Collared

by David Rosenfelt

  Of course, on the flip side, the reason she hasn’t moved is that the house reminds her of Dylan. Laurie has told me that it’s well known that Dylan’s room is exactly as it was when he “left”; nothing in it has changed. Leaving the house would feel to Jill like cutting off the last tie to him, providing a closure that she doesn’t seek.

  Jill is waiting for us on the porch when we get there. She skips the “Hello” part of the conversation and starts with “What is it?” She’s literally cringing when she asks the question, and I realize that she fears we are going to tell her that Dylan’s body has been found.

  “Let’s go inside,” Laurie says, and we do.

  As soon as we’re in the den, Laurie says, “We think we’ve found Cody.”

  The statement jolts Jill, apparently literally, as she takes a step back. “Alive? Where? How do you know it’s him?”

  Laurie answers those three questions, and many others, in a calm, unruffled way. It just takes a few minutes, and I don’t say a word. When she’s finished, she walks over and hugs Jill.

  “Can I see him now?” Jill asks.

  “Of course.”

  We go in my car to the foundation, and I call on the way to alert Willie. He’s standing there with Cody on a leash when we arrive, and Jill starts to cry when she sees him. As for Cody, he goes into major tail-wagging mode; this is someone he seems to recognize and like.

  She finally composes herself and walks over to him, taking the leash from Willie. “Roll over,” she says, and Cody immediately assumes the sitting position.

  While I don’t know what to make of the fact that he obeyed the wrong command, Jill seems to understand it quite well. She goes to her knees, hugging the surprised Cody so hard that I’m afraid she’s going to strangle him.

  Jill explains. “Keith thought it was funny to train him to the wrong commands. If you tell him to shake hands, he plays dead. If you tell him to play dead, he twirls around.”

  She demonstrates these commands, leaving no doubt that this is her Cody. We all go into the back room, which we use to talk to potential adopters of the dogs. Sondra comes in with coffee, but then she and Willie leave, and we talk a bit about the implications of what has happened.

  Jill asks, “What does this mean?” about ten times in ten different ways, but neither Laurie nor I can effectively answer any of them.

  “But we need to bring this to the attention of the police,” I say, and everybody agrees with that.

  “Can I bring him home?” Jill asks while petting Cody.

  “He’s your dog,” I say. “I’ll bring him by later.”

  “I can’t keep him now?”

  “I need to introduce him to the authorities. I’ll get him to you as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll wait at the house with Jill,” Laurie says.

  “You’ll bring him back today?” Jill asks.

  I nod. “Today. I promise.”

  call Captain Pete Stanton and tell him I’m on my way to see him.

  “What for?” he asks.

  “You’ll know when I get there. But it’s police business.”

  “You going to turn yourself in?”

  “For what? I haven’t done anything.”

  “Damn,” he says. “I guess I’ll have to put them away.”

  “Put what away?” I ask.

  “I’ve got handcuffs with your name on them.”

  When we’re not insulting each other, Pete and I are actually best friends. He’s an outstanding homicide cop, and I’m a pretty good attorney, but he and I would never compliment each other under penalty of death.

  When I get to the precinct, I tell the desk sergeant that I’m here to see Captain Stanton. He points to Cody, sitting calmly and respectfully next to me at the end of a leash. “He can’t go back there.”

  “Yes, he can,” I say. “He’s evidence.”

  As a defense attorney, I am rather widely hated by the members of Paterson’s finest. If you’re trying to talk yourself out of a speeding ticket, it’s probably best not to mention that you know Andy Carpenter.

  This particular sergeant is not an exception to that rule, and he’s about to argue with me when we see Pete coming toward us.

  Pete points to Cody and asks, “What the hell is it with you and dogs?”

  “I find they’re smarter and more reliable than people, present company included.” I point to the desk sergeant. “Eliot Ness here says I can’t bring the dog back to your office.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Okay, then you can read about him in the paper.”

  I turn to walk away, and Pete says, “That dog is the reason you’re here?”

  “He is.”

  He sighs. “All right. Bring him back. But if he shits on the floor, you’re cleaning it up.”

  We walk back to Pete’s office, and that’s when I notice that Cody has a slight limp in his rear back leg. It doesn’t appear serious, but I make a mental note to check it out with our vet.

  When we’re finally in Pete’s office, I ask Pete, “I assume you remember the Dylan Hickman abduction?”

  My question hits him right between the eyes, and the realization comes a split second later. “That’s the dog?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Where’s he been for the last three years?”

  “Beats me.”

  “How do you know it’s him?”

  I tell him the entire story, including the chip identification and Jill’s certainty that this is, in fact, Cody.

  “It could be a hoax,” he says.

  “That’s not possible, but I knew you’d say it, which is why I brought him down. You can run his DNA; you’ve certainly got a sample to compare it to.”

  He nods and picks up the phone to request a forensics team. They are here within three minutes, and in another three minutes, they leave with a hair and saliva sample. Cody is completely cooperative throughout; he clearly has nothing to hide.

  When they leave, Pete says, “This doesn’t change anything.” He was the lead investigator on the case and certainly believes that the right man is behind bars.

  “It changes one thing for sure,” I say.

  “What’s that?”

  “The missing dog isn’t missing anymore.”

  “But the right guy is in jail. There could be a million explanations for this, even if it’s the same dog. None of them exclude Wachtel’s guilt.”

  I don’t really disagree with anything he is saying, but I don’t tell him that, since I wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Our friendship is a really mature one.

  “Well, this has been a real treat,” I say, standing up. “It’s always comforting to spend time with the protectors of our community, no matter how incompetent they may be.”

  “Where are you taking him?” he asks, pointing to Cody.

  “Home. If you need to question him further, I’ll bring him back. I’m his attorney.”

  “Don’t you already have enough dogs?” he asks.

  “I didn’t mean my home. I meant his.”

  aurie and Jill are in Jill’s kitchen when Cody and I get back. Coffee cups sit in front of them; if they’ve been actually drinking coffee this long, they’re going to be awake until August.

  Cody runs right over to Jill, and as he runs, his limp is a little more pronounced. But he has no trouble hopping up into her lap and licking her face. If ever there was a case in which a DNA test was not necessary to determine identity, Cody is it.

  “What did Pete say?” Laurie asks.

  “That it doesn’t change anything.” I can see Jill react, and I realize that she somehow is holding out a faint hope that Cody being alive means that Dylan might be alive as well. “He’s running a DNA test on Cody.”

  “So that’s it?” Jill asks.

  I nod. “As far as the police are concerned. To them this is a curiosity but doesn’t change the facts. They’ve got their man, and in their eyes, the dog was never a real factor.”


  She pets Cody’s head. “He always was to me.”

  At the time of the investigation and trial, the fact that the abductor took Cody was always puzzling. The prosecution portrayed it as possibly a way to keep Dylan calm and not scream, but that was only one of the theories they advanced. The other was that Keith Wachtel knew that Jill loved Cody, so killing him was an extra act of revenge.

  “So where has Cody been all this time?” Jill asks.

  “I have no idea. He could have been found as a stray back then and maybe ran away. Or maybe the people that had him just didn’t want him anymore.”

  “God, I wish I knew what this means,” Jill said.

  I see a look in Laurie’s eyes that makes me very nervous. I get even more nervous when her mouth starts to move, since I assume it’s connected internally to the look in her eyes. I don’t even have enough time to cringe before she starts talking.

  “Jill, Andy and I will look into this. If there’s anything to find out, we’ll find it out for you.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that,” Jill says.

  “You didn’t ask,” says Laurie. “We offered.”

  Clearly, her use of the pronoun we in that sentence was somewhat inaccurate, but I don’t have the guts to point it out. The other thing I don’t have the guts to point out is that there is no upside to injecting ourselves into this situation. We’ll get nowhere, and it might give Jill false hope.

  I’m trying to summon up the courage to verbalize a form of that when Laurie jumps back in.

  “I’m not saying we’ll get anywhere,” Laurie says, “but it won’t be for lack of trying.”

  “I’ve hired private investigators in the past,” Jill said. “I’ve tried everything I could.”

  “I know that,” Laurie says. “We know that. But I’ve got plenty of time on my hands, and Andy has decided to renew his law license. We’re happy to do it.” I think she’s noticed that I haven’t said a word, so she adds, “Right, Andy?”

  “Absolutely,” I lie. “What is it we’re happy to do?”

  “To find out whether Cody’s turning up has any significance to the overall case,” Laurie says.

  “Are you going to tell Keith?” Jill asks.

  I hadn’t thought about it, mainly because I hadn’t thought about getting involved. “Sooner or later,” I say. “He has a right to know, and maybe it could get him talking.”

  Jill nods. “Okay.”

  “I think we can hold off on that for now,” Laurie says. As an ex-cop, she is somewhat less concerned with the rights of the convicted than I am. She continues, “At least until we know whether this is of any real significance.”

  I don’t say anything because I’m too busy mentally kicking myself for the casual way in which I handled the note left with Cody at the shelter. I should have protected it and brought it with me to the precinct so that it could be tested for fingerprints.

  We promise Jill we will keep in touch and inform her about any progress, and we leave. The first thing I do is call Willie and tell him to put the note in plastic to protect it. He says he’ll do so and offers to drop it off at our house later.

  “That’s okay. We’ll stop by and pick it up,” I say, and Laurie and I drive over there.

  Instead of pulling into the foundation parking lot, I stop next door at the gas station / convenience store. I’ve become friends with the owner, Bert Manning, who seems to work a twenty-four-hour day. I don’t think I’ve ever been in there without Bert being on the premises.

  Laurie comes in with me, and after we exchange greetings, I ask Bert if he happened to see anyone leave a dog in our parking lot that morning.

  “You mean the border collie?” he asks, which, as questions go, is a fairly promising one.

  “Exactly.”

  “Sure did. I saw her tie the poor thing up. I was going to wait a little while and then go bring it inside here, but then Willie showed up. How does someone just dump a dog like that?”

  “It was a woman?” Laurie asks.

  “Definitely.”

  “You know what she looked like?”

  “Not really. Youngish, and seemed on the tall side. But I didn’t get a good look at her face. I called out to her, but she quickly got in the car and took off. Like she was embarrassed that someone saw her.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “Nothing unusual, just a sedan. Dark green, I think.”

  “Any chance she stopped in here for gas or anything before she left the dog?”

  “You mean, would our cameras have caught her? No, I’m pretty sure she didn’t. But I can check; I know what time it was.”

  “Please do that,” Laurie says.

  “The dog okay?” Bert asks.

  “Fine. Reunited with his rightful owner.”

  hen we park at the foundation, I’m surprised to see Pete walking out. He’s with two guys that I don’t recognize, one of whom is holding an evidence bag.

  “You here to get a dog?” I ask. “Because we usually adopt to a higher class of people.”

  “I’ll come back tomorrow looking for code violations.”

  I point to the evidence bag. “Is that the note that came with Cody?”

  “It is. I understand from Willie that you did everything but run it through the washing machine.”

  “Guilty as charged,” I say. “Will you let me know if you get any prints?”

  “So you’re conducting another one of your independent investigations?” he asks. “Let me guess … there’s a paying client involved.”

  “I believe that it’s my money that keeps you in beer and hamburgers.” I think the last time Pete paid for his food or drinks at our favorite sports bar was during the Reagan administration.

  “Good point,” he says.

  “But no money this time; I’m doing it for a friend. I’ll wait to hear from you on the prints.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  Laurie has been pulling off the remarkable feat of watching all this and rolling her eyes at the same time. She obviously feels it’s time to intervene, because she says, “Pete, we’d appreciate any information you can give us. Jill’s pretty upset and anxious, and we can be your conduit to her.”

  Pete respects and likes Laurie as a former police officer and all-around decent human being, so he says, “Sure, Laurie. As long as I can deal with you, I’ll help in any way I can.”

  Pete and his evidence buddies leave.

  “I guess we told him,” I say.

  Bottom line is that I’m pleased that Pete showed up to get the note without my having to bring it down to him; it shows he’s taking it seriously. He has far more resources to get to the bottom of this and find the person that left Cody than I do.

  Laurie and I head home, since Ricky is due home from school pretty soon. After he gets there, I take Tara and Sebastian on an early walk in Eastside Park. These walks are the time when I do my best thinking, and right now, I have to figure out the next steps in the “Cody investigation.”

  I’m loath to get into the nuts and bolts of the original investigation. To do so, I would have to read the trial transcript, go through the discovery, and completely familiarize myself with all aspects of the case. Since I have none of that material and it would take considerable effort to get it, to say nothing of reading it, I rule that out.

  When it comes to effort, I am a minimalist.

  The only new event here is Cody’s appearance on the scene, so it would make sense to put my focus on where he’s been all this time. It would be nice if he would tell me that, but he doesn’t seem to be talking.

  On the other hand, there might be a way to get him to talk.

  When I get home, I call Jill and ask her if she and Cody can meet me at Dr. Dan Dowling’s office in an hour. He’s my veterinarian, and I’m hoping he can get information out of the close-mouthed Cody.

  She agrees, so I call and set up the appointment. It’s one of the few times I don’t dread going there. Usually I’m bringin
g Tara or Sebastian in for some ailment or general checkup, and I start panicking the night before in fear of what he might find.

  Jill, Cody, and I are ushered right in to an examining room, and Dr. Dowling is surprised to see that I’ve brought a border collie. I explain that it’s Jill’s dog and that we want him fully examined.

  “Do you have his medical history?” he asks.

  “Well, that’s sort of why we’re here,” I say. “We’re hoping you can tell us.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Cody has been missing for a while … almost three years. We’re trying to figure out where he’s been.”

  “That isn’t clearing it up much,” Dowling says. “What do you mean, ‘where he’s been’?”

  “We’re hoping that you can find something medically, maybe a surgical procedure, which is only performed in certain parts of the country, maybe something else, which we can use. Any little bit helps.”

  “Let me make sure I understand. You want to know if there is anything physically unique about this dog that will tell you where he’s been living?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, I’ll give it a shot, but don’t expect much. It will take a couple of days to get a full blood panel back. The x-rays we can shoot now, but the blood is more likely to reveal whatever there is to reveal.”

  “Fine. I appreciate it.” Then, “Also, you haven’t seen him walk yet, but he has a slight limp. I think it’s in his rear hind leg.”

  “I’ll check it out,” he says. “Give me a couple of days on the other thing.”

  “You think you can come up with something?”

  He shrugs. “It’s a long shot, but you never know. This is a first for me; there isn’t usually much call for forensic veterinary medicine.”

  I smile. “Glad we could expand your horizons.”

  Jill and I wait for almost an hour as they put Cody through his medical paces. That gives her a chance to ask me many more times if Cody reappearing will have significance for the case.