“Where all hardened criminals hide,” Pru joked.
“Finnie and I will follow him, and you stay here. With Tor. And the doxies.” She shoved the leashes into Pru’s hand. “There’s money for your lunch. Oh, and watch the men’s bathroom.”
“Excuse me?” Pru asked on a dry laugh.
“Watch for two men who will be coming out,” Agnes said. “One is about forty, with kind of hard, squinty eyes and a gray sweatshirt. That’s Sammy. The other is very tall and large, wearing a navy blue jacket.”
“With a bulge,” Finnie said, leaning in to whisper, “’Tis his ghost.”
The kids shared another look, just enough of a spark in their eyes to tell Agnes they weren’t taking this seriously.
But Santa was almost completely out of the food court area, and there was no time for another word of explanation or persuasion.
“I’m going after him,” Agnes announced, pushing a chair and anything else out of her way.
“Then I guess I am, too,” Finnie said, right behind her.
“Gramma! Yiayia!”
But Agnes didn’t wait to hear the rest or even turn when Gala panic-barked. After all the nice things Aldo had texted her this week, she was not going to just shrug and walk away.
If he was a criminal, then she was a fool.
If he was innocent, then she wanted to prove that.
Either way, she wanted to know the truth.
Chapter Seven
Pru dumped her backpack on the table as she sat, letting out a sigh. “Something tells me we are not really going to win the RACK IT UP contest.”
“Winning’s important to you, isn’t it?” Lucas asked, smothering her in that intense gaze as he took a seat.
“I like to…achieve,” she said, certain a guy like him would think that was completely lame. “I mean, it’s better than losing.”
“Guess it depends on what’s at stake.” He dropped his chin on his knuckles, looking hard at her. “Popularity? College? Attention? Validation? What ticks your boxes, Pru Kilcannon?”
Besides you? “Bancroft,” she said softly, making him frown. “My last name is actually Bancroft.”
“I’m sure I heard you called Pru Kilcannon at school.”
“You talked about me to other kids?”
He leaned in a little, a smile deepening those dimples. “No, I don’t talk to anyone, if you haven’t noticed. But I heard about you. We’re in a class together, remember?”
“But Mr. Thorgrim doesn’t use my last name.”
He shrugged. “I notice things about people who…attract my attention.”
“Oh, that’s…” An unexpected and unwelcome thrill danced through her, fluttering some of those butterfly wings. Dang. And she was just getting comfortable with him. “Interesting.”
“You want to know why?”
Kind of more than anything. But she managed a shrug as she reached to open her bag, desperate for a distraction. “Probably because I’m the obnoxious kid in class who knows all the answers. Oh, look what I found. Dog treats.”
Gala barked, Pyggie lifted his head, and Tor took two steps closer, so tall that he was almost eye to eye with her.
“Can I?” she asked Lucas.
“Of course.”
She broke a Milk-Bone for Pyggie and Gala to share, then took out a whole one for Tor. “Can you sit?”
Lucas snorted. “All he can do is R-U-N.”
“Ahhh. Well, let’s learn to sit, okay?” She held the treat under his nose. “Down.”
He stared at her but, to his credit, didn’t try to eat it.
“Don’t they train them with commands when they turn these dogs into racers?” she asked.
“He has commands. I just don’t know them.”
“Oh, like a Schutzhund,” she said. “My uncle Liam trains German shepherds as four-legged bodyguards, and they have words that only they know. That way, a bad guy can’t call your dog off, only you can.” She studied him again, holding the dog’s gaze, which was as magnetic as his owner’s. “So you’ve never said a particular word, and he immediately stopped what he was doing?”
He shook his head. “I just say ‘down’ and ‘stop’ and ‘oh crap, don’t do that.’”
She laughed. “Well, we can try to give him new words. He’ll be a breeze to train.” She broke the Milk-Bone into three small pieces, then lowered a piece all the way to the floor, her grip on it tight, holding Tor’s gaze. “Down, Tor.”
After a second, he lowered his head toward the treat, but she held it back.
“Down, Tor.”
“All the way, dude,” Lucas said, encouraging him with a pat on his backside.
“No,” Pru said. “The trick is to only use one word. The same word. And don’t give him the treat until he does what you want on that word. Watch.” She lifted the treat closer to his nose, the lowered it again. “Down, Tor.”
After a second, he got down, and this time, he brought the rest of him along. Then Pru opened her hand and let him eat the bite from her palm. “Good boy!” she exclaimed. “Now let’s do it again.”
She repeated the whole process, finishing the Milk-Bone and half of another. After five straight successes, she pushed the remaining portion across the table to Lucas. “You try.”
He took it down to the floor. “Down, Tor.”
“Look into his eyes,” she said.
Tor hesitated, but then lowered his whole body to the ground, getting the treat.
“That’s good but he wants the treat,” Lucas said, still obviously skeptical. “Not sure he’s trained.”
“Give it five minutes, then he gets a test.” She gave Tor’s head a good rub. “How long have you had him?”
“Not long at all. I just got him right before I left LA, and he was barely living in a house before that when my…” He swallowed. “My friend…” He shook his head.
Whoa, this girl had had an impact on him. “So you haven’t had much time to train him,” she said quickly, to help him out.
He gave her a quick, nearly imperceptible smile of gratitude. “No. And I don’t know anything about his racing days or how old he is. Probably two? Maybe he raced, maybe he was retired because he couldn’t win. There are thousands of greyhounds that need homes now that racing is being outlawed in most states.”
“Thank God,” she said. “It’s inhumane. We’ve had a few come through my uncle’s business, and they’ve all been sweet. Not quite this, uh, high-spirited, though.”
He smiled down at Tor, who was resting again. “He’s either on or off. There’s no in-between.”
“And when he’s on,” she joked. “Mall madness.”
He laughed. “Don’t even say that.” They held each other’s gazes for a second, then another, and suddenly…butterflies.
“So why do you have two last names, Pru?” he asked, the genuine interest in her making a few of those flying creatures dive-bomb. “’Cause your mom remarried?”