“Yes. My family’s got a ranch outside Palouse, on the Palouse.”

She smiled at his phrasing. “That’s quite a drive to here. Do you do it often?”

“Once a year,” he said flatly, pointedly.

“On this day,” she said softly, and it wasn’t a question. “Tell me, does the trip bring you any absolution, in your mind?”

His gaze sharpened as he stared at her. Then he nearly laughed at himself. He should have known Quinn would marry a sharp, smart, perceptive woman. “No. Not an iota.”

“No one demands as much penance from us as we do from ourselves.”

“No amount could make up for Amanda losing her father.”

“No. Nothing can.”

Something that had come into her voice made him say, “You know, don’t you?”

She nodded. “My father was also a police officer. Killed in the line of duty when I was sixteen.”

His eyes closed and he let out a weary sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Unlike with some who say that but know nothing about it, I believe you.”

That made his eyes snap open. “I—”

He broke off as something moved on the edge of his vision. He looked that way. It was a dog, heading toward them at a run.

“Uh-oh,” Hayley said. “That dog I mentioned? He’s really smart. As in open the truck hatch smart.”

“He’s yours?”

“Uh-huh. And,” she added as the animal rapidly covered the ground between them, “he’s apparently on a mission. Quinn?”

She called out the last, and her husband turned to look. But instead of being upset or worried that the dog was loose, he looked only interested.

Adam watched as the animal slowed to a trot now that most of the distance separating him from his people was covered. He looked like he’d be about knee-high to him, and his coloring was rather distinctive, mostly black over his head and shoulders and a sort of russet tan from there back to a very full, plumy tail. He greeted Hayley with a quick swipe of his tongue over her fingers, and she stroked his head. But then she, as Quinn was doing, just waited.

The dog stopped in front of Adam, sat and looked up. The animal’s gaze was so intense it was a bit unsettling. He wasn’t sure if he should try to pet the dog or not, but then a wet nose nudged his hand. His right hand. He gave the animal a tentative stroke. The dog leaned into it, in a way that somehow eased the turmoil in his mind, and unknotted his gut. He stared at the animal, a little stunned at how much better he felt. Even his elbow, aching a bit in the December chill, felt better.

“Meet Cutter,” Hayley said softly. “The four-footed member of the Foxworth team.”

“And perhaps the most indispensable.”