Big Three-Thriller Bundle Box Collection

by Gordon Kessler

  “Someone reported a mad dog had gotten into their house. It could be Jezebel,” Parker said.

  “Damn, now I don’t know which bitch to hate more, Jezebel or Sarah Hill,” Julie said, dropping her arms down to her sides hard as she sat up in bed. She watched as he put on his pants. “Be careful, Tony.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Parker pulled in across the street from Sarah Hill’s animal control van. Hill wasn’t in sight. Her tranquilizer gun was gone. He pulled out his control stick and looked around. The house and yard were dark, but he could see that the garage door and the door from the attached garage into the house were open. He wondered if Hill was inside the house.

  As he walked around to the front of his truck, from the corner of his eye he saw something large and dark in the yard beside him. He didn’t look straight at it immediately. He was afraid to. He stopped and stood still, shifted his eyes to the object and moved his head slowly in its direction. It was colorless in the dark, but he could see it was large and had four legs and a thick body.

  Finally, he stood face to face with it. He stared. The shape didn’t move. Now what?

  He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The goose bumps popped out on his arms. He drew quick, short breaths. His mouth went dry. If only Hill were behind him with the tranquilizer gun.

  His only chance was to confront this monster with the control stick. He would move slowly, as close as he could, and hope to get the loop on the end around her neck before she attacked. After that, if she didn’t prove too powerful, he could keep her at bay and work her over to Hill’s van.

  He moved slowly toward the dark figure. Her body appeared thicker than he had imagined it would be. Her ears stood up long and pointy but longer than they should be.

  She hadn’t moved. Two more short steps, and he noticed a figure standing beside her on two legs. Something big and round was on its head.

  “What the . . . ?” he asked aloud, squinting to see.

  The oversensitive motion detector on the garage light across the street sensed his movement, and it lit up. Now, the two-legged figure was clear. A concrete statue. A Mexican wearing a sombrero and, beside it, a concrete donkey with long pointed ears.

  Parker let out a relieved sigh. He shook his head and dropped his arms, still holding the control stick in a tight grasp.

  “Why do people put shit like this in their front yards?”

  He looked back at the house across the street. There was something strange sticking out of the front door. It was a foot long and standing straight out from the doorjamb. He walked across the street, looking up and down at the houses, searching for any sign of Hill, or anything moving. Getting closer, he recognized the object sticking out of the door as a tail.

  After stepping up to the door, he examined it. “Greyhound,” he guessed, noting the color and short hair, disappointed it wasn’t black.

  Not knowing if a dog was still attached, he eased the door open. The tail dropped to the porch like a stick, and with a sigh of relief, Parker went in.

  “Anybody home?” He yelled, still moving apprehensively through the house. “Sarah?”

  He saw a spotty trail of blood leading to a phone in the hall and through the kitchen to the attached garage.

  “Help!” a faraway scream came from outside.

  “Sarah?” Parker called again, running through the house to the open door leading into the garage.

  Absentmindedly, he ran through the door holding the control stick sideways.

  With a crack, the stick snapped in half, and he threw the pieces down as he ran. At the end of the driveway, he stopped, trying to determine the direction.

  “Sarah?” Parker repeated his call.

  No answer. Barking and growling came from down the street. Parker ran down the sidewalk and around a corner, straining his eyes to see down the dimly lit road. Fifty yards away, Hill hung from the limb of a small tree with two dogs jumping at her.

  “Tony, help!” she cried.

  He saw the tranquilizer rifle lying across the sidewalk no more than twenty feet from her. He wouldn’t be able to reach it before the dogs saw him. He was an equal distance between them and the other tranquilizer gun in the truck.

  Hill hung on loosely. The dogs jumped very close. It didn’t look like she could last much longer.

  “Hang on, Sarah. I’m here!” he yelled.

  The dogs looked to Parker but continued their attack on Hill.

  “Ah! Hey, you sons-of-bitches. Leave her alone!” he screamed, running at the dogs with arms flying.

  Now the dogs took notice and turned to him. They bolted and raced toward him as if they were on a dog track and he was the rabbit.

  Parker turned and sprinted back down the street toward the corner. A small tree stood next to the stop sign. If he could climb into it, he would be safe until Hill got her gun and tranquilized the dogs.

  The dogs’ closed in behind him, their claws striking the sidewalk like drumming fingernails on glass. Only another twenty yards, and he’d be safe. Closer. Closer. He wasn’t going to make it. He could hear the first dog only inches behind him. Then, for an instant, nothing. The dog had leaped. Parker ducked and turned, raising his arm for protection. He blocked the dog in midair, and boosted it over his head, sending it with forty-miles-per-hour momentum dead center into the stop sign.

  The dog crumpled into the sign with a muffled, cymbal-like crash and fell to the ground in a pile.

  The second dog with half a tail was not far behind but slowed when it saw what happened to its mate. Parker kicked the underside of its jaw hard as it attacked, sending it somersaulting backwards, head over freshly bobbed tail, to the ground. He ran to it and pinned it with one foot.

  “Hurry, shoot it!” Parker said as Hill ran up.

  The dog struggled to get up, and he knelt to hold it with his hands. Hill took aim at the dog’s rump. At the last second, she moved the gun and shot the dog in the chest within inches of Parker’s groin.

  “Shit, what are you trying to do?” Parker exclaimed.

  “Just trying to put a little excitement into our relationship,” Hill said coolly. “Not like there hasn’t been, lately.”

  This was the first time he’d been alone with Hill since his strange actions at the blind man’s house. He hadn’t had a chance to talk with her about it or to apologize.

  “We don’t have a relationship,” Parker said.

  “You could have fooled me. You mean you sink your teeth into every girl that comes along?” she said. She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well, no big loss if I’da missed then, huh?”

  Parker didn’t answer. He couldn’t tell if she was complaining or wearing his teeth marks like a medal.

  “The keys are in my truck,” he said. “Bring it over here, will you?”

  “Yes, Kimosabe.” Hill trotted down the street to their vehicles.

  The dog squirmed for a moment longer and passed out. Parker lifted the male dog as Hill pulled up, and he put it in a cage in the back. The female that hit the stop sign was dead. At least now they had a live one to study.

  Hill helped him lay the female on the floor of the Jimmy.

  “The owner lives in the next block,” Parker said, noticing the address on the dog’s tags. “And this is great. He was vaccinated for rabies, just last Friday. Doc was the vet.”

  Hill and Parker stood for a moment, just looking at each other. All of the attacks were definitely tied together, and Doc, somehow, was the string.

  They closed the tailgate and began walking to the address on the dog tag, hoping to find the owner unharmed.

  “Chin said he didn’t find anything on the path by the river,” Hill said. “No sign of a dog, no footprints, nothing.”

  “Something chased Julie tonight,” Parker explained. “She’s okay, just shook up.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” Sarah said, smiling.

  Parker frowned back.

  “Just kidding. I’m glad she’s all right.”
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  As they walked up to the address, a police car stopped at the curb. Parker didn’t know the two officers who got out.

  “Everything all right? Need any help?” one of the officers asked.

  “Yeah, I think everything’s under control, now. But we might need you to stick around,” Parker said. “There could be someone hurt.” He briefly explained the situation as they all walked to the house.

  No one answered the doorbell even after ringing it several times. They went around to the open garage door and sidestepped by the Mercedes and the Cadillac, noting them with raised eyebrows. The door into the house from the garage was unlocked, and they proceeded cautiously with the two cops leading.

  “Hello. It’s the police. Anyone home?” one of the policemen yelled.

  Parker ducked around them. He saw the shoes in the middle of the floor and the belt near the first step of the stairs. He took the steps in long strides, and Hill followed. They searched the hall and a couple of bedrooms first, unsuccessfully. Then, in the master bedroom, Parker found a red dress on the floor and picked it up.

  “I don’t think it’s your size,” Hill told him.

  The shower was on. The noise was a bit irritating to Parker, but he didn’t know why. He felt a tickle in his throat and swallowed. It caused a raw feeling in his esophagus, like the beginning of a sore throat.

  Parker and Hill went into the bathroom. Water droplets streaked the mirror behind a double vanity. A shape sat low in the shower.

  “Let’s pray we have a live one,” he said.

  Now, the two policemen stood behind them. Parker slid the shower door open slowly.

  A young woman sat as far back as she could and looked up at him, shaking in near convulsions. Blood streamed from the side of her head, dark and red, then washed to pink onto her shoulders. She held her arms across her chest.

  “It’s all right. Everything’s okay, now,” Parker said softly. He reached for the knobs to turn off the now only lukewarm water. Suddenly and involuntarily he began swallowing in violent gulps until the water stopped running. He thought it strange, very odd, but there were more important concerns now. He held his hand out to help the woman up.

  “Sheesh, Tony, what is it with you and naked women?” Hill said, pushing him and the gawking officers out of the room. She grabbed a towel and helped the woman out of the shower.

  One of the policemen picked up the bedroom phone and called an ambulance.

  “My babies, where are my greyhounds?” the woman asked, now robed, as Hill assisted her to sit on the side of the bed.

  “Well, Mrs. Taylor—you are Mrs. Taylor?” Parker asked.

  She nodded.

  “Your dogs became violent and attacked some of your neighbors down the street. We had to—restrain them.

  “Oh, no!” she said. “Are they all right?”

  “We’re not sure. It looks like they drove away.”

  “I mean my greyhounds, you idiot!” she snapped back.

  Her lack of concern for her neighbors upset Parker.

  “We had to tranquilize the male,” Parker said, less sympathetically. “He lost most of his tail. We’re taking him in for observation.”

  “Oh, poor Luck,” she said. “What about Hope?”

  “Hope’s luck ran out, Mrs. Taylor,” Parker said. “She’s dead.”

  “You killed my baby?” she asked. “You bastard!”

  “Look, Mrs. Taylor, these babies of yours tried to kill us and have apparently injured one of your neighbors,” Parker scolded, his voice gruff and low.

  “Ease up, Tony,” Hill said, touching his arm.

  Red lights danced across the walls of the bedroom, and one of the officers looked out the front window.

  “The ambulance is here,” he said, his hand parting the sheer curtain.

  Now was not a good time to question the woman for either Parker or her.

  “Come on,” Parker told Hill. “I’d like to talk to you later about your dogs, Mrs. Taylor,” he said in a somewhat calmer voice as he stood in the bedroom doorway.

  “You can just do your talking to my husband, you dirty bastard. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. John Taylor. The attorney, John Taylor,” she said snobbishly.

  Parker had heard of him. He was one of those ambulance-chaser types. He was on TV commercials talking about Know your rights.

  “I’ll fax your precinct a copy of our report first thing in the morning,” Parker told the officers and stepped out of the room.

  Parker and Hill went to their vehicles without speaking.

  “See you later,” Hill said, breaking away to her van.

  “Humph,” Parker replied, getting into the Jimmy.

  Parker found a piece of paper on the passenger’s seat as he started the engine. It was something torn from a newspaper. He stared at it in the dark for a second. It hadn’t been there before. He hadn’t put it there. He reached over and picked it up then looked around to the outside of the truck. The street was empty and quiet except for the silent ambulance, its lights still flashing, the police cruiser and Hill’s van driving away.

  Parker turned on the dome light and frowned at the paper. TP, it read in big black, hand printed letters. He recognized the piece of paper well. It was his very own letter to the editor. A sentence was highlighted in bright yellow: “Let’s not blame the dog for the evil that is in man.” The word “man” was crossed out and “you” was printed above it.

  CHAPTER 27

  Morning came too soon for Parker. He’d gone home to catch a couple more hours of sleep. Doc White Cloud wouldn’t be in his office until nearly eight. Parker left early and dropped the keys to Julie’s minivan off at the local garage on his way to work and asked them to take a look at it.

  The commotion was building when he arrived at the animal shelter. They were swamped with Jezebel sightings. As he came in, three officers were busy on phones at the reception counter. So far, all of the calls turned out to be false alarms or pranks. Jezebel had appeared as everything from a black Persian cat to a black and white Holstein cow amongst some trees. Sarah Hill looked exhausted after the previous eight-hour workout. She was scheduled to work the double shift until four, but Parker talked her into going home for a few hours rest. After a flurry of activity, Parker started for the door to pay Doc a visit.

  “Mr. Parker, Bob’s Garage wants to talk to you,” one of the women officers yelled out, holding up the phone as Parker attempted to slip out.

  He rushed back to the counter and took it.

  “Yeah, did you get it tuned up already?” Parker asked, surprised.

  “No, not yet. We just got your minivan in the shop. I thought you’d want to know, though,” the mechanic said.

  “I’d want to know what?”

  “Well, after you told me someone followed your wife last night, I thought you’d want to know the reason the minivan wouldn’t start. The coil wire was pulled out.”

  “Loose coil wire, huh?”

  “No, I said, pulled out. Yanked. It looked deliberate. There’s no way she could have driven that minivan there in the first place with the coil wire where it was. It didn’t just pull itself out.”

  There had been someone after her. It was all so very puzzling. Jezebel couldn’t have pulled the wire out any more than she could have been writing TP on the notes.

  “I just thought you’d like to know.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Parker hung up with a lot of pieces to the puzzle floating in his head. They didn’t fit together, and there were more of them every minute.

  They’d left the dead female greyhound in a bag in Parker’s truck. The male still rested in the cage in the back. At twenty minutes till eight, Parker finally pulled away from the animal shelter with the sun shining bright on the way to another sweltering day.

  A strong, familiar odor invaded Parker’s nostrils as he stepped into the exam room of Doc White Cloud’s clinic. It was a kind of a salty, medicinal smell that could only come from a bar of blue antiseptic
soap. He looked to the corner to see Doc pull an excited and soaked miniature schnauzer from a large sink. He set the frenzied dog on the nearby counter gently as it flopped like a carp on a riverbank. Truong stood next to him holding a large light-green bath towel, and a dumpy little woman in a navy blue pantsuit waited near the door.

  “All right, Mrs. Ziebart,” Doc said, drying his hands on a small white hand towel, “Truong here’ll towel ol’ Mandy off, and we’ll be all finished.”

  Truong threw the towel over the dog and began drying him briskly while the woman stepped up and helped, dishing out a more than sufficient amount of incomprehensible baby talk.

  Doc looked up as he rolled his sleeves down. He always wore long sleeves, even in the heat of the summer.

  “Hi, Tony, how was the picnic?” Doc asked as Parker stepped into the exam room.

  Parker gave half a smile. “Let’s just say it was—interesting. You would have had to have been there.”

  The old Native American looked back a little puzzled. “Hmmm, anyway, you must be here to see if we’ve found out anything about those rabies tests. We haven’t heard anything back from K-State. Should know something yet this morning, I’d think. Truong took the heads up first thing yesterday morning, while Patsy and I were down in Ponca.”

  “I’ve got another one for you, Doc. And there’s a live one to watch,” Parker said solemnly. “I hope you don’t mind. We’re full up at the shelter, and besides, I was thinking, with your learned eyes, you might be able to figure out what set them off—that is, if it isn’t rabies.”

  “Anyone hurt this time?” Patsy asked, coming in from the reception area.

  “No, at least nothing serious,” Parker said to Patsy. He turned to White Cloud. “We were lucky. It was Sylvia Taylor’s greyhounds. Can we sit down and talk?”

  “Sure, come on in,” White Cloud said, ushering him into a room adjoining the examination room. “We’ll go in Truong’s room. He won’t mind. The floor in my office was just waxed, and it’s still a little wet.”

  Parker followed Doc into the small, familiar room. It had been Parker’s when he came home on leave from the Marines after his mother died. He’d stayed there for several months again after his discharge and until he and Julie married.