by Linda Lovely
“Yeah, there’s a dead animal near here,” Andy answered as he set the multi-whirligig drone on a sheet of hard plastic, a miniature take-off and landing field.
I was impressed as the handsome vet ran our toy spy-in-the-sky through a series of maneuvers, keeping it a few feet off the ground. “I like to make sure everything’s working okay before I send her up. But it all looks good.”
Mollye stood and walked over to stand beside Andy. “Should it wobble so much?”
“When she’s close to the ground, there’s more turbulence,” Andy replied. “She’ll straighten right up when I send her soaring.”
“You keep calling that thing a ‘she.’ Have you named her?” Mollye asked.
Andy looked up from the controls. “Her name’s Brie-zy.” His eyes found mine. “Named it for you, Brie. Kinda hoping I’d get to show you more of my fine motor skills one of these days.”
Exactly my wish a few seconds ago.
Mollye hooted. “Don’t think old Andy’s talking about a texting demo.”
I felt the blush creep up my neck. Had he seen it? Did Andy know I hadn’t stopped thinking about his lips, his gentle embrace? “Shhh. Sound carries out here. If there’s anyone in that camp, we don’t want them to hear us.”
Andy grinned. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Keep looking for some sign you’ll relent and let me and my fingers audition for a different role.”
He turned back to his controls. The drone lifted up and away. Andy was right. It performed with considerably more grace now that it was aloft. “Watch the screen,” Andy said. “You’ll see what Brie-zy’s seeing.”
As the drone flew closer to the meadow, its camera revealed what looked like a one-hole privy. As it moved toward the edge of the clearing, it pictured a section of ground the privy normally hid from view.
“What’s that on the ground?” Mollye ducked her head for a better look at the screen. “Go back and hover over that spot if you can.”
Andy fiddled with the twin joysticks. The drone swept right and dropped lower.
“Good Lord, is that a body?” Mollye screeched. “Can you zoom in?”
I crowded in to get a better look at the screen. What first appeared as an indistinct blob on the small monitor came into clearer focus.
“My God, look at his head,” I gasped. “Is that Mick? It sure looks like the guy who showed up at Udderly the morning after Zack’s attack.”
The drone stuttered and the picture turned blurry. “Sorry, a wind gust took her. Didn’t react fast enough. I’ll straighten her back up. Come in again for a close up.”
The drone resumed a position over the body and Andy zoomed in even tighter.
“That’s Mick all right, the poor bloke. He isn’t passed out. See that knife sticking between his ribs. Good God, who would kill Mick?”
I looked away as fast as I could. Not fast enough. Bile rose in my throat. I fought against the urge to upchuck. Seeing a hunting knife protruding from anyone’s chest wasn’t the image I’d wanted the drone to catch.
“Any sign someone else is around?” I asked.
“You mean like the killer?” Mollye whispered.
“Don’t see anyone,” he said. “I’ll do another sweep.”
I quit looking at the screen and focused on Andy’s hands as he worked the joysticks. A dog barked, decidedly angry.
“Dang,” Andy muttered. “Think I just screwed the pooch. That’s Chester’s mutt. I don’t often say bad things about a dog. But that mongrel is mean. Sooner rip your throat out than lick your hand. I know that’s because of how he was raised, not his fault. Still I wouldn’t try to corral him unless I was wearing plenty of padding.”
Curiosity drew my gaze back to the screen. The dog, a huge one, barked and growled. Repeatedly it leapt in the air attempting to grab the drone overhead and tear it to pieces.
Bang!
The screen went blank.
Bang!
“Damn,” Andy yelled. “They shot my drone!”
Shots? Those were freakin’ gun shots?
An adrenaline spike reset my heart to warp speed. My brain sent urgent messages. Run, you idiot. My legs weren’t getting the message. They’d turned into fence posts…fence posts sunk in a foot of concrete.
“Did you see the shooter?” Mollye squealed. “Is he shooting from inside the building?”
“That’s my guess. Didn’t see anyone when I did the sweep.” Andy hastily jammed the controls and remaining drone paraphernalia into his backpack.
“Forget where the shooter might be now,” Andy added. “Where will he be five minutes from now? We need to get out of here. Fast.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Mollye trotted down the trail at a brisker pace than I’d ever seen her move. She looked over her shoulder at Andy and me. “Come on. Hustle it up.”
I fought my flight instinct long enough to pull my cell phone out of my windbreaker’s zippered pocket. I’d learned my lesson. Always call 911 if you’re in trouble and have a chance.
“This is 911. What is your emergency?” The woman’s voice was calm. She sounded almost bored.
“We need to report a dead body and someone shooting a gun.” My voice seemed to have climbed a couple of octaves.
“You’re breaking up,” the woman said. “Can you repeat?”
I repeated, and identified the hiking trail.
“Can you stay where you are until help arrives?” she asked.
“No way. We need to get out of here. We don’t know the shooter’s plans.”
Andy grabbed the phone. “We have to go. We’ll call again when we’re safe.”
He ended the call and handed me the phone. Another gunshot rang out. “Whoever’s down there is coming after us. Now go.”
I stumbled along as fast as I could. I could hear Andy’s footsteps behind me. I was afraid to go faster. Tree roots and loose stones seemed to be everywhere waiting to trip me. Couldn’t go any slower either or Andy would plow right into me and we’d both go down.
I caught up to Mollye just as she reached the massive tree trunk. I could hear her staccato breathing. Or was it my own? Then another sound registered. Barking. Chester’s vicious dog. Was it coming for us?
Another shot rang out.
Fried Pork Rinds.
Mollye cleared the fallen tree with speed and surprising grace.
The log looked even bigger. If I fell on the other side, I would just keep tumbling. Andy wouldn’t be there to catch me.
The excited, keening sounds of a canine after prey urged me forward. Amazing how one fear could trump another.
“We’ll go together.” Andy jettisoned his backpack. Grabbed me round the waist. His boost flung my top half up, over the trunk. Oomph! All air escaped my surprised body.
I didn’t even see Andy scramble atop the log. He grabbed a handhold on my jeans directly above my hiney. He grunted. My butt and legs sailed up then over.
We collapsed in a tangled heap half on, half off the narrow trail. I squeezed my eyes shut. Tried to fight the nausea.
“Careful,” Andy advised.
Careful? I couldn’t decide if I was angry or thankful. The man had thrown me like some Scotsman tossing a caber in the Highland Games.
Andy extracted his limbs from mine and lifted me. “Sorry. No time to debate.”
Louder barking. A shot added an exclamation point to Andy’s logic. I pushed up. Made it to my knees. Swallowed my bile as I staggered upright.
“Come on,” Andy urged. “Run.”
I began to jog. The steep downhill made my run closer to a controlled stumble. No way could I brake. Please, please don’t let me trip. Mollye was close. Pitch forward and I’d knock her down like a ten pin in a bowling alley.
The baying hound and his gun-toting companion offered constant reminders. Focus. I sear
ched the slick rugged ground for trip hazards. Mollye’s wheezes and my own rugged breaths sounded almost as loud as the mutt’s barks.
Suddenly the barking stopped. Irritated whines punctuated the hound’s snarls and yowls.
Mollye slid to a stop. I stumbled to a halt, too. “I need a second,” Mollye said as she leaned against a large rock.
“Sounds like the dog’s stymied,” Andy huffed as he caught his breath. “Gotta be at that trunk. He’s too small to leap over; too big to crawl under. Frustrated as hell. If he wants to follow us, he’ll have to backtrack, find a longer way. That’ll buy us some time.”
I frowned. “What about the gunman? If that tree didn’t stop us, it won’t stop him. He can lift the dog over a lot easier than you lifted me.”
“Good point,” he answered. “But I’m betting we have more incentive to keep going than Chester has. Cell phone coverage is spotty up here. If he has a brain, he has to realize we’ll try and call for help. If it were me, I’d make it a priority to get the hell away from that clearing and Mick’s dead body.”
“Hope you’re right about him having a brain. Haven’t seen much evidence of that.”
We reached the section of trail centered within the dry creek bed. Scrambling up it proved even harder than our earlier descent. Halfway up Mollye slipped on a collection of loose gravel and fell to her knees. “Damn, damn. Whose idea was this anyway?”
We helped her up. She winced as she brushed her pant legs. “Do you hear that?”
Andy tilted his head and frowned. “Hear what?”
“Silence.” Mollye smiled. “Can’t hear that blasted hound and not a single shot fired for at least ten minutes. Think we made it.”
Mollye’s prediction did little to slow our pace. If Andy was right about the shooter’s motivation, we had a similar one—quickly putting as much distance as possible between us and that godforsaken clearing.
When we reached the trailhead, Andy’s truck was still the only vehicle. We climbed in. A loud crack sounded. Another shot? Had the gunman caught us?
The heavens opened and the rain arrived in blinding sheets. Not a gunshot. Thunder. Lightning streaked the sky, followed by another wallop of thunder and a prolonged rumble. I rested my forehead against the window trying to see anything through the rain. The thunder seemed to act like a tuning fork; the window vibrated. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck lifted.
“Thank heaven we got off the trail when we did,” I said.
“Amen to that,” Mollye added.
Andy rammed the truck in reverse. I hoped he could see the edge of the parking lot. I sure couldn’t. We slithered along the winding, rutted fire road. Despite the truck’s weight, its tires had trouble gripping the dirt roadbed. From what little I could see out the window, the road looked more like river than road. The normal speed limit on these fire roads—fifteen miles per hour—seemed downright reckless.
I glanced at Andy. A death grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white. His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to see where road ended and ditch began. The whole world turned gray. No visible boundaries. I guessed the darker splotches of gray were tree trunks.
“I think we’re almost to the highway,” Andy said.
The words had barely left his mouth when he sharply turned the wheel and we skidded to a stop. He’d seen the flashing blue and red lights of a sheriff’s van before I had.
We’d almost collided with a rescue vehicle.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I counted my blessings. No crash. No bullet holes. No punctures from the jaws of one of Cujo’s descendants. And no tumble into a steep ravine.
My heartbeat cranked down to a near normal rhythm once we stopped. I rested my head against the truck window and tried my meditation routine. Breathe in, breathe out. Concentrate on each calming breath.
That didn’t keep me from jumping when a hard rap rattled my window.
I could barely make out the officer’s face peering out of a rain poncho. The gusty wind had ripped the poncho’s hood from his head, and rain pelted every inch of his uncovered hair and skin. Then I noticed what the deputy held in his other hand. A gun. Aimed at me.
“Hands up where I can see them,” he shouted over the din of the storm. “All of you. Out of the truck.”
I stuck my hands in the air. The officer abandoned the grip on his hood to yank my door open. A second later I was drenched. Wind-spiked rain scoured me. I glanced over my shoulder at Andy, who was sliding out the open driver’s side door.
“Officer, I’m the one who called you.” Competing with the storm’s racket, I raised my voice. “We’re not armed. We reported the shooting and the body.”
“Get out,” he yelled back. “We’ll talk once you’re in our vehicle.”
I guessed the cold rain wasn’t improving this dude’s mood. He hadn’t holstered his gun.
“Okay. But I can’t get out of the truck with my hands in the air. I’ll fall down. I’m too short, gotta hang on to something.”
“Fine. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
I grabbed the door handle with my left hand so I could scoot out without turning my back on the officer. Seemed prudent to make sure he had a clear view of my empty hands.
Once I was outside, he patted me down.
“Stay put,” he ordered and returned to the truck’s open passenger door. “Next,” he called. “You in the back. Out now.”
“For God’s sake, Harry, it’s me,” Mollye protested as her head popped into view. “Knock off the dangerous felon routine. We’re the good guys.”
“Mollye?” Harry said. “For heaven’s sake. Get your fanny out here and jump in the back of the van. All of you. We got a call about a dead body and some gun-happy creep shooting rounds out here in the sticks. Had no idea who or what.”
Huddled in the back of the police van, Andy and I let Mollye serve as our spokesperson. Since she dated a deputy, Moll had a certain built-in credibility, though the officers probably knew she liked to embellish her tales.
We were all dripping wet, but the inside of the vehicle was semi-dry. Harry cranked up the van’s heater, and I felt a tiny draft of warmish air. Still I couldn’t stop shivering. Andy slipped an arm around me and pulled me close. I sniffed. We both smelled like wet dog. I couldn’t wait to get home and strip off my wet, ripped, mud-splattered, dog-hair-coated jeans.
After Mollye wrapped up her story, we took turns answering the deputies’ questions. Our most frequent answer: “Don’t know.” None of us got even a glimpse of the shooter though that didn’t stop us from suggesting it had to be Chester given that Andy could ID his dog.
Harry wasn’t impressed. “There’s more than one mean mutt in Ardon County. You may be a veterinarian, Andy, but I don’t believe you can positively identify a dog based on a long-distance look-see and the tone of his bark. Besides, I can’t imagine Chester killing his own brother-in-law. His sister would string him up before the law ever could.”
“What?” I was confused. “Mick and Chester are related?”
“Mick’s sister, Bea, married Chester, so yeah, they’re related,” Andy added.
Mollye shivered. “I really don’t care what you believe. We’ve told you all we know. Or are you keeping us just so you don’t have to respond to any other calls in this monsoon? Come on, let us go.”
“No can do,” Harry answered. “Sheriff Mason wants us to bring all of you to the station. Ladies, you ride with me. Andy, you can drive your truck. My partner will ride with you. Pull out first and we’ll follow.”
As we motored to the Sheriff’s Office, the rain slacked off, decreasing from torrential to merely drenching. By the time we arrived and sprinted inside the building, we all looked like drowned rodents, hair plastered to our scalps and water dripping from pink noses. The fluorescent lighting made us look even more disreputable if not do
wnright shifty. I hoped Mollye’s reputation as a girlfriend would help our street cred.
Sheriff Mason took one look at us and asked an officer to fetch towels. Grateful, we dried off as best we could though there wasn’t much we could do about our sopping clothes. I wrapped a soggy towel around my shoulders. I’d have preferred Andy’s arms but, following orders, we sat in what I thought of as interrogation chairs. Hard wood, stiff backs. Spaced far enough apart to discourage any contact between suspects.
We told the sheriff everything, including the inciting incident—Mollye’s bright idea that some CAVE men might be holding Carol hostage at their hunting hideaway. I lost count of how many times Mason asked us to describe Mick’s body, the drone’s demise, and our pursuit by a gunman and his hound from hell.
An officer walked into the room and whispered in the sheriff’s ear. Mason frowned. “Be back in a few moments.” He followed the deputy outside and closed the door.
“Think they nabbed Chester?” Mollye wondered.
“Doubt it. Mason’s frown said the latest news flash wasn’t good,” I replied.
Andy nodded. “I’m with Brie. The sheriff didn’t look happy.”
We fell silent as we waited for the lawman’s return. Restless, Andy stood and started pacing. I was tempted to join in. If nothing else, it might warm me up.
When the door finally snicked open, Mollye muttered, “It’s about time. I feel like a wet—” She never finished. We stared open mouthed as Mason ushered in the bedraggled and soaked newcomer.
“Carol,” I exclaimed. “My God, are you okay? Where have you been?”
“Take me to Zack,” Carol murmured. Her words were slurred. “Someone. Please. I have to get to the hospital. To Zack.”
She hadn’t answered my questions. My guess? They never registered.
I rushed over and hugged her. Tremors made her arms quiver. Her skin felt like ice. Carol barely seemed to notice me; didn’t look at me or even return my hug. But she didn’t shake me off either.
The sheriff’s eyebrows hitched up. “Mrs. Strong, I’m going to ask you once more. What happened to you? Where have you been? Help us find out what happened. Then we’ll take you to the hospital.”