Bark M for Murder

by An Anthology

  “A.J., what the hell are you waiting for? Duke can guide you back to the truck.”

  “In a minute,” she snapped. “I was supposed to meet someone at a restaurant,” she said, each thought emerging slowly. It was like pulling teeth. “No, a truck stop somewhere. I was late getting there because I had stopped to fill up and check the oil, but I remembered thinking he could wait. Dad always said take care of your car; it’ll take care of you. And it will!”

  “Right, with a key.” Jake sounded groggy.

  She laughed, hysteria creeping up on her. Kneeling in the wet soil, she groped inside the front tire well until her fingers met a hard, round object. Relief and triumph sang through her veins. It took some doing but she finally worked it free.

  “A.J., what’s the problem?” Jake’s voice drifted toward her. He sounded even weaker. “You’re wasting time. Help me up.”

  “I’m coming.” The doors were already unlocked, so she opened the passenger door on the rear and Duke jumped in with no prompting. Returning to Jake, she knelt and showed him what she held. “My car, my key.”

  “One of those magnetic key-tainers,” he said, and shook his head. “To think I considered them a car thief’s wet dream.”

  “I took some convincing, too. Let’s get you up.” She helped him to his feet. “Now hear this: I’m not leaving you in these woods. If the engine gives us away, so be it. Duke’s waiting.”

  Jake gave her a long look, then gave up. “If you’re married, I have great sympathy for your husband.”

  The thought had never occurred to her. It didn’t feel right, so she dismissed it and nudged Jake forward. He was wobbly-legged for the first couple of steps, but steadier by the time they reached the front passenger door. A.J. moved the seat back as far as it would go, then held on to his shoulders as he got in. Once settled and restrained by his seat belt, he closed his eyes for a moment, his face shiny with perspiration. “Thanks. That was rough.”

  She shut the door gently and hurried around to get in. “You’ll have to navigate,” she warned him. “It’s lighter now but not that light.”

  He nodded. “Straight ahead. Stay in the ruts and you’ll do fine.”

  Famous last words, A.J. mused, and turned the key, her thoughts revving every bit as fast as the engine. She took it slowly, as this too was a washboard road and she could tell that Jake was suffering with every jolt. “You know what?” she said, as much to distract him as to vocalize what was going on in her head. “There’s got to be two of them. There’s the Taurus I was in, so somebody had to drive mine. Whoever left the car back there still has the key ring with the remote on it.”

  “Another reason for you to take off while you can. Let me out at the cabin and keep going.”

  “Hush, man.” Her thoughts were on the purse. Allie C. Jordan. Why had that name twisted her stomach into a granny knot? Not Allie C. Alicia! Slowly a blurred image began to levitate, then recede. She was working as hard as she could to bring it back when Jake cleared his throat.

  “I owe you an apology, A.J., so let me get it said, just in case. I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but I misjudged you. You’re okay. You could have left me back there and you didn’t. I should have taken my cue from Duke. He likes you and he’s a good judge of character.”

  Duke made a sound somewhere between a bark and a grunt, as if seconding the motion.

  A.J. risked a glance at Jake. “Apology accepted. Call me nosy. Why’d you come up here with no way to get in touch with anyone?”

  He greeted her question with silence, then sighed. “I’ve been working undercover for a year and a half, a special assignment. The things I’ve seen, the people I’ve had to associate with… It was beginning to feel like a slow-acting poison. I had to get away, decide if I could keep doing it, keep watching pure scum take advantage of people, especially kids. That’s what pushed me over the edge. Burnout, my ass, it was more like flashover. I needed time and solitude. I get that up here.” He chuckled. “At least that was the plan until Duke showed up just as I was leaving home.”

  “Gotcha,” A.J. said, the image of a dirty and disheveled Jake resurfacing again. A photo of him. Where would she have seen it?

  Suddenly it was as if the ends of a pair of live wires had been twisted together. She literally saw a spark arc behind her eyes. Alicia. Of course. And Jake. There was definitely a connection but how?

  The question dissolved as Duke began a jig and the lights in the window of the cabin suddenly appeared, then the cabin itself, a view of it she hadn’t seen before. “We’re on the back?”

  “Right. Park as close to it as you can so it won’t be visible from the front or the sides. Then let Duke out. If anyone’s around, he’ll alert us.”

  A.J. was glad he’d thought of that, since she had been dreading having to check around the cabin before they could go in. As soon as she opened the rear passenger door, Duke vaulted out. To her relief, he didn’t run off, just stood, tail swishing as he waited for Jake.

  “That answers that question.” Jake managed a taut smile in response to the dog’s goofy grin. “Nobody around.” He released his seat belt, swiveled around on his own, breathing heavily, and got out. “Okay, I can make it from here. Take care, A.J. And thanks.”

  “What part of ‘I’m not leaving you’ do you not understand, Jake?” She edged the back door closed. “I—am—not—leaving—you. Get over it.”

  After a moment, he reached over with his good arm, pulled her to him and hugged her. “Thanks,” he whispered.

  Disconcerted, A.J. gave him an embarrassed smile. “Can we go now?”

  He grinned as if enjoying her discomfiture. “Yes, ma’am. I can use the wall as support until we reach the door. And don’t worry, I can make it into the house. If I need a boost, you get to goose me from behind.”

  “My thrill for the night. Let’s go.”

  All things considered, it wasn’t as bad as she feared. Jake took his time. Duke escorted him, running a few feet ahead, then returning to see how far his friend had come. When they reached the bush, she pulled it back for Jake, suffering the scratches silently. It was a big step up from the ground to the interior, but he’d obviously worked it out on the way. With one foot against the ledge, he grabbed the edge of the doorframe and hauled himself up and in. Duke scrambled in after him.

  “Shoot.” A.J. was giddy with pure relief. “I didn’t get to goose you.”

  “Any time you want, lady,” he said, panting. “The first aid kit’s in the cabinet beside the dryer. Might as well grab it on your way in.”

  By the time she got inside, closed the door, and retrieved the kit, Jake, still with his coat on, had collapsed in one of the easy chairs. She left him only long enough to use the bathroom, those glasses of water he’d insisted she drink demanding release.

  “Better close the shutters,” he said, slowly removing the tourniquet when she returned. “God, it’s cold in here.”

  He’s going into shock, she thought, her heart sinking as she secured the heavy louvered shutters over the windows. He needed help, the emergency room kind of help. She tossed a log on the fire, then ran into the bedroom and snatched a blanket from the bed. She covered Jake, leaving the wounded arm exposed. He sat with his eyes closed, his face pale and sweating.

  “Jake,” she said, rousing him gently. “I’ll have to cut your coat sleeve off.”

  He nodded. “It’s okay. Already ruined.”

  An understatement. It was a bloody mess. Her stomach clenched at the prospect of what was underneath it. Rather than try to find scissors, she went at the fabric with the steak knife he had used to dig the cartridge from the window frame. It was awkward, but it did the job.

  “Where’s Duke?” he asked, eyes still closed.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Nosing around the front door. Don’t move.” Steeling herself, she worked her way slowly above his elbow, pulling the fabric free of his skin before slitting through it. “Oh, God.”

 
; “That bad?”

  His upper arm appeared to have exploded, the muscles flayed and shredded. It appeared to have stopped bleeding but she wasn’t sure that was a good sign. This was beyond her capabilities. He needed a professional.

  “Where’s this Rory of yours?” she asked, with sudden inspiration. “Does he live on this side of the bridge?”

  Jake’s brows rose. “In fact, he does. Should have thought of that myself. But you’ll have to go get him, A.J. This is it for me. Take a left at the end of the drive-opposite the way we came in. At the three forks, take the road at three on the clock and watch for a big white house, two-story, with a long brick building beside it. That’s Rory’s place.”

  God, she hated to abandon him and must have telegraphed it.

  He smiled reassuringly. “Just leave some water with me and I’ll be fine. Take Duke for protection.”

  A.J. bit her lip in indecision, but knew it might be Jake’s only chance for professional care. She took a two-liter bottle from the refrigerator, checked the fire, and patted her pocket for the car key. “I’d better take the little automatic,” she said, carefully working her way into his coat pocket. “Just in case.”

  “It’s not loaded. Hand me the one in my waistband and you take the one in the cabinet by the dog food.”

  His, she saw, was a twin of the Sig Sauer in the kitchen. With no thought about the process, she checked to see if the one she’d be taking was loaded. It was. It felt good in her hand, comfortable.

  “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  “One last thing.” He waved her nearer and she knelt by his chair. “I lied, sort of. I did bring a cell phone.”

  “What?”

  “I forgot to bring the charger. Duke’s fault. He distracted me. And the battery died a couple of days ago.”

  A.J. stared at him, his admission slamming open another door in her memory. Without warning, she was overcome by laughter, bent double, her head on her knees. “I just remembered. My God, I just remembered! My cell phone’s in the Honda! It’s under the seat! That’s where I stash it if I’m on the road and get out to eat or something.”

  A smile warmed Jake’s eyes. “The best news I’ve heard all night. Rory’s number is on the refrigerator. Ask him to come.”

  She was about to argue that what he really needed was a Medevac helicopter when their run of luck came to an abrupt end. A shot punched a hole in the front door and struck the leg of a stool in front of the island. A second slammed into a kitchen cabinet, shattering glass and dishes.

  Jake struggled to sit up. “Again? For God’s sake, A.J., who the hell keeps shooting at you?”

  Chapter 7

  “You know something?” A.J. said, scrambling to get to the light switch. “This is getting really old.” Her pulse throbbed, her heart beating so hard she wondered about the possibility of a coronary. It was, she realized, a permanent hitchhiker in her psyche. Her father had died of a heart attack.

  “Where’s Duke?” Jake’s voice held an edge of panic. The dog had been keeping company with the front door ever since they’d returned.

  A whimper supplied the answer. The shepherd peered at her from the utility room.

  “He’s okay.” She hit the switch. With the shutters closed, the great room was plunged into a ghostly gloom except for the glow cast by the fireplace and the soft light from a fluorescent fixture above the gas range.

  She duck-walked to the door and, trying to ignore the jagged holes in it, popped up, yanked the mini blinds closed over its little window, then scooted out of the foyer. Jake was struggling to get up.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I can’t just sit here,” he responded crankily. “Have you ever fired a gun, A.J.?”

  “I’m pretty sure I have, and that’ll have to hold you for the time being, so sit down. Whoever’s out there isn’t going to stop with two shots. Sooner or later, he’s gonna try to get in. When he does, with luck I can nail him.”

  He extended a hand and she took it, surprised when he laced his fingers between hers. “I hate to say it, but I think all the luck is on his side. If he’s smart, he’ll simply set fire to the cabin and nail us— you, that is—when you try to leave. There’s just one chance for you to escape. The only favor I ask is that you take Duke with you.”

  She squeezed his fingers, hating the note of resignation in his voice. “Stop being a defeatist and talk fast.”

  “There’s a pulldown ladder to the attic in my bedroom. You should be able to climb out the window under the eaves on the back and hop onto the roof of the shed. It’s right up against the cabin and no more than a foot and a half drop. Duke’s an old hand with ladders so he shouldn’t have any problems either.”

  A.J. sat back on her heels, her thoughts racing. Jake was telling her to leave him here to die. That he was in this pinch was her fault. The pieces of the puzzle, perhaps lubricated by the adrenaline racing through her system, were slowly being manipulated into some semblance of order. There was every possibility she might never regain the whole picture, but she remembered enough to figure out that she’d put her trust in people who clearly hadn’t deserved it. And Jake didn’t deserve to die because of her error in judgment.

  “How many windows are up there?” she asked.

  “One on each side, more for ventilation than anything else. Why?”

  “I’ll give you thirty seconds to work some mind over matter,” she said. “I’m not leaving you here. I don’t care what it takes to get you to the attic but we’re gonna do it.”

  “A.J.—”

  “Don’t trifle with me, man,” she cut him off, sounding, she realized, for all the world like her mother. “If you stay down here, you’re a sitting duck. In the attic, with a view of all sides of the place, we just might be able to pick him off. We’re both armed. Doesn’t matter if you’re shooting left-handed or right as long as you’re shooting.”

  “And if he tries arson?”

  “He won’t stick around afterward so we’ll nail him as he leaves. Then I shove your rear end out the window. Look at it this way: at the least, you’ll—no, we’ll have died trying.”

  He groaned. “You’re nuts, you know that? And I just figured out who you remind me of, another hardheaded female.”

  “Later.” It could wait. She knew who she reminded him of, too, now. “Let’s get you up.” She pulled him to his feet, made sure he would stay upright. “How many steps up to your bedroom?”

  “Thirteen. Thank God there are railings on both sides.” He slid an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go. Bedroom, Duke.”

  Grinning, the dog raced up to the loft, and stood waiting for them on the landing.

  Jake seemed determined to make it unassisted, pulling himself from one tread to the next and listing hard to starboard, counting as he climbed. A.J. trailed a step behind, wishing she could help, but she had to watch the door. He had just ground out “ten” when gunfire punched additional holes in the front door in rapid succession—one-two-three.

  “Keep going,” A.J. said, kneeling on the stair and firing back, the double-action trigger feeling like an old friend as she echoed the shooter shot for shot so he’d have no illusions about the kind of weapons they had.

  “Eleven,” Jake wheezed. “You okay?”

  “Aside from getting more pissed off by the second and feeling my hair turn gray strand by strand, I’m fine. Keep moving.”

  “Twelve.” Then, after a couple of years, “Thirteen.”

  A.J. backed up the last three steps, both hands aiming the automatic. Jake hugged the wall on the way to his bedroom, while A.J. hugged the railing that extended the length of the loft, her aim on the front door. They made it inside without the shooter testing the waters again.

  “Can’t chance a light yet or we’ll give ourselves away.” Jake, barely visible, had moved to the far corner of the bedroom. He emitted a groan as he reached for the end of the chain and tugged. Squinting, she watched as a square in the ceiling came
open and stairs lowered toward the floor. Spring-loaded steps, complete with railings, not a ladder.

  “What do you think?” she asked from the doorway where she could keep an eye on downstairs. “Need a boost? How can I help?”

  “You’re doing it.” Jake stood, his body language making it clear that he was steeling himself for round two. “God, I hate asking you to cover for me while I drag my ass up these stairs.”

  After a second, she said, “Would you feel any better about asking another cop to do it?”

  Silence. “You’re shittin‘ me. You’re a cop?”

  “A rookie, but damned straight, I’m a cop. And I haven’t been faking. Returning his fire brought most of it back. Get going, Jake. This guy may be slow on figuring out how he’s gonna take us but sooner or later, he’s got to make a move. And I’d rather be up there than down here when he does.”