They Were Watching for Danger. She Was Watching for Cause.

Mercer watched Rex circle and settle into a down position on the west side of his run, facing away from the north wall. It was the first time in fourteen days he had voluntarily lain down during daylight.

"Your file," Mercer said. "It says handler trauma conditioning. Active combat conditions."

"Yes."

"You've seen dogs come back from worse than this?"

I thought about that honestly. "Some of them," I said. "Not all of them. The ones who come back need someone to find the cause first. After that, they do most of the work themselves."

Mercer nodded. She looked at Kilo, who was watching our exchange from his enclosure with the cautious attention of an animal deciding whether the current situation was safe enough to begin allowing to be safe.

"How much more time do you need?" she asked.

"For the acute stabilization? Two more days, maybe three. For full rehabilitation protocol, you'll need a dedicated handler relationship rebuilt from the ground up. That's months."

"Do you consult for military facilities?"

I looked at her.

"I work at Callaway Regional," I said. "ER."

"I know what your badge says."

A pause settled between us that was not uncomfortable. It was the pause of someone waiting to see if a door was going to open or stay shut.

"I have a research protocol I've been developing," I said. "On environmental stressor identification in working K9 units. I've been trying to get access to a military facility to run it for two years."

Mercer was quiet for a moment.

Then she said, "I'll need to review the protocol."

"I would expect nothing else."