Free Guaranteed Justice by MA Comley

well over the few years she had known him. But that was nothing to the permanent scars the Taliban had left him with on his chest and stomach. The Taliban had been brutal when they had tortured him, publicly flogging his front instead of his back. The bastards were always trying to figure out ways of upping the pain they dished out to their victims.
    “We’ll see. Maybe if the PI business takes off, we can consider hiring a full-time handyman, because I sense that all this land is going to be a full-time job to look after in itself.”
    “We’ll see. Not regretting buying this place, are you?”
    Tony mimicked the way her mouth had turned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll be fine once I can get the hedges trimmed back. What’s up, anyway? You’re not your usual chirpy self.”
    “Fiona just rang. The police aren’t interested in Linda’s case.”
    “We thought that would happen. Did you tell her what your intentions were?” he asked, leaning on the axe in front of him.
    “No. I’d like to see their faces when I do that. I just wanted to check if you had any plans for this evening. Only I said I’d drop Blackie off around six. I’d like to stay there a little while to help settle him in and talk over the PI aspect with the girls. That’d mean either an early or late dinner for you and Dad.”
    Tony shrugged. “Suits me. You could pick up fish and chips from the chippie on the way home.”
    She laughed. “You better get cracking and start burning off some excess calories, then.”
    Lorne spent the rest of the afternoon exercising the dogs, cleaning out the kennels, and gathering Blackie’s food, bowls, and a selection of toys, getting him ready for his temporary home.
    At five thirty, she and Blackie set off in the van to the girls’ flat. She observed the dog in her rear-view mirror. He was panting excitedly, happy to be out of his kennel and eager to get to their destination. As she got the dog out of the van she said, “You’ll be good, Blackie. For a few days, at least. Maybe longer, who knows?”
    Lorne pushed the buzzer.
    Fiona opened the door. The first thing she did was to crouch down and give Blackie some fuss, which was good to see, from Lorne’s point of view. One down, two more to go.
    Lorne handed the leash to Fiona and closed the front door behind her.
    Linda approached the dog with a tiny bit of trepidation, but once the dog licked at the sores on her face, she fell in love with him.
    Ami, however, was a different story altogether. Whether it was a cultural issue or something else, Lorne wasn’t entirely sure. Didn’t they eat dogs in China? Only that morning, Lorne had received a Facebook message from Charlie, urging her to sign a petition to put a stop to the fur farms in China, where the poor creatures lived their whole lives in cages and were skinned alive, then dumped on a heap to die the most horrific of deaths.
    She shook the sickening image from her mind and continued to watch Ami’s interaction—or lack thereof—with Blackie.
    Fiona prompted Ami to stroke Blackie. “Go on, Ami. He won’t hurt you.”
    Lorne wasn’t keen on the idea of Ami being forced into something she didn’t want to do. She walked over to stand beside Ami and beckoned the dog. She felt and sensed the fear emanating from the young woman. “Ami, can you look at me? It’s obvious you’re scared of Blackie. Give me your hands.”
    Ami looked at Lorne as if she had just escaped the local asylum.
    Lorne smiled reassuringly as the other woman placed her hands lightly in hers. “Good. Now copy me. Breathe in deeply, and let it out extra slowly. Keep your gaze locked on mine.”
    Ami did as instructed. The intense anxiety the woman had been suffering from visibly slipped away.
    That was, it slipped away until Blackie jumped up and hooked his paws over their arms. Ami squealed and ran to the sofa. Lorne hooked her fingers through Blackie’s collar to prevent him from chasing Ami.
    Fiona gave