Chapter 12
Maggie Valley, NC
22 December 2010
George Martin
WHEN THE CALL was over, I said, “That soup is probably cool now. Help yourselves, then you can tell us—and my tape recorder—your story.”
“I’ll go down and get the tree while they eat,” Mike said. “I don’t want to miss this one.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“Can I help, Daddy?” Robbie said.
“You sure can, kiddo,” Mike said. “Come on.”
Thor started to get up, and I said, “Thor, stay. You’re not invited.”
He gave me a mournful look, then lay back down on his bed.
“That’s one well-behaved Irish Setter,” Sean said.
“Yeah,” Paul said. “A kid next door to where I lived once had one, and that dog wouldn’t mind for anything.”
“Thor’s had a lot of training. He’s even had K-9 training with one of our guys in the department.”
“Really?”
