“She’s teaching her aerobics class, sweetie.”
He looked at the clock on the stereo. Ten forty-five. She’d never been this late before, and, considering the circumstances, she certainly would have called if she could. Maybe she had called. Maybe that was her that said “dog” on the phone, too frightened to say anything else.
“Are you sure, Daddy?” the boy asked, still sobbing in jerks.
Upstairs, Audrey began crying. Parker was uncertain of what to do. He’d have to call Jack and Sadie to see if one of them could come over to watch the kids in order for him to go out looking for his wife. Parker gathered Nick up and walked back to the phone.
Yankee suddenly barked wildly at the front door, fur raising on the back of his neck.
This was rare for Yankee. He was normally very docile. He seemed afraid.
The door burst open, and Julie ran inside. She immediately turned the lock on the knob and tried to throw the door shut, but Yankee bolted through, still barking frantically. It hit his flank as he passed and bounced wide open.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Parker demanded.
“I don’t know what happened!” Julie screamed.
She took Nick away from Parker, both her and Nick bawling, and ran upstairs toward Audrey’s room.
“Close the door!” she cried out.
Parker didn’t know what had happened but knew the answer was somewhere outside. He went out and closed the door behind him. As he did, he heard it lock, and he cringed. His key was inside.
He walked out to the sidewalk and looked up and down the street. The fog moved up from the river now and rolled in heavy on the streets. Nothing seemed amiss out here, nothing different, nothing going on. He walked over to the garage. Maybe something was wrong in there. He looked through the window on the door of the one-car, detached garage. No minivan.
“Uh-oh!”
Julie had car trouble. On top of everything else, she was pissed because she had asked Tony to have the minivan tuned up, several times. He kept forgetting. Parker shook his head and walked back to the sidewalk.
He drew a deep breath and gave a long, shrill whistle for Yankee.
Within a few seconds, Yankee came trotting back to him, wagging his tail.
“What was it, old boy, tomcat?” He asked and patted him on the head. “Time for you to go to the back yard. Come on, boy.”
Parker took Yankee out back and then went around to the front. He had no way to get in. Both the front and back doors were locked. The doorbell was the only way.
He pushed the button, and the bell announced his presence.
Parker waited patiently for Julie to answer. He tried to think up something to smooth her feathers.
An odd feeling came over him, now, as he stood waiting under the porch light. Someone, or something, watched him. He turned around and looked out into the neighborhood. Nothing but fog. Something lurked out there, just out of view, staring at him from the misty darkness. He felt sure of it. It was like the dreams.
The doorknob clicked, and the door opened to Julie’s scowling face.
Parker walked in and, with a boyish grin, began singing, “Julie, Julie . . . ”
Her hand flew up without warning and slapped his face hard. She turned immediately and hurried off upstairs without a word.
Parker stood dumbfounded, rubbing the red handprint on his cheek.
By the time he gained the courage to climb the stairs, Julie had already gotten into bed. He tried to slip in without disturbing her, but he knew she was awake. They lay in the big king-sized bed, back to back, for a long minute.
“Julie, what happened tonight?” Parker asked, softly. He rolled over and touched her shoulder.
“Ow,” she complained.
Parker reached out and flipped on the lamp at the side of the bed. He gently pulled the shoulder of her silky nightgown down, revealing a gauze bandage. Carefully raising up one side, he saw the injury.
“Damn, Julie, how’d you get that? You might need stitches.”
Julie began crying and turned toward Tony. He held her and stroked her hair.
“I scratched it on a branch. It’s all right. I cleaned it up.”
“Tell me what happened, sweetheart.”
“First the damn minivan wouldn’t start,” she began between sobs, “and I couldn’t call because I locked the key inside the building. Then a wino bothered me. I decided to run down the jogging path home, and I thought someone was chasing me, and I finally made it to our street. But I was scared so I ran up to someone’s door, and they ran me off with a shotgun, then I made it home and you sing, Julie, Julie to me, you jerk!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that song upset you so much—a shotgun?”
“Oh, never mind. Just hold me.”
“Who did you think was chasing you, the wino?”
“No—I don’t know. Let’s just forget it.”
“No, now, tell me, please.”
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“I won’t, sweetheart. You know me better than that. Tell me.”
“Jezebel. I thought it was that damned Jezebel chasing me.”
“What? Did you see her?”
“No, not really, just something black. I heard a howl, and I thought I heard a dog running behind me.”
Parker pushed away gently and rose from the bed.
“Tony, it was probably nothing, my imagination. You know, paranoia. Now, come back to bed, please.”
“I’ve got to check it out. Maybe we can catch her.”
“Tony, I said it was my imagination. Please, come back to bed. I’m scared. I need you to hold me. Have someone else check it out.”
Parker knew he should stay with his family. Julie made sense. Besides, she needed him and, with her in this mood, he could comfort her, making it easier for her to forgive him for what had happened with Sarah.
“Chin. This is Parker,” he said into the phone while looking down at Julie. “I just got a Jezebel sighting.”
“So, what’s new, Chief? We’ve been getting them all night.”
“Listen, Chin, I know we’re shorthanded down there, but I really need you, personally, to check it out. And do me a favor and take someone with you.”
“All right, sure, boss.”
“You know the Main Street Health Club downtown, where Julie teaches?”
“Yeah, I drive by it all the time.”
“Start there and go down the bike path toward my house. Let me know if you find anything. Be careful.”
CHAPTER 24
Tricia didn’t know how she could get away from Dawg. He was so big and so fast. He’d knocked her down inadvertently many times before as they played. She knew he could snatch her up in a second without even trying.
The kitten struggled free from Tricia’s hand and landed on the floor, spitting bloody murder. Tricia grabbed up Raggedy Ann and ran for the stairs in the hallway leading to the upstairs bedrooms, forgetting about the phone she had in her hand. The phone cord yanked the handset out of her hand and, at the same time, pulled loose from the wall. Tricia nearly tripped over Grammy as she made it to the stairs and was surprised Dawg hadn’t leaped on her yet.
She looked back from the first step and saw the vicious animal’s leather collar caught on a nail on the side of the window frame. He was stopped, but not for long. After a couple of yanks, the collar tore loose, and he bounded after her.
Tricia nearly reached the top of the stairs before Dawg caught up with her. He grabbed her by the toe of her, white canvas sneaker, and she felt a terrible pain as one of the dog’s fangs pierced her foot. She jerked her foot out of Dawg’s mouth as she fell face first on the top step.
“Owww!” she cried. “Quit it, quit it!”
She swung Raggedy Ann at his head and the dog snatched it out of her hand. Tricia crawled up to the landing and spied the small black souvenir bat her daddy bought her at the baseball game two months ago. It lay in the middle of the hall floor. Grammy had to
ld her not to leave it there. Someone could get hurt. She was glad she had forgotten to put it away.
Tricia grabbed the small bat, rolled onto her back and swung it at the attacking dog, who still had the doll in his mouth.
This naughty dog had done some terrible things today. He’d hurt her. He’d killed Grandy and Grammy. Now he was eating Raggedy Ann.
With a wild, lucky swing, the thick end of the little wooden bat struck the top of Dawg’s snout, making a hollow cracking noise. Dawg pulled back, stunned. He dropped the doll, took two steps back, and tumbled end over end down the steps.
“All fall down!” Tricia screeched.
She dropped the bat and reached for Raggedy Ann but saw Dawg was once again on his feet and another dog accompanied him back up the steps.
The last thing in the world Tricia wanted to do was to abandon Raggedy Ann, but she did in favor of her own life. She ran into her grandparents’ bedroom and quickly slammed the door.
CHAPTER 25
A red, late-model Mercedes pulled into the driveway of a large, English Tudor home on Wichita’s east side. The car’s lights made bright, nearly solid white beams in the damp and misty night. The garage door opened, and the Mercedes parked alongside a late-model, white Cadillac.
Sylvia Taylor staggered to the backyard door in her fire-engine red, low-cut evening gown. Her husband John, a prominent, young Wichita attorney, was in Topeka on business. At least, that’s what he had told her. The two weren’t getting along very well, and while the jerk was away, Sylvia Taylor decided she would play and had gone out to drown her sorrows. She unlocked the door and shoved it open to two purebred greyhounds. The dogs greeted her, whining and waging their tails frantically.
“Ah, did my babies miss me?” the woman slurred, bending down and letting the dogs lick her face.
She opened the door into the house, let the dogs inside with her, then closed the door behind her but failed to lock it, and the garage door remained open. She undressed as she walked through the kitchen and into the dining room.
“To the shower and to bed,” she said, kicking off her shoes and slinging her belt to the floor as she walked.
She made her way unsteadily up the stairs, the dogs following eagerly. Her two pets trotted over to a large oval rug near the bed in the master bedroom and lay down. Sylvia slipped out of her dress, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower.
The water spraying her body had a reviving effect after downing a half-dozen too many martinis. She soaped herself up and began rinsing off, starting with her face. The soap ran down the curves of her well-proportioned torso in small streams of white foam. With her eyes closed tightly, she thought she heard the dogs growling. The soap burned as she turned her half-rinsed face to the frosted glass shower door and squinted. Two forms stood in the bathroom doorway.
“Hope, Luck, what’s wrong?” she cried out.
The growls became louder until both dogs lunged at the shower door. The glass panel flexed from their attacks, making a loud banging.
“Stop it! Quit it! What’s wrong with you two?” she screamed with her arms crossing her chest.
They stopped jumping but continued to growl. The woman grabbed a back brush hanging from a shower caddy.
“Bad dogs! Go lay down!” she insisted.
The dogs answered, assaulting the shower door again, this time trying to jump over it.
Sylvia shrieked, swinging the brush at the dogs’ noses as they popped over the top of the door. The animals’ sharp nails tapped and scraped as both of them leapt and clawed their way up the glass, finally topping it.
With a wild, hard swing that missed, Sylvia Taylor’s legs slipped out from underneath her, and she fell hard, knocking the side of her head against the tub faucet.
*-*-*
Down the street, two teenagers stood on a brightly lit front porch. A boy and a girl said good night after a pleasant, evening date.
Claire Barnes pulled her lips away from the boy’s still puckered mouth. “Mmma—I should go in now,” she said. “I’m already an hour late.” The ends of her short, walnut-brown hair curled under. Her blue jeans fit tight, yet her pink and white blouse hung loose on her thin body. “Dad will be furious if he wakes up and sees what time it is!”
“Awe, come on, Claire. Just a little more,” Jason Williams pleaded. He looked at her with longing green eyes, no longer self-conscious about a large, red, welt-like pimple on the end of his nose. He moved his hand down the front of the girl’s blouse and locked lips with her again and closed his eyes.
The driveway lit up, and Jason pulled his head back.
“Damn,” he said, “that thing scared me. I thought it was your dad.”
“I told you when we drove up,” Claire said. “It comes on automatically when it detects motion. It was probably a cat or something. It’ll go off in a minute.”
Claire grabbed the back of his head and pulled it back in place.
A rapid clicking startled the boy. He swung the girl around, still kissing her. Two dogs, bearing down at full speed, raced up the walk toward them.
With perfect timing, the front door opened wide to reveal Irvin Barnes, the girl’s angry father. He was short and stocky with a completely bald head and a round face with small round features. His arms were short, and gray hair sprouted from his shoulders and back and around the edges of his sleeveless T-shirt. The T-shirt covered only the top of his large beer belly, over-hanging the drawstring top of his red and white striped pajama bottoms.
Jason swung Claire back toward the door, her eyes still closed and lips still locked. He saw Mr. Barnes look at his hand on Claire’s breast. Claire opened her eyes and gaped at her father whose face twisted with anger, but went blank when he looked over their shoulders. The snarling dogs were now fifteen feet away.
The boy shoved Irvin Barnes out of the way and carried Claire inside. Barnes fell back, accidentally hitting the light switches as he groped for a handhold and flipped off the lights. He slammed onto his back on the hard tile floor, the jolt making him wince.
The dogs made the porch. Barnes kicked the door as hard as he could. It slammed shut, but not quick enough.
The first dog made it inside but gave a yelp as the door caught the middle of its tail. It lashed out at Barnes’ calf and pulled its sharp fangs across his pajama-clad flesh. He struggled from the dog’s reach, got to his feet, and limped away, blood streaming down to his ankle. Without showing pain, the dog still lunged at him as if it were on a leash.
Helen Barnes ran down the stairs in a sheer pink nightgown with ruffles. White streaked her brunette hair, and thick mascara smudged her face, giving her raccoon eyes. She ran to her injured husband who had picked up the phone and punched 911. The door would not hold the dog’s tail for long. Blood ran down the door to the tile entryway. The skin around the tail pulled back two inches from where the door had originally caught it.
“Get to the car!” Barnes ordered frantically and motioned toward the garage, as he waited for a response on the phone. “We got a mad dog in our house at 1115 North Lake Breeze. Get here, now!”
Jason still held Claire as he scrambled behind Mrs. Barnes to the door of the attached garage. He could hear Claire’s old man slam the phone, then his footsteps behind him. The dog’s tail broke in half with a snap, and the greyhound now raced them for the door. Jason and Claire made it through and to the passenger’s side of the Barnes’ station wagon as the dog leaped onto Irvin Barnes’ back, just inside the doorway. Barnes tripped on the steps, falling onto the garage floor, and rolled, sending the dog into the front fender of the car. Claire’s dad looked like a Dukes of Hazard stuntman as he slid over the station wagon’s hood and slipped into the driver’s side. The greyhound shook off the impact with the car and was back on his feet in a second.
Jason reached over to the driver’s side window visor and plucked off the remote. He opened the garage door as the greyhound jumped onto the hood, snarling and snapping. The vicious dog sent Helen
and Claire into hysterical screams. Barnes started the car, jerked it
into reverse, and stomped his foot on the accelerator.
“Bite this, you son-of-a-bitch!” he yelled, laughing crazily.
The dog slipped off the hood and tumbled onto the concrete floor. Barnes watched the dog absentmindedly, as the car continued accelerating backwards out the driveway and into Jason’s new Trans Am, jostling them about like limp dolls.
Barnes gave Jason a look, causing more fear than the dogs had and said, “And that was for you, you little bastard. Keep your hands off my daughter’s tits!”
He slammed the gearshift into drive and floored it again. They tore down the street with both dogs in pursuit.
*-*-*
For the third night in a row, Jezebel visited Tony Parker’s dreams. She walked out of the fog as before. She stopped in front of Parker’s house as before. She turned and looked at the front door as before. And, as before, she began walking up the sidewalk toward the house. Mouth closed, head low. She walked slowly, closer and closer. She stopped just short of the front steps. Her muscles tightened. She stood, eyes fixed on the door. It opened. An alarm went off.
Parker’s body jolted as if plugged into the nearby wall socket, sweat once again covering his forehead. The phone. It’s only the damned phone.
“Who could that be?” Julie’s groggy voice asked. “It’s almost two in the morning.” She rolled over to Tony. “Are you okay, Tony?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m all right. Bad dream,” Parker said, as the phone rang again and he reached to answer it. “Hello.”
“Tone?”
“Hi, Sarah. What’s wrong?”
Parker saw Julie roll her.
“We just got a report of a mad dog loose in a house over at 1115 North Lake Breeze,” Hill said, her words rushed. “Don’t know what kind it is. I’m on my way out.”
“All right, I’ll be right there. Be careful!” Parker hung up and got out of bed. “I’ve got to go. There’s an emergency.”
“What? Did Sarah have a bad dream, too, Tone?” Julie asked, the jealousy simmering in her voice as she mocked Sarah’s nickname for him.
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