by Vella Munn
He’d been scared when he’d realized Jenice might need him if she was going to survive, but that time there’d been something he could do. Yes, he’d sacrificed his back, but he’d gotten her up to level ground where her friends could tend to her. In contrast, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do for Hope or James. Neither could he provide a buffer between Niko and the pain she was surely feeling.
Looking back, he was sorry he’d talked her into going to where James had been killed. At first she’d given every appearance of being able to handle the gruesome sight, but something had changed when she’d touched the bloody dog hair. She’d stopped talking and her eyes had nearly closed. He’d thought she might pass out.
“I’m sorry,” he said after they’d been in the stall for maybe ten minutes. “We have to leave. O’Neil.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to talk to him?” he asked, once he’d gotten to his feet despite his back’s protests.
“I haven’t decided.”
“Why not? Everyone wants to know why Cheryl and James were targeted. You can explain in ways no one else can.”
“Darick, I’ve hit a wall. I just want Hope to live.”
“Is that it? Don’t you also want to try to find out whether any of the grays are injured? Maybe they’ll show up at your place. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“I’m done talking to you.”
“Like that’s going to make things better.”
She spun toward him. Even in the dim lighting, he had no doubt she wanted nothing to do with him. “I went with you, saw what you believed I needed to. Now take me back.”
Don’t say a word. “Are you going to stay at the school?”
“None of your damn business.”
“I’m not the enemy.”
She slumped. “I know you aren’t. It’s—so complicated.”
* * * *
Niko wound up working that afternoon, because that was easier than being alone with her thoughts while waiting to see if, like Darick had said, the grays showed up at her place. Monitoring students as they took state-mandated tests barely qualified as the distraction she needed, so when the principal poked his head in through the door and said he needed to talk to her, she left the room.
“Social media is incredible,” Jenkin said when they were in an otherwise empty hall. “Thanks to the news, Twitter and the police department’s Facebook page, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire town already knows those dogs have struck again. That’s where you were this morning, isn’t it? Being part of it?”
“In a way.”
At sixty-three, Jenkin was close to retirement age, but Niko considered the grandfather with an impressive green thumb a friend. He treated every member of the staff equally. Some had teaching credentials while some, like her, didn’t. As Jenkin was fond of saying, everyone played vital roles in preparing teenagers to become adults. She might not have been in shape to talk to Darick, but Jenkin was a different story.
She told him about finding and rescuing the hound the two victims had allowed to suffer. “The Fish and Wildlife officer who came for me is well aware of what I did, as is Doc Beck and now law enforcement.”
“And that officer believed you needed to see the murder scene? What was he trying to prove?”
“He knows how I feel about what that couple did, how angry I am over their behavior. He wanted to make sure I got the full impact of what canine justice is about.”
“And have you?”
“I think so.” But it’s more than that, more than anyone but Grandpa would understand.
Jenkin rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve watched your commitment to what you believe in. My question is, after seeing what you did this morning, do you still believe that man deserved to die the way he did?”
“I didn’t say he deserved—”
“Last year, when Bernie Williams was being bullied, you confronted the girls responsible for the bullying. You made them write essays from Bernie’s point of view.”
“It worked.”
“Because you forced them to look at the consequences of their actions.” He glanced at his watch. “Those dogs aren’t teenage girls. They can’t be stopped with a lecture—if you want that. Do you?”
I don’t know.
Chapter Eleven
By the end of the school day, her cell phone held seven messages from the media. She deleted all but the one from O’Neil.
“I hope you’ll talk to me,” he’d said. “Whatever you need to say about why you believe Cheryl and James Moyan were targeted. A lot of people are insisting the dogs need to be hunted down, but you can put a unique perspective on things. Maybe create sympathy for them.”
O’Neil had made an undeniable point and, as she headed home, she tried to decide what she’d tell him. She wouldn’t say the word ‘Masauwu’, let alone mention that Masauwu had reached out to her, if he had. With several hours between her and the experience, she was no longer certain it had happened. Maybe shock had been responsible.
Much as she wanted to talk to Darick about what O’Neil had said, she wouldn’t call him. Her thinking went off the rails when she was around him. She’d go home and see if Grandpa was around, or Gun. Then she’d dial the number O’Neil had given her.
As she was pulling up at her place, Chinook crawled out of her doghouse and trotted through the light rain to the porch. “So that’s how you spent your day,” Niko said as she opened the door.
She was about to tease her dog for having stayed out of the rain when she spotted mud on Chinook’s legs. In addition, the Doberman’s back was wet. “What have you been up to? Maybe I should have kept you inside, but you hate it.”
Chinook sighed, followed by lowering herself to the carpet and rolling. Resigned to having to pull out the carpet shampooer, Niko went into the kitchen to get Chinook’s dinner. Her dog had always been a dainty eater, but tonight she could hardly chew and swallow fast enough.
Niko punched in her grandfather’s number. In response to her question about what he knew about Chinook’s activities, he explained he’d been gone most of the day.
“I’m watching the news,” he said. “If you’ve just gotten home, maybe you don’t know—yeah, I’m sure you do. What do you think of what the grays did this time?”
“That they believe their actions are justified.”
“Do you agree?”
“I’m not sure I can answer. Grandpa, Darick insisted I see where the attack took place. The reality is pretty violent.”
“Did you see the victim?”
“No, thank goodness.”
“What do you think of what he asked of you?”
Even if she’d been inclined to dodge the question, her grandfather deserved as much honesty as she was capable of.
“He’s convinced I need to grasp everything the grays are about.”
“Did he accomplish that?”
She got out a glass and placed it under the faucet. “It was awful. Imagining what that man went through…”
“Was it worse than being tied up with an imbedded collar around your neck? That’s what you’re trying to decide, isn’t it?”
Once again her grandfather had gone straight to the heart of something. “What about whoever let Hope starve? What should his or her punishment be?”
“Do you want to come over and talk about it some more?”
“I’d love to, but I don’t have the time. I need to call—Grandpa, something happened while I was at the apartment.”
“Go on.”
She told him about touching the hair and maybe hearing a voice she’d believed belonged to Masauwu telling her to try to connect with the grays.
“Are you convinced that’s what it was?” he asked.
“I was then. Now I’m not sure. Do I sound crazy?”
“That’s the last thing you are. Honey, the grays are motivated in ways that are beyond our comprehension.”
“They’re motivated by the des
ire for revenge.”
“But why does that matter to them? That’s what you want me to explain, but I’m not sure I can. Maybe you should take another run at the material I gave you.”
“I knew you’d say that. By the way, you knew the sketch of Masauwu was in there, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
After saying, “I love you,” she punched End. If she was ever a grandmother, she hoped she’d have half the wisdom Grandfather did. Chinook watched as she turned on the TV and flipped through the channels.
This time last year she’d debated taking leave and heading for the southwest and an extended hiking-camping trip. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t, except she had mountains and evergreens in her DNA. Restlessness, she concluded, wasn’t always easy to deal with when one had an aversion to going to certain places.
She started at a sound outside. She would have heard a vehicle approaching. The sound repeated. Chinook had already bounded to her feet and was standing with her nose pressed against the door. Not questioning her decision, she stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.
“Do you know what it is?” she asked Chinook. Her dog remained motionless.
Holding the knife by her side, she slowly opened the door. She’d been debating getting a screen, not that it would have made a difference tonight. Rain pounded. The sun hadn’t set yet but soon would.
Trying to survey her domain while standing half behind the door wasn’t easy. At first, the only thing she was sure of was that no other vehicles were in sight. Then something, she couldn’t say what, drew her attention to the porch area to her right.
One of the grays stood not more than ten feet away. She smelled its wet coat, and it acknowledged her with a steady stare. The knife started to slip from her fingers, prompting her to tighten her hold on it.
“Gun?”
The gray’s eyes opened wider then briefly closed, drawing her attention to long, thick lashes. No matter that the animal was capable of brutality, he had beautiful eyes.
“Gun.” She repeated.
Chinook pushed against her legs then stepped outside. Neither dog’s hackles were up. They weren’t wagging their tails. Rather, it was as if both animals were simply acknowledging each other.
“I saw what you did,” she said as, caution thrown away, she came all the way out. The smell of wet dog increased. “A man took me to where you and the others…”
She was safe. Gun was a killer, but his war wasn’t with her. Perhaps he saw her as a companion, a comrade, a human who understood him. Who maybe forgave what he’d done.
“How did you know where to find James?” She pressed a shaking hand to her forehead. “I’ll probably never know. Besides, it doesn’t matter. You got it done.”
“The Force.”
“What?” she blurted. “I don’t—”
“The Force guided us.”
“Oh my god, my god. You and I—we’re communicating.”
“Yes, you are.”
The voice had changed from one she’d never heard to what she suspected was Masauwu’s. “Who am I talking to?”
“The gray and me. I asked you to reach out, but you haven’t so I’m doing what I must.”
“You aren’t—” She’d been about to tell Masauwu that he wasn’t making sense, but it wasn’t true. The way Gun stood with his head cocked, she wondered if he was privy to the conversation. She reached out a shaky hand and rested her fingers on the top of his head. He remained in place.
“Speak to me, please,” she whispered. “I don’t care whether it’s Gun or Masauwu. I just need to hear—something.”
Instead, Gun licked his mouth. She noticed cuts on his face, the deepest being on the left side of his muzzle. It extended nearly to his eye.
“Glass. Didn’t you know that was going to happen? Maybe Masauwu didn’t tell you—are you cut anywhere else? What about Smoke and the puppies?”
Gun had tilted his head when she started talking. Even though she was no longer speaking, it stayed that way, making her think of a child trying to grasp a lesson.
She’d never expected to be this close to one of the grays, but she was. He was huge, with steel-like muscles covered by soft hair. He was about the size of a timber wolf, but with an agenda no wolf would ever have. Content in his skin. Knowing what he’d been created for. Ruled by what he’d called the Force but had to be Masauwu.
“Masauwu, are you still here?”
Nothing.
“Masauwu, what are you up to?”
Still nothing.
“Do you want me to look at your cuts?” she asked Gun. “Is that why you’re here?”
Chinook moved, a simple matter of putting one foot ahead of the other but closing half of the distance between her and the other animal. Niko stepped back. Gun extended his muzzle until the dogs’ noses touched. Rain pounded down on the metal roof, and Niko wished Darick was there. He couldn’t have explained what was happening, but he needed to experience this part of the world she’d been thrust into.
“Does it hurt?” She laid her hand on Gun’s shoulder and they breathed together. “Maybe cleaning it—”
Gun growled, the sound coming from deep inside. She belatedly realized that the cell phone she’d left in the house was ringing.
“It’s all right. Nothing that can hurt you. The distance you had to travel to get to me—was that your goal when you were done with that man? Maybe coming here was out of your control, something else Masauwu commanded you to do?”
When Chinook whined, Niko focused on her animal. She might be deluding herself into believing Gun wanted to connect with her when the truth was that he’d been prompted by nothing more than checking to see if Chinook had come into heat.
She turned her attention to Gun’s lacerated face. An ordinary dog would have backed away the moment the first shard had cut flesh. Instead, the big male gray had continued through the window, paving the way for Smoke and her pups to do the same, focusing with every fiber of his being on a man he hated and was compelled to punish.
“Stay here,” she told Gun. “I have antiseptic soap. It isn’t the same as going to the vet but—”
Gun whined and laid his paw on Chinook’s shoulder. Niko was still trying to absorb what was happening when the gray spun around and sprinted into the rain. She stared until he was out of sight.
* * * *
“I thought you had a right to know,” Niko said. “I’ll be talking to O’Neil in a few minutes. He believes he can get the interview on local TV in time for the eleven o’clock news. I didn’t ask how he’s managing that, since he doesn’t work for the stations.”
Darick set down the beer he’d just opened. It would be his third of the evening, something he seldom did when he had to be at work the next day.
“Anyway,” she went on, “I’d like to know how you feel your interview with him went.”
He shifted his hold on his cell phone. “It was pretty comprehensive. Hopefully, he’ll accurately report what I told him, but I won’t know until I see it. What are you going to tell him?”
When she didn’t immediately answer, he wondered if she still hadn’t worked that out in her mind. She wasn’t asking him to help her decide what to tell the reporter, and if he had half the sense of a goat, he wouldn’t try to feed her any words, but it wasn’t easy. He’d vouched for O’Neil, but the man’s income came from what he could sell and spectacular sold.
“Darick?” She made his name last a long time. “Gun was here.”
“What? Damn it, that—”
“Don’t tell me how dangerous it was, because it wasn’t like that. I thought he might want me to treat his cuts, but he didn’t. Maybe—maybe he was more interested in Chinook than me.” She sighed. “He let me touch him.”
Speechless, he ran his finger over the frosty can. By the time he’d finished with O’Neil, the only thing he’d wanted to do was put a door between himself and the world. However, he hadn’t been able to shut off the part of his mind that insist
ed on wondering what Niko Fox was doing and thinking.
He’d told himself to back off, that he’d pushed her far enough and it was time to get the hell out of her life. He might have stayed with that idea if she hadn’t called.
“Where are you meeting with O’Neil?” he asked.
“At the motel where he’s staying. I wanted someplace neutral.”
“Are you going to tell him about seeing Gun?”
“No. Of course not. And if you say anything, I’ll deny it. Darick, I want to try to make people grasp what drives the grays.”
“By describing the condition you found the hound in?”
“Yes.” She sounded almost grateful because he’d suggested that. “I wish I had time to swing by the clinic and take a current picture of his neck to contrast with the original.”
“And because you’d like to see how Hope is doing.”
She gave him something between a sigh and a groan. “That too.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise. If Hope is no better than when we saw her, which she probably isn’t, that would color your thinking. Maybe make it impossible for you to be objective.”
“Why do you question so much of what I do?”
“I never…” He debated taking a swallow of beer, but he’d only be stalling. “It’s my protective streak. Most of the time things work out well because of it.”
“Once it almost got you killed.”
Justifying why he’d tried to rescue Jenice wasn’t the point. “A lot of people won’t care about your theory of why James and Cheryl Moyan were targeted. They’ll think you’re—”
“It isn’t a theory. You saw the drawing of Masauwu. I explained what he represents.”
“Are you going to bring up Hopi tradition? I thought your grandfather gave you that material in confidence.”
He wasn’t sure, but thought he heard her breathing. Much as he hated doing this to her, one of them had to be logical. If he had his way, he wouldn’t let her get anywhere near the media, O’Neil included. He now regretted telling her she could trust the man. As vulnerable as she was, she might not be able to see where O’Neil’s questions were taking her until she said something she’d regret all her life.
