Zane

by Dale Mayer

  Reggie, using the blankets, had gently moved the shepherd out of the cage so he lay in the center of the floor.

  “As long as it’s not dangerous to move him,” Zane said, “I’m okay to try this. But I don’t want him injured by us moving him.”

  “Neither do we,” Holly said.

  Zane reached down and gently slid a hand under Katch’s chest and another under his hips, and ever-so-carefully rose, carrying him out. With Reggie hovering like a nursemaid, Zane quickly walked out to the pickup. He awkwardly laid the dog on the large bench seat in the front. He hadn’t even considered the fact he had a bench seat in the rental because almost all of them had single seats. But, for this purpose, it was a very welcome design feature.

  He closed the door, turned and shook Reggie’s hand. “Thanks for looking after him.”

  Reggie raised his hands in surrender. “Not like I had much chance to,” he said, turning to look back. “I guess at this point, I can lock up and go home, grab a few hours’ sleep in my own bed. I think I even have a cancellation in the morning. I could possibly get some real rest.”

  “Do that,” Holly said, getting into the back seat of Zane’s truck. “We’ll be fine.”

  Zane walked around to the front of the truck, hopped into the driver’s seat and gently pulled the vehicle forward. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s holding,” Holly said. “This isn’t the best way to transport an injured animal, but our options are fairly limited.”

  “If there was a canopy on the bed,” he said, “I would have put him back there. And you could have ridden beside him, but, without that to keep you two from the wind, it wasn’t a good idea.”

  She didn’t say much as he drove to her clinic. Every time he checked on her though, she was monitoring the dog, and he appreciated that.

  He soon saw her clinic and pulled up to the door. “Let’s get him inside as quickly as we can.”

  Holly hopped out and said, “I’ll go open up.”

  And she disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 6

  She unlocked the front door to the clinic, shut off the alarm, moved into the rear surgery room and pulled out a gurney. Zane would probably argue, but it was still the easiest way to move the dog. She opened up a cage so it was ready, just in case Zane was already coming with Katch.

  As she turned around, pushing the gurney, Zane came in. “I can put him on the gurney if you need to hook him up. Otherwise it’s easier to put him directly into the cage.”

  “The gurney, please.”

  He gently laid Katch on the gurney and stepped back while she checked him over. She had the notes from Reggie on the dog’s care. When she finally straightened with satisfaction, she said with a bright smile, “He’s no worse for wear. Let me get an IV going and some pain meds before he wakes up on us.”

  “Yeah, that’s not what we need right now,” he said. “He needs to be kept calm and quiet, I’d presume, to not pull out any of his stitches or to restart the bleeding.”

  “Absolutely,” she said.

  He stood and watched, waiting as she reset the IV, then she looked at him. “Now I need help getting him into the cage.”

  Together they gently maneuvered the dog inside, then closed and locked the door. She grabbed a report sheet and wrote down what had happened and when and why. Then she hooked it under the cage. “He’ll be fine for at least four hours. Now I’m facing the same problem Reggie had.”

  “What’s that?” He looked at her steadily.

  She glanced at her watch. “It’s after midnight. I’m staying here with the dog.”

  He nodded. “Then I’ll stay too.”

  “No, you don’t have to,” she said. “I’ve only got one bed here anyway.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “I don’t need a bed.”

  “Why are you staying?”

  “Because we don’t know that we weren’t followed. I don’t want an intruder coming in while you’re sleeping, hurting you and Katch.”

  She could feel the color draining from her face. “Fine,” she admitted painfully. “I wouldn’t want that to happen either. But I need sleep. I’ve got a full day again tomorrow.”

  “Go for it,” he said, motioning toward her office. “I hope you have a cot, and you can actually sleep.”

  “I do, but it’s not the most comfortable thing. However, I am tired, and I’ve got surgery in the morning.”

  “Then you better get at it,” he said. “I’ll make myself comfortable out in the reception room.”

  “That big long bench is in there,” she said doubtfully, staring in the direction. “But it wasn’t meant to be slept on.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

  She just stared at him hard.

  He shrugged. “What do you want me to say? I was in the navy and slept under much worse conditions. It’s all good.”

  When she didn’t move, he shrugged. “You’re wasting sleeping time.”

  She brushed past him and headed to her office, but he stepped in behind her. “Hang on. I’ll make sure your office is clear.”

  She hadn’t even thought of that. She waited while he did a quick sweep, even opening up the closet and storage cupboard.

  Then he turned and asked, “Where’s the cot?” She walked to the cupboard, moved aside something in front of her and pulled out the cot, which she flipped open. Then she grabbed blankets off the couch across from her desk and said, “I’ll be fine here.”

  He waited a moment, uncertain.

  She waved him off. “Go, go, go. I’m fine.”

  He stepped out of her office and closed the door quietly behind him.

  Then she realized she hadn’t reset the alarm. She hopped out of the office. “I forgot to reset the alarm.” She went through the motions, made sure it was set, then returned to her office. “Good night,” she called out, shutting her office door again.

  “Good night,” he said.

  She could hear his voice from the main reception area. There was something odd to it though, something tense. She wondered what his problem was. But she curled up on her cot and pulled a blanket over her shoulders. If she could just grab some sleep, it would help.

  She’d spent more than a few nights here, looking after animals. It was part of the job. But the next day was always brutal because trying to get enough sleep for whatever was to come was always hard.

  Tonight she had luck on her side. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  Back out in the reception room, Zane lay down on the bench and closed his eyes. The bench didn’t quite hold his wide shoulders, so he had to settle in at a slight angle. But it was a chance to close his eyes and to think about what had just happened.

  Why was somebody so dang eager to take out that shepherd? Because that was really what was at the bottom of this. Even though Zane and Reggie each had saved the shepherd from the hunter, now Zane had to make sure this guy didn’t come back and try to take him out again. Why would somebody hate a dog so much?

  Only if he hurt somebody and hurt them bad enough that they were determined to get revenge.

  He frowned at that thought, wondering, because this could be the hunter’s reason, driving all his actions.

  Zane closed his eyes and let his mind drift, thoughts coming, and thoughts going. When he saw headlights flash in the reception room, he opened his eyes and studied them. Then he heard the sound of a vehicle. Driving slow. The low growl of a truck and a wide slow sweep as the vehicle came into the parking lot, then pulled around to the side.

  As soon as the headlights no longer shone in his direction, Zane got up and walked through the office to the side window to see the vehicle. It was already around the corner, so he couldn’t see it. He didn’t know where it went, but he walked through the surgery area back to where the shepherd was. If it was the same man, he’d already triggered the security system at the other clinic. Was that what he would do here too? And how had he known they were here? He had
to have been watching Reggie’s clinic or somehow had it bugged and heard their conversation.

  But that didn’t make any sense. How would the gunman know Katch would return to Reggie’s? It was more likely that Zane and Holly had just been seen with Katch. Maybe the intruder had taken off, but he had either come back or driven past and seen Zane’s truck sitting here. Which meant the gunman had followed them here. How else would he recognize the rental truck as being used by Zane?

  He went from window to window, looking for a way to catch whoever was out there. He wanted to see if he approached the doors. And then he thought about that big pen in the back that led to a fenced yard at Reggie’s. Zane headed toward the rear of Holly’s clinic and stopped when he heard a sound on the other side of one of the doors back there. Did Holly have a treatment room that led out to a pen too, just like at Reggie’s? Because, if she did, that would make the most sense for the hunter to come in through there.

  It might have been locked, but was it wired into the same security system? He doubted it. More often than not, the front and back doors and the bigger windows were done, but something like a pen door would have been missed.

  He leaned up against the wall next to the door where he expected the intruder and waited. Zane heard footsteps, and then the doorknob in front of him turned. When the door was pulled inward, and a man stepped in, Zane jumped him. He grunted, but Zane wasn’t prepared to have any kind of a real fight with a coward who kills dogs with a gun. Zane knocked him out instantly. Then he turned on the lights and checked out the intruder. And, sure enough, he had a weapon in his hand. Zane kicked that free, rolled the man over and checked his pockets for ID.

  John McAfee. It gave an address and phone number. Zane snapped pictures of it with his phone. He knew the cops would do the same and go much further but that didn’t mean they’d share that information. Afterward he put everything back in John’s wallet and put it back in the man’s pocket. A further check revealed nothing else except for the handgun. Then he took photos of McAfee’s face. Knowing at some point he would come to, Zane looked around for rope or something, opened several drawers, and then he heard Holly.

  “Zane, is that you?”

  He called out, “Yes. Do you have any zap straps here?”

  “Zap straps? What for?” came her sleepy reply. She stepped out of her office, coming toward him.

  He could hear her soft padded feet on the floor.

  When she came into the lit treatment room, she gasped. “Oh, my God! Where did he come from?”

  He pointed at the door the man was still half in. “I presume that leads to an outside fenced yard.”

  She stared at Zane, stared at the intruder and nodded slowly. “Yes, it does.”

  “And it’s not wired into your security system?”

  “No. You’re right, it’s not connected to the security system. We never thought it would be necessary.”

  “How about now?” he asked, watching her still struggling with the concept. He nudged her with a reminder. “Zap straps?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said and walked over to another cupboard and handed him a bag.

  He zipped two together and then secured the intruder’s wrists behind his back. Zane lifted McAfee and put him in a chair; then Zane strapped both his feet together and then again strapped them to one leg of the chair. No point tying one ankle to each side of the chair because it was too damn easy to then just waddle side to side. So Zane clipped them together to one side and then stood back and belted him across the face. He heard Holly’s gasp. “Do you want him to wake up or what?”

  “I want to call the police,” she snapped.

  “Go ahead,” he said, “feel free.” Somebody would have to take this asshole off her hands. He watched as she stepped a few feet away so she could call the cops.

  While she was talking, the man groaned. Knowing he would be out of time soon enough, Zane squatted in front of him and said, “Hey, wake up.”

  The man groaned again, opened bleary eyes to stare at him. He frowned, looked around, saw where he was and started to swear.

  “Yeah, I’d be swearing too if I was stuck in a surgery room like this. Too bad we don’t have a psychopath veterinarian to cut off your balls and make you eat them,” Zane said casually. “Or maybe we don’t need a veterinarian at all. I can play the psychopath and serve you your balls. Because, man, torture is a hell of a way to get answers.”

  The guy just stared at him, his face twisting in anger, but there was no fear.

  “Military background?” Zane asked.

  One eyebrow rose, but he didn’t answer.

  Zane nodded. “Yeah, military. Probably drummed out for bad behavior and a shitty attitude.”

  The man’s face leaned forward, but he didn’t show any expression.

  “So what have you got against that dog?” Zane asked conversationally. “That’s a War Dog. He deserves a decent life after getting shipped home.”

  “He shouldn’t be alive,” the man snapped. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I’ll kill him soon enough,” he said.

  “And why is that?”

  But the man wouldn’t explain.

  “You got some beef with him from wartime or since he came back? He just wants to have a life of peace.”

  “He should be shot.”

  “We already know your attitude on that,” Zane said. “But now you’ve broken into two different clinics. You’ve shot at the animal several times, and you haven’t managed to kill him.”

  “I want him to suffer first.”

  “Like he made somebody else suffer? Is that where this is going? An eye for an eye?”

  The man gave a half a shrug.

  Zane studied his body language for a moment and then said, “Did he hurt somebody? Somebody you cared about?”

  His lip curled.

  Zane persisted. “The question is whether it was during wartime or since he came back.”

  “He’s a War Dog, isn’t he?”

  “So you actually know this dog from over there?” Zane was amazed. “What are the odds of that?”

  “It happens,” he snapped. “Some of these dogs just need to be shot right from the beginning.”

  “Like the Vietnam War Dogs. We really treated them well, didn’t we? After doing years and years of service for us, saving our sorry asses, we turned around and killed them, rather than bring them home and give them decent lives.”

  It still pissed him off to think about how the military had treated those animals. They’d given their all, and all they’d gotten was a piece of lead as a gift afterward.

  “So what did he do? Miss out on a mission? Was he a bomb-sniffing dog, and he missed a bomb or something?”

  The intruder just stared at Zane sullenly.

  “Was it a friend or a brother?” At the flicker in McAfee’s eye, Zane nodded. “Brother then.”

  The gunman remained silent for a short moment. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” the intruder said. “The dog’s as good as dead.”

  “Well, after coming into this place with a weapon,” Zane said, “I’m sure the cops have something to say to you.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Even if I’m there for a few weeks, big deal,” he said. “The dog’s still dead.”

  Just then Holly came back in. “It’s not the dog’s fault. Whatever beef you have with whatever happened in the war, it’s not the dog that sent your brother over there. It’s not the dog that’s responsible for your brother being kept over there. And it’s not the dog that was responsible for your brother going out on a mission. So stop blaming the dog for something that he had no control over.”

  Chapter 7

  Holly hated to see anybody blaming an animal when it was obviously people who were responsible. The dog may not have been able to save someone or may have startled someone or something out on a mission that had caused a big blowup, but it still wasn’t the animal’s fault. People had sent the animal out there, and people had sent other people ou
t there. The blame needed to be placed where it belonged.

  She looked at Zane and said, “The cops are on their way. They should be here any moment.”

  He nodded and motioned toward the guy in the chair. “Do you know who he is?”

  She shook her head. “No clue.”

  “So he’s not from around here?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  Zane studied him. “Are you from around here?”

  The man shrugged. “None of your business.”

  “I’ve already checked your wallet,” Zane said, crossing his arms, leaning back against the counter. “It gives me an address, but that doesn’t mean that’s where you’re currently living.”

  The man’s gaze narrowed. “You had no business going through my wallet.”

  “You had no business pulling a gun on us,” Holly said in a heated tone. “Nor shooting a dog. Nor breaking and entering two separate clinics. For all I know you were after drugs.”

  The man spat on the floor. “I don’t want your fucking drugs,” he said. “No way I need those.”

  “Says you,” Zane said, shifting comfortably against the counter. “I highly doubt the police will believe you. You hit two vet clinics on the same night. As far as I’m concerned, you’re after drugs. I’m sure they can add a couple extra charges to your sheet for that.”

  The gunman glared at him.

  “Did you shoot those other dogs?” Holly asked curiously.

  Confused, he shook his head. “Only one dog I know of that needs killing.”

  She shared a look with Zane.

  Too bad. It would be nice to know the same man had done all the shootings. Still, it was an unfortunate side of life that some people hated dogs and would take them out anytime they had the opportunity.

  In the distance, sirens could be heard. As Holly left for the front door, she called out, “Are you okay being alone with him?”

  Zane called after her, “I’m fine. I hope he does try to escape.”