EPILOGUE
I HUNG UP THE PHONE and looked at the bodies scattered around me. “All right, you mangy mongrels, get off me and let me get up. I have to go find your daddy.”
“I’m right here,” Walker’s voice rumbled from the kitchen, the door slamming behind him. I pushed Searcher the greyhound off the pad of paper that lay next to me on the couch, digging through the blankets to find the pen I had been using before the call. Walker loomed up on the doorway in his black leather duster, pulling his gloves off as he eyed us. “You look comfortable. You were right about the sofa—it does go well with the house.”
“Farm,” I corrected, wrinkling my nose when the elderly spaniel curled up against my hip emitted a sign he’d been into the compost heap again. “We have a farm, thanks to your winning the to
