Bark M for Murder

by An Anthology

  Duke took off through the trees, disappearing into the darkness.

  “Damn it, Duke! Get back here!” A volley of blasts tore through the night, followed by the thud of footsteps and the crackle of dead leaves as the shooter took off running. “Aw, Duke.” Jake moaned, then took a deep breath. The shepherd was gone. “Don’t move.” He said to her.

  “Not likely.” A.J. folded her arms over her head, her heart banging against her ribs. She was really being tested tonight. She had no memory of how it had begun, and the way things were going there was a good chance she wouldn’t live to find out how it would end.

  The door above her closed. Sensing movement, she looked to her left to see Jake rolling under the truck. “Have you lost your mind?” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re too visible. No point in making it easy for him.” Shortly, the upper half of him disappeared as he got to his knees, then stood. The headlights went out, then the flood on the hood, finally the roof light, plunging the surroundings into impenetrable blackness, the only reminder of where they were the whoosh and gurgle of water rushing into the breach where the bridge once stood.

  “Now what?” A.J. croaked, still too frightened to move.

  Gravel crunched to her right and suddenly Jake’s breath warmed the side of her face. “We’ve got to get away from here. You’ll have to drive.”

  “Me?” Her voice was a squeak. “Why?”

  “Later, A.J. Keep low, go around to the other side and get in. I’ll tell you what to do then.”

  “But—”

  “Just do it! Please!”

  There was something in his voice she hadn’t heard before, perhaps a measure of desperation.

  Rather than argue, she recited Ready-set-go in her mind, dashed to the driver’s side, and climbed in. Jake had beat her to it, closing the passenger door quietly, grunting as he did it.

  “Now listen,” he said, breathing heavily. “Feel for the ignition. Keep your hand on the key. Got it?”

  “Yes. Wait a minute.” Her eyes were stretched wide, a waste of effort. He was invisible, a disembodied voice. But something occurred to her that hadn’t before. “Jake, were you hit?” She knew it had struck the truck, but had assumed that was the extent of the damage.

  “Yeah, I’m hit. Don’t worry, I’ll live.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it,” she said, determined not to show how terrified she was. The man was hurt, how badly was impossible to tell. “Where did it get you?”

  “Right biceps. Rotten luck. If it had been the left, I could drive. Pay attention. When I give you the word, start the engine. As soon as you do, I’ll put the gear in reverse for you, since I don’t need to see where it is. Put the pedal to the floor. You’ll need to back up about a hundred yards before we’ll have room enough to make a U-turn. Don’t worry, it’s a straight shot.”

  She wished he had worded it differently. “Where’s the switch for the headlights?”

  “You don’t need to know, at least not yet. We—”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Her eyes stretched even wider. “You want me to reverse the length of a football field in the dark?”

  “You want to chance being a target again?” he demanded, his voice grating. “He might hear us leave but at least he won’t be able to see us.”

  A.J. was willing to concede the point, but it didn’t make the prospect of backing up at top speed on this excuse for a road any more appealing. It was damned risky. Going down that bank once was her limit. “You’re sure you can’t drive?” she asked, hoping against hope.

  His sigh was answer enough. “If I could, I would, A.J. Are you ready or are we going to sit here until I bleed to death?”

  That put things into perspective. She swallowed. “I’m ready. What about Duke?”

  He didn’t respond immediately. “If he’s able, he’ll go home,” he said softly.

  If he wasn’t able… She dismissed that thought. She hadn’t heard him yelp after the volley of shots. “You’re right. He’ll go home. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  She felt him reach over and twist the steering wheel. “Just checking to make sure the wheels are perfectly straight. Okay, ignition now.”

  A.J. turned the key. Using his left hand, Jake yanked the gear shift into reverse. “Hit it!” From that point, she might as well have been on a roller coaster, for all the control she felt she had. As instructed, she hit it, flooring the accelerator and cringing as the engine whined in protest. The pickup seemed to fly backward at breakneck speed. She swiveled in the seat to peer out of the rear window, but there was nothing to see. She had to trust that Jake was as good as his word and did indeed know this area like the back of his hand. Regardless, she kept waiting for the next round of bullets. Until this was over, she would never doubt anyone who said their heart was in their throat. Hers had parked there and wasn’t moving.

  After a distance, Jake palmed her forearm. “Slow down a little. I need to hear the water.”

  Hear the water? Letting up on the accelerator, A.J. breathed a little easier. “Why?”

  Silence filled the cab and for the first time, she caught the scent of blood. God, he hadn’t been kidding. Just how bad was it?

  “We’re close,” Jake said. “The current’s fast here. It churns instead of singing and bubbling. Okay, the switch for the headlights is on the turn signal. When I give the word, twist it twice toward the windshield. Then turn the wheel clockwise—”

  “I know how to make a U-turn.” She was relieved to know she’d have the advantage of the headlights, but was annoyed at Jake’s thinking she couldn’t navigate a three-point turn without help. Hell, she’d had driving lessons from the professionals, passed the obstacle course without nicking one single barrel. She blinked in surprise, trying to place that last piece of information. High school driver’s ed?

  “Lights,” Jake prompted. “Okay, there should be room enough on the shoulder for you to—”

  “Oh, shut up,” A.J. snapped, and executed a U-turn old Cranshaw would have been proud of. Cranshaw. A walking skeleton, balding, chewed Dentyne by the pack. When had that been? And where?

  “Let’s try using just parking lights,” Jake was saying, his voice faint. “Twist the lever back one go.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was an improvement over driving by Braille, especially once they reached the steep curve where her nightmare had begun. She took it smoothly and evenly, elated to be going forward, and didn’t slow until the intersection where the three roads met in a triangular spoke. She turned left without asking, remembering this was the way they had come, but pulled over when she reached a particularly thick grove of trees arching above the tarmac.

  “Why are we stopping?” Jake stirred in his seat. His voice was tight, strained.

  “I want to see your arm. If that guy’s on foot, he’s far behind.” Leaving the engine idling, she groped for the torch under the dash. Holding it low, she played it over the length of his arm and gasped. The sleeve of his coat was black with blood, his face ashen, his lips drawn tight against his teeth.

  She replaced the torch, trying to figure out what to do. After a moment, she put the gear in Park, got out and went around to his side. The rain was back, but lightly, the kind that would be a pure waste of an umbrella. She wiped the mist from her face, opened the passenger door, patted his midsection, and reached for his belt.

  A strong hand stopped her, his fingers gripping hers. “Sorry, lady, but we don’t know one another well enough for you to cop a feel.”

  “The man’s a comic,” she said, slapping his hand away. “We .need to stop the bleeding. Lean forward.” The buckle resisted, as did the belt but she finally managed to pull it free of the loops. Stomach churning, she moved his arm as gently as she could, trying to ignore his breath whistling from pain. “Sorry, but I’ve got to do this.”

  “Then do it.” Eyes closed, jaw set, he panted as she fashioned a tourniquet, placing the end of the belt in his left
hand.

  “Hold it tight, but loosen it every few minutes or it’ll cause more problems than it solves. How far to Newt’s place?”

  He opened his eyes. “About three-quarters of a mile, but why do you want to know?”

  “You sure no one’s used it?”

  “Positive. I’d be able to tell if he’d been there recently. You didn’t answer my question.”

  “We can’t go back to your cabin. If this is the same bastard that fired the shot before, he knows where you live and will wait there. It makes more sense to hide out at Newt’s. That arm needs tending to. The least I can do is clean it, find something to use as a bandage.”

  He shook his head. “No way. Newt uses well water the old-fashioned way with a bucket and pulley. I saw the bucket out back. It’s rusty, downright nasty. In the second place, Duke may be home. He won’t be able to get in. I won’t chance that, especially if he’s hurt. In the third, I’m beginning to think the shooter’s after you, not me.”

  “Me?” A.J.“s voice was a squeak.

  “Who was in the cabin when he tried the first time? You, trotting back and forth in front of the window, according to what you told me. I’d taken the pickup to the Rands’ place, so he knew I wasn’t there. If he’d been after me, he could have waited for me to come back and picked me off getting out of the truck.”

  “It was raining like blazes,” she reminded him, desperate to make hash of his reasoning. “He probably couldn’t see that well.”

  Jake’s response was a snort of derision. “Face it, chickie, I don’t care if it was a hurricane, there’s no way anybody would mistake you for me. The only person who knows I’m here is Mack’s wife, and she hasn’t a clue where the cabin is. You’re the one with the roofies or whatever in your system, and three different IDs in your purse. The shooting didn’t start until after you showed up. And I can’t tell you how much it burns my butt that even though you’re probably everything I came up here to get away from, it’s still my responsibility to save your troublesome neck. Duke’s too. So we’ll go back to the cabin the same way we left.”

  A.J. could think of nothing to refute his argument, except for a feeling deep in her soul that she was a law-abiding citizen. Under the circumstances, however, there was no reason for him to believe her. And if they didn’t get to shelter soon and stop the bleeding, it wouldn’t matter if he believed her or not.

  “I guess we’ll have to go back without lights,” she said finally, her heart sinking at the thought of the washboard road.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. Just keep to the ruts.”

  The silence was heavy, almost sodden, as she drove back, passed Newt’s cabin, and let the tires sink into the gutters that led to Jake’s. Again, he was right; she barely had to steer.

  Suddenly, the pickup began to list to the left. They had a flat, and swore in concert.

  She felt his hand grip hers on the steering wheel. His was clammy, damp with sweat—at least she hoped it was sweat.

  “We’re near a clearing,” he said. “You can pull over there. Just as well that we go the rest of the way on foot. The rain should muffle our approach.” Leaning forward, he peered out. “Here it is.” Again, he was right. The pickup stopped in a niche that seemed a perfect fit.

  “Have you got cat’s eyes or something?” she asked, cutting the ignition. “It’s pitch black out here.”

  “It is not.” He released his seat belt. “But, yes, I do have good night vision, courtesy of my granddad on my mother’s side. Full-blooded Navaho named Night Walker. That old dude taught me a lot. Bring the torch and the purse. And don’t slam the door.”

  She concentrated on this new tidbit rather than snapping at him. She knew better than to slam the damned door. She never slammed vehicle doors, especially if she or someone was inside. Driving a VW Beetle had broken her of that. The increase in air pressure could play hell on the ears. She was half in, half out of the pickup when she realized that more of her memory had just surfaced. Unfortunately, now was not the time to focus on it. She had to help Jake.

  The contents of the purse were strewn all over the floor. She swooped up everything she could find, dumped them into the bag, and nudged the door closed. “Oh. The keys. Yours, I mean. To the pickup.”

  “Got ‘em,” he said, his voice low. His dark form loomed in front of her. “I’ll take the lead. And the torch,” he added. “Hold on to the hem of my coat if you have to. Plant your feet carefully and try not to disturb the leaves. We’re lucky they’re wet. Ready?”

  “I guess.” I want to go home, a voice wailed in her ears. And by damn, if she survived this night, that’s precisely where she was going, just as soon as she remembered where that was.

  Chapter 6

  Here we go again, A.J. mused grimly, as they left the pickup. At least, she could take comfort in knowing where they were heading this time. But she was concerned about Jake, how much longer he could hold up and hoped he remembered to loosen the tourniquet periodically. No circulation in that arm for an extended period and he might lose the limb altogether. She was just about to give a firm yank on his coattail to remind him when he stopped, causing her to collide with his rear.

  “What?” she asked softly. “Are we there?” She had been watching for the soft glow of lights from the windows but saw no change in their surroundings.

  “A car.” He stepped back to whisper in her ear. “Around two o’clock, about twenty yards away.”

  A.J. blinked, as if that might dispel the opacity of the night. “You’re sure?”

  “It’s parked on the back way to the Rands’ place. I need to check to see if anyone’s in it. Stay put. I’ll be back.”

  “No way!” She didn’t want to be left behind. He was in no shape to defend himself if he had to. He had stuck the automatic from the purse into his pocket and had his own behind his back, for all the good it did him, since he couldn’t reach either one with his left hand. But he had melted into the night as silently as a ghost. “Jake, wait, please!”

  She had gone perhaps ten steps when something bumped against her leg. She shrieked, leapt backward, and wound up on her rear end. A warm, wet tongue lathered her face and doggy breath filled her nostrils. “Duke! You’re all right!”

  The shepherd responded in the affirmative, giving her a good slurp across the chin.

  “You lovely dog,” she said, her arms around his neck. “If you’re up for adoption, I’m putting my name in the hat.” She scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off. “Duke, find Jake. We’ve done this routine before. Find Jake.”

  He woofed. She followed his lead, surprised to realize that the rain had stopped and the clouds were dissipating. Soon she could make out the shape of something too big to be anything other than the car.

  “Where’s Jake, boy?” she asked.

  “A.J.” His voice was hoarse and faint. “Back here.”

  “Back here” turned out to be the rear of the car where she found him sitting, his back against the bumper.

  “Are you okay?” Stooping, she squinted at him.

  “Sorry. Duke just gave me his typical welcome and knocked me on my can. Definitely got to do something about his breath. And there’s no one around or if they were here, he chased them off.” He pulled in a deep breath. “A.J., I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to the cabin. You’ll have to leave me and go alone.”

  A.J. felt something explode in her midsection. “The hell I will! I’ll carry you piggyback, if I have to.”

  He chuckled. “That’ll be a good trick. I’ll be okay here. If you’ll help me back into the trees, that’ll be cover enough. Duke can lead you home.”

  She stood up and for the first time got a better look at the car, a four-door sedan with something protruding from the rear window on the driver’s side: a flag, an American flag extending from a short pole anchored by the closed window. The sight of it set off champagne bubbles in her head.

  “This is mine,” she managed, her voice little more than a w
heeze. “Jake, this is mine, my Honda! What’s it doing back here?”

  “Well, it’s a cinch you didn’t leave it,” Jake said. “Makes sense, though. There were keys to a Honda in the purse. Use them, A.J. Head west from the three forks. Maybe you can get help in Tyler Abbey.”

  “The car keys.” She didn’t have them, hadn’t missed them until now. “They’re in the truck, on the floor somewhere. I’ll have to find my way back and get them.” She leaned against the door, an inch from bawling. This was her baby, something solid and familiar. And useless unless she went back into those woods. Then something pinged in her mind, something she should know, a ghost of a memory. It played out behind her eyes, slightly blurred, like a television screen full of snow.

  She remembered driving, getting off the Beltway, so that must have been the one around Washington, D.C. She’d stopped somewhere, had run the Honda through a car wash.