by Diane Kelly
It was a farther drop to the ground than he’d expected. His right ankle was jarred when his feet hit the ground, sending jolts of pain up his leg. He grimaced against the pain and limped away from the wall.
I have to get across the field!
Inspired by the biker the cop had pulled over days earlier, Emmanuel had realized a motorcycle would provide an easy and elusive means of escape. He’d bought a powerful dirt bike and stashed it in the silo, just in case an event like tonight ever transpired. He’d stashed a wad of cash in the saddlebags, too.
It was a perfect plan.
He’d be off and long gone before those stupid cops even began looking for him.
FIFTY-THREE
ESCAPE ROUTE
Megan
“This way!” I motioned for Juliette to follow me. Because it could be dangerous for Juliette to pass by the compound’s gate, Summer planned to pick us up on a dirt road on the far side of the church’s farmland.
The beam of the flashlight bounced as Juliette, Brigit, and I ran down the trail through the park, emerging onto the field. The back wall of the compound was to our left.
Holy crap! A man was coming over the wall. The robe told me it was Emmanuel, attempting to escape the raid he must have somehow realized was imminent. While Summer was waiting for us across the way, the roads were not blocked.
He could get away.
The thought made me sick and angry. It was time for this manipulative man to face his judgment day.
I motioned across the field. “There’s a cop waiting over there to pick us up,” I told Juliette. “Keep heading that way. Brigit and I are going to get Emmanuel.”
Without waiting for her reply, I turned and ordered Brigit to come with me. Shifting my flashlight to my left hand, I yanked my baton from my belt and flicked my wrist to extend it. Snap! Any funny business, and Father Emmanuel would get a solid whack to his old and new testaments.
Emmanuel jerked along ahead of us with a limping gait. He must have hurt himself coming over that wall. That’s what he gets for making it so tall.
“Stop right there!” I hollered as we gained on him. “Police!”
He looked our way, the full moonlight illuminating the rage on his face. He didn’t stop as ordered. Rather, he turned back and continued to limp across the field, heading to the silo.
Why? Has he stashed something in there? Could it be weapons?
I had no idea. I only knew it was imperative he not reach the structure.
We were forty feet away when I tried again, “Stop! Police!”
Still he didn’t stop. It was time to put an end to this. I issued Brigit the order to take him down.
She took off after him, her feet thundering on the ground.
“Stop!” I hollered one last time.
This time he stopped. And he turned. And he raised his arm.
“Noooo!”
FIFTY-FOUR
A SHOT IN THE DARK
Brigit
Brigit had been hoping Megan would issue the order for her to take the man down. She’d felt cheated last week when the guy she’d been chasing fell down on his own.
When she was at just the right distance, she bent her legs in motion and sprang from the ground. She saw a bright light flash and, at the same time, felt something hot and hard enter her chest. She also heard a loud noise that hurt her furry ears. BANG!
She wasn’t sure what had just happened, and she didn’t feel right. But she was going to finish her job. She wasn’t going to let Megan down.
FIFTY-FIVE
THE FALL OF A KINGDOM
The Father
BANG!
The sound echoed off the silo and the sanctuary walls as the muzzle flash lit up the enormous dog soaring through the air toward him. There was a surprised squeal of pain, then all was dark again.
Did I kill the dog?
The K-9’s body hit him with the force of a furry freight train and the next thing he knew he was on his back. His head snapped backward and slammed against the packed dirt of the field. Bonk! Before he could raise his head, the dog had grabbed him by the throat, her fangs sinking into his flesh, stifling the scream that barely managed to squeeze out.
No. She wasn’t dead. But the warm, wet liquid seeping through his robe told him she might be soon. It also told him he might be able to get away from the dog if he struggled hard enough.
He squirmed underneath the injured beast, shoving at her with his hands. He managed to push her off him momentarily, but as she shifted she tightened her hold, sinking her fangs deeper into his throat. He felt his skin tear as he gasped to pull oxygen into his lungs. He felt the darkness closing in, his mind closing down.
Then the dog went limp.
The mouth that had gripped his throat went slack. He gulped air and the fog in his mind dissipated.
Looks like I killed the bitch after all.
He shoved the dog aside and leveraged himself to his feet. He’d just turned to run when another sound met his ears.
Swish!
What the—?
FIFTY-SIX
OFFICER DOWN
Megan
My baton met Father Emmanuel’s head with a solid and satisfying WHACK!
The bastard’s head rolled on his shoulders and he collapsed in a pile of false piety on the farmland. As much as I wanted to beat the man to death right then and there, my fear for Brigit took me to my knees beside her. Her eyes were closed, her bloody body still.
“Brigit!” I screamed. “Brigit!”
“Is she all right?” Juliette cried, running up to us.
“I don’t know!”
Brigit made no response. I put a hand on her chest. Her heart still beat, though the pulse was slow and weak. Her chest rose only barely with her shallow breaths.
I pushed the button on my shoulder-mounted radio. “I need backup by the silo! Now! Officer down!”
The dog might weigh nearly a hundred pounds, but in that instant she felt like a feather as I scooped her up in my arms and took off running with her.
A beam of light bounced across the field as Summer rushed toward me.
“I’ve got to get Brigit to the ambulance!” I shouted. “Emmanuel’s on the ground behind me.”
“I’ll get the bastard!” She took off running again.
My lungs burned as I ran as fast as my legs would take me to the cruiser in the park’s lot. I propped Brigit’s lower half on my thigh as I wrestled the key chain from my pocket and unlocked the cruiser. I yanked her door open, put my arm back under her, and slid her into her enclosure.
I jumped into my seat, started the car, and took off without buckling my belt, my tires squealing in the night. SQUEEEEE!
The heavy chain stretched across the entrance to the park wasn’t going to stop me. I floored the gas pedal and drove right through it. The chain gave way, the ends clanking against the sides of the squad car. Clank-klunk!
Seconds later, I approached the top of the hill where the ambulance waited. I jabbed the button to roll down my window. Seth, Frankie, and another firefighter were standing by the road. Seth held the hose, while Frankie was using a tool to tamp down the flames. As my cruiser careened to a screeching stop, Seth looked over at me.
“Seth!” I screamed. “Brigit was shot! Help her!”
Seth’s face flashed with alarm. He handed the hose to the other firefighter and ran to my car, jerking the back door open. I jumped out as he pulled Brigit from her enclosure and ran with her to the open doors of the ambulance.
“She’s been shot!” I yelled to the paramedics inside. “My dog’s been shot!”
They helped Seth lift her into the bay and laid her on a gurney. The white sheets instantly stained red as blood flowed from the open wound in her chest. My partner, my best friend, my Brigit lay there, motionless and unresponsive, as one of the paramedics forced her eyelids open and shined a penlight into her eyes.
“No response,” he said. “If she’s going to have any chance at all
, we’ve got to get her to an emergency vet. Stat.”
I grabbed a bar and pulled myself into the ambulance.
Seth backed away. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!”
The paramedic slammed the door closed and hollered to the driver. “Go!”
“Where?” he asked.
While one paramedic continued to examine Brigit, the other used his phone to search for the closest emergency animal hospital. “Get to I-20 and head east,” he instructed.
I knelt next to the gurney, my hand cupping Brigit’s chin. “Fight, girl!” I told her. “You can make it!”
Tears tried to blind me, but I blinked them away. I watched her chest, thankful each time it rose with a breath. Thank you, God! I also begged the Almighty to spare her life. Please, God! Don’t take her from me! She doesn’t deserve to die!
The paramedic called the animal hospital to let them know we were on our way. “We’ve got a police K-9 who’s been shot in the chest. She’s unresponsive but still breathing.”
But as the ambulance raced toward the clinic, its siren screaming through the night, Brigit’s breaths grew farther apart and became so shallow they were virtually imperceptible.
The second paramedic put a stethoscope to her chest and listened. “We’re losing her!”
Oh, no! Please, God! No!
He rolled her onto her back, put the ball of his hands to her chest, and began compressions.
Terror gripped my mind. Stay with me, Brigit! Please! Rage took a turn, too. If that bastard killed Brigit, I thought, then I hope I killed him! That whack I’d delivered had been solid. I’d held nothing back.
The ambulance pulled up to the doors of the clinic. The paramedics flung their doors open and rushed around to open the bay. As the doors swung open, I could see two people in scrubs rush out of the animal hospital and run toward us.
They lowered the gurney and whisked Brigit away, leaving me standing in the back of the ambulance. The paramedic who’d worked on her helped me down, put a hand on my shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I hope your partner pulls through.”
Tears blinded me and he became a blur. “Thanks for everything you’ve done,” I whispered, my throat tight with emotion.
They packed up the ambulance and drove off. Though I was terrified of what I might learn inside, I forced my feet to move and walked into the clinic.
The woman at the front desk acknowledged me with a nod. “They’ve got your dog in surgery. We’ll give you an update as soon as we know anything. In the meantime, you can wash up and take a seat.”
Wash up?
I glanced down to see that my shirt was drenched in Brigit’s blood. My hands were covered in her blood, too. I shuffled zombielike to the bathroom off the foyer. In the mirror, I noticed more of Brigit’s blood smeared across my chin. As much blood as I had on me, how much could be left in her veins? Would it be enough to keep her alive?
I turned on the water and watched it turn pink as it took Brigit’s blood from my hands. I grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and wiped my chin. I grabbed additional towels and pressed them to my uniform, blotting what blood I could. An odd sense of guilt rippled through me as I placed the towels bearing Brigit’s once life-sustaining blood in the trash can.
I returned to the waiting area and sat to wait for what felt like an eternity. At some point, Seth came in and took both the seat next to me and my hand. I was glad he didn’t offer any platitudes to try to lift me up. We’d both seen how bad she’d looked. We both knew the chances of her surviving were slim to none.
A half hour later, a veterinarian in scrubs and a surgical mask stepped into the lobby. I rose reflexively, my mouth falling open, too afraid to let the question on my lips come out.
“We removed the bullet,” he said, “but it came very close to her heart. She’s stable now, but I won’t lie to you. It was touch and go for a while in there.”
I nodded and bit my lip to keep from bursting into sobs. When I could compose myself, I asked, “Can we see her?”
“Sure.”
He led me and Seth to Brigit’s recovery room. She lay on a gurney with metal bars on each side to prevent her from falling off the bed. A tube ran from an IV drip into her front paw, and wires ran from her chest to a heart monitor that displayed her heart rhythm on a screen and emitted a soft beep with each beat. Her chest had been shaved bare and a wide, white gauze bandage was wrapped around her. Her fur was damp with acrid-smelling antiseptic, tinges of blood still visible around her sides.
I cupped her jaw loosely, running my thumb over her ear. She’d always liked to have her ears rubbed.
“I’m here, girl,” I told her. “You’re a good girl. A good, good girl. You’re going to be okay.” Of course I didn’t know whether she was going to be okay or not, but just in case she could hear me I wanted to sound reassuring. I pressed my lips lightly to her snout. “I love you, Briggie.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
BLEEPING BEEPS
Brigit
She felt Megan kiss the side of her nose, smelled Megan’s sweat and fear, heard her say what a good girl Brigit was. She wanted to open her eyes and look at Megan, but she was too exhausted and drowsy.
“You’re a good girl,” Megan repeated as she stroked Brigit’s ear.
I am a good girl.
Brigit could still taste the man’s blood in her mouth. He’d been fun to chase, at least until something hot and hard had hit her in the chest. That had hurt. But now she was feeling no pain.
She drifted off to Megan’s mantra. “You’re a good, good girl.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS
The Father
He shouldn’t have shot the dog. He’d have faced charges for kidnapping, he supposed. Maybe false imprisonment for refusing to let Juliette and Luke leave the sanctuary. But now he’d also face charges for killing a police officer. How many years would he get for that? Hell, he’d probably end up with a sentence longer than a typical dog’s life span.
The doctor held up the X-ray. “You’ve got a cranial fracture. Whoever hit you meant business.”
A fractured skull. No wonder he had a migraine. That damn cop and her stupid dog had ruined everything.
There would be no going back now.
He only wondered what would happen going forward, what his sentence would be when he got his judgment day.
FIFTY-NINE
RESURRECTIONS AND REUNIONS
Megan
Three hours later, as the sedation wore off, Brigit’s eyes fluttered.
A squeal of glee leaped from my throat and I stood from the rolling stool. “She’s waking up!”
Seth stood, too, and we hovered over the dog as she blinked against the glare of the overhead light. She tried to raise her head, but could only manage to lift it an inch or two before putting it back down. The blood loss had left her without energy and strength.
I ran my hand over her head and neck, joyful tears welling up in my eyes. “Just rest, girl. Just rest. You’re going to be okay.”
Brigit released a shuddering breath, opened her mouth, and gave my wrist a loving lick.
* * *
With Brigit now stable and sleeping soundly, I checked in with Detective Jackson.
The phone had barely had time to ring before she answered my call. “How’s Brigit?”
“She pulled through,” I said.
“Thank God!” She breathed hard in relief. “We were all so worried.”
The veterinarian had said that my partner would have to stay at the animal hospital another couple of days for observation, but then she could come home to recuperate. I wasn’t sure how long it would take before things would return to normal, but I hoped it wouldn’t be long.
“What’s going on?” I asked Jackson.
“I just got back to the station,” she said. “It took us a while to sort everything out at the compound. Father Emmanuel is at the hospital. His skull is fractured, but he’s expected to make a full recovery.�
�
While I’d earlier hoped I’d killed the bastard, I had to admit I was now glad he’d lived. I didn’t need a kill on my conscience or my work record, and it would be fun to see him dragged through the mud, convicted, and sentenced, his sins made public.
“We’ve got two other men in custody,” Jackson said. “The ones that went by Zeke and Jebediah. The baby’s parents are here at the station. Can you swing by?”
“Of course.”
After making a quick stop at my house so I could change into clean clothes, Seth drove me to the station. My cruiser sat in the lot, waiting for me and Brigit to get back out on patrol together once she’d recovered. One of the other officers must have driven it from the compound back to the precinct. The chain I’d driven through at the park’s entrance had left a series of dents along the sides and chipped the paint, but the cosmetic damage shouldn’t cost a lot or take much time to fix.
Seth gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before I climbed out. “You sure know how to get a job done.”
“Are you saying I’m a good girl?” I put my curved hands up in front of me like paws and let my tongue loll out, pretending to pant. Heh-heh-heh.
He reached out to ruffle the hair on the top of my head. “Yep. You’re a good girl, Megan. A good, good girl.” A naughty grin spread across his face. “If you’d like, I’ll treat you to a bone.”
“Maybe later,” I replied. “There’s still work to be done.” With that, I returned his kiss and walked into the station.
I found Detective Jackson in her office. Juliette sat upright in one of the chairs. Though her cheeks were stained with fresh tears, her blue eyes were bright with hope. Her hand was clutched in the palm of an attractive young man who sat in the other chair. He had long limbs, short brown hair, and a sickly yellow tinge around one eye, the remnants of the black eye he’d received weeks before. He was the guy I’d seen through my binoculars, the one who’d tried to run to Juliette when she’d been in the garden.