by Lee Benoit
"That little twink of yours, you mean? He doesn't have the first clue about what's up. He's too simple to be trusted."
I'm fuming over that, let me tell you, but gratified that David comes to my defense. "Endi's not simple. He's just... innocent."
Manton snorts. "You're losing your touch along with your sight, Dave. The big boys won't tolerate failure on this mission."
Mission? David's here on a mission? Overseeing the dragon situation, that's what Manton said, but what does it mean? David's supposed to be a retired psychologist. I'm getting this very bad feeling that Chief must have been right about him all along. I'm all torn up between feeling bad for him personally and being outraged on behalf of Endicott and the dogs.
"Maybe the mission should fail," David says. "Maybe you should return the dogs and let them live in peace."
What. The. Fuck?
Manton's behind Sounder and Patch and the others disappearing? Manton's behind Lomi disappearing?
I lose my good sense. I'm through that damned bedroom door before I realize I'm going to move. "Where are they?" I shout.
Manton and David sit up fast, clutching the rumpled white sheet in front of their naked selves like in an old movie. It would be funny any other day.
"David! Answer me! I thought you were my friend."
I know immediately it's the wrong thing to say, because Manton chortles. No, I swear, it's an honest-to-gods chortle, and it makes me feel three feet tall.
David's dark glasses lie on the nightstand and he fumbles for them as I cross the room and kneel by his side of the bed. I've never seen him without them, but he slips them on before I have a chance to get a really good look.
"Oh, David," Manton mimics me, making his voice all high and hick-sounding. "I thought you were my friend!"
I shoot him the eyeball of death but otherwise ignore him.
"Please, David. Whatever he's done with Lomi and the others, whatever you've done, you have to help me. Help me bring them home safe."
David knows me well enough by now to know what the dogs -- and not coincidentally, my job -- mean to me. He settles the glasses on his face and reaches out for me.
Manton sucks his teeth. "Run along to your Daddy, boy. This catastrophe of an experiment is over. Forget about the dragons. Just move on. There's nothing you can do now."
"David, what does he mean?" I'm used to touching David; we touch lot 'cause he can't see me, so it's nothing to raise my hand and let him find it.
"I'm so sorry, Endi," he says. "I didn't want you to find out like this. There was supposed to be more time."
There's a bang and some stomping then, and all three of us turn to the door. "More time for what?" Like a scene from a bedroom farce, there's Chief, his big body filling the doorway and red fury rolling off him in waves no surfer could hope to catch, it's so wild.
I clutch David's hand, suddenly feeling very naked with my coveralls around my hips and my chest bare. "They..."
"They what, Endi? They found a way to distract you? That why you're on your knees?"
David tries to speak. "Alex, come on. You know..."
But Manton interrupts. "This happen a lot, Chief Burgess? You find your boy in other men's bedrooms?"
"You bastard!" I yell, yanking my hand from David's and struggling to stand and get my uniform back on all in one move. It's not graceful, and it's not enough, as Chief is stalking out of the room by the time I cross it.
"I just came to tell you one of the crews found Mr. Tillinghast's Lowbrow near the old cannery.
We're going to check it out now."
I scramble to catch up. Lowbrow is one of my oldest friends, and was one of my first dogwalking clients. "Is he okay? Did they find the others?" Everybody else is doing my job for me, and it's sickening how horrible I feel over making the wrong call by coming here to David's when Chief's search plan evidently worked. I reach for Chief's arm, but he shakes me off and fixes me with a vicious look.
"You stay here, Endi."
"I want to go with you." It comes out plaintive and small, and I know Chief understands that I'm talking about us and not the rescue plan.
"You made a choice, Endi, and now you have to live with it," he says, real low. Does he mean coming to David for help, or does he mean whatever he thinks I was doing with my shirt off in the company of two naked men? There should be a word that means worse than worst. Before I can answer, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.
I realize too late that I never got to tell him David and Manton know the truth about the dogs.
I dash back into the bedroom where I find the reporter dressed and passing David his clothes.
I do a double-take when I see David's bare chest. "What the fuck?" It's a measure of my surprise that I swear. Grammy taught me swearing's for the unimaginative.
As if he knows what I've seen, David's hand comes up protectively to cover his sternum. "It's nothing, Endi." If I could see his eyes behind those dark specs, David would be giving me a serious "don't touch this" look.
But I know what I saw. "David, your chest is...scaly."
"Not now, Endi," he says, his voice weary with defeat.
Manton flings the clothes in David's general direction.
I whip out my cell phone and dial where Manton can see me. 9-1-1.
"No you don't, little dog walker." His silky voice is so annoying I almost don't notice what he says next. "You want your dogs back, don't you? And do you really think your fire chief will ever hear that nothing happened between you and David and me if you make that call? Will he believe you? He certainly won't believe David."
"Like you can make it happen," I say, focusing on the immediate problem of the dogs. No matter what my heart says, they're the ones in real danger. Over the phone, the dispatcher's tinny voice is repeating "what is the nature of your emergency?" for at least the second time, but I'm frozen.
David finishes buttoning his shirt, hiding the scales -- which we are so having a conversation about later -- and reaches over to pull the cell phone from my fingers. He must have followed the sound of the shrieking dispatcher. "You need to listen to what Perry has to say, Endi."
I don't have time to listen to Manton. I have to catch up with Chief. Like now. I reach for the phone, but David snaps it shut and slides it into his shirt pocket with a smile. If David's on Manton's side in all this, I'm in deep trouble. But what I heard through the bedroom door, that sounded like David was as much Manton's victim as the dogs are.
"What can a slimy reporter have to say to me?" I ask. Maybe calling him slimy was a bit much, 'cause David shakes his head the way Grammy used to when she was disappointed in me.
"Sorry, David," I say. "I know he's your boyfriend and everything, but..."
"But nothing, Endi. He's not my boyfriend, and he's not a reporter. He knows what's going on with the dogs disappearing." David wraps his hand around my shoulder and uses his free hand to take off his glasses again, the first time I've ever seen his eyes up close.
They're milky, with no pupils, and where his eyebrows and lashes should be, there's fine, green scaling.
"If you're my friend, David, you'll help me fix this."
"It's complicated, Endi. There's more you need to know. I'm not your enemy, and I hope when this is over you'll still call me your friend." He leans in closer, pretending to lean on me while he slips into his shoes, and whispers, "But right now we need him."
***
As it happens, we get to the old cannery almost exactly when Chief does. David has briefed me on the way, Manton's done a lot of scowling and sneering, and I'm dying to tell Chief what I've learned. I have no idea why Manton's being so cooperative, except that there has to be something in it for him. I can wait to find out, that's for sure.
When we get out of the car, though, I see why Chief took so long getting there. Doc Wilson, the vet, is with him, so Chief must have made a detour. If Doc is here, that means--"Chief! How's Lowbrow?"
Lowbrow's a Basset, and one of the
oldest of the dragon pups. He's ungainly when he tries to fly 'cause his wings are fused like flippers, but as a water dragon, man, he kicks butt. I wheel on Manton.
"If your monster friends did anything to him..."
Chief does a double-take at what I said to Manton, but he's a pro and a dog lover, and he knows where my attention will be fixed. "See for yourself, Endi," Chief says, and steers me to a table just inside the cannery's open door. Lowbrow's whimpering on a table, his cream and liver coat streaked with blood. He's all wet, and the blood is blurry, bright, fresh. I look closer, holding my breath, and see that the blood comes from two wounds high on his shoulders.
"Someone... amputated his wings?" I can barely get the words out on a horrified gasp.
"I'll see to him," Doc Wilson says, his bright red ponytail falling over his shoulder as he leans in and starts soothing the poor pup. Doc's touch is almost as good as mine, I swear. "I may need some help with him."
"I'll help," I say immediately.
Doc gives me an indulgent look. "I need somebody with medical training."
I reach a hand back, searching for David while I look into Lowbrow's droopy eyes. He's in some pain, but mostly he's just confused. Chief reads me just like always, and guides David's hand into mine. Not only did he used to be a doctor, but knowing what I know about his involvement with the dragon dogs, I know he can help. I peer into Doc Wilson's face and ask him without words to please be patient and let David help. He gives me a smile and a nod, and uses the hand that's not stroking Lowbrow's long ears to grasp David by the shoulder in greeting. A good touch, like I said. I whisper introductions all around before Chief pulls me away.
I blink in the sunshine outside the cannery. Manton's barking into a cell phone and pacing back and forth in front of the harbormaster's shed.
"Chief, listen. Manton's no journalist. He's some kind of scientist. You have to arrest him."
Chief narrows his eyes at me.
"I'm serious. He told me. There's this institute. They did things to dogs, trying to breed superpets."
"Endi, we don't have time for fantasy conspiracies. What we need to do is mobilize everyone to search the harbor and coastline. If Lowbrow turned up in the water, other dogs might, too."
Over by the shed, Manton snaps his phone shut with a curse and starts making his way over to us. I have a minute, tops, to get through to Chief.
"Don't you see, Chief? Your old-school methods won't work. This institute? They have some kind of floating lab. Prevents detection and attention. It's out there somewhere." I point toward the bay. "We need to get to it."
"I'm supposed to do this with no confirmation?" Chief says, and even though it hurts that he won't just take my word for it, I suppose I have to accept that this all sounds a smidge insane.
"David was in on it." Chief's eyebrows lower like thunderclouds and I hasten to add, "But he's as much their victim as the dogs. He can tell you. It's how he lost his sight -- in some kind of self-testing of an experimental something or other. Chief, you've gotta believe me." See, I can beg out of bed, too.
Chief's eyebrows draw down even further and the wrinkles by his eyes deepen. "I can bring him in for questioning, I suppose."
"David? He's helping Doc Wilson."
"No, kid, Manton. See if there's anything behind this... story."
I huff. Okay, so huffing's not very professional, but Chief can be dense when he's in law enforcement mode. "We don't have time to question anybody. We need to get out to that research vessel before it crosses into international waters. We need to rescue the other dogs."
"And we can use a detained Manton as leverage if things get dicey?"
"Yes, that's it. I know it's unorthodox, but it's the only way. Call the chopper and backup, okay?" Manton's almost on us, and we need to grab him. Chief pulls out his radio and speaks quietly. I drop into a fighting stance.
"Cool it, hotshot. No need to restrain him, Endi. There's nowhere for him to go from here. We'll just keep him talking until the Staties get here. The chopper can do the search and the paddy wagon can hold Manton." He pauses for a second, and I know he's thinking about detaining David, too. I don't have time to try to convince him of David's relative innocence in all this because Manton gets close enough to hear us.
Chief growls out, "Why here, Manton? Why send a plague of dragon dogs to Endicott?"
Manton smiles his oily smile. "They were failures. No market for such unpredictable animals. We dumped them over the past few years where we figured they'd never learn to shift. We placed another failure, David, as overseer. He should have been enough." I can't untangle my pity for David from my outrage at what Manton's saying, so I keep my mouth shut while Manton goads Chief some more. "Didn't you ever wonder why so many spotted mutts turned up at your podunk fire house?"
One thing I could have told Manton is that you never, ever, talk down to Chief.
"Hmpf," Chief grunts, and rolls up into Manton's personal space. "So why come back for them now, huh? Why not leave well enough alone?"
While they go at it -- there's some impugning of my character going on, with Manton saying my ability to call forth dragon natures in our dogs ruined all the institute's plans, so once again something's my fault -- I decide if Chief isn't going to call the State Police to bring their helicopter, I'll have to take matters into my own hands. The local backup he radioed for won't be enough.
I holler over to Ernie, one of Sounder's cabal of owners, who's just down the dock readying his little boat for a fishing trip. "We know where Sounder is, Ernie! You up for a rescue mission?"
The old guy grins at me -- you could count his teeth on one hand -- and waves me over.
Chief and Manton are still arguing. Evidently the institute got a call from some shady contractor that there might be a military application for the "dog program." Either Chief's making Manton nervous enough to let something that big slip, or he's just so cocky about getting out of here and winning that he figures it doesn't matter what he says.
It takes a few seconds for Manton's words to sink in, but when they do, I can't keep quiet. "So that's why you abducted them?" Could this situation get any more complicated? I think harder, trying to puzzle out what's nagging me. Finally, I get it. "Then why was Lowbrow in the water?"
Lowbrow's a sweetheart, but he's not the brightest bulb and he's pretty ancient. I can't see him figuring a way to escape when Lomi couldn't, and since she isn't here with me, I figure there has to be some other explanation.
Manton breaks eye contact with Chief. "He's too old and too poor a flyer to be useful. Destroying him seemed... imprudent when there was public relations hay to be made with his safe return."
I point to the cannery where Wilson and David are still working on Lowbrow. "You call that safe? Cut him up and throw him in the bay? Hope for the best?"
You could knock me over with a feather when Manton actually blushes. "There was... some confusion during transfer."
I grin as wolfishly as I can. That many dogs, and the fire house mutts barely trained? Oh, yeah, I'll just bet there was confusion.
I don't have time to follow up on that 'cause Ernie's waving me over. "Come on, Chief," I say.
"Ernie will take us to the research vessel. We have to get the dogs before they mutilate any more.
Or kill them!"
Chief turns to me, but his eyes dart back to Manton over and over. There's a million questions he wants to ask, I know, and he must be running over ways to get Manton and his freaky institute to pay for all they've done. But he shakes his head at me. "No, Endi. We need to do this by the book. I've gotta wait here for backup."
"Cuff him to a piling and come on!" I holler at Chief, and Manton gives me this smarmy grin.
"He won't be able keep me in custody. There's no evidence other than a poor old dog that got cut in a tumble off the rocks and your say-so, and you're hardly credible." He pauses and leans in close. "But he and I will be alone. And I have all sorts of interesting things to tell him about
you."
I feel hot all over, furious and scared and confused and betrayed. I can't think straight. To heck with this. To heck with Chief and his "by the book." To heck with David and his lies and scales.
And to heck with trying to get Chief to see the truth about what happened in David's bedroom.
He hasn't said a word about it, but I can't just let it go. Now's not the time, I know. I have an even greater priority right now. Somehow this mess is my fault for being able to speak to the dragon natures of the dogs and not being able to stop myself.
This adventure has gone seriously pear-shaped. Time to take matters into my own hands, for better or worse.
I resist shoving Manton as I run past him to the dock. Halfway to Ernie's boat, I hear an impossible sound. Sounds like chopper rotors, but there's no way the State Police could have gotten here from Spencer yet. I look into the sky and sure enough, there's a silver bird heading right for us. I stop, torn between jumping onto Ernie's fishing trawler and running back to the helicopter to see this thing through Chief's way. It lands in the big open space between the cannery and the seawall, right where the old fish market used to be. That's when I notice it isn't the Staties' bird at all. No state seal on the door. I can't see any markings from this distance, but when Manton dashes over to it, bent over against the concussion of the blades, and hauls the door open, I know something's wrong. Manton points, and two big guys jump out and head to where Chief is making his "by the book" phone calls.
"No!" I scream and start running. Too late. I pelt up the dock too slowly. As I run, I can see the two big men grab Chief, one on each side, and drag him into the chopper. Manton hops in behind them and before the door's even closed the silver bird is going airborne. Too late.
I pat my pockets frantically, looking for my cell phone. "Shit!" I yell when I remember David has it. Do I run back for it, or get on the boat with Ernie? Do I save Chief or the dogs? Can I save anybody?
"What do I do?" I ask the sky.
