Trained To Protect. Linda O. Johnston
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into many of the aspects of training them and getting them officially qualified to provide that kind of help. Thanks to all of you, in particular Karen Saunders and Bonnie Schroeder, who provided lots of answers to my many questions.
And thanks, too, to the K-9 officers who have also answered my recent questions or given demonstrations of how those wonderful K-9s work—most especially Officer Maribel Feeley of the Glendale Police Department’s K-9 Unit.
Thank you all!
Of course, as before, Trained to Protect is a work of fiction, so if anything seems untrue that’s because I’ve modified reality to fit the story.
And, as always, many thanks to my wonderful editor, Allison Lyons, and my fantastic agent, Paige Wheeler.
Like Second Chance Soldier, Trained to Protect is dedicated to all dogs and those who train and work with them, most especially police and military K-9s...and therapy dogs and their handlers.
And, as I always do, I dedicate this book to my wonderful husband, Fred, as well as our dogs, Mystie and Cari, who in their ways are my therapy dogs.
Contents
Elissa Yorian stepped through the door into the Chance Coffee Shop and looked around.
This was her first time in Chance, California, and she was eager to see how this meeting turned out. If things went well, she could land a part-time job teaching people to train and work with therapy dogs. And giving lessons at a really renowned facility. Therapy work was something she loved, and she’d been doing it for a long time.
This place appeared like nearly any chain shop that specialized in coffee drinks, with a counter where patrons could place their orders and a long glass-fronted display case with food inside. It was noisy with conversations from the many people sitting at small tables, a busy place, which wasn’t surprising since it was nearly lunchtime. Elissa had planned her drive well from her home in San Luis Obispo—sometimes referred to as SLO. It had taken her nearly forty-five minutes to get here, with traffic, as she’d assumed.
Depending on the schedule of classes she’d hold, her commute wouldn’t be especially fun if she landed this job, but her commitment would only be part-time.
And it would be worth it.
She remained at the doorway, searching through the crowd. She knew from the Chance K-9 Ranch website and other online resources what Amber Belott looked like. That didn’t mean she would recognize her, though, in all the faces of people sitting at tables, talking, sipping their drinks and munching on pastries and sandwiches in this place filled with the aroma of coffee.
No, she would rely on what Amber had told her in their telephone conversation yesterday. For one thing, she’d watch for a woman in a Chance K-9 Ranch T-shirt. Amber owned the ranch along with her mother and, from all Elissa had read online about the noted dog training facility,