by Sam Cheever
Caphy barked once and burrowed into me. That was when I saw the glistening red on her shoulder. “She’s hurt!”
Hal laid a hand on my dog’s flank, nodding. “A little altercation with a coyote. I’m happy to report the coyote got the worst of it.”
I buried my face in her throat, inhaling her sweet scent. “Thank god. I heard her yelping and saw the coyote. I was so afraid...”
Hal smiled. “Most of that yelping was from the coyote. Caphy will be okay. But we should take her to the vet and have it looked at. At the very least she’ll need antibiotics.”
I nodded, still holding her close. Then I remembered...
Lifting my head, I looked Hal in the eye. “Did you see him?”
“No. Caphy might have gotten a piece of him. But I called her back and he got away. I was too worried about you to follow.”
I rubbed a hand over my throat. “He was choking me. I thought I was dead for sure.”
Hal frowned again but said nothing.
Caphy shifted and yelped softly.
I pushed to my feet. “Come on, we need to take her in. We can talk about the other stuff later.”
The nearest emergency veterinarian service was almost two hours away. Fortunately, one of the advantages of living in a small town where everybody had known everybody else for years was that vets and doctors still believed in going the extra mile for their clients.
So it was that, though Doc Beetle’s voice was gruff with sleep when he answered his phone, he quickly woke enough to fire questions about Caphy’s condition and then bark at me to bring her right into his clinic.
I was happy to comply.
CHAPTER TEN
It was entirely possible that Doc Beetle had been around when Moses went up the mountain. If he wasn’t a contemporary of the great prophet, he’d at least been around when America became independent.
I was pretty sure he had callouses that were older than our constitution.
I tried the clinic door and found it locked. Peering through the small window in the door, I could only see a small section of the room near the front desk, where a night light provided enough illumination to move through the room and not much else.
“He isn’t here yet,” I told Hal.
Hal held Caphy against his chest, despite the fact that I told him she could walk just fine. I chewed the inside of my lip to keep from grinning as she stuck her tongue up his nostril for the tenth time, her tail whipping happily from side to side.
Hal was helpless to stop her from giving him a complete ear, nose and throat exam while he carried her from the car to the door. All he could do was turn his head when she assaulted him.
Then she just buried her tongue up to the root in his ear.
Hal shuddered at the wet invasion and glared at me when a laugh finally broke loose. “I told you she could walk.”
A light flicked on inside the clinic and Hal skimmed me a long-suffering look. “I need a hashtag or something. After this I might even qualify for #metoo.”
I grinned. “How about #againstmywoof.”
“Very funny.”
The door opened and I turned to find a tiny man with a face like a ten year old prune staring out at us. “Hey, Doc.”
Doc Beetle, as everyone had called him for as long as I could remember, glowered up at Hal as if Caphy’s injury and his having to get out of bed at midnight were all his fault. “You might as well bring her in.”
I took a step back so Hal could move past me and got smacked in the face by Caphy’s tail. “Ugh!”
Hal glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” I murmured, rubbing my stinging cheek.
Doc ambled toward the exam rooms in the back. The speed with which he navigated the clinic belied his mummified appearance. His back was bent and his spindly legs were bowed, but clearly he still had a lot of rev in his gnarled old engine. “Put her on the table.”
Doc opened a cabinet and pulled out a small glass bottle, a syringe, some cotton pads and a squirt bottle of rubbing alcohol. He set everything on the counter near the table and washed his hands, taking his time and using lots of soap.
Hal settled my dog onto the table and scooted over to make room for me near her head. I bent to kiss her squishy head and her tongue immediately snapped out and found my nostril, doing her roto rooter shtick.
I jerked away from her attack. “No thanks, sweet girl,” I told her. “I don’t need a nostril exam right now.”
Doc Beetle fixed small, brown eyes on me, the caterpillars perched above them wiggling as he pursed wrinkly lips. “Your throat is bruised.”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’m more worried about Caphy.”
He grunted softly. “Tell me about her,” he demanded in his wobbly voice.
“She has a bite mark on her shoulder which seems really painful,” I told him. “We figured she’d probably need antibiotics.” I petted my dog’s thick paw and fidgeted, made uneasy by the vet’s surly attitude. He spoke little and, unless he was talking to one of his patients, he rarely wore any expression happier than disgust so I always felt as if he were judging me and I was failing.
I bit my bottom lip as he bent over Caphy and began to probe the wound with his twisted fingers.
My dog’s head snapped around and her tongue came out, frantically licking his hand. Doc Beetle smoothed his hand over Caphy’s snout. “It’s all right, girl. You’ll be okay.”
I relaxed slightly. Though I’d told myself and Hal that she was okay, I’d been nursing a niggling worry that the damage was worse than it appeared.
Doc Beetle ran his hands over her entire body, searching for other damage, and then grabbed the alcohol and squeezed a good measure of it over the wound. He used the cotton to wipe and stretch the wound to get a better look at it. He clucked his tongue and I stiffened.
Tongue clucking was Doc’s way of signaling trouble.
“What is it?” I asked, my pulse spiking with alarm.
He barely glanced up at me and, when he did, the beady brown gaze was filled with kindness.
Kindness! I clutched the edge of the stainless-steel exam table. Caphy was going to die. “Just tell me the worst. I can handle it.”
Doc’s gaze narrowed and the quick warmth fled them, leaving behind the disgust I was more used to. He shook his head and reached for a long, stainless steel pair of grippers that was laid out with several other tools on a pristine white towel on the counter. He inserted the tool carefully into the wound and I clutched Caphy’s leg more tightly, alarmed that he hadn’t sedated her or anything.
She licked my hand as if comforting me.
After a moment, Doc nodded his head and retracted the tool, holding it up for us to see. A curved, deadly-looking tooth was clutched between the gripper’s jaws.
“Is that a coyote tooth?” Hal asked, leaning closer to examine it with interest.
“It is.” Doc stepped on the trash can pedal and dropped the tooth inside. He filled one of the syringes from the contents of the bottle and injected it in Caphy’s hip. “This wound is deep. I might need to put a drain in it.”
“If that’s what she needs,” I said dejectedly.
His glower deepened. “You sound like I’m threatening to snip off one of your fingers, young lady.”
I winced. “It’s just, I hate those things. They’re so messy.”
He eyed the wound again. “I want this wound kept open for a while so it can drain. You up to scrubbing it a couple of times a day to make sure it stays this way?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely.”
He shook his head again. “All right. We’ll try it your way for a couple of days. But don’t let it close up. I gave her antibiotics and I’ll send you home with some pills too. Coyote bites can be nasty things. We don’t want to mess around.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
He stood there for a minute, smoothing his hand over my dog’s soft coat and almost smiling. He looked totally at peace whe
n working with one of his patients. Though he’d been a vet for decades, he still clearly loved what he did. I envied him that contentment.
He suddenly lifted his gaze as if sensing me staring at him. “I heard what happened out at your place.”
I blinked at the sudden change of subject. Then nodded. “It was pretty terrible.”
“I can imagine.” He twisted his lips, the movement deepening the billions of wrinkles on his small face. “Thing is, I remember some of the stuff your folks went through.”
Hal straightened, clearly interested. “Do you think there’s a connection?”
Doc glanced at Hal, his expression unfriendly. “Who are you?”
I had a face/palm moment. “I’m so sorry. Doc this is Hal Amity. He’s here to help me figure out if that body in my woods has something to do with me.”
“Why on earth would it?”
“I thought you were implying...” Hal started.
Doc waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I didn’t say anything of the kind. I just...” He shook his head again. “I’m just hoping the Feds aren’t going to start harassing you now too.”
A light bulb went on. “You saw Cox in town, didn’t you?”
Doc expelled air. He moved to the cabinet and pulled down a large bottle of pills, dumping some into his hand and counting them out. He dropped several into a small bottle and twisted the cap, handing it to me. “He came here.”
“Why?” Hal asked, seemingly undaunted by Doc’s cold demeanor toward him.
Doc seemed to be ignoring Hal for a long moment, but then he looked up, capturing Hal’s gaze. “Brent and Joline Fulle were good people,” he told Hal almost angrily.
“Doc...” I said, intending to tell him he didn’t need to defend them to us.
He shook his head. “No, Joey, this needs sayin’. The feds tortured your poor folks. They didn’t deserve it. And you’ll never convince me they didn’t have a hand in that plane crash.”
I gasped, stars bursting before my eyes as shock sliced through me. “What? Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. The government doesn’t like it when citizens play them for fools. Your folks, well, they maximized their business, if you know what I mean. They might have bent some rules but they didn’t hurt anybody. But Cox is obsessed with them. He’s determined to prove they did something illegal.”
“Did they?” Hal asked quietly.
To my vast surprise, Doc seemed to be considering Hal’s question. He finally shook his head. “I don’t believe they did, son. But it’s going to be up to you to find out. Cox isn’t trying to clear their names. If he has his way they’ll be painted as criminals.” He glanced at me. “And he’ll take you down too, Joey if you don’t give him what he wants.”
“But what is that?” I asked, thinking about the gruff demand in my ear as I’d struggled to survive a mere hour earlier. Where is it? my attacker had asked. I wouldn’t be able to give him or Cox what they wanted. I didn’t even know what it was.
“Only Cox knows, young lady. But keep your guard up with him. Don’t be fooled into thinking he’s trying to help. I’m afraid helping you is the last thing on Cox’s beady little brain.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the time we got home again it was nearly three AM. I was so tired I fell into bed and, Caphy stretched out beside me, already snoring, I dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The sun was bright through my window when I woke several hours later. I stretched and yawned, reaching out to pet my dog awake.
My hand fell on the cool, empty sheet and my eyes shot open. That was when my nose registered the delicious scent of something sweet and yeasty.
I shoved back the covers and tugged boxers on with my tee shirt. I found Hal in the kitchen, wearing hot pad gloves and settling a cookie sheet onto the stovetop.
Caphy was sitting as close to him as she could, her gaze locked like a laser on the freshly baked cinnamon rolls filling the sheet.
Hal looked up as I entered the kitchen. “Morning.” He smiled and reached for a small bowl on the counter. “Coffee’s made. Help yourself.”
I walked over and eyed the rolls, my mouth watering as he drizzled glaze from the bowl over them, using a large spoon. “Lizard sneakers.”
He frowned. “Huh?”
I pointed to the pan. “That, right there. That’s cooler than lizard sneakers.”
He narrowed his gaze at me and I shook my head. “It’s just something my mom used to say. Those look delicious. Did you unroll them from a cardboard tube?”
He gave me a look filled with horror. “Amitys don’t unroll their food. These are made from scratch.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t realize I had the scratch needed to make something that exotic and wonderful.” I reached for one and got my hand lightly smacked for my trouble. “Hey!”
“Coffee. Sit.” He pointed to the table and I glared at him. Fortunately, a drop of icing had landed on my hand when he smacked it. I licked it up as I headed for the coffee pot, nearly swooning as buttery sweetness coated my tongue.
As soon as I was seated with my coffee, Hal carried a plate of freshly glazed rolls over and set them on the table in front of some small plates. There were two bowls of fresh fruit beside the plates. “I know I didn’t have this in my fridge,” I told him.
“That fruit is courtesy of the produce stand up the road. Caphy and I visited it this morning.”
I plucked a fat, red strawberry from the bowl and took a bite, squirting sweet juice over myself in the process.
Hal handed me a napkin.
Caphy smacked her lips and I looked down to where she sat, her fat, squishy head on his lap and her pretty green gaze riveted on Hal’s every move.
My dog had deserted me for a guy with food.
Dang that sucked. In a petty and desperate move, I plucked another berry from my bowl and held it up so she could see it. “Come here, Caphy girl.”
She jumped up and ran around Hal to get to me. “Sit,” I instructed. She plopped her wide behind down and carefully took the strawberry from between my fingers. Her tail thumped Hal’s chair.
“Here girl,” he said, a gleam in his eye. He held a hunk of gooey cinnamon roll between his fingers. Caphy whipped around and barked with excitement when she saw it. “Sit.”
Her butt hit the ground so hard she made an “umph” sound from the impact. Hal gave her the pastry and grinned at me.
“You don’t want to get between a girl and her dog, buddy.”
He chuckled. “Just teasing. I know better. Besides, this dog loves you to distraction. She wouldn’t have left your side this morning if I hadn’t bribed her with a dog cookie.”
I flushed with pleasure. “Well, it’s good to know that when she dumps me it’ll be for something important like food.”
He nodded as if I’d made a serious observation. “Eat up. We have a lot of work to do today.”
I grabbed a roll and bit into it, moaning softly as the tender pastry melted on my tongue. As soon as I’d swallowed I asked, “What’s on the agenda?”
He chewed and swallowed, chasing the bite of roll with a sip of coffee before answering me. “We need to talk to your friend the cop about an ID on that DNA he pulled from the cabin. Then I need to talk to my friend at the FBI about Cox.”
“Will they be straight with you?”
“I think so. I’ve heard of Cox before. He’s not well liked.”
“I guess even in the government being cray-cray is frowned upon.”
“Yeah.”
I ate some melon that tasted like it had just been picked, licking my lips as I swallowed. “Good.”
“It is good. Haven’t you ever been to that stand? It’s not more than a quarter mile up the road.”
I shook my head, then hesitated. “Wait, which way up the road?”
“Where Goat’s Hollow meets CR57. Why?”
“What time did you stop in?”
“Around six AM. What are you thinking?”<
br />
“I haven’t bought anything at that stand, but now that you brought it up I know exactly where it is. It’s not far from Devon’s driveway or the spot where the chipper entered my woods.”
“You’re thinking the people who run the stand might have seen something?”
I shrugged. “It’s worth asking.”
“You’re right. It’s definitely worth that.”
Grabbing what was left of my roll, I stood up. “Just give me fifteen minutes to tend to Caphy’s wound and get dressed.”
HAL PULLED INTO THE small gravel lot where the stand was located. The space was actually an overlook, at the edge of a vista filled with trees and the wide, sparkling ribbon of a river in the distance. It was on the opposite side of the road from my place and overlooked a largely unused portion of the Deer County State Park, a thousand-acre extravaganza of trees, rocky ridges, rough-hewn pathways and the before mentioned, Fawn River.
I stood at the guard rail and looked out over the park, thinking about the times I’d hiked it with my parents before their deaths. I needed to hit the trails again. Caphy would love it. The park was filled with wildlife for her to scent and chase. And she loved to play in the cool waters of the Fawn.
Then I spotted the Coyote dens dotting the side of the nearest ridge and all thoughts of taking my dog into the park fled.
“Joey?” I turned with a start and found Hal watching me curiously. “Sorry. I was just remembering when I used to hike through this park.”
He nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is. But then there’s that...” I pointed toward the dens and he narrowed his gaze, clearly trying to figure out what he was looking at. I’d forgotten he was a city boy. “Coyote dens.”
“Ah. Well, maybe not then.”
“Hey, Caphy!”
I turned at the sound of the pleasant voice and smiled. Edith Pickering had been my second grade teacher back in the day. I hadn’t realized she was working at the stand. I said as much to her as Caphy and I walked her way and she grinned. “It’s worse than that, honey. I own this stand.” She glanced at Hal.
