by Jen Blood
“We’re at the quarry,” the boy said. He dragged himself onto the granite rocks, his forehead leaking blood. “How did we get here?”
“I don’t have time to explain. Just wait for me, okay? Hank is still in there.”
Bear started to protest, but Jack ignored him. His body protested even more loudly. He ignored that as well, and waded back into the water.
Halfway back, he knew he was in trouble.
His body seized up with the truck just a few yards away, and his vision swam. Darkness crowded in.
“Just a few more yards,” he whispered to himself. If he turned back, he might be able to save himself. He kept thinking of the gardens at Hank’s house, though. Cody waiting.
“Keep going,” he said aloud.
And he did.
Chapter 30
I GOT BACK TO THE LANDING that night at eight-thirty, fully expecting to find Bear there waiting for me. Reaver sat in the crew cab of my truck, seatbelt buckled, dead to the world as I pulled in. Monty’s friend had confirmed my suspicions, and I was still a little awed to know I had a genuine K-9 war hero by my side.
The moment I pulled into the town landing lot and found Bear not there, however, thoughts of my recent discovery faded.
Bear’s truck wasn’t here—and Jack’s car still was.
It couldn’t have taken that long to drop Cody off, even if Hank asked them to stay a while. I couldn’t imagine the man would be all that talkative, and Bear wasn’t exactly the social type.
I tried Bear’s cell. It went straight to voicemail.
I got the same response when I tried Jack.
Get over there, Brock said to me, in a growl that nearly cracked my skull. Behind me, Reaver got to his feet.
“Get out of my head,” I said aloud.
You know I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to you, Brock said. But you’re supposed to take care of my son. Go do it.
He was in trouble. I didn’t need some voice from beyond the grave to tell me that—my racing heart should be proof enough. Since when had I needed Brock Campbell—or any man—to confirm the validity of my intuition?
Brock continued throwing out orders and dire predictions, but I ignored him. My palms were slick on the steering wheel, my head pounding. I pressed the pedal to the floor of the truck, fully aware of Reaver, still on his feet behind me.
When I pulled into Hank’s driveway, there was no sign of Bear’s truck. I grabbed my flashlight and told Reaver to stay put. Before I could close the door, however, the dog broke rank and bolted past me, headed straight for the woods dragging the seatbelt he’d gnawed through behind him.
I took off after him at a run, ignoring any trace of doubt that he didn’t know what he was doing. Something was happening. I didn’t know what in hell it might be, but I’d learned long ago to trust my dogs. With everything Reaver had been through, he deserved that much. I ran after him full tilt in the dark and the rain, and prayed that he wouldn’t fail me.
No doubt Reaver could have covered ground a hell of a lot faster than I could, but he never got so far ahead that I lost him. Whenever I thought I had, I just had to call out and he would reply with a clipped, business-like bark while he kept moving.
He had something, I was sure of it.
Suddenly, after what could have been minutes or days of running blind, I caught sight of the dog stock still up ahead. The woods had opened up to grass and rocky ground, and I stopped dead when I realized where we were. Reaver stood, body tensed, and barked ferociously at the abyss below.
The quarry.
I shone my Mag light down below, and fought a surge of terror so strong it nearly crippled me.
The rear end just breaking the surface of the water, was a pickup bed. I could read the license plate, but I already knew what it said.
FLINTK92
Bear’s truck.
#
Jack reached the truck and had to hang on to the edge for a second, clinging to the steel body while he fought to remain conscious. Somewhere far, far away, he imagined that he heard Jamie’s voice.
He had to do this.
He took a deep breath and dove under the surface of the water, managing to get back into the truck without incident. In the darkness, water closing in around him, he felt his way to the back of the cab. His hand closed around something fleshy. Human.
Hank.
With his lungs bursting, Jack wrapped his good arm around the dying man and pushed himself out with his legs.
Hank moved, but just barely. His body was lodged there.
Jack’s vision blurred at the edges. He tugged again. The man was probably dead—he’d been shot in the chest.
But he had been alive when they went into the water.
Jack ground his teeth together, and with a fresh surge of energy hauled on the body one last time.
This time, Hank didn’t move so much as an inch.
Before he could try one last time, he froze. From nowhere, a set of iron jaws clamped onto the back of his neck.
Jack had experienced terrifying things before. A lot of them, actually.
This was, without exception, the most terrifying.
The jaws shifted, until the beast found the back of his jacket. Jack fought as the animal tried to pull him up, until suddenly he felt a hand on his arm.
Jamie’s face appeared before him, blond hair streaming around her in the water. She motioned to the surface. Jack’s air had long since run out. With nothing more to do, he let go of Hank’s body.
With no more resistance, the mysterious beast that had hold of him hauled him out of the truck and back to the surface. An instant later, Jamie popped up beside him.
“Go with Reaver,” she said. He realized the dog was beside him, still holding to his jacket. Jack shook his head.
“Hank was shot. He’s trapped in there.”
“I’ll get him.”
“You can’t do it alone—” Jack insisted.
“She doesn’t have to,” a voice said, just beyond them. Jack scanned the night, barely conscious of all that was happening around him. Above, he saw blue lights flashing. A diver appeared beside them. On shore, an ambulance crew and more police waited.
“Come on,” Jamie said gently. “Take him in Reaver,” she told the dog.
Jack sagged against the massive pit bull, unable to fight any longer. Eyes closed, heart still pounding, he and the dog made their slow way back to the rocks.
Chapter 31
A WEEK LATER, Jack was waiting for me at the boat landing at six o’clock as promised. At news of all the drama that had taken place thanks to Nancy and her animals, the fundraiser on the animals’ behalf had been postponed for a week. This was good, since neither Bear nor Jack were up for much in the way of moving after all Fred and Albie put them through.
You could hardly tell Jack had been through the ringer now, though. In fact, he looked almost unforgivably good. He wore jeans and a sports jacket over a black T-shirt, and I smiled at his idea of cocktail attire. Of course, it was probably dressier than anyone else would be tonight, so I didn’t sweat it. Since it was Jack, it really wouldn’t have mattered what he was wearing; I would still be with the best-looking man in the place, hands down.
He stopped at sight of me as I awkwardly got off the boat. Dresses aren’t usually my thing, but at the look on Jack’s face, I was willing to rethink that position. I wore a little black number with thin straps and a lower cut than I was used to. More shape-hugging, too. I resisted the urge to fiddle with the straps or pull it farther down my legs, and shoved my feet into black pumps once I was safely on the dock.
“You look good,” he said.
“Thank you.” I sounded more confident than I felt, which was good. ‘Fake it till you make it’ has been my motto for a very long time. “So do you.”
He leaned down and kissed me lightly on the mouth, his hand resting on my bare arm. It felt natural and heated and…good, and I was smiling when he stepped back. Then, I studied his
face with a critical eye, tipping his head with a hand to his jaw as I took in his remaining bruises from the night at the quarry. “You’re healing nicely. Does it still hurt?”
“Only when people poke it.” He gently pushed my hand away, but didn’t relinquish it afterward, squeezing my fingers. “Are you ready? I made reservations.”
I looked at him curiously. “Reservations? In Rockland?”
“At In Good Company—in Rockland. They’ve teamed up with the fundraiser. All proceeds tonight go to cover medical expenses for Nancy’s animals. Mike said the food is good, though.”
“It is,” I agreed.
“You’ve been there.”
“I’ve lived here a couple of years now,” I reminded him. “I’ve been to a lot of places.”
“I suppose so,” he conceded. He took my arm when neither of us moved, and nodded toward his car. “Shall we?”
He opened the car door for me, then shut it when I was safely inside. I watched him walk around to the driver’s side, waiting for some voice from beyond to shake my moorings loose. Nothing came, though. When he took his seat behind the wheel, it was just the two of us. It was refreshing, if not a little bit terrifying.
“How was your day?” he asked, once we were on the road. “Is Bear doing all right?”
“My day was good,” I said. I couldn’t hold back a smile when I said it. “Bear’s…really good, actually.”
Jack glanced at me, surprised. The weather had cleared since the hurricane swept through, the sun still bright despite the advancing hour. My smile widened at his look.
“Ren came home,” I explained. “She was worried about him. I’ve been trying to get him to lighten up for months now, and all it takes is thirty seconds with her and he’s a different kid.”
“How long is she staying?”
“I’m not sure. I think we’re all trying not to think about that.” I hesitated, then opted for changing the subject rather than thinking about it any further. “Any word on Hank?”
“They’re still not sure,” he said with a frown. “He’s awake, but he was without oxygen a long time. They’re still trying to figure out what kind of mental deficits he might be facing.”
“What do you think will happen to him?”
He shrugged. “He killed someone—they can’t just let that go, even if there are extenuating circumstances. It’s up to the judge, but I expect Cody will have to find a new home.”
“I’m sure he won’t have a problem,” I assured him. “Everyone who meets him falls in love with that dog. My guess is that he’ll have a home before the week’s out.”
“I got some other news today,” Jack said. “I spoke with Sophie—Laurent, the forensic anthropologist.” I nodded, but said nothing while I waited for him to continue. “She’s identified three of the bodies in that root cellar. All of them had criminal records.”
“Let me guess,” I said, unsurprised. “Animal cruelty?”
“You guessed it.” He shook his head. “They came from all over the country. All those trips Nancy took over the years, all that good everyone thought she was doing... Apparently, she had some other business she was taking care of at the same time. Albie called it the Redemption Game.”
I froze. Somewhere close, I heard Brock laughing. “What did you say?”
“The Redemption Game.” He shook his head. “Apparently, they set things up to punish these guys, but they stopped short of actually killing them. The thought was that if they were sorry enough, if they were worthy of redemption, God would step in and save them.”
Brock’s words came back to me in a rush. You bust your ass, deny yourself all the pleasures you could have, in the hopes that maybe that will make you good enough. That will erase all those past sins.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked. He touched my hand, and I looked at him. “You look a little pale.”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. I pushed the thought of Brock away yet again. This wasn’t about him.
“Well, whatever they called it, there’s no question that the two of them will be going to jail,” I said. “Or Fred, at least. I heard they’re trying to find a placement for Albie in Augusta.”
“That’s good,” Jack said. “I feel bad for him in all this. Hell, I feel bad for everyone. It seems like Nancy did a number on everyone she touched.”
“You can say that again,” I agreed.
I was pleased when the conversation turned from Nancy to happier topics. While we drove, I gave Jack the short version of my meeting with Sergeant Roy Redaker, the military man Monty had recommended I reach out to. As we’d suspected, Reaver had been a military dog, and Roy had been able to tie him to an Army K-9 unit that had been stationed in Afghanistan.
“He was retired a year ago when his handler was killed in the line of duty,” I told him. “He was starting to show signs of PTSD after that, so he was supposed to come home and live out the rest of his life in peace. Somehow in transit, Reaver got rerouted during that hurricane last summer. They lost track of him in Atlanta.”
“Well, I for one am grateful he ended up with you. You two saved my ass the other night. Did you find out his real name?”
“Archie,” I said. “I tried it out on him, and he was definitely enthusiastic. So, Archie it is now.”
“Does that mean you’ve finally given up the pretense that he’s not staying with you.”
I laughed. “I guess I have. I don’t think Phantom would forgive me if I sent him away now.”
“Neither would I,” Jack said.
I considered that. “That other name: Reaver. It’s from a TV show called Firefly.”
“Reavers are some kind of cannibalistic pirate,” Jack said. “Nancy certainly got it wrong with that name. They’re beyond animals—kind of the worst of the worst.”
I looked at him in surprise.
“Erin was a fan,” he explained, referring to Erin Solomon. “That and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Whenever there was a marathon on, we’d watch.”
“Ah,” I said. “I’ve never seen them. I’m kind of behind on pop culture, I guess.”
“That’s all right,” Jack said. “TV’s overrated. It’s nice curling up sometimes on a rainy day, though.”
I considered that, and tried to push aside an unexpected twinge of uneasiness. Jack glanced at me when I didn’t say anything, one eyebrow quirked.
“What just happened?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Something just happened. Is it because I mentioned Erin? Because things are way, way over with her. They barely even got started—I’m very happy for her and Diggs.”
“That’s not it,” I said. We were getting into Rockland now, traffic picking up now that it was both summer and a Friday night.
“Then what?”
I hesitated. Jack took a left onto Main Street and turned into his parking lot, since In Good Company was just a couple of doors down from his apartment. He stopped the car, and turned to look at me expectantly. Clearly, we weren’t getting out of the car until I explained.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever curled up on a rainy day before,” I confessed. “There’s always work to do. I’m not good at just…relaxing, and being with someone. If that’s what you’re looking for—”
He actually smiled at that, which wasn’t the response I’d been looking for.
“How is that funny?”
“Do you really think I want to date you because you’re so laid back?” he asked. “Because I’m imagining all those hours we’re going to spend vegging out in front of the TV?”
“Well… No,” I said. Defensiveness crept into my tone. I glanced away from him, hating the heat I felt rising to my cheeks. “I guess I just…” I bit my lip. “I’m not totally sure why you want to date me. It’s not like I don’t have any baggage.”
“I have baggage, too,” he reminded me. “Lots of it.”
“I think you carry it better than I do.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
&nbs
p; We remained that way for a moment, at an impasse, before Jack sighed. He got out of the car without another word, and came around to the passenger’s side. Opened the door for me. Stood aside, waiting for me to get out. When I had, he closed the door behind me and then remained there, his body close to mine. He caged me there with his arms outstretched, hands resting on the car on either side of me.
“You’re thinking again,” he said quietly. “Just for tonight… Let it go. Trust me.”
I took a long, deep breath, and nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
#
In Good Company was busy when we got there, and only got busier as our meal progressed. The food was incredible, the company even better, and the wine went straight to my head. Afterward, Jack and I walked the scant half mile from the restaurant to the bar where the fundraiser was taking place. Conversation flowed easily, and the night was perfect: warm and breezy, with a backdrop of sailboats and summer traffic and tourists wending their way through town.
Trackside was packed when we arrived. Somewhere in the background I could hear live music playing courtesy of a local folksinger by the name of Paddy Mills, but it was drowned out by the sound of laughter and conversation. Jack got us both a beer and I found a much-prized table toward the back. I sat down, and watched with a combination of amusement and awe as the locals gathered around my date. April, Heidi, and Mel were working the event, but they all managed to take a minute to say hello. Mike cornered him, and Jack laughed at something the man said. It struck me that none of this was forced for him—he wasn’t dutifully enduring the locals, for my sake or anyone else’s.
He actually liked it here.
He might even stay.
“Hey,” a familiar voice said, just behind me. I turned to find Bear standing there. His eyes were bright, his jeans were clean, and the grin he gave me didn’t even seem forced.
“Hey,” I said in surprise.
“Mind if I…?” he said, gesturing to the seat next to me.
“Yeah. Of course. What’s up? Where’s Ren?”