“Who’s Crandall?” Duff asked.
“He helps out with the kennel,” Ram answered offhandedly. To the girls he said, “Why did ye no’ tell us this before?”
The twins looked at each other. Then Gale said, “Did no’ know ye did no’ know.”
Elora took in a big breath and let it out. Looking at her daughters, she said, “Do we need Crandall or do you know how to ask Dol to track?”
The girls looked stumped. “No’ sure. I think maybe we need Crandall,” Gavain said.
Elora looked toward Ram, but he was already pulling out his phone. He pressed Crandall’s contact and, evidently, the man answered.
“’Tis Rammel.”
“Aye. Happy Yule to yours as well. We hate to bother you on holiday, but there’s an urgent matter.” Pause. “The girls say you taught Dol to track? As a game?” Pause. “Well, we’re in need of a dog with that kind of skill. Can you give me instructions on invitin’ him to the hunt or will I have to ask you to come in?” Pause. “I’ll owe you.”
Rammel ended the call and looked up to see eight pairs of eyes waiting for news. “He says nobody else has ever engaged Dol so he does no’ know what would happen. He insisted on comin’ over if ‘tis important.” Ram drew in a big breath. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“What are we hoping for?” Elora asked.
Litha spoke up. “If the dog could track Blackie to the place where he was taken, it might help me get a clearer read.”
“No pressure,” Storm said.
“No promises.” Litha pulled a fresh tissue from the box.
“After this we’re getting you home and into your own bed,” Storm said.
Litha didn’t protest.
“We’re stayin’,” Song said.
Elora looked grateful. “The guest cottage needs to be warmed up then.”
Ram looked at Helm pointedly.
“Aye. I’ll do it,” Helm said. “Right after Crandall comes?”
Ram nodded. “Do no’ forget.”
Even with everybody talking Ram’s ears picked up the soft knock on the back door. “He’s here.”
When Rammel opened the door, he was surprised to see that Crandall had already been to the kennel and fetched the dog. Dol, who was about the same size as Blackie, had a longish chocolate brown coat with black tips and black markings covering his face and head. He also had such a singularly remarkable look of intelligence that it wouldn’t be missed by even those unfamiliar with the species.
He was leashed and sitting next to Crandall, looking mature and well-behaved until he was rushed by Gale and Gavain. His entire body wagged and undulated with unadulterated happiness.
Everyone in the house donned coats and hats to go outside. After Ram gave repeated thanks to Crandall for coming on a day off and explained the situation, Crandall said, “Dolmen is no’ used to so many folks around. Trackin’ is no’ a spectator sort of activity and I do no’ know how he’ll respond. We can see. If he’s distracted, I may have to ask most of ye to withdraw to the house.”
“Let’s try it,” Ram said. “See what happens.”
Crandall bowed his head in a single nod. “Will need somethin’ with Blackie’s scent to communicate what we’re after.”
When no one said anything, Helm offered, “He slept on top of my bed last night off and on. The blanket probably smells like him.”
Ram’s hand curved around Helm’s trapezius affectionately. “Get it.”
When Helm returned, Crandall accepted the folded blanket. Holding it slightly away from his body, he said, “Dolmen. Track.”
Dol snapped to attention, jerked his head toward Crandall and looked at the man like he was trying to see through his brain. He then sniffed the blanket, sneezed, and looked accusingly at Helm.
Crandall laughed and talked to Dol like he’d be understood. “Aye. The young king’s scent is heady. But he’s no’ the one we’re after.” Crandall presented the blanket again. “Blackie.” He walked away from the little crowd anxiously watching, thinking Dol might understand that Helm was not the target. “Blackie.”
Dolmen sniffed the blanket again, put his head down to the ground, and began to move quickly; not a run or a trot, but at a fast pace considering that he was sniffing everything as he went.
Dol headed straight down the hill toward the curve of the lane below where Blackie had been taken. He froze when he reached the point where Blackie had been shot with tranquilizer, sniffed all around then, to everyone’s astonishment, raised his nose to the sky and howled.
Crandall looked at Ram. “Do no’ know what it means, but if I had to guess, I’d say somethin’ happened here.”
Ram looked from the footprints at his feet to the road and, without a word to anyone in the party, began walking the rest of the way down the hill to the lane.
The lane that ran in front of the Hawking property got little traffic as it was relatively remote and normally only used by a handful of locals. Being Yule, it got even less use than usual. Only two other vehicles had passed that day and both were headed east.
The old Ford Transit van was the only vehicle to have disturbed the new snow. The other highly unusual thing about it was that there were a lot of footprints around the tracks in addition to the pair of prints leading from the road to the place marked by Dolmen Blacknell and back again.
“Motherfucker,” Ram murmured.
“I heard that,” Elora whispered. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Depends on what you’re seein’ I guess.”
“This vehicle was coming from there.” She pointed toward the west. “Nobody comes from there but neighbors. The lane ends at the Widow Sweeney’s place.”
Ram looked back over his shoulder. “Litha, you got anythin’?”
He had to wait for her to sneeze before she could answer. “Sorry, no.”
“Song. You got anythin’?”
“Maybe. Flashes of two men.” Song came close enough to speak to Ram and Elora in quieter tones. “Can no’ be certain, but I believe they put Blackie in the back of a white van.” She pointed to the ground. “Right here.”
Ram nodded. “Have everyone stay here. We’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you goin’?” Song asked.
“Up the road,” Ram answered. To Elora, he said, “You up for a mornin’ jog?”
Her reply was to begin following the tire tracks to their origin, going slow enough that Rammel could keep up.
The end of the lane was only a half mile away. In six minutes they were standing in front of the Widow Sweeney’s house where the tracks originated. Ram and Elora looked at each other.
The door opened to Mav Sweeney’s smiling face within a minute of Elora’s knock. “Happy Yule,” she said. “Come in. Come in.”
“Happy Yule, Mav,” Elora replied. “Thank you. We’ll be just a minute.”
“Well, you’re welcome to sit and have tea,” she said as Ram and Elora stepped in.
Ram closed the door behind himself as Elora said, “It’s lovely of you to offer, but we just need to ask if you had company?”
“Aye.” Mav beamed. “My son, Charlie, and his friend were here last night. He lives over in Derry.”
“How nice.”
“Why do you ask?”
Elora glanced at Ram, who seemed content to allow her to field that question. “We were just out for a walk and noticed the recent tire tracks. We thought we’d just look in on you and make sure you’re well.”
“Heavens to Paddy. I’m fortunate beyond words to have such good neighbors. I’m very well, as ye see, and set for a bit. My Charlie was gone early this mornin’, but left me a hundred nicker and a note sayin’ ‘twas from a profitable nixer’.” She chuckled. “He’s a good boy, my Charlie. I’m sorry ye missed him.”
Elora did her best to smile in a way that looked genuine. “Well it is a Happy Yule indeed then.”
“’Tis,” said Mav, nodding.
“Well,” Ram
began, “Good to see ye. If ye should need anythin’, ye know we’re just up the lane and ye have our number.”
Halfway back Ram saw Elora swipe at her face out of the corner of his eye.
“No tears, Elora. Do ye no’ know this is good news. We have a truly useful lead that may take us to Blackie straightaway.”
“I know. I feel sorry for the widow. Her only family and the person who took my dog are one and the same. And it sounds like she depends on him to make ends meet.”
“When we catch the fucker, we’re tearin’ him limb from limb. No matter who his mother is.”
Elora didn’t respond. Certainly a part of her felt the same way.
CHAPTER SIX
Everybody had gone back into the house but Storm, who stood in the lane waiting. With their history they could both recognize his form from a distance.
They stopped in front of him.
“The fucker has a lovely widowed mum who lives at the end of the lane. Name’s Charlie Sweeney. He and his friend stayed last night, left early this mornin’.”
Without a word Storm pulled out his phone and dialed Simon. After telling Simon what they’d learned, he said, “That might just do the trick.” He looked around. “It’s almost dark. I don’t think anything else can be done today so I’m taking the missus home.”
Elora gave Storm a brief hug. “Thank you for coming. And for getting Simon to turn the dogs out.”
“We’ll be back in the morning. You want us to bring donuts? Looks like there’s a scarcity of donut shops around here.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, Elora. Chances of getting him back just keep getting better.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
“Aye to donuts,” Ram said. “Better bring a lot because we got a full house. For that matter, bring kolaches. I like the ones with ham and cheese. And the ones with peach preserves. And potato.”
Storm smiled and shook his head.
Helm saw them approaching and met them on the way back to the house.
“You remember to warm up the cottage?” Ram asked him.
“I did,” Helm said proudly. “They’re already settlin’ in.” Ram nodded and gave his son a small smile of approval with a little eye twinkle for bonus. “Where’d you go? What’d you find out?”
“Go get your auntie and ask if she can come to the house,” Ram said. “We’ll talk it over together.”
Helm jogged away without arguing, knowing that the sooner he did what his da asked, the sooner he’d get his answers.
Elora went straight to the Aga and started the kettle. She was delighted to see that the twins had put some of the muffins they’d baked in to warm.
Storm was helping Litha into her coat. Elora rushed over and grabbed the other sleeve.
“You’re the best for coming,” she told Litha. “You want another tea before you go?”
Litha chuckled. “I’ll be up every half hour tonight eliminating all the tea I’ve drunk sitting here today.” She swiped at her nose. “So no.”
“Well, then get some good sleep. Tomorrow you’ll be better. And thank you for coming. And for… um, trying.”
“I haven’t been very useful. I’m here more to show support. I know this is big. Girl and her dog and all.”
Storm snapped the handcuff in place and they were gone.
Elora turned to Ram. “No matter how long I live I’ll never get used to that.”
When darkness claimed the cell where Blackie was being held, for what he didn’t know, the air seemed colder. He hadn’t slept on a cement floor since he was a very young dog. In fact, he’d grown quite used to sleeping on the loveseat at the foot of Elora’s bed. Or with Helm when he was home.
He curled himself into a tight ball, his tail covering his nose, and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t occur to Blackie to feel sorry for himself. Dogs don’t indulge themselves in activities or thought patterns that are neither practical nor productive. No. His mind was focused on three things.
Get out.
Get free.
Go home.
For the time being, the practical thing was to sleep. To wait. To try to stay warm.
Meanwhile, the excitement of the crowd nearby along with their collective shouts and whistles were disturbing. Even more disturbing were the sounds that could be heard underneath and in short breaks of silence. Dogs fighting.
In the darkness, Ram said, “I know you’re awake.”
“How?”
He let out a small breathy huff. “After all this time I know the rhythm of your breathin’ when you sleep.”
“Oh.”
“It was a big break we got, Elora. Learnin’ the fucker’s name. We’ll find him. And when we find him, we’ll find Blackie.” Her lack of reply bothered him. “You do no’ believe it.”
“No. It’s not that I don’t believe it. It’s that I’m worried about not finding him soon enough.”
“Stop your worryin’. Like I told you before. The dog is one of us. Tough. Resourceful.”
“You didn’t say resourceful before.”
“No? Well. ‘Tis true. Is it no?” She rolled into Ram, nestled her face into the curve of his neck, planted a kiss there, and startled a little when Ram’s phone rang. “Jumpy. ‘Tis no’ like you.”
He looked at the face of his phone. Storm. “Aye. Puttin’ you on speaker so Elora can hear.”
“Simon called.”
“Aye?”
“About the Sweeney character.”
“Aye?”
“He’s no stranger to law enforcement.”
“No surprise.”
“Simon sent some of our people on a rundown to his address. He’s got a room in a hotel turned flop house. Nobody there. Got some leads on who to ask about dog fights. Just hold tight. We should be getting some concrete info tonight.”
“Call when you have somethin’. How’s Litha?”
“Snoring like a freight train.”
“Storm,” Elora cut in, “that’s not the kind of information wives want shared.”
Storm chuckled. “Yeah. So don’t tell her I ‘shared’.”
Blackie opened one eye when he heard footsteps followed by the sounds of a door/gate thing clanking. It wasn’t his, but the one next to his. The footsteps were men, but the panting and soft growls were coming from another dog.
“Get in there and rest up,” said one of the men. “You got just enough left in you for one more go tomorrow night. Somebody has to be dog food. Right?”
Moran usually arranged the fights in two-day runs. He called it the sweet spot. Not so long that word got around to the wrong people, but long enough to recover the expense of putting on the show. Even though he had people scout locations that wouldn’t create too much overhead, there was always a list of things that had to be done. Costly things.
Blackie didn’t know what was said, but he didn’t like the voice of the man who did the talking. And he didn’t like the fact that the dog next door whined off and on the entire night. It was soft, but Blackie could still hear.
The second day of lockup was just like the first.
Hose in the trough.
Bag of food thrown on the ground.
He knew to the furthest depths of knowing that, sooner or later, the door would open and he’d have a chance. A chance at home.
Storm and Litha arrived with kolaches in time for a late, late lunch.
“Do ye know the time?” Ram asked him.
Storm looked at his watch. “Yeah. It’s eight in the morning.”
“Here,” Ram said, “’tis four in the fuckin’ afternoon. No’ only did ye miss breakfast. Ye missed lunch as well.”
Storm opened up one of the still-warm kolaches and took a huge bite. “Still good,” he said with his mouth full, smiling.
“I want one. Late or no’,” said Duff.
Elora was more concerned about Litha. “How are you today?”
“So much better,” Litha said. “Let’s find out if my tracker is back on track.”
Litha pulled out her pendulum. “Good for now. Let me see if I can get a better fix on the pooch.”
As Helm walked by, he said, “Please, Auntie, I’m beggin’ you. Do no’ ever call Blackie a ‘pooch’ again.”
Litha chuckled. “Since you’re needing a really precise location, it would help if you have an atlas-style map of the county. Better yet, Derry and environs.”
Ram looked toward the study. “We might have somethin’ like that.” He grabbed a ham and cheese kolache out of one of the bags and headed off to look.
“Are you eatin’ all of those?” Helm challenged Duff. Looking at the easy and casual interaction between them, it was easy to forget that one day the two of them would be kings of Ireland and Scotia. When that day came, there would be lasting peace because of the growing respect and affection between them.
“No. There’s one left for you,” Duff said as he tossed a bag to Helm.
“Where’s Litha?” Ram said as he returned to the kitchen holding what appeared to be a large paperback atlas.
Litha had left the kitchen and wandered toward the dining room.
“She’s in the formal,” Song said.
Ram nodded and was gone. Spreading the atlas out on the dining table in front of Litha, he said, “Here’s where we are.”
“Yes,” said Litha. “This is fine.”
Elora had followed Ram. Now the two of them stood watching Litha.
“Go on now,” she said. “I work alone. You two are making me nervous.”
They retreated, reluctantly, to the kitchen to wait.
“So are you cookin’ dinner then?” Helm was asking Duff.
Duff grinned. “Want me to?”
“We have to eat.” Helm shrugged like he didn’t care.
“’Tis no’ much of an endorsement. I want to hear you say how much you crave and fantasize about my delectable pub fare,” Duff teased.
“You’ll be waitin’ long past dinner if you’re expectin’ me to say I ‘fantasize’ about your food.” Helm shook his head as if to say Duff was insane.
Black Dog: A Christmas Story (Knights of Black Swan Book 13) Page 6
