She paused again, looking at the door. She turned and walked toward it. Small puddles on the wet sidewalk splashed as she walked. She stopped at the porch and stared at the front door. The doorknob turned. The latch clicked. The door inched open until it was wide, but there was no one behind it. Jezebel walked in and up the steps toward the bedrooms. She passed Nick’s room without looking. The same for little Audrey’s room. She nosed the master bedroom door open and walked to Parker’s side of the bed. Without looking to Julie, the huge animal glared down at Tony Parker’s face only inches away.
*-*-*
The ringing telephone erupted inside Tony Parker’s skull. His brain throbbed. It felt as if the phone had launched a high-voltage probe through his ear. He looked around the bright, sunlit room. The vacuum sweeper was on down the hall. He remembered his concussion and felt the bandage around his head. He yanked it off and threw it on the floor. The phone on the nightstand rang again. He cupped his hands over his face, remembering the night before, and wished it had been a bad dream.
A third annoying ring came. When he leaned over to answer it, he felt sick and, instead, lay straight down. Julie rushed into the room.
“I’m sorry, honey. I should have remembered to turn this phone off. How are you feeling this morning?” Julie asked and reached for the phone.
Parker nodded slowly, confirming he was alive.
“Hello. . . . Yes. . . . Hi, Patsy, how are you…? Oh…? Oh, my God, are you okay?” she said and turned away from Parker, obviously trying to shield him from the conversation. “Oh, I’m so sorry! If there is anything we can do, please let us know. . . . No, don’t worry about Tony. You know him. It’ll take a few days, but I’m sure he’ll be fine…. Yes, thanks for calling. Again, I’m so sorry. You take care now, you hear…? Good-bye.” She hung up the phone and looked at him, the tears already forming in her eyes.
Parker didn’t know if he could take any more bad news. He asked anyway, “What?”
Julie sat next to him on the bed and ran her hand down the side of his face to his shoulder.
“Honey,” she said as her tears began to stream, “it’s Doc. He’s dead!”
Parker stared at her in a trance.
“How?” he asked, hoping his Native American friend had made a peaceful trip to meet the Great Spirit in the sky.
“They think it was that dog, Jezebel,” she said.
Parker gritted his teeth. Once again the pain of a friend’s death hit hard and sank like an ax blade into his heart. He lay staring up at the ceiling, Julie hugging his chest, crying.
Suddenly, he bolted up and pushed Julie to the side.
“I’ve got to do something! Something has to be done, now! I’ve got to stop this killing!” he said, standing up.
“What can you do? You’re not well. Please, Tony, lie down,” Julie pleaded.
Parker looked down at his feet. The carpet was wet. He walked to the bedroom door, feeling with his feet as he went. It was wet the entire way but not wet out of the pathway to the door. He thought of the dream—if it had been a dream.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Julie asked.
“The floor’s wet. Why is the floor wet?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Julie,” he demanded, loud and annoyed. “Why the hell is the floor wet?”
Julie started shaking. “I really don’t know. I didn’t spill anything.”
Parker rushed through the hallway and down the steps to the front entryway. The carpet was wet. The tile in front of the door was wet. The door was ajar. He stared at it for a moment and then ran up the steps past Julie.
“Please, tell me what’s wrong, Tony.”
He ran to the baby’s room and briefly watched his daughter. She was breathing. She slept peacefully in her bed. He ran to Nick’s room. Nick wasn’t there.
“Where’s Nick?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?” he said, running to her and grabbing her by the arms.
He glared at her. Fear filled her face. For the first time in their long acquaintance, he was giving her a reason to be afraid of him. Deathly afraid. He tried to calm himself.
“It’s Jezebel. Don’t you see? She’s been here!” Parker screamed.
Parker couldn’t tell if the look on Julie’s face was of horror or disbelief.
“Mommy, Daddy,” a small voice came from the stairway, “What are you guys doing? Kissy-huggy again?”
It was Nick. He was fine. They both ran to him and hugged him.
“It must have been Yankee,” Julie said. “Nick let him in this morning. He was probably wet.”
Parker said nothing.
Julie helped him back to bed. He didn’t fight to stay awake. He was exhausted from the excitement. His head was spinning again. He soon fell into a deep, restful sleep that was not interrupted by either man or beast.
Tony Parker slept until early evening and got up hungry. Julie fixed him supper and turned in early, completely spent. Parker carried Nick to bed after he fell asleep in his lap watching television. Audrey hadn’t made a sound for an hour, so he looked in on her to make sure she was all right. She lay in her baby bed on her stomach with thumb in mouth, fast asleep. Parker patted his daughter gently on the back and walked out of the room.
The house was a lonely place that night. Painful memories kept slipping into his head, and he did his best to fight them off. He decided to let Yankee in from the back yard to keep him company.
The two sat together in the living room. Parker sat in the middle of the couch, petting Yankee, who sat at his feet with his head on the cushion next to Parker’s leg. Yankee looked up at his master, a sadness in his eyes that went beyond their droopiness as if sensing his master’s pain. He gave Parker one of his patented chimpanzee whines.
They sat together quietly.
Parker’s mind drifted from place to place, time-to-time. He thought of his childhood, his high-school days, his hitch in the Marines, in Nam, his good times with Julie, with the kids, and with Jack— and Doc.
There would be no poker party this Friday night. Parker remembered Doc saying he wouldn’t miss it, no matter who died. He frowned and shook his head.
Now, there would be two funerals to attend, probably on Friday or Saturday. There would be much more grief to deal with. Sadie and her girls and Patsy would be hard to console.
So much had happened in such a short period of time. Parker felt numb. It was all so unbelievable. It was a nightmare he was yet to wake up from.
He began to analyze what had taken place over the past few days. He thought of all the needless deaths. Why had all these people and these dogs died? Rabies? That’s what the test results said, at least about two of them, so far. What if it wasn’t rabies? What if it was something diabolical and plotted?
Parker speculated, trying to put all the pieces together. It was more of a game than anything, a serious, what if game that kept his mind off the reality of the deaths of two good friends.
Who would be hurt the most by this diabolical plot? The city? Yes. The police department? Yes. Who else? Himself—himself, personally.
Parker sat up straight. The initials on the notes. The TP did stand for Tony Parker. They must. He couldn’t deny it any longer. If this was some kind of a plot, some madman’s revenge, it was reasonable to believe he was dead in the center of it. All the problems, the deaths, the bad publicity. He might not have a job to go to on Monday. But, he hadn’t personally been attacked, not a primary target for attack—yet.
A shiver raced up his spine. He looked down at Yankee, and Yankee looked back at him with the same sad look. Jezebel was still out there. Maybe she would be his assassin. But who would want to turn Parker’s life upside down like this? Someone jealous, or seeking revenge? Hardessy, jealous of the relationship between Sarah and him? Haskins, jealous of his relationship with Julie and wanting revenge? Maybe.
The phone rang. Parker s
prang up to catch it before it rang again.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Tony, how are you feeling?”
“Oh, Sarah. A lot better, thanks.”
“I heard about Dr. White Cloud. I’m sorry. I know you two were close. Sheik loved him, too.”
“You haven’t had Sheik in for rabies shots in the last week have you?”
“No, he had his rabies booster five months ago, and it’s been over a month since I had him in for eczema. Sheik should be okay, right?”
“Yeah—that is, I think so. At least, thus far, all of the attacks have been from animals that had been there within the last week and received their rabies shots. I heard they think it was Jezebel that got Doc,” Parker said. “Have you heard why?”
“Well, I guess he was really slashed up. Had a lot of deep punctures, too. It sure wasn’t any Chihuahua.”
“Anything else? Other clues?”
“No, that’s all I heard. Something else happened last night, Tony.”
“What’s that?”
“Now, don’t go getting all worked up about this. You’re out of commission, and there’s nothing you can do.”
“Sure, what’s going on?”
“I saw Jezebel.”
“What? You saw her? Where? When?”
“I saw her, and I blew it. I could have had her, but I laid my damn rifle down and missed my chance. Tommy Chin and I tried to spring a trap on her at MacGreggor’s house. It turns out she’s been there every night at around midnight. She jumped through a plate-glass window and got away.”
“Damn, what time was it? When was Doc killed?”
“This must have been right after she killed him. The coroner said Doc died at about ten thirty. She was at MacGreggor’s right on schedule, at midnight.”
“Three miles in an hour and a half. Plenty of time. Was anyone hurt? You and Chin all right?”
“Yeah, but I was scared shitless for a while. She’s big, Tony, real big.
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t see her that well. It was dark, and I was trying to hide behind a curtain, but she came right up to me and stared eye to eye. I’ve never been so scared.”
“I can imagine. What about tonight?”
“I doubt if she’ll show, tonight. She’s bound to be leery about returning. Besides, Chin’s going to be in the house with three armed cops. She’ll smell a trap.” Hill paused with a deep breath. “I’ve got one last thing to tell you.”
Parker heard her swallow hard. He didn’t ask what.
“—Good-bye,” she said, her voice quavering.
“Good bye? What do you mean?”
“I quit today. I’ve had enough.”
Parker didn’t answer. He just listened, caught off guard.
“I know it’s a bad time, but I’ve had it. I’ve got this degree in zoology going to waste. I’ve been sitting here, dusting off the old résumé. I’m gonna send it to every zoo in the country. Someone’s gotta need me, somewhere.”
“I need you—I mean, you’re the best officer I’ve got.”
“Yeah, well, if you really did need me, I’d stay, but I know better. It’s no secret I’ve stuck around this long because of you. It’s time for me to concede defeat. There’s no future for us.”
Parker couldn’t comment. He had to let her go. He was married and very much in love with Julie. His feelings toward Sarah didn’t matter. They were immoral. Adulterous.
“Speaking of having futures, have you had any more—symptoms?” Hill asked.
“If you mean to ask if I’ve gone nuts lately, no, I haven’t. Really. I feel fine. It must have just been stress. But I still owe you an apology.”
“Don’t worry about it. Nothing damaged beyond repair. But you’d better go in and get those post-exposure shots. I found out this afternoon the Sand Creek skunk tested positive.”
Parker closed his eyes. He had little doubt now. He had rabies. But it was too late for treatment. After the onset of the symptoms, the prognosis was always the same in humans. Death—a very horrible death. There was too much to do, this Jezebel thing to figure out before that happened. His last hours couldn’t be wasted in a hospital.
“Yeah—all right.”
“Don’t you bullshit me, Tony. You go in and get those shots, or I’ll report you to the city manager, and I’ll tell Julie, too. It’s not like they’re that bad anymore, you big pussy. Hell, I started them today, just to be safe. Now, promise me you will, too. And keep in mind, I’ll check and make sure you have.”
“All right, Sarah, all right. I will.” He was glad that, at least, she had been smart enough to start the treatment. After all, she’d been around the rabid skunk, could have gotten its saliva in a small scratch, an infinitesimal droplet into her eye, onto her lip. Who am I kidding, he thought. I kissed her, drew blood. Oh, God, the kids—Julie. They would go first thing in the morning to start treatment.
“You’d better. Ah, I won’t keep you any longer. I just wanted to check and make sure my ex-boss was okay. Ain’t it a bitch, I’ve finally got time off, and now, I can’t sleep.”
“Yeah, well, try anyway. Thanks for having the guys bring my truck back. And, Sarah—thanks for calling, uh, really. Thanks.” This was it. He might never talk to her or see her again.
“Sure, Tony. Well, good-bye. Take care of yourself.”
“Okay—good-bye, Sarah—oh, and, Sarah….”
“Yes, Tony,” she answered anxiously.
“—Uh, well—take care.”
“Bye, Tony.”
Parker sat, watching the television without knowing what was on. He’d lost another friend; another very cherished friend. She wasn’t dead, but still, he’d lost her. He knew he wouldn’t see Sarah Hill again. He’d never look into her beautiful, blue eyes. Never see her teasing smile. Never feel the tingle in his body that she caused when she was near. Of course, with rabies, there would be a lot he’d never again do.
CHAPTER 43
It was eight o’clock. The television was tuned to channel two. The last program had gone to commercial before the next one came on.
Tony Parker sat back on the couch and started playing his what if mystery game. The common denominators: Parker’s job, Dr. White Cloud’s practice, and the Bible pages and letter to the editor left at the attacks.
“Okay, someone is out to get me and make me suffer, then probably kill me,” Parker said to a bewildered Yankee.
It was someone having to do with Doc. Doc was dead. Patsy couldn’t hurt a fly. Truong had no reason to. Besides, he just didn’t seem the type.
Parker thought back to his recent visits to Doc’s. He relived them in his mind. He remembered driving up on Saturday. Seeing the Bumfields. The outside phone bell rang.
The bell. When he was there on Tuesday, Truong came out and said the state called. Tests were positive—and the look Patsy gave Truong. Why? The outside bell hadn’t rung. The university hadn’t called because the outside bell hadn’t rung.
Truong was supposed to take the heads up to Manhattan for the tests, but maybe he didn’t. When they were in Truong’s room, they decided they were going to call the university about the tests after they took care of the greyhounds. Parker tripped over Truong at the doorway. He’d been eavesdropping at the door. They all went outside, except Truong, and got the dogs out of the truck. That’s when he said they called but there was no bell.
He had lied. Why? So they would think he’d taken the heads in? So they would think the dogs had rabies when they really didn’t? Truong had probably been the one who called the health department, posing as a doctor from Kansas State to make sure no one would find out right away. But why was he playing such a crazy game? What would he have to gain?
He put all that aside for a moment and thought about the victims of the other attacks. Roary Rapids, nothing gained on that one. It did tear Parker’s life apart. The speakerphone. It was on. Mrs. Nightingale was on the phone when she was attacked, but Mrs. Taylor was in the shower. It didn’t m
ake sense.
There were missing items: a diamond studded letter opener with sharp serrated edges, five hundred thousand in cash—and Parker’s mind.
Parker sighed as the TV station went to commercial again. Serrated-edged letter opener; that would make some deep puncture wounds and slash someone up pretty good.
Haskins came on the TV and interrupted Parker’s thoughts.
“Tonight on First at the Scene news, we’ll look at a city under siege by rabid dogs. We’ll also interview the assistant to the late Dr. White Cloud, who was killed last night by the giant killer dog, Jezebel. Now, here’s a brief look at that interview.”
“Dr. White Cloud, good man,” Truong said, “good to animals.”
The picture came back to Haskins, and by his stupid smirk, it was evident he was about to attempt some type of humorous journalism, once again at an inappropriate time.
“Mr. Truong will also have this message for your dog.”
Silence. The TV showed Truong with a dog whistle. He blew into it, but nothing seemed to come out.
But Yankee’s ears perked up. Parker felt the dog’s head jerk as he petted him. He looked down to see Yankee’s lip start to quiver, then his snout wrinkle into a snarl. Yankee looked up at Parker out of the sides of his eyes. He had a strange look, wild and faraway. He growled a low horrible drone unlike Parker had ever heard from him before.
“Yankee?”
Another growl.
“No, Yankee, no! Bad dog!”
Yankee licked his chops. He appeared puzzled. He growled again. He attacked.
Parker tried to get up from the couch, but Yankee leaped at his throat and pushed him back. His jaws locked around Parker’s wrist, as he tried to protect his throat. The dog’s huge canine incisors had raked across Parker’s neck, and it began to bleed. He pushed Yankee off and over the back of the couch. He was unprepared for the next attack. Yankee came over the back of the sofa, leaping again for his throat. Parker grabbed the back of the couch to steady himself, but the weight of the two of them made it topple over forward and Parker was pinned underneath. His head hit the floor hard. It sent the world spinning again. Yankee tugged at his wrist, but he couldn’t feel the pain that should have been there.
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