

“Sure thing, Ron,” Amanda answered with a polite smile.  “Let me put Luke out in the yard for some exercise.”

A few minutes later, Amanda and Paige knocked on Ron’s office door and were surprised to find another agent, Ryan, already in there.  “Did you want us to come back later?” she asked.

“No, this concerns all of you.  Please, come in and have a seat,” he motioned.

Amanda and Paige sat down, glancing at each other, not sure what was going on.

“Sorry for the short notice; you’re probably aware that US Military forces have already started building up in Saudi Arabia now that Iraq has invaded Kuwait.  I got a call yesterday afternoon from the Department of Defense.  They want our cooperation in providing trained dogs for the military.”

There was a collective groan in the room.

Ron Holt held up his hands.  “I know, I know.  I don’t have much choice in the matter.  We all know the facts; our dogs could save a lot of lives by detecting bombs that our troops won’t see.”

“How many dogs are they requesting?” Ryan asked.

“We’re providing them with five, two non-assigned field-ready dogs from our kennels and each of your dogs.”

“Our dogs?” Paige repeated in dismay.  “When are they going?”

“Friday,” Ron answered.

“That soon!” Amanda gasped.

“I’m afraid so.  They want the soldiers assigned to the dogs to spend some time with them before they get shipped out.”

“Will we get our dogs back?” Amanda forced out, not sure, she wanted to know the answer.

“A lot of that depends upon how long it takes to free Kuwait.  In the meantime, I have arranged for each of you to start training with new dogs.  Paige, you’re being sent to Baltimore to train with a dog that the PD has there.  Ryan, you’re going down to Atlanta, our office down there has a dog that’s available.  Amanda, you’re going to be sent to Quantico, the Marines have a dog there.”  Ron Holt handed each of them a file.  “Your assignment details are in there.  These dogs, for the most part, will be ‘green’.  Be patient with them and good luck.”

That night, Amanda told the boys the bad news.

“They’re taking Luke?  They can’t do that, can they, Mom?” Jamie complained.

“I’m afraid they can,” Amanda replied, sadly.

“What will he be doing in Kuwait?” Jamie asked.

“Same thing he does here.  You know Luke is a highly trained animal.  He can help detect bombs and save lives of our troops.”

“What kind of dog is the new dog going to be?” Phillip asked.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.  I won’t find out until I meet him or her on Monday.”

“This really stinks,” Jamie grumbled.  “I’m going to miss him.”

“Me, too.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with you 100%,” Amanda nodded, blinking back tears at the thought of losing Luke.

Friday came all too soon.  In the morning, Phillip and Jamie gave the dog a big hug before Amanda loaded him into the car.  They were too old to cry in front of her, but Amanda knew they’d miss the dog almost as much as she would.  When she took Luke into Ron’s office, she was holding back tears.

“Bye, fella, I’m really going to miss you.  You come back home, fast and safe,” Amanda whispered into the dog's ear as she knelt beside him.  Giving him one last hug, she turned away and hurried out of the office.
 

******* ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* *******
 

September 1990

Amanda arrived on the Marine base at Quantico, Virginia, a few minutes before 8 AM.  It was a cool day for September when she arrived at the field where she was to report to Major Mackey.  Walking across the parking lot to the field, she noticed the group already assembled with their dogs.  The Major looked like the recruit poster for a Marine:  well built, he stood tall - at least six two, clean shaven with a short military haircut.  Amanda guessed at his age to be mid-thirty’s.  The rest of her class was made up of Marines.  She would be the only civilian and the only woman.  Before she could introduce herself, his voice bellowed loudly and made her jump.

“Mrs. King, I presume?” he asked in a deep baritone voice.

“Yes, you must be Major Mackey,” Amanda replied as she started to walk towards him with her hand extended to shake his.

“In the future, Mrs. King, the class would appreciate you being on time, with your partner.”

“I was told to be here at 8:00 o’clock…”

The Major interrupted her. “The class starts at 0800 hours.  You’re expected to be here, with your dog, at 0800.”

“I’m sorry, Major.  I have yet to meet my new partner.”

“Corporal Byrd, would you please escort Mrs. King to the kennel.  On the double!”

The Corporal snapped to attention, shouted, “Sir, yes, Sir,” and nodded for Amanda to follow him as he marched in double time towards the kennel.

Amanda swallowed hard and rushed after him.  “Not exactly getting started on the right foot, am I, Corporal?”

The Marine didn’t answer her, only marching double time, towards the kennel, leaving Amanda struggling to keep up.  When they arrived at the kennel, Corporal Byrd held the door for her and walked her down the kennel, which had only one dog remaining inside.  The name King/Montezuma listed on the card on the front gate.  Inside, a black Labrador wagged his tail happily at the visitors to his run.

“Mrs. King, this is your dog,” he nodded.  “The harnesses are down at the end.  I’d hurry and get him back to the field.  The Major isn’t in the best of moods this morning.”

“Yes, I noticed that.  Thank you… Corporal, we’ll be down shortly.”

Amanda hurried and got the dog’s harness on and called out to him.  “Come on, Montezuma… No, I think we’ll call you, Monty.”

The dog's ears perked up and his tailed wagged.  “Sorry, fella, no time for pleasantries right now.  I promise we’ll get to know each other better, real soon.”

The remainder of the day went no better than the beginning.  Ron Holt had warned them all that the dogs they’d be training might be inexperienced.  Monty knew the basic commands, sit, stay and come, but when Amanda introduced him to the agility course, he quickly lost his concentration.  When the dog was off-leash, it took Amanda a while to gain his attention and refocus him.

“Mrs. King,” Major Mackey roared for the umpteenth time that afternoon.  “Please get your dog under control.”

“I’m trying, Major,” she gritted out in frustration while trying to get Monty to sit still long enough to put his leash back on.

“All right, tomorrow, we will be working on going from one skill to the next on the agility course in a timely manner.”  The Major’s dark brown eyes glared at Amanda, stressing the word timely.  “That will be all for today; you’re dismissed.”

Amanda bent down and scratched Monty’s ears.  “Tomorrow will be a better day, won’t it, fella?  Come on; let’s go home so you can meet the boys.”

“Mrs. King, where are you going with that dog?  The kennel is in the other direction,” Major Mackey snapped coldly.

“Yes, but my car is parked over there,” she pointed to the parking lot.

“Mrs. King, that dog is not leaving the base until you can handle him.  Considering your performance today, that might not be for a while.   The dog's behavior and your obvious failure to control him, might suggest a bad match.  Perhaps you should drop out of the class and wait until a more suitable animal is available.” His tone was condescending and his disgust was quite apparent in his face and body language.

“With all due respect, Major, Monty is a young and untrained dog.  It’s going to take a few days before we’re both comfortable with each other.  The more time I spend with him, the sooner that will happen.  Certainly, you know that,” Amanda countered, detesting the way she was being treated.

“Get here earlier tomorrow morning then and plan on working with your dog before class officially begins.  I’m not running a remedial dog training class.  Please feed and water Montezuma when you get him to the kennel,” he ordered, his dark eyes glaring at her.

Amanda sighed unhappily, not wanting to start an all out battle with her instructor.  “I’ll have him up to speed soon.  I’ll look forward to taking him home over the weekend.”

“We’ll see, Mrs. King,” the Major replied, then turned on his heels and walked away, making clear that the subject was not up for additional debate.

Over the next couple of days, Amanda got up early and arrived at the kennel at least an hour before class started.  She spent time with Monty on the basic commands, worked him on the agility course and struggled with him on the obstacles that daunted him the most.

By midweek, Monty was starting to respond to Amanda’s voice commands and followed her hand signals.  Yet, Major Mackey still seemed to find fault with everything they did.  When Friday afternoon came, Monty’s abilities had reached those of the other dogs in class.  He tore through the agility course with speed and poise, often fastest in the class.  No longer was he distracted by the various sounds and sights around him.

“All right,” Major Mackey called out in his deep voice.  “We’ve made some improvement this week.  I expect to see more of the same next week.  Make sure the dogs are cooled down before they’re kenneled for the evening.  You’re all dismissed.”

Amanda clipped Monty’s leash on his harness and started the walk back to her car.  “OK, fella, tonight, you get to meet the boys.”

“Mrs. King, where are you going?” the Major called out to her once again.  His voice was clearly annoyed.

“You said I could take him home once I could handle him.  Certainly, I’ve proven that in the last few days.”

“I said, we’d see.  The dog still needs more training,” he answered portentously.

Before Amanda could protest, the Major had turned and headed up to his office.  Amanda walked Monty around the kennel to cool him down before she fed and watered him for the night.  She was seething inside.  There was no viable reason to keep the dog separated from her all weekend.  She waited until Monty had eaten, then put his leash back on and went in search of Major Mackey’s office.

She knocked on his office door and waited for a reply.

“Come,” he called out, and then when he saw who it was, his tone changed.  “Mrs. King, what are you doing here and why isn’t that dog in the kennel?”

“Sit, Monty, stay!” she commanded with a firm voice before venturing into the Major’s office.  “Sir, I’m a little frustrated by your behavior.  Monty and I have worked hard all week, yet, you seem to pick up on every minor flaw that he exhibits.  There are other dogs in the class, who have behavior issues or other infractions on the agility course, nevertheless, you overlook them and single out Monty.  I’m starting wonder who has the problem, Monty or you!”

“Mrs. King, I’m running a training class for nine dogs.  If I’ve singled you out, it’s only in the hopes to improve your abilities as a dog handler.”

“Are you suggesting my dog handling abilities are sub standard?” she asked guardedly.

“You said that, not me,” he replied.

The last time someone said that to her, it was Denny Dinkens, who threatened to fire her if she didn’t sleep with him.  She took a long breath and then answered as calmly as she could manage.  “Sir, I know we’ve gotten off on a rocky start, but I have a job to do and that’s to get Monty trained and ready to work in the field.  If you don’t like me, that’s fine, but don’t hinder our training.  Do your job and I’ll do mine.”

The ire in his face was apparent.  When he got angry, his brown eyes seemed darker and his usually pale face, turned bright red.  “You’ve already gotten in the way of my job, Mrs. King.  In order to accommodate you in this class, I had to drop a highly qualified Marine from the roster.  We’re preparing to fight a war overseas.  I think that’s a bigger issue than how I may or may not like you or the way you handle your dog.  My concern is only for the war effort.”

Amanda wasn’t about to back down.  “Major, for your information, I’ve already given one highly trained animal to the war effort.  His name is Luke, a yellow lab with a dual certification for bombs and drugs.  He is nationally ranked - one of the best.  I am currently a certified handler for the ATF and expect to return to field duty with a qualified dog.  Monty and I will do our part and I expect you to do yours.  It’s in Monty’s best interest that he comes home with me for the weekend and that’s exactly what I intend to do.  Have a nice weekend, Major.”

Amanda didn’t hesitate.  She called Monty to her side, picked up his leash and left the building.  It was time for Monty to meet the rest of the family.

***

The next few weeks were demanding, but went quickly.  Major Mackey continued to work them hard, but his constant haranguing of Amanda and Monty had subsided.   Monty had bonded well with Amanda and although Luke was more astute, Amanda knew with time and experience that would change.

“All right, you will each pull a number from the hat.  That will decide the order you’ll test in this morning.  If you and your dog don’t score high enough, you’ll have one opportunity to retest this afternoon.  Everyone who passes my exam today will be scheduled to take the certification test next week.  Any questions?”  Major Mackey asked and looked up at the small group.

“What happens if we don’t pass your test?” one of the Marines asked.

“I strongly recommend that you don’t allow it to come to that,” he warned his trainees before he passed the hat along the group.

“What’s passing?” another Marine questioned.

“This is a pass/fail exam.  Either you perform at or above my standards, or you don’t get to take the certification test next week.  I will not allow anyone to impugn my reputation in training.  Is that clear?”

The group nodded.  There were no further questions.

Amanda was the third one to pick a number.  She reached into the hat and pulled out a piece of paper.  When she opened it up, she immediately grimaced.  She’d picked out number one.

Once everyone had picked from the hat, the Major called out.  “Who’s first?”

“I am,” Amanda answered.

“All right, Mrs. King, come with me.  You’ll get your results when you’ve all been through the course.”

Although Amanda had confidence in her own abilities, she was slightly on edge during the mock exam.  She tried her best to hide her nerves so Monty wouldn’t pick up on them.  They handled the agility course with ease.  Next was the test for locating bombs.  Amanda walked slowly and observed her dog shrewdly and before she knew it, they were done.

When the last trainee had finished the exam, they waited for their scores.  Finally, Major Mackey came inside the kennel where the group had assembled.  He looked less than pleased.  Suddenly, Amanda wasn’t as confident as she had been.  Had she gone through too quickly and missed something?  She reached down, patted Monty’s head and took a deep breath.

“I’m surprised at this group.  We’ve spent a great deal of time over the last few weeks training hard.  I thought I had prepared you well.  I thought you were ready for certification.  What I didn’t realize is you would all pass with flying colors.  Congratulations to you all.  You’re dismissed.”

The following week, she took Monty for certification.  Monty performed admirably and she knew he’d qualify.  In the meantime, she introduced him to her co-workers at the ATF and got back into the daily routine.  She wouldn’t miss the long commute to Quantico or the hectic schedule the training demanded, and most of all, she wouldn’t miss her maniac instructor - Major Mackey.
 

End Part Seven
 
 
 
 
 

Heartstrings...
 

Part Eight

October 1990

Autumn brought additional change to the King household.  Phillip was now driving and had picked up a part time job at ‘The Burger Barn’ to help pay for his car and expenses.  They had eaten early so Phillip could get to his job and Jamie had gone upstairs to work on his homework.   Amanda was busy in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner dishes when she heard the doorbell.

“I’ll get it, Mom,” Jamie shouted, while he raced down the stairs.  A few moments later, he hurried into the kitchen.  “Hey, Mom, there’s a big guy in a Marine uniform at our front door.  Is that the guy you called Major Maniac?”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” Amanda warned with a finger to her lips.  “Where is he?”

“On the front porch.”

Amanda hurried to the door and glanced out the window.

“Is it him, Mom?  Is that Major Maniac?”

Amanda nodded.  “Yes, it’s him.  Now, scoot, before he hears you.”  She waited until Jamie was out of sight and she opened the door.  “Major Mackey, what are you doing here?”

“I was at the Pentagon for a briefing and was given the class’ certification letters.  They were instructed to send Monty’s to the ATF, but it was inadvertently put in with the other ones.  I thought since I was in the area, I’d drop it by.”

“Why, thank you, Major, that was very thoughtful of you.”

“Please, call me Scott.”

“All right, Scott, would you like to come in for a few minutes?”

He hesitated for a moment.  “No, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner…”

“Actually, we’ve already eaten.  I was just cleaning up.  Have you eaten yet?”

“Um, no, but…”

“It’s nothing fancy, only spaghetti and meatballs, but I’ve got enough leftover for one more plate,”

“No, really, I don’t want to be a bother…”

“If you don’t eat it, it’s going to get thrown out.  Traffic to Quantico, at this hour makes a long ride, Major, unless, of course, you don’t like spaghetti?”

“I like spaghetti just fine, Mrs. King.  Thanks.”

“Come on in, and it’s Amanda.”

Amanda brought Scott a plate and sat down with him.  She watched him eat heartily and when he finished, he smiled at Amanda.

“That was terrific.  It’s been a long time since I had a home cooked meal.”

“I’m glad you liked it, but it’s barely a home cooked meal.  With my son’s hectic schedule, I don’t get very creative during the week.”

“I usually eat at the mess and that’s not always the most appetizing.  Spaghetti and meatballs hit the spot, thank you.”

Amanda laughed.  “You’re more than welcome.”

“Mrs. King, Amanda, I wanted to stop by and apologize to you in person.  I should have apologized sooner.  You were right; I treated you poorly from the start of training.  The circumstances of you being there wasn’t your fault.  I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Apology accepted, Scott.  Besides, you being hard on me and Monty only made us a better team.”

Scott wiped his mouth with his napkin; folding it neatly, he placed it next to his plate.   Smiling awkwardly at her, he stood up.  “I hate to eat and run, but I better get a move on it.  I’ve got some work that needs to get done early tomorrow.”

Amanda got up and walked him to the door.  “Thank you, again, for dropping off the certificate.”

He paused at the door before he left.  “Amanda, I came over here to apologize and ended up eating a lovely dinner.  Would you allow me to take you to dinner one night, to thank you properly?”

“Uh, well, it’s really not necessary,” she replied, surprised at his request.

“I promise you, I’m not a maniac.”

Amanda blushed a deep shade of crimson.  “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’ve been called much worse.  Have dinner with me and see for yourself.  My bark is much worse than my bite.”

“All right, Major…Scott.  Sure.”

“How’s Saturday night?”

Amanda thought about it for a moment.  “That should be fine.  My sons will be with their dad for the weekend.”

“There’s a nice restaurant in Alexandria that serves the best steaks.  It’s on the casual side, but it has nice atmosphere, unless you’re a vegetarian...”

“Steaks are fine.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at seven,” he replied before he turned and walked down the sidewalk, back to his car.

Amanda closed the door and shook her head.  “I must be crazy.”

*** ***

When Scott’s car pulled up out front of the house on Saturday night, Amanda was still questioning why she agreed to go out with him.  He got out of his car and started walking up to the front door; Amanda stared at him from her vantage point, in the upstairs window.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered out loud, noticing his dark hair and broad shoulders filling out the tailored shirt that he was wearing.  In the past, the Major had always worn battle fatigues.  “You certainly are a handsome man.”

The doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts.  A quick glance in the mirror brought a nod of approval for her appearance.  She hurried down the stairs in an ocean blue, short sleeve dress.  She wore a tailored jacket over it, that made it look more suitable for the cool evening, suggesting casual, but stylish.

“Hi,” she greeted when she opened the door.

Scott’s dark eyes brightened at the sight of her, obviously pleased with her appearance.  A broad smile washed across his face.  “You look… lovely.”

She blushed, realizing she’d never seen him smile like that before.  “Thank you.  It’s nice to see you in something other than fatigues as well.”

“I’m sorry to admit it doesn’t happen very often these days,” he answered almost embarrassed by the fact.  “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she nodded, grabbing her purse; he took her arm and escorted her to the car.

The ride to the restaurant was a short one and, although, the place was crowded, Scott had made a reservation and they were seated in a few minutes time.  After ordering drinks, they both stared at each other in silence.

“I’m not very good at this,” Scott confessed.  “I don’t go out on dates very often…”

Amanda coughed at the word ‘date’ and tried to cover, by clearing her throat.  Taking a deep breath, she nodded.  “Breaking the ice is always the toughest part of the evening.  Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

“Me, I’m not very exciting, I’m afraid.”

“Are you from Virginia… originally?”

“No, I was born and raised in Colorado.  Even went to college at Colorado State.”

“What was your major?”

“Pre-vet,” he answered.

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be.  My grades were less than impressive, which is why I never got into veterinarian school.”

“So, what did you do when you graduated?” Amanda asked curiously.

“I joined the Marines,” Scott answered, chuckling slightly.  “What about you?  Are you from Virginia?  Where did you go to college?”

“Yes, I was born and raised in Virginia.  I went to UVA and majored in American Literature with a minor in Photo Journalism.”

“I see that’s a direct career path to the ATF!” he grinned.  “I have to admit, after our brief discussion in my office, I did read your file, but it didn’t explain how you ended up there.”

“Oh my gosh!  It’s complicated to explain,” she sighed heavily, thinking about how she got to this point in her life.

“How about the condensed version… for now?”

Unsure of where to start her explanation, she chose a simple answer. “I was looking for a job after my divorce and ended up working for the Agency as a civilian – you know, typing, filing, stuff like that.  On occasion, I was given low level assignments, doing drops, light surveillance or a last minute ‘date’ for an agent.  One thing led to another…”

“You worked for the Agency?” he gasped.

“I thought you knew…” she whispered.  “Wasn’t it in my file?”

He shook his head.  “I wondered why you had a security clearance higher than mine.  Half your file was blacked out.”

“I worked for the Agency for over five years, eventually ending up as a field agent.  My partner was sent overseas without me,” Amanda paused for a moment and took a deep breath.  In that moment, she realized she had never talked about Lee to anyone but her mother since his death.  She cleared her throat and attempted to continue on, but her voice was tight.  “He was killed on an assignment.”

“Amanda, I’m really sorry.  I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful memory.”

Swallowing hard, she shook her head.  “It’s all right.  Lee Stetson was a wonderful man, a great partner.  I really miss him.”

“So, that’s why you left the Agency?” he surmised.

“That’s one of the reasons,” she answered.  “After he died, I was assigned general duties; a mix of field assignments and desk work, but without Lee, things weren’t the same.  One day I was asked if I’d like to learn how to handle, Sasha, the Agency’s bomb sniffing dog.  They had an opening in their department and I obviously needed a change.  It wasn’t until almost a year later that I moved to the ATF.”

“Why the switch?”

Amanda thought about the real reason she moved on: Denny Dinkens’ lecherous hands and thinly veiled threats.  She wasn’t comfortable enough with Scott to share that personal information with him.  “I happened to meet Ron Holt from the ATF.  He said I had a sixth sense when it came to working with animals.”

“You do.”

“I don’t know about that.  I just pay better attention than other people.  Anyway, I liked what Ron said about the ATF and what they had to offer.  Their department is bigger than the Agency’s, so I’d get hours that are more flexible.  With two teenage boys, I needed that.  At the Agency, I’d only get the leftover hours nobody else wanted.”

Scott winced at the word before he cleared his throat.  “Boy, I feel like a heel now.”

Amanda wasn’t following his chain of thought.  “Why?”

“Did you ever wonder how you ended up with Montezuma?”

“I assumed Monty was the dog assigned to me.”

“It was the dog nobody else wanted.  You called me a maniac…That dog was a maniac!  His attention span was nonexistent.  He’d take after a squirrel, a rabbit, whatever caught his eye,” Scott started to explain; his voice filled with remorse.  “Monty wouldn’t listen to anyone, unless you were alone in a room, without any distractions.  Then, he was a great dog.  If you hadn’t taken that dog, he was going to be scrubbed from the program.”

“So, there wasn’t another highly qualified Marine who was dropped from the class?”

“No,” he answered, glancing down, at his silverware.  “Amanda, I’m really sorry…”

She stared at him.  “Then it’s a good thing he was assigned to me, huh?  Monty is a perfectly fine canine.  I guess it was the people working with him that had some problems.”

“You’re not angry?”

She looked away for a moment, and then answered.  “Disappointed, I guess, but not angry.”

“You’re a better person than I am,” he admitted guiltily.

“It is going to cost you, though,” she replied, now studying her menu.

“How’s that?”

“I was going to order a petite cut, but I think I’ll order the king cut and give Monty the leftovers.”

“I think I’m getting off rather easy,” Scott answered as he smiled.

“You’re right about that,” Amanda replied, nodding to the man across the table from her.  There was something about him, though.  He made her feel more comfortable than she had in a long while.

Dinner was delicious, the conversation flowed freely and the evening went by in an instant.  Before she realized it, he was driving his car up to the house on Maplewood Drive.  Scott got out, helped her out of the car before he walked her to the door.

“Thank you for dinner, Scott.  I really enjoyed it,” she said in a warm voice, then held up her doggie bag.  “And I think Monty will enjoy it, too!”

“I had a nice time as well.  Perhaps we can do it again sometime.”

“Maybe.”  She nodded and then they stood awkwardly staring at each other for a few moments.  Amanda leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.  “Goodnight, Scott.”

Scott took her one hand into his and squeezed it tenderly.  “Goodnight, Amanda.”

Amanda unlocked her door and quickly slipped inside, closing it behind her.  She pulled back the window curtain and sighed while she watched Scott as he walked back to his car and drove away.

***

Amanda was working undercover with Monty, near the finish line for the Marine Corp Marathon.  They were scouring the area for any bombs.  It was a sunny day, and she blended in with the rest of the spectators who were cheering on friends or family as they finished.  There was a gentle tap on her back and she turned to see who it was.

“Major!” Amanda gasped.

“I thought we got past the Major thing?” he replied, disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Scott.  I didn’t know you were running in the race.  How’d you do?”

“I finished in just under three hours,” he answered as he continued to walk so he wouldn’t tighten up.  “This is a great course.”

“Congratulations.  I’ve never run a marathon.  If I ever did, this would be the one,” she answered, keeping pace with him.

“Perhaps I could talk you into running next October?” he suggested.

“Maybe,” she smiled.

“You’ve told me maybe twice now.  So, maybe to you, means no?”

“I didn’t say that…”

”But I never heard from you after our dinner last week.”

“I never heard from you either and you have my phone number.  You never gave me yours, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving a personal message with your secretary.”

“Good point,” he answered.  “Does that mean you might like to go out with me again sometime, perhaps next Saturday?”

“No…”

“No, you wouldn’t want to go out with me again, or no, you can’t next Saturday?” he questioned.

Amanda continued to walk with Monty, Scott followed closely behind them.  “If you had allowed me to finish, I would have told you that I have plans for next Saturday.  Perhaps some other time?”

“Is that your polite way of brushing me off?” he asked with a raised brow.

“No, I really have plans for next Saturday,” she answered with a shrug as she continued to watch Monty, not giving her full attention to Scott.

“Would you please stop for a minute!” he requested, reaching out for her arm and holding her still.

“I’m supposed to be working,” she nodded towards Monty who was busy sniffing the ground and the people nearby.

“It might help your cover if you talked with one of the runners.”

“I see your point.  Monty, sit,” she commanded and then patted him on the head.  “Good boy.”

“Would you be available on Saturday, if I told you I have two tickets to the Kennedy Center?”

“I’m sorry, but no.  I really do have other plans for next Saturday.”

“Can’t change your plans?” he pressed.

“Scott, I’d really enjoy going to the Kennedy Center with you, but it’s too late to change my plans now.”

“Do you have another date?”

“Your persistence is a little annoying,” she answered, not wanting to discuss it with him any further.

“Amanda, I have two tickets, in the third row, center stage, at the Kennedy Center.  They’re for the road show of ‘Gypsy’.  That doesn’t happen every day.  I’d really like to take you.  Can’t you change your other plans?”

Shaking her head.  “No!  If you must know, I have to go to the shooting range and practice and Saturday is the only day I have off next week.  I need to re-qualify on Monday, and to be perfectly honest, I’m a lousy shot.  If I don’t qualify, I’ll be suspended and before you ask, I’m already on my third extension.”

“You can’t be that bad a shot.  You obviously qualified before.”

“My old partner, Lee, helped me get through it the last time.  I practiced almost every night for a week with him,” she explained, swallowing hard.  “He’s not around…”

“I have a meeting at the Pentagon on Tuesday.  What if I picked you up after it and coached you a bit?  I’ve helped a lot of people qualify before,” he advised her.

“I don’t know…”

“What do you have to lose?  I bet in a couple hours you’ll be shooting just fine.”

“I’m a lousy shot.  A couple of hours probably won’t cut it.  I was planning to spend most of Saturday at the range.”

“Then I’ll come up again on Thursday night after work, if necessary.”

“That’s a long drive to teach someone how to shoot.”

“You said your job depends upon it.  I think that’s a good reason,” he countered.  “I’ll make you a deal; if I don’t have you shooting well enough before Saturday, you can spend the whole day at the firing range.  But if you are, you come with me on Saturday, to the Kennedy Center.”

“You’re serious?” she asked.

He nodded.  “What do you use… to shoot?”

“A Beretta.”

“That’s a good size for you.”

“Yeah, Lee thought so, too,” she answered with a faint smile.  She wished he was here to help her get through qualifications.  “I’m really not good with it.”

“We'll see about that.”

“All right, I’ll see you on Tuesday night.”

***

Tuesday evening, Amanda stood in the shooting range staring at a bull’s eye target, which was only 25 feet away.  Scott was standing behind her.

“I can hit the target when it’s that close, but it’s going to be farther away when I qualify,” Amanda reminded her coach.

“Let’s build up your confidence a little.  Let me see your technique and see where you need help,” he explained, handing her protective goggles and ear plugs.  “Take your time.  Pull the trigger slowly, but steadily.”

Amanda put on the safety equipment and took up a position in the lane she was assigned.  Scott stood behind her, watching and waiting.  After she unloaded her clip, they hit the button, calling the target to examine it more closely.

“That’s pretty damn good,” Scott said when they examine the target.  “You’ve got most of them in the bulls’ eye.

“Like I said, 25 feet isn’t the problem.”

“All right, we’ll move it down to 50 feet and see how well you do.”

Again, Amanda put on her safety gear and reloaded her gun.  Taking a deep breath, she started to shoot.  When they examined the target again, it was clear that her aim was definitely off.

Sighing heavily at the sight of the target, she glanced at Scott, a frustrated look on her face.  “See what I mean.  At 25 feet, I don’t have a problem; ask me to shoot something 50 feet away, and I can’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

“You closed your eyes after you took your second shot,” he explained, examining the two holes in the target.  “Your mechanics are sound, Amanda.   Whoever taught you to shoot was good, but you need to relax.  I promise it’ll come to you with practice.   Now let’s try it again.  This time, with your eyes open.”

“How could you tell my eyes were closed if you’re behind me?” she challenged.

“You dropped your head and tightened up your shoulders.  That’s why you missed the target.”

Amanda practiced for a couple of hours that night.  Each time, Scott would make suggestions and try to build up her confidence level.

“All right, Amanda.  That’s it for tonight,” he said when they examined another target.

“But I’m still not shooting well enough to qualify…”

“We’ll work on it again on Thursday night.  You’ve made significant improvement tonight, but I can tell your arm’s getting sore.  When’s the last time you came to the range?”

“It’s been a while…”

“How long is a while?  A couple of months…”

Shaking her head, she turned away.  “It’s been longer than that.”

He chuckled at her.  “Amanda King, how often do you put Monty through his paces?”

“A couple of times a week,” she started to say and he was shaking his head at her.  “I know, I know, but I don’t like guns.”

“You don’t have to like your weapon to learn to use it well.  I shoot ‘expert’, but I’ve never had to use it to kill anyone.  I just want to know, that if the time ever comes, I’ll be the one left standing.  Pack up your weapon and let’s get out of here.”

Thursday night, Scott met Amanda at the shooting range.  Again, he had her working on the bull’s eye target at 50 feet.

“You’re doing much better,” he commented after examining the target.

She afforded him a small smile.  “My consistency is improving.”

“I think you’re ready to switch over to the silhouette target.  This time, I want you to aim for the chest.”

The look on her face was not of confidence.  “How about I aim to hit it?”

He shook his head.  “You’re selling yourself short, Amanda.  You can do this.  I’ve watched you hit the other target with ease.  They’re going to use the silhouette target at your qualifications, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you want to be just as comfortable with it, as you are with the bull’s eye.  Now get back up there and remember what we talked about – and don’t you dare close your eyes!”

She laughed, which helped break the tension.  “All right, but don’t expect miracles.  I’ll be happy if I qualify.  I don’t anticipate shooting ‘expert’.”

The first time she shot at the silhouette target was less than impressive, but with continuing practice, she was definitely getting better.  As the night wore on, the majority of her shots were going where Scott told her to aim them.

“You’re doing really well, Amanda, let’s call it a night.”

“I just might make it through qualifications on Monday, thanks to you,” she answered, while she began to pack up her equipment.

“Just to be sure, I booked a couple of hours for you on Saturday,” he advised her as they walked out to the parking lot.

“What about the Kennedy Center?” she asked.

“I’ve booked you in for two o’clock.  The play’s not until eight.  That’ll give you plenty of time to do both.”

“That means you’d have to drive up here twice in one day.  Do you really want to drive I-95 twice on a weekend?”

“I could meet you here at two and bring a change of clothes for afterwards.  We could have dinner out, before the show…”

“Or I could make you a real, home cooked meal,” she offered, a warm smile on her face.  “What’s your favorite dish?”

“My favorite?” he asked and she nodded.  “Lasagna, but that’s a lot of work.”

“I think you deserve it.  Thanks for all your help,” she answered, giving him a kiss before she ducked into her car.  “See you Saturday.”
 

End Part Eight

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