“Where’s your mom?” he asked Tad over Lucy’s shoulder.
“In your bedroom.” Tad read the fear in his father’s eyes and panic kindled on his face. “Dad, what’s going on?”
“Everything is fine.” Casper was becoming a pro at lying to his children. He let Lucy slide down his hip to the floor. “I just stopped in to check on you guys. I need to go run one more errand.”
“Where are you going now?” Beth asked. Her tone seemed more bored than concerned.
“I’m sorry, but this is important.” He considered telling them about his plan to rescue the dogs, but changed his mind at the last minute.
Casper hugged and kissed each of the children even though he knew this would only add to their growing fears. But he couldn’t help himself. His children were the fire that weakened the core of iron that the Marines had instilled in him.
“I’ll be home soon.” Then he turned to find Maggie.
Maggie was lying on the bed, on her side with her head propped up by her hand. She looked up at him with a smile that faltered when she saw his face.
“Everything all right?” she asked her voice full of caution.
He wanted to lie to her, as he had the children, but he couldn’t. “I don’t know, yet.”
She sat up. “What do you mean?”
His mind rolled over just what to tell her. He had no intention of hiding any part of the story, no matter how strange it had become, but he had an urgent sense of time slipping away from him.
Casper took a deep breath. “The dogs didn’t kill Rebecca Reid.”
“Are you sure?” She seemed happy, but a spark of fear hid within her eyes. “If the dogs didn’t kill her, then what did?”
Should he take her out to the pole barn and show her? No, perhaps later, but right now he needed to go. “I promise I’ll explain it all when I get home,” Casper said.
“Where are you going? You just got back.”
“I’m going to get our dogs back.”
Maggie had started to answer, some preplanned question, but she stopped mid-breath. She searched his eyes for a long moment before saying, “All right. But when you get back, I want to know everything.”
Casper kissed her lightly on the lips. “Agreed.” He started to leave the bedroom, but stopped just inside the door and looked back at her. “Everyone stays inside. Keep the doors locked. Don’t answer the door for anyone.”
He could see that she wanted to question him, but she held her peace. She just nodded.
Casper parked the Jeep in front of the Shadeland Animal Control Center, and sat for a moment thinking of what he was going to do. It wasn’t very likely that they would just release the dogs to him. They had been accused of mauling Rebecca Reid and were now deemed dangerous. Bribery was out of the question unless the people inside could be bought for the ten dollars that currently sat in his wallet. That left him with one of two options: bust them out of their cages and take them by force, or wait until the place was closed then bust them out. Either way would take him out of the good graces of the police department no matter what Dale Wicket said on his behalf.
Casper decided to scout the place out. The building was rough-faced cinder blocks the color of charcoal. The cracked sidewalk led to a heavy steel door with a long thin window in the side. The floor inside was concrete polished to a high shine. The block walls of the tiny receiving area were plastered over with flyers of the animals awaiting adoption, along with pamphlets covering everything from euthanasia to doggy dental care. The air smelled of musty fur and piss.
A large woman with no neck but an army of tattoos sat behind the counter on a bar stool that looked to be on the verge of buckling. She stared at a computer screen and clicked the mouse to minimize the screen as Casper approached.
“I’m sorry, but we’re about to close,” she said. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.” Irritation poured from every syllable.
Casper thought about pointing out the fact that they weren’t due to close for another ten minutes, but decided against it. “I understand. My dogs were brought in earlier and I just wanted to pick them up.” He gave her a description of the three dogs.
Her eyes widened and she pushed her tongue out and rolled the stud at the tip across her teeth. “I know those dogs. I can’t release them to you.”
Casper feigned surprise. “Why not?”
“The police have requested they be isolated and observed.” She reached up and played with the piercing in her eyebrow. “They seem like sweet dogs. Did they really attack that lady?”
“No. That’s why I’m here to take them home.”
“I didn’t think so, but I still can’t release them until the police give the okay. I’m sorry. You understand.” She turned back to her computer as if this ended the subject.
The veins in Casper’s temples throbbed and he fought the urge to pull out the hoop in her left nostril. “Surely there is something we can do. I can pay you.”
For a moment she seemed to consider it. “No, I’m sorry. I’d get in trouble.”
“Well, can I at least see them? Make sure they are alright?”
“I’m not supposed to do that.”
“Come on, help me out.” Casper put his hands on the counter to keep from balling them into fists. “I have three young kids that miss their dogs. All I want to do is check on them.”
Though the woman was horrendous to look at, her eyes were a very beautiful shade of emerald. Just when he thought she was going to deny him again, those green eyes softened. “They’re in the outside kennels. Let me lock up and I’ll walk you back there.”
She powered down the computer, shut off the lights and closed the door. Casper followed her around the side of the building where a high privacy fence blocked the way to the back yard. He wouldn’t be able to free them now, but at least he could get a good look at the grounds for when he came back tonight. At the sound of the key in the lock a chorus of barks and whimpers filled the air.
“Quiet down,” she called cheerfully as they passed through the gate.
A permanent shelter house stood up against the back of the building, and beneath the roof stood twenty-four kennels—two rows of six back to back.
“Do you keep all of the dogs out here?” he asked, realizing that it would be much easier to get to the dogs out here rather than inside.
“No. These are the ones being prepped for the needle.” She pointed a chubby finger toward a smaller building at the rear of the property. The building had no sign, but its purpose was clear enough: doggy death row. “The ones up for adoption stay inside.”
She led him across the yard, past the first row of kennels. As she passed the second row heading for the back six, she stopped as if startled. Casper hobbled as fast as his bad leg and cane would allow, and when he saw what had shocked her, he too was struck speechless.
The kennels were placed upon a concrete slab to keep the dogs from digging out. Each kennel was built from standard chain link fencing, not too different from the pen he had installed at home. On the ground in front of the kennels closest to the building were three knotted balls of wire that had once been gates. The hinges and U-latches, complete with padlocks, were snapped off and the wooden fence across from the kennels lay in ruins. It looked like a herd of rhinos had plowed through at full speed.
The woman moved to the hole in the fence to search for the dogs, but Casper knew they weren’t there. King, Sky and Shadow had somewhere better to be.
* * *
Patrick watched the world pass by through the passenger side window. The trees, now thick with green leaves, seemed to droop in the summer heat, begging for a drink of rain. They drove into town where droves of teenagers roamed in and out of stores, or sunned themselves beside the sparkling city pool. Younger children swarmed the playgrounds, their laughter audible even through the window glass. Shadeland was alive and full and joyous, flourishing in the summer sun.
Patrick tried to keep his mind off of the thing in C
asper’s pole barn and the six empty sacks in the log cabin, but it wasn’t easy. What if there really were thousands of those things creeping around the forests? How long would it be before they stopped hiding and decided to feast?
He ran through his mental list of apocalyptic and alien invasion movies that he’d watched over the years, ranging from Attack of the Giant Ants to Independence Day to The Road and wondered where humanity would be a year from now. A deep chill settled within.
“I want to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest.”
“Okay,” Dale said, his eyes glued to the road.
“And you’ll tell me the truth?”
“Of course.”
“You won’t pull any punches and just lay it down straight?”
“Will you just ask your damn question?” Dale glanced at him, the impatience clear on his face. He gripped the wheel tight enough to cause the vinyl to creak.
“Am I the first black man you’ve ever had in the front seat of this police car?” Dale turned an incredulous look on him and Patrick flashed his million-dollar smile. “I am, right? You law-n-order types usually like to keep my people in the back.”
Dale’s stress riddled face cracked and a full-throated laugh fell from his gaping mouth. “You wiseass.”
“I’m just sayin’. I could hop in the back seat, if you want. I’d hate to tarnish your reputation.” Dale gave him a playful shove and Patrick suddenly felt better. A couple of good friends like Dale and Casper could go a long way to keeping a man sane and safe. Maybe all of this was just a dream in someone’s head. Not his, though. He always dreamed of Halle Berry.
Dale parked in front of the emergency room doors and killed the engine. When Patrick gave him a disapproving look, Dale just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Benefits of the badge. Don’t like it, file a complaint.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
They entered through the emergency room doors, passed through the waiting room and made for the elevator. At the check-in desk, they discovered that Sly Felton was in the ICU on the third floor. As they traveled down the painfully white hallway Patrick did his best not to breathe the air redolent of disease and antiseptics. The smell on the third floor seemed even more permeated with death than the first.
As they approached the nurse’s station they passed a woman with short red hair weeping into her hands. Patrick’s heart wrenched at the thought of her tragedy. He hated it here. This was a place of pain and sorrow; a dungeon where miracles went to die. Patrick wished there was something he could do to ease the lady’s grief; to bring a smile to her face again. He watched her get on the elevator while Dale waited for a nurse to approach them. When the woman turned to press the button for her desired floor, Patrick noticed that her eyes were covered by a large pair of dark sunglasses. Normally he would assume the glasses were to cover her tear-reddened eyes, except the expression on her face wasn’t one of sadness but a sneer of contempt. He was sure that such emotions were common place here, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was directed at him. And why did she seem so familiar?
One of the nurses looked up at Dale in his policeman’s uniform and came over to the counter. “May I help you?”
Dale flashed the nurse a friendly smile to ease the shock of seeing a police officer. “Could you direct us to Sylvester Felton’s room?”
The nurse regarded them with suspicion, but answered right away as if she had been waiting on them to ask. “He’s no longer on this floor. His condition is improved so he has been moved to a room on the second floor.” She peered between Patrick and Dale. “He’s in room 214. There was a red-headed lady just here asking about him. I was going to suggest you follow her, but it looks like she’s already gone down the elevator.”
Dale turned, a dark look contorting his features, and Patrick suddenly recognized the woman’s face despite the large sunglasses and red wig. They left the nurse and sped down the hallway without a word, sliding to a stop in front of the elevators. The nurse called after them, but they ignored her. Patrick pressed the down button repeatedly but the doors didn’t open.
“They’re on other floors,” Dale said. “Take the stairs.”
Patrick had trouble keeping up with Dale as he ran down the stairs, skipping two, sometimes three at a time. Dale was older, but Patrick was larger. His feet easily spilled over the risers and with every step he was in danger of tripping to his death. Dale burst through the doors of the second floor before Patrick even made it to the midpoint landing, and when he finally ran out of the stairwell Dale was gone from sight.
Patrick scanned the doors looking for room numbers, but there were only department titles. He chose a direction, started down the hallway, but stopped when he nearly trampled another nurse.
Her intense fear filled him with shame, but he didn’t have time now to ease her mind. “Where is room 214?” he asked almost shouting.
The nurse’s mind seemed to crumble and fall into her mouth. She stared wide-eyed and managed only to mumble a few half words.
“Sly Felton’s room,” Patrick demanded and the force of his voice caused a great flinch to escape her. “They’re gonna kill him. Where is it?”
The nurse’s mouth still hung slack, but she turned with purpose and ran back down the hallway she had come from. Patrick followed, hoping to God she was taking him to Sly’s room and not trying to escape him.
They made a left turn then a right and Patrick noticed the rooms were now numbered.
In between rooms 210 and 212 a trio of gunshots rang out.
* * *
The large tattooed-woman followed behind Casper, carpet-bombing him with absurd questions like “What did that?” and “Did the dogs do that?” and the even more annoying question of “Did you do that?”
By the time Casper had reached the side yard, he had had his fill of her questions. “I don’t know,” he turned and screamed in her face. He felt a bit abashed by his loss of temper, but not enough to apologize. “How should I know any better than you? When was the last time you checked on the dogs?”
Her face flushed and her eyes grew misty, but she seemed determined not to cry. “About two hours ago.”
“And you didn’t hear anything? A crash? The dogs going wild?”
A shadow of embarrassment crept into her eyes. “Yeah, I guess I heard something. About a half hour ago. I thought it was a dump truck driving by.”
Casper considered calling for the dogs, but with a thirty minute jump they could be anywhere. There were other ways of reaching the dogs other than calling their names, he realized. But that trick took a certain degree of concentration, a luxury he didn’t have with the large woman babbling non-stop. He started back toward his Jeep and the woman followed as if tethered by an invisible line.
“Those trucks drive by here all the time,” she said still trying to explain herself. “They are really loud and it always stirs up the dogs. I just didn’t think anything of it.” He tried to wave her off but she kept coming. “With the stone crusher down the road and all the quarries around here, we get dump trucks and semis all the time.”
Casper thought of the abandoned quarry back behind his property and something nagged at him. The thought was like a splinter that’s buried too deep to get a grip on. You can’t really see it, but when you run something across the area, man can you feel it. It seemed as though he had been dreaming about the place with its stacks of colossal limestone slabs and its pond of blue-green water, but too many hours of lucidity had eroded the image, leaving only a feeling of dread like an old scar. It didn’t matter anyway.
He ignored the woman’s tireless chatter and continued around to the front of the building. He scanned his surroundings, hoping to spot the dogs playing either in the adjacent field or in the gathering trees at the edge of the forest. The dogs were nowhere to be seen but he noticed a black SUV with heavily tinted windows crept past the Animal Control Center at a snail’s pace.
Casper couldn’t see who wa
s behind the wheel, but he didn’t need too many guesses to figure it out. The SUV paused in the road for a fraction of a second, and he imagined those behind the darkened glass were having a lightning-round discussion about what they should do with him. Casper reached back for his gun, but by the time he had unclasped it, the SUV sped off.
He turned to the large woman, who had just now noticed the pistol hiding at his lower back. He nearly laughed at the fear etched into her face. Nothing about the situation was funny, but sometimes stress will bring out the strangest emotions.
“Friends of yours?” she asked indicating the SUV with a nod.
Casper ignored her question. “I know you feel like you need to sort this out so that you don’t get in trouble, but I have some advice for you. Go home.”
“But, I can’t just—”
“Yes you can,” he interrupted. “It’s simple. Go to your car, get in and leave. When your boss asks what happened, just act like it all must have happened after you left. Don’t do anything stupid and dangerous like hanging around here all alone. Do you understand?”
She made a feeble nod and took a step back. Though he felt it was a bad idea, he waited while she ran back to lock the privacy fence gate. His walk back to his Jeep felt long and treacherous. He fully expected to hear the squall of tires as the SUV sped to block him in at any moment. The tinted windows would drop, gun barrels would protrude, and the last thing he would hear in this world was his own screams.
The SUV didn’t return and he and the woman left the parking lot, headed in the opposite direction. As the fight-or-flight cocktail of adrenaline and other endorphins thinned out, Casper’s leg pain returned full force. He massaged his hip while trying to convince himself that it would not always be this way. Someday he would be five-by-five again, and this would all just be a memory.
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