Punish (Feral Justice Book 1)

by Vella Munn

  The shorter, thicker officer positioned himself a few feet from Joe. “Where are they?”

  Warning himself not to back away, Joe shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “There are leash laws.”

  “This is county land. My neighbors and I handle things ourselves.” That was true. Most everyone in the trailer park let their dogs run loose. Fortunately, none of those dogs returned to his property once they encountered his trio. The way he saw it, the grays served as the only defense system he’d ever need. They didn’t have to so much as bare their fangs. They simply were.

  “We could cite you.”

  “Go ahead.” The longer he talked to the two, the easier it was becoming to remain in the present. “I just don’t see fining me as your priority.”

  “This doesn’t need to be adversarial,” the taller officer said. He looked grim.

  “You aren’t here for a social visit.”

  “Don’t you want to see the animals responsible for killing two men stopped before they attack again?”

  Again? “What’s your proof it was my dogs?”

  “That’s what this visit is about. We want to get DNA samples.”

  His heart rate picked up again. It was too late to be anything except defensive. “Don’t you need a court order or something?”

  “Are you saying you’re refusing—?”

  “I just want things done legally.” He put his hands in his back pockets to keep their shaking from showing. “An awful thing happened, but I don’t want my dogs caught in the middle of a witch hunt.”

  “It’s a criminal investigation, not a witch hunt. Come on, Joe. Don’t make things difficult.”

  He shrugged. “Get your order. Then we’ll talk.”

  The men exchanged a look Joe had no doubt included a few profanities. He wondered if they’d planned their visit this early hoping to catch him and the grays asleep. Thanks to Smoke’s keen hearing, they hadn’t. His insisting on a court order would buy him a little time, but what about once they had it? How could he keep his babies safe?

  * * * *

  “I woke you up.”

  “No.” Rachelle pushed wet hair back from her forehead. “I just got out of the shower.” She nearly told Joe she was up early so she could get to school and work on her lesson plan before students arrived, but he hadn’t called to hear about her agenda, even though it included seeing him after work. “What’s the matter?”

  In the past, Joe had had a laconic way of talking, almost as if it was more trouble than it was worth. This morning his words came rapid-fire, forcing her to concentrate. She didn’t comment on his explanation about how the dogs had taken off just as law enforcement was arriving, because she needed time to try to wrap her mind around what had happened.

  When she was a child, he’d protected her. She wasn’t sure how to handle what felt like a role reversal. One thing was certain, she couldn’t and wouldn’t walk away.

  “You’re upset, which is understandable,” she said, hoping to calm him a bit. “But, Joe, they aren’t trying to railroad you or the dogs. If they’re innocent it’ll come out.”

  “And if they aren’t?”

  There it was. Doubt on his part.

  “Then we’ll deal with it.”

  “How?”

  I don’t know. Still wrapped in her towel, she headed for her bedroom. “Dogs have rights same as humans, at least they’d better. Hopefully that’s something a lawyer can answer.”

  “Maybe.”

  Bothered by his pessimism, she searched for a way to distract him. “I wanted to talk to Nate. It’s even more important now.”

  “Why him? It’s the cops who were out here.”

  “I’d like to trade on your relationship with him.” Besides, there’s something I think I need to tell him.

  Chapter Eight

  Wishing he were doing anything except this, Nate placed his hand on the tiny, still body on the examination table. The puppy had already started to cool.

  “She never had a chance,” the vet standing on the opposite side of the table said. “She might have if her mother had had anything to give her.”

  “Yeah.” Nate stroked the slight form. “Any idea how many of her siblings will make it?”

  Dr. Walters shook his head. “It’s too early to tell, but all six are going to need around-the-clock care. I don’t have to tell you that the younger a puppy is, the more vulnerable it is. Days like this I think I should have stayed retired.”

  Dr. Walters had sold his practice a couple of years ago, but as he’d explained when he agreed to work part-time for animal control, a man could only golf so much. And he had to get out of the house before his wife killed him. Besides, he loved what he did, most of the time. Like Nate, he’d been working insane hours over the past couple of days.

  “It’s hard to take,” Nate agreed. He took a moment to savor the din of hopefully healthy puppies in the next room.

  “Makes me an advocate for the death penalty.” Dr. Walters accepted a larger dog from the young woman vet tech. This one, the mother of the dead puppy, was skinny and frightened, but her eyes were bright. “I’m serious. If those two bastards weren’t already dead, I’d volunteer to pull the switch. How anyone can—sorry, I swore I wouldn’t let it get to me.”

  “How can we help it?” the tech asked as she picked up the dead puppy. “This is the worst case of neglect I’ve ever seen, at least in terms of scope.”

  Leaving Dr. Walters and his assistant to examine the emaciated bitch, Nate wandered into the crowded and noisy room where many of the rescued dogs waited in cages that must have seemed like palaces compared to what they’d come from. No matter how hard he’d been trying to block the deplorable scene from his mind, it continued to haunt him.

  Even now remnants of his nightmare clung to him.

  “Nate, are you there?”

  Recognizing Crosby’s no-nonsense tone over the intercom, he picked up the wall phone. “I’m here.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “All right.”

  Moments later he walked into the manager’s office. “What’s up?” he asked as he sat down.

  “I’m getting calls from media all over the country. What happened here has taken on a life of its own.”

  “I guess we should have expected that.”

  “Yeah. Some reporters are asking how the puppy mill could have gone undetected.”

  His world glazed over a little. “What have you told them?”

  Crosby leaned back in his chair with the cracked vinyl armrests and adjusted his glasses. “There’s not much I can. They don’t want to hear how overworked we are. That so-called facility slipped through the cracks. It happened on our watch.”

  Our. One thing he’d always admired about Crosby was that he never passed the buck. Neither, he reminded himself, did he take full responsibility. “Yes, it did, and that makes me sick,” he admitted. “Out in the middle of nowhere like it was and back from the road, no one saw it.”

  “No way can we know everything, but too many dogs suffered needlessly.”

  “I know.” Where was I? I should have—

  “The press has learned that you were the first control officer to see the carnage. I don’t want to fault the sheriff, but why did he name you?” Taking off his glasses, Crosby rubbed his eyes.

  “Are you saying you want me to talk to the media?”

  “Yeah, I think you need to. Otherwise, they’re going to keep on getting in our way. Just state you’re not at liberty to say anything about an ongoing case. We’re handling the animal abuse side. As for how those men died, that’s beyond our scope.” He sighed. “At least I hope the press will buy that.”

  Nate didn’t want to talk to anyone today. He especially didn’t want to worry that his words might be misinterpreted. One thing he was sure of, he wouldn’t react well to any finger-pointing directed against the understaffed and underfunded department. Dogs had been mistreated and some had died unde
r his watch. It was enough that he knew it.

  “I can’t do it right now,” he said. “Today’s full, starting with a call that came in an hour ago from a woman I’ve been working with. She hoped she could handle a Rottweiler mix stray she’s had for a couple of months. In the wake of the killings, she’d finally agreeing with me that she’s in over her head.”

  Crosby picked up a paper clip and scratched his hairline with it. The more intensely he felt about something, the more the manager moved about. Today was off the charts. “Do you need some time off? Not that I can spare you?”

  Yes. Alaska. Fishing. No cell phones, no TV. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m not, and I didn’t see what you did. Pictures aren’t the same thing.”

  The words lay between Nate and the man he’d admired from his first day here. Back when his uniform was new and he wasn’t sure he had what it took to do the job, Crosby had taken him out for a beer—three beers by the time they were done. The job was going to get to him, Crosby had warned. Sometimes he’d want to punch out a neglectful or abusive owner, an eye for an eye. When that happened, Crosby expected and wanted Nate to come to him.

  “What about you?” Nate had asked. “Who do you go to?”

  “I garden and dig up weeds. For as long as it takes.”

  Nate hadn’t done any gardening, but he had returned to lifting the weights he had when he’d played football in high school and college. He also worked on his place.

  “It was nearly eleven by the time I got home last night,” he said. “I fell asleep the moment I hit the bed.”

  “Did you stay asleep?”

  Nate waited until Crosby had put his glasses back on. “Yeah. Kinda.”

  The corner of Crosby’s mouth twitched. “Just like I did. Go to the gym after work and give it everything you have. Don’t stop until your muscles scream. About the local press. How about this afternoon? Give me a time and I’ll tell them to meet with you here.”

  The cell phone clipped to his waist vibrated. “I’ll better know my schedule once I run down a few more of the leads that keep coming in.”

  “All right, I guess.”

  Nodding, he activated his cell. “Animal control,” he said. “Officer Nate Chee.”

  “Mr. Chee, it’s Rachelle Reames. You gave me this number. Do you have a few minutes? It has to be now because I only got a substitute for my morning classes.”

  He locked onto his manager’s somber expression. “Where are you?”

  “What’s that about?” Crosby asked when she’d answered his question and hung up.

  “A tip. Maybe.”

  * * * *

  “This is all right?” Rachelle indicated their surroundings. “I didn’t want to go to your office if I didn’t have to.”

  “What I have doesn’t qualify as an office, more like a cubbyhole I share with the two other officers. Believe me, this is better.”

  The sports complex was a couple of miles from the animal control building. From the first moment she’d seen the baseball, softball and soccer fields, she’d hoped she’d have reason to spend some time here. Fortunately, back then she’d had no inkling of what the reason would be.

  She’d been perched on a metal picnic table with attached bench seating, watching softball players practice, when Nate arrived. Even before he’d gotten out of his vehicle, she’d had to fight the urge to run away. There was too much to the man. The understated sexuality got her hackles up. Physical attraction had no business complicating things. Was she deliberately trying to distract herself from what she had to do?

  “I dated a teacher once,” Nate said. “She almost never took time off because prepping for a sub was too much effort.”

  “I knew my principal wouldn’t be happy, which is why I’ve been putting this off, but I can’t do my job until I get some things resolved.” At least try to.

  “Where’s Joe?” Hoisting himself onto the table, Nate joined her in watching the players.

  “Home, I think.”

  “Does he know you’re here?”

  “Yes. I’ll fill him in on the details later.”

  “What are the details?”

  Other than right before he’d sat down, he hadn’t looked at her, which suited her just fine. The ballplayers, who couldn’t care less about their audience, appeared to be in their late thirties and early forties. Once-athletic bodies were giving way to more sedentary lifestyles. Hearing them tease each other, she envied the companionship she hoped they didn’t take for granted. Men seemed to be more direct about friendships than women, with less of the emotional subtext, not that she had any close female friendships.

  “I’d like to ask you some questions,” she said, reluctantly concentrating on her reason for being here. “I hope you’ll be honest.”

  “Ask. Then I’ll let you know whether I can be forthcoming.”

  “All right. First, what do you know about Joe? Did he tell you he lives alone? He doesn’t consider the dogs pets. They’re his companions.”

  “I know.”

  “You do? He owned his own auto transmission business. He told me he didn’t get rich—I don’t think anyone in that business would—but he did all right. I’m not sure why he sold it, maybe because he was tired of the responsibility.”

  “Auto maintenance has become high-tech. He didn’t want to have to invest in the necessary computers and schooling.”

  Surprise shifted into shock, because it hadn’t occurred to her that the two men would have talked about Joe’s career decisions. But except for her and a sister he hadn’t been in contact with for years, Joe didn’t have family. He needed to confide in someone, even if it turned out to be a man with the power to take his companions from him.

  “If those dogs did it, what’s the worst that could happen to him?”

  Nate returned her gaze. “We’re still on ‘if’ so it’s a moot point. Besides, I wouldn’t be the one to arrest him.”

  She swallowed. “Is it possible? My God, he didn’t—”

  “No, he didn’t personally have anything to do with what happened. If his dogs are responsible, I honestly don’t believe he thought they were capable of that kind of violence.”

  Are they? “A couple of men from the sheriff’s department came out to his place looking for the grays.”

  “Were they there?”

  “No. Nate, there’s only one way the officers would know about Joe’s dogs. You told them.”

  “Not me personally. I gave my manager the names of everyone I believed law enforcement should follow up on.”

  “My stepfather has been through a lot.”

  “Yes, he has. Did he tell you my father and he got to know each other through Operation Homecoming? Joe told me a little about what happened after he was captured.”

  Whatever it is, it’s more than he told me. “Then you should understand why I’m here for him. I’m going to try to get him to see a lawyer.”

  “Aren’t you jumping the gun?”

  “You tell me, am I?”

  “You’ll have to ask law enforcement about that.”

  Nate had gone back to studying the ballplayers. Not having to try to make sense of his expression should have helped but it didn’t.

  “He bottle-fed the dogs.” Her throat tightened. “They were his babies before they became his companions. He saved their lives. If he’d had any idea they were capable of—no, I won’t say that. You said the witness was in shock. She wasn’t able to give much of a description. It could have been wolf-dog mixes, right? My students told me there’s a local man who raises them. What if they made their way out to…or pit bulls trained to attack.”

  “No, not pits.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  He stared at the ground, took a long time responding. “I may have seen one of the killers at the puppy mill site. It was too big to be a pit.”

  She shuddered. “Was it—?”

  “One of Joe’s? It was too far away for me to know.”

  Tha
nk God. “But you gave law enforcement something.”

  After standing, Nate planted himself between her and what hadn’t been enough of a distraction. “I haven’t told anyone, yet.”

  Same as me. “Why haven’t you?”

  He stared at her without blinking. His mouth twitched, but she didn’t think he was trying to decide whether to speak. Even with the ballplayers’ wisecracks, she felt isolated. Alone with Nate.

  Tell him what you saw near that calf. Be honest. “You, ah, said the dog you saw was good sized. What about its color?”

  “It was in shade.”

  Please let it be some other dog. “Then—you haven’t said anything because you don’t want to risk pointing the finger at the wrong—maybe you weren’t sure what you were looking at.”

  “It was a dog, Rachelle.”

  “Maybe a stray drawn in by the sounds of the attack.”

  “That’s possible. What I do know is that the dogs—the coroner has determined there was more than one—that attacked those men are deadly and dangerous. Not many animals have the power to tear off a grown man’s foot.”

  Tear off. Was he deliberately trying to horrify her? Maybe this was his way of dealing with what he’d seen. If that was the case, she should feel sorry for him, but loyalty to Joe came first. “If it turns out that his dogs are responsible—and I’m not saying I think they might be—what would Joe be charged with?”

  For a moment she thought he understood how hard asking the question had been. Then the professional barrier fell into place. “I can’t answer that. I’ve taken evidence to the district attorney’s office, so I know some about how that part of the system works, but this is different.”

  She studied her hands. “You’ve never investigated a vicious dog attack?” Two deaths.

  “Yeah, I have.”

  Why couldn’t he go back to sitting? That way she’d stop feeling so intimidated, maybe. “What happened?”

  “One time we couldn’t determine who, if anyone, owned the dog. The second time the owner was convicted. He spent a month in jail and is still on probation. He had to do community service and was ordered to pay restitution. I’m not sure if he did.”