by Madelyn Alt
I could hear my mom’s heartbeat in my ears, and felt the fear radiating from her, so I knew she was not immune. She grabbed my arm as we felt our way down the steps. I closed her hand within my own to reassure her, and together we made our way step by step toward the corner of the house and the driveway, beyond the protective circle of the weak porch light.
Off to my left I heard a sharp crack, followed by a shuffling sound that left me cold. I whipped my head toward the noise, my eyes huge as I willed myself the ability to see through the night. A huge, pale shape loomed in the corner of the yard. Vaguely I remembered the old, ramshackle carriage barn huddled there against the trees that seemed to want to swallow it whole. Was there something out there? Hiding behind, or even within, the barn? Or were the sounds coming from the woods?
My mom’s fingers clenched my own. Her face glowed as pale as the moon in the darkness next to mine. “What was that?” she whispered. Scarcely a breath.
“I can’t see a thing,” I whispered back. “Probably just a raccoon or a possum or something.”
A sad attempt at reassurance, granted, but when your mom has you in a death grip, what else are you gonna do?
I fished in my coat pocket for my car keys. Attached to the key ring was a handy-dandy little LED flashlight. I pressed my thumb against the concave plastic casing and shone the light toward the direction the sound had come from.
Eyes.
Chapter 12
“Holy Christ!” I exclaimed, dropping my keys, flashlight, and everything else to the ground.
My mom sucked her breath in through her teeth. “Margaret!”
My swearing had momentarily shocked her out of her fear, but under the circumstances it was the least of my worries. Apparently she’d not seen what I’d seen. On the other hand, she hadn’t stopped squeezing my hand to a pulp, so maybe she’d just managed to retain her motherly wits about her. Keeping my eyes locked on the place where I had seen the glow of phantom eyes, I swallowed my fear and stooped down slowly. I patted the ground around me. Eggshells. Sticky eggshells. Ick. Where the heck were my keys? There. I snagged them and stood up.
Before I could move, something rushed past my ankles.
I let out an involuntary yip. Mom’s grip tightened to near cosmic force.
“Light, light, light!” she yelped, hopping from one foot to the other as though someone had lit matchsticks between her toes.
In any other circumstances, this might have been funny. As it was, I was having a hard time restraining myself from doing much the same thing.
Whoosh.
We were rushed again, and we both screamed. Inside the house, lights went on where before there had been none, making stark rectangles of light on the ground to our left and right. Mom and I froze, clutching each other as we waited for whatever was terrorizing us to make itself known.
There was power in knowing. Power we needed.
A big and furry something made a tight circle around us. I heard it panting, but we were huddled together between golden rectangles, and it was keeping to the darkness. Was it animal or something more mysterious?
Something inside me snapped. I let go of my mother and stood up straight, putting my hands on my hips.
“All right. Whatever you are, you’d better just stop it. Right! Now!”
In the next instant, it launched itself straight at me. It was too late for regret—I saw the dark shape beating a path across the yard, heard the pounding of padded feet against the cold earth. Ummmm…The thing reared up on its hind legs and opened its white-toothed maw in my general direction. My heart leapt to my throat and I forgot how to breathe. It pawed at the air with its front feet, once, twice. And then it leaned/aimed/fell forward toward me, the snarling, gaping mouth opened, and…
It licked my chin.
Floodlights snapped on from the heights of the carriage barn, and suddenly the backyard was ablaze with enough light to chase the shadows away. I had a quick vision of what had terrorized me so completely: a dog, pale in color like a yellow lab, but with a narrower, shepherdlike muzzle that was a dark, chocolatey brown. Behind me the door opened suddenly, ferociously, and Louisa rushed out with a broom in hand. She swung it about toward the dog, wielding it like a warrior might swing a mace. “Scat, you mangy, ugly cur! Get out of here! Scat! Scat!”
The dog winced and skittered away, galloping about on thin gazelle legs to keep just beyond the long reach of the menacing broom.
“Get out of here! Go on! You don’t belong here! Go on before I go get something that’ll knock you clear to the moon!”
Its black button eyes glittering, it sat down on its haunches and cocked its head to the right, as though bewildered by her outburst. Fortified by her weapon, Louisa advanced. The dog waited until she was nearly upon it before it dashed out of the way of her swing. It danced there, back and forth, long tail wagging, as it awaited her next move.
It thought she was playing.
“Uh, Mrs. Murray—”
“Just leave”—swing—“me”—whoosh—“alone!”
She almost caught the dog in the hindquarters on the last attempt. It danced around some more before shooting off toward the looming shape of the barn. Back and forth it zigzagged, finally circling wide and coming around to hide behind my legs. My mom hotfooted it back on the porch steps, looking on with astonishment.
Louisa turned on me, her eyes blazing. “You just step on out of the way, Maggie, and I’ll take care of that flea-ridden menace.”
The dog whined and nudged my fingertips, huddling the bulk of its body against the backs of my legs. That’s what did it. This poor little guy didn’t need to be gotten rid of. It needed shelter. It needed food. It needed a soft rub around its floppy ears. I bent down and reached behind myself to do just that. The dog nudged me again, and I felt something hard bump against my hand.
“What’s this?” I shifted slightly to allow some of the dim light to fall on the dog’s head. In its mouth was a tool of some sort. Using my fingers I prised it away from the dog, who instantly went into a crouch, hind end up and wagging, as though it thought I wanted to play. I looked at what I’d taken from it. “It’s a hammer. Yours?” I held it out to Louisa.
Louisa frowned down at it and shook her head. “I don’t have many. That must belong to the roofers I had put on my new barn roof last year.”
“Yours now.” In exchange for the hammer, I reached for her broom. “Here, why don’t you give me that? I’ll take care of the little guy for you.”
She considered only a moment before releasing the broom to me. The dog skittered sideways. Exit, stage right. You take the high road, and I’ll take the low road, and I’ll get out of the way of the crazy lady with the broom afore ye.
As soon as the door closed behind Louisa, I turned to my mother. “Mom, we’ve got to get this guy out of here before she accidentally hurts him.”
My mother opened her mouth. “But—”
“He doesn’t mean any harm, Mom. He thinks she’s playing with him. Look at him. Flea-bitten he may be, but he’s not going to hurt anyone unless he knocks you over trying to get out of the way of the broom.”
As if to prove my point, the dog approached my mom, then sat down at her feet, head cocked as he gazed up at her with his mouth open in a half pant, half smile.
Mom looked down at the dog, looked up at me, looked down at the dog again, then rolled her gaze heavenward. “Oh, all right,” she said finally in exasperation. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get the car door open. We’ll have to entice him inside.”
To my mom’s credit, once she made her mind up, she didn’t mess around. She scurried around the house. The dog proved smarter than I thought—he trotted along behind her, nibbling and licking at her swinging fingertips as if to say, Hey, wait for me!
I stepped up to the screen door. Through the open inner door I could hear shuffling sounds coming from within. “Uh, Mrs. Murray? Mrs. Murray, the dog’s gone—nothing to be afraid of now. M
y mom and I are going to go, okay? If you need anything, just let us know.”
The shuffling, searching sounds ceased. Mrs. Murray came to the screen door, frowning as she gazed out into the night. “It’s gone?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I have a feeling it’ll be back. It always comes back.”
I bit my tongue. Obviously she had been bothered by the dog’s presence for a while. I didn’t know why she didn’t just call for someone to come out to pick it up. “Yes, ma’am. Well, good night, and thanks again for all of your help.”
I hurried toward the curb, where Christine awaited my return with my mother and the dog safely ensconced within. I got in quickly and shut the door behind me. The dog had settled down on the tiny back seat, taking up much of the space. I gave it a little reassuring pat and a ruffle of the ears, wondering what it thought of the situation it found itself in. Did it see me as its protector? Savior? Or just a dry bunk away from the crazy lady with the broom, until the next bunk came along?
“I feel bad for her, you know.”
I blinked at my mom, still in doggie mode. “Louisa, you mean?”
My mom had been staring at the house, her expression pensive. “Life seems to have abandoned her, doesn’t it? Even this house seems to be on permanent hold, somehow. Of course she’s always been cool as a cucumber, ready for any situation. She was a good match for her husband in that respect. Despite the fact that her mother didn’t want her to marry him. I guess it goes to show that mothers don’t always know best.”
Mom didn’t believe that for a minute, and I knew it. It didn’t matter; she still amazed me with the amount of information she carried in her head about people within her sphere. Miss Marple and her afternoon teas had nothing on my mom.
Sucked into my mother’s ruminations, I glanced at the house. “Why didn’t her mom want her to marry her husband?”
“He was nearly fifteen years her senior. Her mother didn’t approve. Wanted her to wait and find someone her own age. And, well, John was always such a cold fish. But Louisa knew he’d take care of her, and he had standing with the church, and that’s what she wanted back then. To have a standing that would rival her mother’s.” Mom shook her head, remembering. “I wonder. If given a second chance, would she do it all over again, knowing that he’d leave her behind at such a young age?”
“Maybe she’ll find someone else, then,” I suggested, turning the key in the ignition. “Start a new life with someone. It’s happened before.”
My mom shook her head. “I don’t see it. She was completely devoted to John.”
“I would suggest that she get a dog, but under the circumstances…”
Right on cue a great fuzzy head inserted itself between us. It gave me a wet snoot in my ear, then turned to do the same to my mom, knocking her glasses askew. I laughed; I couldn’t help it.
“I think I’d better take you home,” I told her, “while I figure out what to do with Junior, here.”
“Junior Here” didn’t have a collar, so I stopped at the hardware store and had my mom wait with the dog while I ran inside for a collar and leash combo. While I was at it, I grabbed a squeaky bone. The lot of it would have been cheaper at Wal-Mart, but the parking lot at the discount giant was always a waking nightmare, and I wasn’t in the mood for risking my life.
“Thank the Lord,” Mom said when I got in again. The dog was sitting on her lap, all fifty-plus pounds of it, steaming up the windows. I took the chew toy out and handed it to my mom. Despite her grumpy words, she had her arm around the dog’s chest and was stroking its velvety ears, so I knew she wasn’t too put out. Still, I made sure no further stops were on the menu before I got her home.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me as I pulled into the drive.
I shrugged. “I guess I’ll talk to Tom to see what the options are.”
“I don’t suppose there are many. The county doesn’t have an animal shelter, you know. I suppose the next county over might be a possibility.”
“Okay. Thanks for your help today, Mom. Say hi to Dad and Grandpa for me.”
She reached out and patted me on the cheek in one of her rare displays of affection. “Take care of yourself, Margaret. Don’t forget about Sunday.”
Oh. Sunday. I had forgotten to mention that to Tom, hadn’t I?
Next on the agenda? The Stony Mill Police Department. Maybe Tom hadn’t left yet. Considering his new role within the department, I was willing to bet he was behind a desk somewhere, taking care of business. His little Subaru pickup truck was parked in the lot behind the station, confirming my theory.
“Ready, Junior?” He just looked at me, his tongue hanging out. “Come here and let me get this collar on you.”
My size estimations were a little off, but I made it work. And Junior didn’t seem to care. He cocked his head this way and that while I fastened the collar, then hooked the leash to the loop. He seemed pretty taken with the fuzzy bone, because he insisted on carrying it with him while we made our way inside.
I nodded toward the door. “Come on, then.”
Little blonde Jeannette was behind the safety glass in Dispatch this evening. She smiled and waved before reaching out and unlocking the sliding window.
“Hey, Jeannette. Is Tom still here?”
“You betcha. I’ll just get him.”
“Thanks.”
Junior decided to investigate the ficus tree in the corner while we waited. I hated to tell him it was fake; far be it from me to burst his little doggie bubble.
The door to the back buzzed as it unlocked, and Tom appeared behind it. “Hey!” He smiled. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Behind the window, Jeannette waved at me with a wink and said, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go get some coffee.”
Grateful for her discretion, I turned back to Tom. “I wasn’t expecting to be here.” By way of explanation, I held up the leash.
Tom’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, well. Who do we have here?”
Briefly I explained how I had come into possession of Junior. “I couldn’t leave him there. Mrs. Murray was so nervy about everything that’s been going on out there, she might have ended up hurting him.” I looked down at the big furry face and the trusting eyes, and my heart tugged. Especially when he wagged his tail in a big, happy, sweeping motion and quirked his eyebrows at me, then cocked his head.
“Her.”
I looked up at him, lost. “What?”
“Might have ended up hurting her.”
“Junior’s a her?”
“Let me guess. I take it you didn’t notice the lack of plumbing. You see, there’s one key difference between the male and the female of any species, Maggie.” His lips quirked.
“Ha ha.”
“I’d be happy to give you a demonstration—”
“Never you mind. So, what should I do with her?”
“Depends. We don’t really have the facilities to keep her here, but I could make a call to the next county in the morning.”
“Morning?” I looked down at Junior, then back at Tom. “What do you usually do with them until then?”
He grinned. “I usually summon all my powers of persuasion to appeal to the charitable impulses of whoever picked up the stray to take the dog home and settle in for the evening.”
I looked down at Junior, who had sat back on his, I mean her, haunches and was now scratching her right ear with the kind of dedication and attention that only a dog could manage. “I wonder if she’s potty trained.”
Well, I didn’t have much of a choice. I couldn’t just let her roam the streets, and I couldn’t exactly leave her at Mrs. Murray’s house. “Well, Junior, it’s just you and me, kiddo. Unless…” I gazed at Tom, as appealingly as possible.
He held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. My landlord doesn’t allow pets.”
I sighed. “Like I said, Junior, it’s just you and me.” I paused a moment. “So, are you almost done here?”
H
e shook his head. “Sorry, no. We had some stuff go down this afternoon, and it’s going to take me a while to get through the paperwork.”
I knew it was a long shot anyway. “I guess I’d better go, then, and let you get back to it.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
At least it was something. Even better, Tom caught hold of my hand as we left the building. Pleased by the attentions, I let Junior (and it was obvious I was going to have to come up with a better name, considering Junior wasn’t exactly the most feminine of monikers) tug on the end of the leash, sniffing at the concrete, the grass, the bushes, as we made our way back to Christine in companionable silence.
“What will you do tonight, then?” he asked me, stroking my fingertips with his.
I stroked back, wishing for more. “I guess I’ll go home. Have wild and crazy sex with the first man who asks. You know. The usual.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should stop by.”
I cozied up to him and toyed with the insignia over his left breast. “Maybe you should. Besides, then I could ask you about what I heard today about the inquiries made at the high school.”
“Oh, you heard about that, did you?”
“Mmm. And I also heard that it had something to do with the Metzger investigation.”
He had the mask on again. “You hear an awful lot for someone who isn’t paying attention to things they’re supposed to be staying out of, for their own good.”
“I don’t ask to hear things, you know. People just tend to confide in me. I can’t help it.” I paused, looking deep into his eyes in an attempt to see what he didn’t want me to see. “So, is it true? Did you arrest those boys? Come on, you know I’m probably the last person in town to know anyway.”
Tom heaved a long-suffering sigh. “That’s because this town has more busybodies per capita than any other town I know.”
“It’s a typical small town.”
“Don’t I know it. Well, in the attempt to dispel some of the rumors grinding out of the grist mill right now, no. No arrests have been made. Jesus, we’re doing our best to try to put things together. The biddies in this town will have these boys tried, found guilty, and convicted before breakfast tomorrow morning.”
