He nodded as he yawned. "I know you will. You wouldn't let a dog be given less care than he deserves even if neither of us got any sleep."
"We can say no," she said quietly. "Most of the time a dog won't do that. You know they give until they can't give any longer." She closed the door behind her and strode toward the first-aid tent across the camp. There were only a handful of people on the site at this hour. A mechanic working on the crane. A woman clerk sitting at a desk in the makeshift morgue going through rec ords. A few soldiers standing outside the first-aid tent. The twenty-four-hour-a-day drive and bustle had ended, and the mood was quiet, somber. The canine rescue part of the operation was winding down, and they only had one more day of work before they went home. The handlers and dogs were sleeping, trying to rest their bodies as well as their dogs so they could function efficiently in the morning for one more push, one more effort. She hoped Gracie would get a good sleep. The greyhound was always restless on a search and rescue, and she liked to be in the same room as Devon. But the dog knew Nick and Devon had no choice. She had to help Phil's Lab and probably Phil himself. He'd need someone to talk to and comfort if the Lab was badly hurt.