Fire and Ice

by Susan Page Davis

  She came to the edge of the building on the side opposite where she’d started. This side held several windows. Banking that Rick would keep the owner talking in the front, she decided to take a chance and look in.

  Inside, she saw a row of screened doors fronting dog cages, three deep. The animals inside yelped and whined, some pressing against the fronts of their cages. Off to her left lay an open door, and through it she glimpsed Rick standing near a desk. She quickly turned her scrutiny to the dogs in the cages. She couldn’t see them well, but one particular bark, deep and insistent, rang a chord in her heart. It sounded like the bass voice of Hero, one of her largest sled dogs.

  As the caged dogs moved about, she could make out their silhouettes through the mesh fencing of the enclosure doors. She stared at the cages one by one until she spotted one where the big occupant’s pointed dark ears stood up above a black-and-white muzzle.

  Hero!

  In a flash of certainty, she knew it was him. Soon she picked out two other cages she thought likely held dogs from Holland Kennel. The others weren’t within sight but could easily be on the side of the room nearer the window.

  A quick look toward the open doorway made her catch her breath. Rick was backing away from the desk, nodding. As she watched, he moved out of her line of vision. She’d better head for the truck.

  She glanced back toward the yard behind the building. If she took the time to go all the way around the back, Rick would be upset, wondering where she was. And the owner might look out back to see why the dogs out there hadn’t settled down. She decided to chance running across the front parking lot.

  Before she acted, movement inside caught her eye. She flattened herself at the edge of the window and watched a man in coveralls enter the room with all the cages. He opened one of the lower tier cage doors and clipped a leash on the occupant’s collar. When he led the dog out, Robyn gasped. The husky he’d chosen was one of Pat Isherwood’s lead dogs. He led it across the room and opened the back door. The dogs in the fenced yards barked and howled louder. The man came back with the leash slack in his hands.

  Robyn felt sick. Had he turned Astro out with all those other dogs? What if they fought? Some sled dogs lost their manners when they met strange dogs and weren’t under the owner’s control. They might get aggressive—or the other dogs in the pen might. Some of the valuable huskies could be killed. The man stopped near another cage and turned his back to the window. Time to move.

  She ducked low beneath the window frames and dashed to the front corner of the building. Rick stood beside the pickup, staring toward the wall where she’d begun her foray.

  When she left the cover of the kennel and ran toward him, he turned, his eyes wide. She scurried to the passenger side of the truck and dove in. Rick hopped in on his side and gunned the engine.

  “Wait! He’s got them.”

  “What?” The incredulity in his expression was almost comical. His mouth hung open and his eyebrows disappeared under the lock of hair falling over his forehead.

  “I saw Astro, and I’m pretty sure Hero’s in there, too. He took Astro out the back. I think he put him in the pen out behind, with about twenty other dogs. They’re all loose in there. Astro will probably get in a fight. They could kill him. And the worst thing is, I think he was going to put the others out there, too. Hero, especially, might get aggressive.”

  “Let’s get down the street where he can’t see us if he looks out. Then we’ll decide what to do.” Rick put the truck in gear and drove away. By the time Robyn had her seatbelt buckled, they were half a block down the street. “Why would he put valuable dogs in a pen with a bunch of others?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Some of the dogs outside look sick and emaciated. And some of them have injuries.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.” Rick pulled in at the curb and turned to face her. “If he stole those dogs to sell, why take a chance on them getting sick or torn to pieces?”

  She had no answer.

  “Okay. Tell me everything.”

  His patience made her want to scream. “We need to call the police.”

  “Agreed,” Rick said. “But are you sure he has them all?”

  “No. He may have sold some. I think I saw two others of ours though. There are a lot of dogs in cages in the back room.”

  “I figured that. Heard them yelping and saw the stacked cages. It’s not a good situation. I’m surprised anyone brings a dog here to board.”

  Robyn sucked in a deep breath. “We need to get the cops here fast.”

  Rick took out his phone and punched a few buttons. “Joel? This is Rick. Hey, we’ve located some of the stolen dogs. They’re in a kennel here in Anchorage.” He gave his friend the address. “We need you to send someone fast. We’re afraid the dogs will be hurt. The fellow seems to be putting them together with a lot of strange dogs. Well, I don’t know. I didn’t see it myself, but Miss Holland did. And she’s positively identified at least two of the stolen dogs, with possible IDs on two more.”

  Robyn tried to send him a silent message of thanks. A minute later, Rick hung up and sighed. “He says they’ll need a warrant. That could take awhile.”

  “Can’t they just come ask to take a look? Those dogs are in danger.”

  “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

  “Well, out back there are two pens. In the one I went to first, at least ten or twelve dogs were running free.”

  “I thought you said twenty.”

  She frowned. “I might have.”

  “Well, is it ten or twenty?”

  “Yes. Somewhere in there.” She looked away. “I’m sorry. I know I’m upset, but I’m not hysterical. I didn’t count the dogs, okay? I’m guessing there were at least ten, possibly twenty, but no more than that. Probably twelve or fifteen.”

  “Okay. And how did they look?”

  “Some were lethargic. Some barked constantly.”

  “I heard.”

  Robyn nodded grimly. “One at least was horribly skinny. Some of them looked okay so far as their physical conditions went. I looked them all over, and I could see right away that none of them were ours.”

  “What kinds of dogs?”

  “Uh … mutts, smallish dogs. A beagle, and one that might be a coon hound. One I thought was a Scottish terrier. It’s hard to tell with some of them. They haven’t been groomed, and their hair is long and matted. Some mixed breeds.”

  “Small dogs though.”

  “Well … some. All types. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  Rick set his jaw firmly and checked the rearview mirror.

  “So, anyway,” she said, less agitated than before, “I could see that beyond it there was another fenced yard, so I walked around the perimeter of the fence. In the second pen, the dogs are tethered. There were only six or eight in there, and they weren’t happy. One was chewing at the post he was hitched to. A couple were just lying in the snow. When they saw me, they barked, so I hurried around to the far side of the building, where I could hide if anyone came out the back door.”

  “What type of dogs in that part?”

  “One looked like a husky cross. A couple of pit bulls. One I think is part German shepherd.”

  “So, big dogs. No little lap dogs.”

  “Not in that pen. And each was hitched up so they couldn’t reach each other.”

  Rick’s face had gone grim, and he focused on something far beyond the truck’s windshield.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just thinking.”

  “I could tell. Wanna share?”

  He smiled but sobered almost immediately. “If they steal a top sled dog, they can’t run him in races. Not in Alaska anyway. Someone who knows him would see him—because you would plaster Tumble’s picture all over the place at every sled race in the state.”

  “I sure would. If we don’t get some results today, that’s exactly what I plan to do. Someone will recognize him for sure, and Hero, too, if they show up at a rac
e.”

  “And they couldn’t breed Tumble. How could they advertise him?”

  “They could change his name.”

  “Yes, but it would take a couple of years for them to get any results that they could brag about. You can’t just steal a breeding animal and make money by breeding him right away without revealing his identity. You have to give him time to build a new reputation. So what’s the point? If they want Tumble’s progeny, it would be a lot less risky to bring a good female to your kennel for breeding.”

  What he said made sense. Robyn held his thoughtful gaze for a long moment. “All right. So either they’re going to sell them out of state, or—”

  “In which case, they should have had them out of here by now, not stashed in a third-rate kennel.”

  “What then?”

  Rick’s mouth twisted as though it pained him to say the words. “What if they’re planning to put them in fights?”

  ten

  Robyn raised her chin. “Not Tumble.”

  “Yes, Tumble. Hero. All of them. They took all males. Aggressive, territorial males.”

  She lost her assertive air and lowered her jaw, taking in a gasp of a breath. “Those dogs …”

  “Yes?”

  “The ones that were tethered.”

  “What about them?”

  “They looked like they could have been in fights. The others, running loose in the other pen—why would they want the little ones?”

  “Those might be legitimate boarders, to cover up for the illegal part of the business.”

  “But why would he turn Astro loose with those dogs?”

  “Are you sure he turned him loose, or did he hitch him up in the other pen, where the dogs are tethered?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know for sure. He came back so quickly, I assumed he’d let Astro loose. But why would he do that?”

  Rick said carefully, “Maybe to see how he acted with them. To watch whether he picked a fight or not.”

  “You’re saying they have those small breeds and mutts to …”

  “Bait dogs. To teach the fighting dogs to go after them. Some people use cats or rabbits.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “I’m not saying that’s what they’re doing, but it sounds like they’ve got one pen of smaller dogs that aren’t well cared for, just waiting to be used for whatever purpose, and another pen of battle-scarred dogs that could be fighters who’ve been injured or are getting past their prime.”

  “Wouldn’t they just … do away with them?”

  Rick ran a hand over his eyes and up through his hair. “I don’t know. I hear a lot of things at the clinic. It’s a terrible practice, and it’s illegal, but it does happen. Dog fighting, betting. And sometimes they steal pets to use as … training aids.”

  Robyn shivered. “They wouldn’t do that with our dogs, would they? Valuable sled dogs?”

  “More likely they’re trying to replenish their fighting stock.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe that. I don’t want to believe it.”

  “Then don’t. At least until the police tell us otherwise.” He reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t said anything about it.”

  “No, that’s what you were thinking and I need to know what we’re dealing with. Thank God we found them today.” She frowned and was silent for a moment. “When I saw the man go back inside, I thought he was going to get another dog from his cage.”

  “Maybe he was just going to put some of them out for some fresh air while he cleaned the cages.” Rick looked back down the street behind them. He couldn’t see the kennel building, but he was sure he’d see the owner’s pickup if it left the parking lot. “What if I go back and take a look in those pens?”

  “If he saw you, he’d recognize you. And those dogs will put up a fuss if you go near the fence.”

  He faced front. “True, but if I’m careful, it may be worth the risk. I just want to see if he put the rest out there, and if they’re engaging with the other dogs.”

  As he watched her, trying to gauge her reaction, her face flushed and her muscles tensed. Tears glistened in her eyes.

  Rick shook his head. “What am I saying? I know it’s best if we wait for the police.”

  She turned quickly toward the window, shoved her hand into her jacket pocket, and pulled out a tissue.

  He wasn’t sure what to say or do.

  “I hate this.” She sobbed and held the tissue to her eyes.

  Rick took a couple of deep breaths and tried to form a response that she wouldn’t reject. He slid over as far as his seat would allow him and touched her shoulder. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. The police are coming.”

  She hiccupped and wiped her face again. “Crying makes me mad.”

  That brought a little smile to his lips. “I can see that. You don’t like feeling helpless, do you?”

  She shook her head almost violently, and her hood fell back.

  Rick stroked her shoulder through her padded jacket. “We’ve found the dogs, and we’re going to get them back. All of them.”

  She nodded and sniffed.

  “It’s all right to cry a little. You’ve had a lot going on. Your grandpa, and the race …”

  She sobbed again, bigger this time, and his pulse raced. Had he made things worse?

  “Oh, Rick, I’m afraid that the race will be a fiasco.”

  “Why should it? That’s silly.”

  “No, it’s not. I’ve never had to host it without Grandpa. There’s so much to remember. I keep thinking I’m forgetting something crucial. Will I be able to pull it off? Mom helps when she can, but her biggest contribution is putting food on the table so I don’t have to worry about that and can concentrate on the business.”

  “The race is going to be better than ever this year.”

  “You’re just saying that. We’re talking about the family name and reputation here. The kennel’s success or failure.

  You know my worst fear?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “My fear is that Mom’s fears will come true. That we’ll have to sell the dogs and get drudge jobs in the city.” Her shoulders heaved. “With my luck, there’ll be a blizzard on race day.”

  Rick suppressed a smile and bridged the gap between the bucket seats, pulling her head over onto his shoulder. “Shh. Stop being a gloom-and-doomer. The race will be terrific. Your brother’s coming to help, remember? Your mom and I will be there. Grandpa Steve may even be able to come home to see it, even if he can’t help out.”

  She collapsed against him, still sniffing and plying the tissue, but quieter now. He wondered if she was capable of accepting the kind of help she needed.

  “You’ve got friends helping, too,” he went on softly. “Anna and Darby and the folks over at Iditarod Headquarters.”

  “I do.” Her small, shaky voice sounded very unlike confident, independent Robyn’s voice.

  “Yeah. You’ve got tons of friends, and a terrific roster of volunteers.” He kissed her hair. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be fine. You’ll see.” He shifted slightly on the uncomfortable edge of his seat. “Hey, look!”

  Robyn sat up and followed his gaze. A police car had turned in at the end of the street and rolled toward them.

  Rick opened his door and jumped from the truck, waving at the officer. “I’m Rick Baker,” he told the trooper through the open car window. “I called for help about the stolen dogs.”

  “Trooper Straski. You’ve actually seen the dogs in the suspect’s possession?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where is it?”

  Rick straightened and pointed. “Just down there, on the right. About halfway along the block.”

  “Okay, we’ve got another officer on the way, and we’ve put in a request for a search warrant.”

  “So, will you talk to the man now?” Rick asked. “You don’t have to wait for the warrant, do you? Because I’m a veterinarian, and from wh
at we’ve seen, I suspect that man may be involved in a dog fighting ring.”

  “We’ll talk to him. Where are the dogs in question?”

  “Last we knew, one was in a pen behind the building with several other dogs. The rest were still caged inside. But the owner may have been transferring them all out to the pens.”

  “And you’re the dogs’ owner?”

  “No, Miss Holland is. She’s in my truck.”

  Straski glanced toward Robyn. “And what are you to Miss Holland?”

  “Her neighbor. I’m Dr. Rick Baker, with Far North Veterinary Hospital.” Rick figured the officer would recognize the name of the large practice, so he dropped it instead of his smaller Wasilla clinic’s name.

  As he’d expected, the trooper’s eyes flickered. “I’m going to pull over and speak to Miss Holland.”

  Robyn got out of Rick’s pickup and gave the trooper a shaky smile. “Thank you for coming so quickly. We’re afraid those dogs are in immediate danger.”

  “I understand, ma’am. You’re the owner?”

  “Yes, I own four of the stolen dogs. Two others belonging to a client of mine were stolen yesterday as well, out of my kennel yard. Trooper Glade took all the information.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Can you show me your identification, please?”

  Robyn looked at Rick and fumbled for her wallet. He sensed her frustration at the delay and gave her a tight smile.

  When the trooper had examined her driver’s license, he handed it back to her. “As soon as another officer gets here, we’ll go and speak to this man. There was only one person at the kennel when you went there?”