Becca focused her attention back on the man with the gun, noticing he had removed his finger from the trigger. He understood trigger discipline, the sign of a man with military or weapons training. You only put your finger on the trigger if you intended to fire. She wasn’t sure whether to be comforted by this fact, or terrified.

He glared at her, loosening his grip ever so slightly, Freud whimpered, straining to get close to Becca. “Freud. Stay,” she said emphatically, hoping for once he would behave. He cocked his head, seeming to sense the impending danger, and sat at attention.

“I ain’t no dog thief. I told Ash I didn’t want trouble, but the damn girl begged and pleaded for me to return this damn dog to her mom. Gave me fifty dollars to make it happen.”

Becca wasn’t sure what was more upsetting, that Ash took Freud or that she left him behind with this stranger. She could worry about the why later. Right now she needed to earn this man’s trust.

“What’s your name?” Becca asked, hoping to build a rapport. Her question caught him off guard.

“Why the fuck does that matter?” he asked.

She ignored his cursing. “I’m Becca Ortiz. Ash’s foster mother.”

He looked startled. “You’re the one Ash said to call. I ain’t no liar. I was giving the damn dog back. I just needed to locate a phone.”

“I believe you. I really didn’t mean to scare you. This is all a misunderstanding,” Becca said.

The man tensed, his hand already trembling under the weight of the pistol.

“I ain’t scared. Been on these streets for damn near twenty years. That’s why I keep my good friend with me at all times,” the man said, gesturing to the gun. “You gotta protect yourself out here. Didn’t used to be like that. Folks used to leave you alone, especially if they knew you’d served your country. Not anymore. There’s no honor. People are always trying to fuck with you.”

“I’m not trying to do anything to you. I swear to you. If you put the gun down now, we can figure this out together.”

“I don’t know you. Why would your word mean jack shit to me?”

“Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He shrugged. “Shit, everyone’s gotta go sometime. If this is my time, so be it,” the man said, shifting his stance ever so slightly to take the pressure off his foot. Becca made a quick mental note.

“I’m a psychologist.”

“Then you’re just as fucking crazy as I am,” he said.

“Listen, I work with the police, and so far you’ve done nothing here you can’t come back from. Just put down the gun.”

“You asking me to trust the five-oh? You’re a real fucking riot, lady.”