by Marta Acosta
In that moment, everything changed on our afternoon run, Bertie jumped joyously into the pond with the other dogs, and I felt so happy and knew he was the one. I had and would have many dogs in my life, but I knew he was the one who would live first and always in my heart.
Now I wanted to take his pain and bear it myself. My eyes welled and I sobbed thinking of his life and the life of the young soldier. If I could care for Joey’s dog, why couldn’t I care for my own brother? Maybe because he was the only one who said aloud what everyone knew: it was all my fault. My neediness, my strangeness had broken a brittle family.
I pressed my face against Bertie’s fur, grieving that he was old and in pain, and wanting his life, all lives to mean something, wanting love to mean something, wanting myself to be feel compassion for other people in the instinctive way I felt compassion for animals.
But it was not so, and would never be. This was the wall I hit, over and over, a wall around my mind and my heart and my soul.
Chapter 19
I STAYED AWAKE FOR hours listening, fearful that Raymond would return or someone from the sheriff’s office would come to arrest me. I heard coyote yips, frogs in the distant creek, an owl, creatures rustling in the bushes outside, and nothing else. I fell into a fitful sleep and was up before dawn.
I called Jaison and asked him to come in early, warning him to keep Raymond from the center. I set up a ramp for Bertie to get into the truck bed.
Ben was waiting outside the clinic when we arrived and I told him what had happened as we went inside. Dawg’s chipped mug on the reception desk, still full of coffee. When Ben locked the door behind us, I touched the mug. It was warm.
Ben led the way into the first exam room.
“Do you want me to lift Bertie to the table?”
“No need to cause unnecessary discomfort.” Ben sat cross legged on the floor. “Let’s see what’s going on, Bertie.” First he checked Bertie’s mouth and said, “His gums are pink so there’s probably not any internal hemorrhaging.”
Ben’s strong hands moved carefully over my dog’s body. I clenched my fists and rocked from foot to foot.
“He may only be bruised. Let’s take x-rays to be sure.”
We went to the x-ray room and I put on a heavy lead vest to protect myself while Ben directed me on how to hold Bertie, whose ears twitched at the buzz and the click of the machine.
A few minutes later, Ben showed me the films. “I had no idea, Maddie. It’s difficult to spot the new fracture, which is this small line here,” he said, pointing, “among the remodeled injuries. He’ll be fine but he needs to take it easy for a few weeks.”
“Thank goodness. I’m always afraid...” I stared at the dark masses on the x-ray. “They removed as many of the fragments as they could.”
Ben reached into his lab coat and gave Bertie a treat. “Where did he serve?”
“Kabul.” I told him the story I’d learned from Claire, how Joey had been led into a trap and Bertie pulled him out of burning rubble.”
“So the Army decommissioned him to you.”
“In a manner of speaking,” I said. “Thanks for coming this morning. I liked Ava.”
“She liked meeting you. She told me about your talk.”
“If we’re all going to be friends, I wanted to clarify things with her about us, you and me because I have too many complicated relationships already.” I sighed. “Please don’t say anything to Dawg about this incident with my brother. He likes everyone, including my horrible brother, and doesn’t need to be dragged into this.”
“I’m sorry you were hit. Your cheek’s bruised.”
“I’m fine. Does Bertie need medication?”
“He doesn’t seem to be in pain, but let him rest. No rough housing with the other dogs or agility training for a few weeks.”
The bell above the front door tinkled. We went to the reception room and saw Dawg carrying Gizmo in a baby pouch. “Hi, Dr. Ben, Maddie. I saw the light on and came in to turn it off. What are you doing here on Sunday?”
His eyes flitted from me to Ben, and I turned my face to hide the bruise. “Bertie had a rib injury. Dawg, convince Ben he needs a pet. I’ve got an awesome lab mix.”
“Don’t do it, Doc,” Dawg said. “She’ll use it to read your mind.”
“Yes, it’s part of my plot for world domination. Bye, guys.”
I RETURNED HOME SECONDS after Kenzie, and I got out of my truck and thrust a pink cardboard box toward her. “Donuts. I even got cinnamon cake.”
“Oh, my god! What happened to your face!” She reached out, and I ducked away.
“Raymond.” I propped the ramp on the truck and led Bertie down. “He hurt Bertie.”
“I’m more concerned about you.”
“I’m fine. Make tea and I’ll tell you what happened.”
Once in the kitchen, she put on the kettle and I set the donuts on plates, carefully dusting cinnamon sugar from my chocolate old-fashioned while described the incident.
“Raymond always wanted Granddad’s guns, and now he’s got them. Holy shit.” She massaged her forehead. “I’m debating the pros and cons of reporting the safe as stolen. I’m sure Raymond knows people who can break into it. If he keeps the guns, well, he keeps them. If he sells them, there’s a problem.”
“He may come back here and kill me or the dogs, or me and the dogs.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“You never accept how bad it is with him and me. I wanted him dead. I’m not using it as a figure of speech. I wanted him dead to be out of our lives forever.”
“Wanting to do something is not the same thing as doing it. You were hurt and scared, and you called Zeus off.”
“This time. I’ll ask Oliver what to do about the safe.”
“Don’t! Let’s not get Raymond in trouble with the law. More trouble.”
“They’re traceable to us, Kenzie, or actually to me, and I still don’t know why the hell Granddad left them to me. ‘Here ya go, Maddie, and feel free to blow your brains out.’ Legalities aside, I don’t think you want anyone hurt.”
“I don’t want you hurt,” she said.
“Oliver can be trusted and if he finds Raymond, we can get the safe back, end of story. If he doesn’t have it, we’ll report it stolen and be off the hook. What about his claim on the property?”
“Raymond can make a stink, but he doesn’t have the money to hire a lawyer and fight the agreement.” She looked at the bruise.” We can’t let him back here anymore. How bad do you think he was hurt?”
“Zeus clamped down once and held, and Raymond was able to walk off and pack his things.”
“So other than my siblings trying to kill each other, the evening was a great success.” She started laughing didn’t stop until she was coughing and crying. “Why did you have to go and test our DNA? Why don’t you let things be—you and me, sisters?”
“I’m sorry. I was curious and...I thought you’d be relieved to know, too, in case you want children because...”
It took her a second to understand what I meant. “Maddie, if, when I have a child, I’d be lucky if she was like you. Because I know how to raise a crazy-ass special peculiar wonderful person like you.”
WHEN I CALLED OLIVER, he said, “Your brother has a long string of petty shit on his record. If I find him, I’ll try to recover the guns and strongly advise him to get out of the state. Do you have an inventory of what was in the safe?”
“Kenzie will send it to you. How’s your foot?”
“My ankle. It’s sprained, but I could still kick someone’s ass in a crisis.”
Laughing, I said, “So let’s skip our tracking this Wednesday and see how you’re doing on Saturday.”
“Did he take your rifle?”
“It’s still locked in the tack room.”
“Consider changing your locks. If you know proper use of the rifle, bring it up to the house, although I’m not convinced you wouldn’t blast some fool’s head off if he ann
oyed you.”
“It’s a distinct possibility, Olly, but you haven’t been so annoying lately.”
AFTER A FEW DAYS PASSED without hearing from Raymond, Kenzie and I stopped being so jumpy every time we heard a car turning onto our drive. I met with Specials. I introduced two new clients’ problem dogs—an unsocialized boxer and a destructive Great Dane into the pack. I had lunch with Georgie at the county shelter and evaluated dogs for adoption. I reviewed movies featuring barn animals, and thought of the day Zoe told me sheep were stupid. I wrote a column about traveling with dogs, and I held hands with a family as their beloved companion was put down.
The red suede loafers were delivered and I scuffed up the soles before sneaking them into Kenzie’s closet. I hoped Zeus wouldn’t try to wrest them off her feet if he saw them.
I called Ben to update him on Bertie’s condition. “He’s so damn stoic, Ben. He never lets on if he’s in pain. Maybe he’s always in pain and I’m oblivious.”
“I know you believe you’re an expert on dog acting, but Bertie’s no canine thespian and you’re observant enough to know if he’s hurting.”
“Bertie could be an actor except for those rough spots on his fur. God knows he’s better than ninety-percent of the dogs in car commercials. Hacks!”
Laughing, he said, “As much as I’d like to rail against Hollywood hams with you, I have to visit Beryl Jensen because she has a languishing llama.”
“I bet she does,” I said. “Everything would be different if you had helped Beryl catch Ghost and the Things. I wouldn’t have taken that short-cut and...”
“I don’t know if I believe the breeze from a butterfly’s wing can change history.”
“I wasn’t thinking about history. I was thinking of Sherry Rae. I met her only the once, yet she’ll always be in my life.”
We were quiet for a moment and then he said, “I want to have a discussion with you. Can I see you and Kenzie Saturday night?”
“Kenzie has a date. Will Ava be coming?”
“She’ll be with the kids so it’s just us. How about dinner? I’ll bring sandwiches.” In the background a dog howled and I heard Dawg’s voice. “My patients are fighting like cats and dogs. Got to go. See you Saturday.”
I told Kenzie about his call and we guessed that he’d want to sell us the worthless Stud Lot.
LIKE ONE OF BERYL’S translucent silk scarves, Sherry Rae floated around me, tugged by the wind, but always tethered. Sasha Seabrook mentioned her when she came to interview me at the center for a feature about selecting the right dog for your lifestyle and personality.
I was almost enjoying the interview, when she said, “Dr. Whitney, some of these dogs have been traumatized. Have any of them communicated information that could help solve a crime, such as the way blackbirds led you to the body of Sherry Rae Castleman, as yet unsolved?”
“Animals are more concerned about the here and now, Sasha. They want to communicate information to improve their current lives and their relationships with their human guardians.”
“But if an animal witnessed the actual murder, such as a squirrel or a cat, could the animal help identify the perpetrator, or perpetrators?”
She pursed those pretty lips and I said, “Absolutely, Sasha,” and was rewarded by a smile and a toss of her glossy hair.
She said the piece would air on Sunday morning as a part of their local features roundup. I told her I was always available to her as an expert and hoped she’d ask for my areas of expertise. She shook my hand with her small gentle fingers and permanently vanquished all my fantasies.
OUR NEW SPECIAL CLIENTS paid promptly, and I felt deep satisfaction as I wrote out checks for our bills. I drove into town to personally deliver them. My first stop was the hardware store, where I ran into Hardwire, who was happy to ignore the other customers and talk to me about steel buildings. “For sure, you could have something big enough for your dogs in winter. In summer, you can rent it out for weddings and parties. I can DJ.”
“Having a party site is a great idea for someone else, Hardwire.”
Hugo Bishop, the man selling military surplus weaponry, walked by. Hardwire was deep into a description of a paintball tournament, and I smiled at Hugo, trying to get his attention. He barely glanced my way.
Hardwire said, “Who you eyeballing?”
“A major asshole who is selling a counter attack vehicle to the sheriff’s department. Someday I’ll give him my considered opinion of his profession.”
“You mean the Bearcat? It could be useful.”
“When terrorists launch a raid on Coyote Run? I don’t think so.”
“It can travel through fires, right? Summer’s coming.”
“I know. Every hot windy day puts me on edge.” I sighed. “Get the manager, will you? I’m paying off my bill, so at least that’s one less thing to worry about.”
My last check was for Ben’s clinic. Gizmo trotted out to greet me, wagging his stubby tail when he smelled me. “Hey, Gizmo, where’s your Dawg?” I swept him up in my arms and gave him a belly rub, sending him into paroxysms of delight.
Then I went to the desk and rang the bell on the counter. In a few seconds, Ben came out, drying his hands with a paper towel.
“Hi, Maddie, what’s up?”
“I’m paying my bill.” I handed Ben an envelope and he put it in his pocket. “Where’s Dawg?”
“He went out for a smoothie. He said smoothie, but I think it was more like a doobie. Was he like this with Dr. Pete?”
“Dawg’s always had extracurricular activities. Why do you ask?”
“You know him better than me. He seems distracted.”
“Dawg’s mood swings with his family issues, which are complicated because he’d rather hang out with his buddies than be at home.”
“I met his wife. Wow.”
The entry bell tinkled and Dawg came in. His aloha shirt was rumpled and he was wild-eyed, his silvery hair greasy.
“Hi, Dawg,” I said, and handed him Gizmo.
“Hey, Maddie,” he said, ducking his face into his dog’s fur. “Everything okay?”
Each vertebrae of my spine drew toward the next. Had he seen Raymond?
“Douglas, a delivery came in while you were out,” Ben said. “Could you go and unpack it?”
“Sure, Doc,” Dawg said, and gave me a look before leaving.
I bent over and stretched up to align myself before saying, “Dawg must have talked to Raymond—they were hanging out together—and heard his version of what happened. No wonder he doesn’t want me near Gizmo.”
“Maddie...”
“Yes?”
“I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Can’t you tell me now? Because I know it must be about the Stud Lot.”
“It is, and I wanted to run a few ideas by you. I’d rather you laughed at me in private.”
“Okay, stay mysterious.” Kenzie and I couldn’t afford to buy him out now, but maybe we could arrange a payment plan.
OLIVER WAS WELL ENOUGH for a SAR session on Saturday morning, but he walked slower into the center. Zeus bounded around him, barking a high, happy yelp, and Oliver bent over to rub him.
“He’s your dog now,” I said. “Not as a technicality, but for real.”
He shook his head, but smiled. “Where’s Ben?”
“With his kids. One of them has a sports thing. Baseball? Maybe soccer.”
“It’s nice that you’re so interested.”
“Are you being sarcastic, Olly?”
“Yes, can’t you tell?”
“No, so maybe you could add a hand gesture to any snarky comments.”
He flipped his middle-finger and said, “Will this do?” and I laughed, “Yes, that’s perfect.”
I was tossing one of the beat-up loafers from hand-to-hand. “We’ll only be working with Zeus today because Bertie’s still recovering. Have you heard anything about my brother?”
“Nothing, nada. I asked around and stopped in at the Ri
ng-A-Bell twice so I guess he’s blown town. I’d like you to file a stolen gun report.”
“Let me clear it with Kenzie.”
“Do you check with her on everything?” he said, raising one pale eyebrow, the way his sister did.
“No, only things I don’t really want to do in order to buy time, or things I want to do but I know she’ll give me shit if I go ahead.”
“So you and me finally have something in common.”
“I guess we do. Can we stop yakking and set a trail?”
We went through a vineyard, and the gentle slopes weren’t much of a challenge for Zeus. Oliver winced occasionally, the corner of his mouth tugging to one side, and would stop for a few seconds. We circled back to the road.
Oliver leaned against a fence post, taking his weight off his ankle, and I said, “It looks like gas fracking isn’t coming here, so I guess these roses will live until they’re wiped out by mildew or fungus or raging wildfires. Maybe the volcano will blow again.”
“Are you one of those global warming nuts?”
“Are you one of those anti-science nuts? Because I can’t wait to see you float into the air without gravity. Actually, global warming is nothing in the big picture, and as a species we’re so limited that we can’t even see the big picture.”
Oliver lifted his face to the sun, and the light gleamed on his brows, his hair, a spot on his neck he’d missed shaving. “I hate myself for asking, but what do you think is the big picture?”
“That we’re an insignificant species in an infinite universe. Earth could vanish tomorrow or in a million years or in a billion years, and it won’t make any difference in the big picture.”
Oliver opened his eyes and squinted. “Your big picture is a grim picture. Are you saying that you don’t give a damn about fracking spewing garbage into our air?”