by Rachel Lee
But right now he seriously wanted a beer.
Those girls. Those poor girls. And Kelly. He knew she was out there continuing the pursuit but doubted she was having any better luck. He kept remembering that nightmare or premonition she’d had that one of them had died.
He couldn’t dismiss it, much as he’d have liked to, and now all he wanted was to discharge these animals and find her, to see how she was holding up. Because this whole situation was not only horrifying, it was weird.
It was as if something supernatural had swept them away.
He dropped Molly at home with her family. The Clancy kids were thrilled to have her back. Molly had apparently tired herself out, because she collapsed at their feet and grinned.
Mike Windwalker took the raccoon, handling her with long leather gloves to avoid a bite, and agreed she needed rabies vaccine.
“Pregnant, huh?” Mike said as he looked her over before popping the angry animal into a cage. “Somebody mess up her clock?”
“I haven’t a foggy. I take them the way I find them.”
Mike laughed. “Yeah, me, too.”
As he drove away into the fading light of early winter night, Al wondered where he could find Kelly. Then he remembered his damn radio. Duh.
“Actually,” she answered, “I was just about to hit the truck stop for one of Hasty’s burgers. You interested?”
“Save me a seat.”
Maude made a good burger, but Hasty fire-grilled them. A whole different level.
For the first time that day, things seemed to be looking up a bit. A burger and fries. He smiled wryly knowing his doc wouldn’t like it, but since he was fit as a fiddle except for certain lingering effects of a wound, he refused to worry about it. If a single burger had ever killed anyone, he’d never heard about it.
But riding his shoulder like a shadow was concern for those three girls. He hated to imagine what their families must be going through. Not knowing was bad enough from his end.
Hasty’s truck stop was full of grumbling beasts as usual. Inside the café, truckers were scattered around, most of them eating heartily and drinking lots of coffee. They were allowed now to drive only eleven hours a day, and most trucks had trackers on them. For reasons of speed and ease of driving, that meant most of these guys slept in their cabs by day and drove all night. Unless the weather was bad, in which case they reversed, wanting all the clarity of sight they could get.
Tonight was looking to be a long night before breakfast came.
Kelly was already there, at a table near a window. He liked that. He never felt quite comfortable without an open view. He knew it was a leftover from war, but knowing it didn’t make it go away.
He slid into the booth facing her and smiled. “Want a pregnant momma raccoon who got herself tangled in some barbed wire? She was dumpster diving.”
Kelly blinked, as if she needed to change her location in the world. “Really? Pregnant?”
“Seems way early in the season. I left her with Mike Windwalker. First on the list, treatment for rabies and antiseptic for scratches. Anyway, how’d your day go?”
“It went nowhere,” she said frankly. “I must have stopped at twenty or so houses. Nobody saw anything that aroused their interest. At least not yet. I’m hoping that maybe someone has a memory jog and calls. There was one interesting thing, however.”
The waitress came over and took their orders. Lots of coffee, two burgers for him, one for her, and a heap of fries. It was the cold. He always ate more. So, he guessed, did she. “So what was interesting?”
“Bugle. We were a little over five miles out on a ranch road when he started to go bonkers.”
Al arched a brow. “Is that like him?”
“Absolutely not. He wanted my attention and he wasn’t going to let me ignore him. He howled and barked until I thought I’d go deaf. So I pulled over and let him hunt whatever scent had caught his attention. About a half mile back down the road he found a glove. A ratty man’s work glove, and he wouldn’t budge. I gave it to the sheriff before I came here.”
“That’s strange,” he said, thinking it over. He knew a lot about dogs. The idea that Bugle might have caught the scent of one of the missing girls didn’t escape him. He leaned back to let their dinners be served, then leaned in again, keeping his voice low. “They’re going to test it?”
“Damn straight. I don’t know if it’ll tell us anything at all, but it’s worth a try.”
“Definitely.” He lifted his burger, his mouth already watering. “You know how amazing dogs are, Kelly. You don’t need me to tell you that if he caught a whiff of one of those girls he’d recognize it even after all this time.”
“I know,” she said quietly, almost sadly. “I don’t know whether to be hopeful or not. I mean, it was in the middle of nowhere. It could have blown off the back end of a pickup truck, and there’s no way to know where it would have been headed. So...”
“You’re afraid it might be false hope.”
“Yeah.” She stared down at her burger, then picked it up with obvious reluctance. “I guess it’s better than nothing. What if we can identify the DNA? Some guy with a record. That’d be a fantastic clue.”
“But you’re afraid it won’t be.”
She raised her gaze. “I somehow think I don’t need to tell you about the tightrope between hope and despair.”
“No,” he admitted. “Come on, eat. Your eyes are so sunken right now they might fall out of the back of your head.”
That at least brought a smile to her face.
“Bugle out in your truck?”
“Yeah.” She motioned toward the window. “See him?”
He did. The SUV was obviously running to judge by the steam coming off the hood as a gentle swirl of snowflakes fell.
“I’m going to get him a couple of burgers, too,” she remarked. “Please don’t go sanctimonious on me about a proper diet for him.”
At that she drew a laugh from him. “I’m sitting here eating two burgers myself. I’m going to get sanctimonious?”
Her smile widened. “He likes a few fries, too.”
“Then let’s save him some. I’m betting he’s salivating out there, smelling everything that’s cooking in here.”
At that she finally laughed. “The aromas that pour out all the vents and ducts in this place call to human stomachs and noses for miles. Why should he be different?”
The rest of the meal passed amiably, and apparently the waitress knew the drill when it came to Bugle, because along with their separate checks came a couple of cardboard containers holding burgers and even a few fries.
“No ketchup,” said the waitress. “I know he loves it, but you’ll never convince me it’s good for his stomach.”
“I don’t want to find out,” Kelly agreed as she put a twenty on the table. Plus another five she tucked in the waitress’s apron. “You didn’t see that happen.”
Al laughed and followed suit. They were halfway out the door when his radio began to squawk.
“Carstairs,” he answered as they descended the steps into the parking lot. Bugle, in the wise way of all canines, was already standing at the window, his tail wagging like a flag in gale-force winds. He knew a treat was on the way.
Al listened, standing still, while Kelly opened the back door of her truck and put the burgers and fries in for Bugle. The cardboard went into the nearby trash can while the paper wrappers remained with the dog. He knew to lick them, not to eat them.
“I’ll be right there,” Al said. His voice had lost all cheer. He signed off and shoved the phone onto its belt holster.
“What’s going on?” Kelly asked him, disturbed by his change in tone.
“A neighborhood problem dog just burrowed under a fence and menaced a four-year-old girl. Gotta go.”
“Can I follow?”
“Sure, I might need you to help me legally confiscate the animal. Bugle could be a help, too.”
“Where are we heading?”
“Downy Lane. Four-oh-nine.”
Kelly radioed dispatch as she followed Al’s van down the road. Velma, on duty again, cracked a laugh. “I heard the call. Bet Al needs you and Bugle more than himself.”
“Now, Velma...”
Velma laughed again. “He’s good with animals. This one is not a good animal. There’s a difference. Only reason that dog ain’t gone is pure neighborliness.”
The listed address wasn’t that far away from the truck stop, maybe eight blocks on the far side of the railroad tracks that rarely saw any traffic these days.
It was a shame, Kelly often thought, that railroads had been replaced by trucks. However, given the mountains around here, maybe the trains couldn’t be loaded as heavily as the trucks without becoming unsafe. What did she know?
The house in question was old but well cared for, a late-nineteenth-century structure built in the old “shotgun” style. With a narrow lot, every room added on had been added to the rear. The term came from the saying that you could walk in the front door and hit everybody in the house with one blast of a shotgun.
She was glad times had changed in that respect.
She pulled up against the shoulder—no curbs in this part of town—and waited while Al approached the house. Bugle had wolfed down his treats and was now noisily licking his chops.
The front door opened and a man’s silhouette appeared. He was clearly upset and waving his arms. Instinctively, Kelly climbed out, leashed Bugle and approached, standing far enough back that she wouldn’t seem like a threat.
“—don’t know,” the guy was saying, his voice raised. “Do I have to put bars and special locks on every door and window to make my daughter safe? She’s four! I thought she was in bed. It’s basically early, though, and I guess she got tired of watching TV or saw the snowflakes... I dunno. But she went out in her own backyard—a fenced backyard I might add—and suddenly I heard her shrieking and that beast from next door growling and damn, I never came so close to shooting an animal in my life!”
“Was the dog on your property?”
“You better believe it. Not two feet from her, crouched with his teeth bared. I’ve had it. That damn dog has threatened people before. Especially her. This isn’t the first time I’ve called you, if you remember. It’s time to listen.”
Al nodded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jakes. I think we’re past issuing warnings now. Is the dog still out back?”
“I don’t know. Fences won’t hold him. He could be anywhere by now. But just tell me, Al, who the devil buys a dog to keep it outside all the time? I don’t think that hellhound has been indoors once since they got him. Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that my child ought to be able to play safely in her own backyard!”
To a point, Kelly thought as she listened. There were snakes, raccoons, foxes...but she let the thought go. She could understand Mr. Jakes’s fury. Whether the dog would attack the child was irrelevant. What mattered was that no child should have to be threatened in his or her own backyard by a dog that should be properly confined.
“I agree,” Al replied, keeping his voice calm. “Is your daughter safely inside now? No one else outside?”
“We’re all inside, feeling like prisoners in our own house. Something has to be done about that animal or its owners. At this point I don’t care which.”
“All right. You all wait inside while we hunt for Cujo. That’s his name, right?”
“Like some kind of prediction. Yeah. You got help? Because you’re going to need it.”
“Deputy Noveno and her K-9 will be helping. If we need more help, I can get it. Just relax indoors while we take care of this.”
Still grumbling, Jakes went back inside, slamming the door for emphasis. Kelly really couldn’t blame him. Apparently this Cujo had been a problem before.
Al came around to the back of his van and Kelly moved in close with Bugle. “Okay,” Al said, opening one of the doors. “Time for long leather gloves. I’m going to give you a muzzle to carry in case we need it.” Then he turned and faced her, and he didn’t look at all happy. “While I don’t advocate it, shoot if you think it’s necessary.”
Kelly looked down at Bugle. “I think a certain set of teeth will work better.”
“I hope so. But I don’t want Bugle to get messed up either. I don’t know what this dog is capable of. Not yet. I know we’ve had complaints that he’s killed pet rabbits and a couple of cats, but there was no proof to pin it on Cujo. So the owners have been slapped with warnings and some fines for not keeping him properly leashed. Here we go again.”
They started by walking through a latched gate into the backyard of the Jakeses’ house. It was obvious where the dog had dug his way under a wooden privacy fence.
“I wish the neighbors would put in some wire fencing about two feet down,” Al remarked. “Most dogs won’t dig that deep.”
“What breed are we talking about here?”
“Rottie. Usually good dogs, but there are some...”
“There are always some,” she agreed as they walked around the side of the house. She didn’t know if it was lack of training or poor treatment. Or, if like some people, some dogs just weren’t nice pets. They probably had all kinds of personalities.
The backyard proved to be a nice size for such a narrow lot. A metal swing set stood to one side, and what appeared to be a covered sandbox filled a corner. Large and small plastic balls were scattered about, along with a ragged stuffed doll. Al bent for the doll. “I guess Cujo had him some fun after all.” He passed the doll to Kelly, who looked it over. The head had unmistakable teeth marks on it.
Bugle sniffed it and gave one quiet woof. He knew. Kelly just hoped the miscreant dog hadn’t torn it from the little girl’s hands. That would have utterly terrified her.
Al scanned the backyard, then walked up to the house and grabbed a shovel. He jammed it into the hole under the fence in such a way as to make it difficult for the dog to crawl under.
“Next door, now.”
Kelly scanned one more time, looking and watching Bugle, but Bugle didn’t seem to be much interested in the backyard after one sniff at the torn doll and a pass by the hole under the fence. Instead, he seemed more interested in pulling her back the way they’d come.
He’d be the best one to have a good idea of where Cujo was hanging out.
“You want Bugle to lead the way?” she asked Al as they passed through the gate in the other direction.
He eyed her over his shoulder. “Like I haven’t done this before.”
She flushed, grateful the darkness hid it. “I only meant he’ll be able to smell the other dog.”
“It hasn’t rained shampoo recently,” Al said wryly. “We’ll all be able to smell Cujo.”
He had a point there. Dogs weren’t exactly odorless, even when dry.
The house next door was nearly a carbon copy of the Jakes place. Lights gleamed from the window, so someone should be there. Once again, Kelly stood back near the sidewalk. She knew that her presence might cause trouble if whoever answered the door felt belligerent. Best to let Al handle it. He knew these people.
Belligerence was definitely waiting for him. Before Al could say a word, the man who answered was on a tear.
“Bet that damn sissy Jakes called you. Look, a dog’s a dog, and they do things like dig under fences. They get out and run. I don’t give a damn. That man has been after Cujo since he was a pup! He just wants me to get rid of him!”
Kelly felt Bugle growing tense beside her, ready to spring into action if need be. She made no effort to calm him down. The way that guy was gesticulating, things could get ugly at the drop of a hat.
“Mr. Hays...”
But Hays didn�
��t wait for Al to speak another word. “My dog ain’t doing a damn thing but being a dog. Like anyone else’s dog. If that sissy next door didn’t have a bunch of cats, he’d understand better. He needs some schooling and I might just give it to him.”
“Mr. Hays, are you threatening...”
“I ain’t threatening nobody. I just want him to leave my damn dog alone.”
At that moment the ill-famed Cujo decided to come running around the corner of the house. He didn’t go sit placidly beside his master. No, he bared his teeth and growled at Al. Worse, his hackles were raised. That dog was ready to fight.
Kelly tensed but didn’t want to intervene unnecessarily. This was Al’s job and he probably knew a whole lot more about how to handle this.
“Call your dog off, Hays,” Al said. His voice held the sharp edge of command, a voice that said he was used to being obeyed.
“Why? He ain’t hurtin’ you and you’re the one trespassing. I’d be within my rights to sic him on you.”
Not exactly, Kelly thought, but bit her lip. Stay out of it.
“Mr. Hays,” Al said, his voice suddenly as cold and hard as steel, “either control your dog and get him to settle or I’ll deem him dangerous and put him out of everyone’s misery. Are you hearing me?”
Al, still wearing the elbow-length leather gloves he’d put on, reached to his hip and for the first time Kelly noted he was carrying a collapsible baton on his belt. He pulled it off. That baton could put human or dog out of commission without killing either. With a pointed snap, Al extended it.
Bugle sidled forward, as if he wanted to take action, but the gentlest tug on his leash caused him to settle quietly beside Kelly.
Something must have gotten through to Hays, because he snapped, “Cujo! Here!”
The dog, still snarling, obeyed, standing beside his master, facing Al.
“Leash him,” Al said in the same steely voice.
Cussing a blue streak, Hays obeyed. Kelly was grateful to see that Cujo’s leash was a chain. She figured he could chew his way through leather in no time at all.