Jagger

by Kristopher Rufty

  From how nearly perfect Teresa’s body was, Amy doubted he would be quick to let her go. The place was called Honkers, and Teresa had two massive horns that many customers would be thrilled to squeeze. Most likely, Teresa would have to work tonight, and that would give Amy her house back for one night, at least.

  Maybe naked salad chopping is in my future after all.

  She smirked at herself as she reached her driveway. At the end of the park, it was a narrow track that etched through the woods. If she were to keep going, the dirt road would take her back to the main road.

  Sometimes she fantasized about driving past and seeing where she wound up. No destination in mind, no time limit on when to be back—just freedom.

  She’d never do it, though. Not only would somebody have to look after Jagger, the dog would miss her too much. And she had a life here, whether she truly wanted it or not.

  Branches brushed the sides of her Jeep as she drove up the driveway, making soft squeaky sounds. Maybe she should trim them back. If she waited too much longer, they’d scrape the paint. She had a saw that would probably do the job. Save her some money by doing the work herself and that was always a plus.

  She drove out of the trees and the space in front of her expanded and opened up to her front yard. The brick house sat before her. Bushes lined the front. She saw the solar lights that ran along either side of the sidewalk had already turned on. Even in the dusk of light, she could see her grass was getting high. Tomorrow would be a good day to mow, though she wouldn’t mind doing it right now. The lawn tractor had headlights and cutting grass at night was actually fun to her.

  When she saw the empty car port, her ambitious demeanor took a soft blow. Teresa wasn’t here. And though she’d entertained the idea of being alone with Jagger tonight, she felt depressed that Teresa hadn’t come back.

  Now I’m getting a little worried.

  Teresa could have at least let her know she wasn’t coming, or at least let her know where she’d been all day. It wasn’t like Amy demanded Teresa to share her every move, but she would have thought she’d have said something by now.

  Hey, I’m staying at my place tonight.

  Hey, working tonight. Call you tomorrow.

  Hey, you’re a shitty friend, fuck you.

  Some kind of message would do.

  Sighing, Amy parked the Jeep under the port, leaving enough space for Teresa’s car in case she did come over. The shelter threw darkness on top of her. Twisting the key, the engine cut off. The sound of crickets and frogs drifted into the silence inside the Jeep.

  Amy relished the sounds of summer nights. If she wouldn’t sweat herself into dehydration, she would open the windows in the house and sleep with that gentle chorus around her. Spring nights were great for that, though the crickets and frogs weren’t nearly as loud as they could be this time of the year.

  Opening her door, she raised her foot to catch it so it wouldn’t bump the metal stilt of the car port. She had nice scratch on the door from that happening in the same spot more than once.

  She grabbed her purse and empty water bottle from the passenger seat, then hopped out. She bumped the door with her rump. She felt the cool smoothness of the fiberglass through her tight gym shorts. The fabric was so thin it felt as if she just had a darker sheen of skin over her.

  “Jagger, I’m home!”

  Usually by now he was waiting for her at the fence, on his hindquarters, whining softly, his tail thwacking troughs into the ground. Checking his usual spot, she didn’t see him there.

  And felt a pinch of concern.

  Frowning slightly, she headed forward. She stepped out from under the carport and the shadows it created. The light was pale, and when she looked down at her arm, her skin seemed tawny and smooth. The woods that enclosed her property were oily smudges, paling by the moment as the sky turned an even thicker shade of purple. Shadows piled down from their branches, and Amy could see the quick blinks of fireflies scattering like green ashes.

  Lovely.

  It did nothing to relieve the anxiety trying to build inside her.

  So he’s not waiting for me. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  As she neared the fence, she realized how wrong she was. This was the first time. She couldn’t remember any other time as she fished her keys out of her purse.

  Still, Jagger didn’t come.

  The keys should have done it.

  It was like a kettle call to him. When he heard them jangle, he knew something was about to happen, and it brought him galloping to her, his flabby skin rippling on his body in furry waves.

  No Jagger this time.

  Her frown pressed her face even tighter as she walked along the fence. Gazing into her backyard, she didn’t see him anywhere. Her heart drummed painfully in her chest, stealing her breath and drying out her throat.

  He’s in there. He has to be. Maybe he’s on the deck.

  Stopping, she turned so she could see the deck. She’d forgotten to leave the outside light on, so it looked as if a dark screen covered the wooden platform. She saw no other shapes that shouldn’t already be there.

  Nothing that indicated a sleeping dog.

  Or a dead one.

  Amy gasped.

  He’s not dead. He’s just...

  What?

  She had no clue. But he’d been healthy and fine when she’d left, and he still should be.

  Now she ran, gliding her hand along the top of the fence for support. She reached the corner and turned.

  The gate hung open.

  Amy stopped running. “Oh, no...”

  She’d closed it on her way out. She was certain. Jagger had been standing there, watching her walk to the car. She’d even blown him a kiss.

  “See you in a bit, big guy!”

  Jagger had barked.

  She hadn’t forgotten to close the gate.

  How’s it open now?

  Amy dropped her purse. The water bottle hit the ground and rolled to the side. Her keys slipped from her fingers and clanged when they landed.

  Her arms felt weak and useless. Her knees started to shake. Where was he? Where’d he go?

  She leaned back her head and called for him.

  He didn’t come.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “This is Jagger,” said Amy.

  Mark Varner took the cell phone from Amy. He turned it around so he could see the picture. “Wow,” he said. “He really is big.”

  “About one-eighty.”

  Mark whistled softly. The picture featured Amy, sitting on a park bench, legs spread with the big mastiff’s back between them. He could see the tawny juts of her knees on either side of the dog like glossy points.

  Jagger was a handsome mutt with a thick pelt of black and brown, low-hanging ears and jowls that sagged like dough from his compacted maw. Even though the photo was on a small screen, Jagger’s bulk was easy to interpret. His paws looked nearly as big as a toddler’s catcher’s mitt.

  “And he wouldn’t hurt anybody,” said the older woman in the pink robe.

  Ellie, he reminded himself. The robe jutted from her chest because of large breasts. She sipped from the coffee Amy had made.

  Nodding, Mark reached forward, just missing Amy’s smooth leg and grabbed the mug Amy had given him. He took a sip. Though the coffee had cooled some, it still tasted good.

  “Well,” he said, giving Amy back her phone. He took a deep breath, trying to construct what to say. “To be honest...I’m not entirely convinced you had an intruder.”

  “I saw the white van,” said Ellie.

  “I know,” he said. “But there’s not any evidence of anybody being here.”

  “Look harder,” said Ellie.

  Sighing, Mark said, “The road horeshoes out, maybe they took a wrong turn, and instead of turning around, they just drove through.”

  “No,” said Amy. “Somebody came here and let Jagger out.”

  “Or took him,” offered Ellie.

  Amy gasp
ed. With wide eyes, she gazed at Mark as if asking him whether or not it was true.

  I wish she’d go the hell home.

  Ellie was making it worse. Stirring the pot, getting Amy riled up.

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” he said. With the flick of a wrist, the cover of his notepad swung up. He used his thumb to close it. “I’m going to take another look around before I leave.”

  As he put the notepad into a front pocket of his shirt, he started to stand. Amy reached out and grabbed his arm.

  “You can’t leave,” she said.

  Mark saw what little hope she’d been clinging to drip into total desperation. He knew she thought if he left without figuring something out, it was over for her poor dog.

  And he hated to think it might be.

  But dogs ran away all the time. Nothing against the owners, but the mutts would catch a scent and follow it. Sometimes to their deaths. Even after someone like Amy probably spent a small fortune to spoil them, feed them, and keep them healthy.

  Stupid things.

  Mark hated dogs. His sympathy for Amy was genuine, but he felt nothing for the missing dog.

  “I’m actually off duty,” said Mark. “I can come back tomorrow to follow up after I visit your friend...” The name escaped him. He was patting his chest for his notepad when Amy stood up.

  “Teresa.”

  “Right. Did she respond to your text?”

  Amy frowned as if she had no clue what he was talking about. Then a light seemed to come on in her eyes. “Oh, right.”

  Amy got up, passing Ellie, who sat in the recliner. Ellie patted Amy’s hip as she went by, offered a consoling smile, and turned to Mark. The smile died on her face.

  “You think there’s no hope, don’t you?” Ellie whispered, almost accusing.

  Mark held out his hands. “I have no theories at the moment about any intruders. There’s not much I can do, personally. But for the dog, it’s really a job for animal control. If I can’t find any evidence of somebody tampering around here, then I have nothing to go on.”

  “I’m telling you, I saw a white van. I was trying to round up my chickens with my husband, and I saw it turn into the driveway.”

  “Right. Amy Snider’s driveway.”

  Ellie nodded.

  Frowning, Mark looked toward the kitchen which could be easily seen from the small living room. He saw Amy leaning over her sink. The faucet was running. She cupped her hands under the stream and splashed some water onto her face.

  He felt sad watching her. This dog must have been everything to her.

  Way to go, Jagger. Make a pretty woman like that cry.

  He looked at his watch. It was almost ten. He’d been here for over two hours. He wanted to go home, have a beer, and catch the replay of the Braves game.

  I was heading home. I was so close to being done for the day.

  But the call had come over the radio and he’d been the closest one. He’d listened as other units responded with excuses and delays. Something had nudged him, had told him to answer the call. So he’d informed dispatch he would look into it on his way home.

  Had no idea I’d be here half the damn night.

  “Are you going to look for the white van?”

  Mark sighed. “Got a license plate number?”

  “Well...no...” Ellie’s voice sounded almost ashamed that she didn’t. “I told you already...”

  “By the time you got your chickens rounded up and you could come check, Amy was already home.”

  “Right. Screaming for Jagger like some kind of banshee.”

  Mark felt a burst of sadness in his chest. Amy was probably devastated. Like a wife coming home to find her husband had run off with another woman.

  Most likely the dog’s somewhere in the woods, being a dog. But I’m not going to spend my whole night searching around.

  Amy came back into the living room. She held three bottles of Bud Light between her fingers. Mark’s mouth salivated as he gazed at the dark slick glass that left Amy’s fingers slightly moist.

  In her other hand was her phone.

  Mark nodded at the smart device. “Anything?”

  Amy shook her head. “No. If she’s working, I won’t hear from her until she goes on break.” She held out a bottle by the neck, offering it. “Drink?”

  Mark wanted to. After this long day, it would be great. “I shouldn’t...”

  “You’re off duty, right?” said Ellie.

  “Well...”

  A corner of Amy’s mouth lifted. An eyebrow slightly arched. “Well?”

  Mark felt himself smile. “What the hell?” He took the bottle. It felt cold and slippery in his hand. Tiny water beads trickled over his fingers.

  Amy was about to offer a beer to Ellie, but she held up her hand. “None for me. I’ve got to get home. I’m sure Jim’s wondering where I’m at.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Amy. Though her question had sounded legit, Mark had been a cop long enough to know when somebody was putting on a show. And he could tell Amy was ready for her neighbor to leave.

  “I’m sure. It’s getting late, and I’m sure I’m being missed.”

  Smiling, Amy said, “You tell Big Jim I said ‘hi’ and thank him for letting me borrow you for a bit.”

  Ellie smiled at that. “You bet. Wish I could have helped more.”

  “You’ve helped plenty.” Amy stepped back so Ellie could stand. “I’d probably still be in the yard yelling if you hadn’t come along.”

  Ellie hugged Amy, gently rubbing her back. “Call me if you need me.”

  Amy closed her eyes and hugged her back. That gesture was as real as emotional acts could get. It also made Mark wonder how long it had been since Amy had been hugged.

  “Thank you,” said Amy. Thin drips of tears trembled from her pinched eyelids.

  Ellie pulled away from the hug. She pointed at Mark as Amy escorted her to the hallway. She didn’t speak, nor did she have to. Mark knew she was ordering him to fix this situation.

  Mark gave her a slight nod, just a subtle response. But it must have been the one Ellie wanted. She lowered her arm and turned away. A moment later, she vanished into the darkened hallway with Amy.

  The cold glass bottle was making Mark’s fingers numb, so he switched it to the other hand. He didn’t know if she should sit back down, or wait for Amy to get back and ask him to.

  And he didn’t know why he was about to drink a beer with her.

  And Ellie is leaving. We’ll be alone.

  A warm tingling sensation moved from his chest into his stomach. This was the first time he’d been alone with a woman in almost eight months.

  Relax. You’re here for work. This is hardly a date.

  But he was off duty. And Amy wanted him to stay.

  She’s vulnerable right now. She doesn’t want to be by herself.

  This could lead to other areas Mark was out-of-practice in as well.

  And he would be the biggest jerk in the world if he took advantage of anything else other than this beer. Amy was acting like a girl who’d asked a male friend to come over after she’d had a fight with her boyfriend. The possibilities where the moment could take them were pretty vast.

  But Mark wasn’t the kind of guy who’d prey on an emotional woman. He’d despise himself later for it.

  Mark sighed. Sometimes he hated his conscience. If he were anybody else, he’d work Amy’s distressed temperament and confusion to his benefit. She’d regret her actions after her mind was clearer and she realized what she’d done, but Mark would have gotten what he’d wanted by then.

  I’m an asshole for even thinking that.

  He should leave.

  “Sorry about that,” said Amy, appearing from the corner of the wall.

  When she smiled, he knew he wasn’t going to leave just yet. Earlier she’d told him she’d just returned home from the gym, and she still wore the clothes she’d exercised in—a form-fitting top that barely reached her navel. It left a
tanned bar of bare skin around her waist before the matching shorts that looked spray-painted on. The seat hardly covered her buttocks and left her thighs bare to the curves of her rump.

  It’d be rude if I didn’t drink the beer.

  “No problem.” He held the bottle up. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “I wouldn’t have offered it to you, if I minded.”

  “Right.”

  Idiot. Don’t say too much. Just let her talk. That’s what she wants, really. An ear other than her own to hear what she has to say.

  “Would you rather sit?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  Mark sunk back into the couch. The comfy cushions hugged his back and legs. If he could take his shoes off and prop his feet on the coffee table, he could easily fall asleep.

  Amy grabbed the other two bottles and stepped around the coffee table. She returned to her spot on the couch. There was a good amount of space between them, but she was still closer than she had been earlier.

  Mark could smell a mixture of lotion and sweat radiating off her body. It reminded him of the beach, women tanning, their dusky skin gleaming with sweat and suntan oil.

  Amy twisted the cap off her bottle, so Mark did the same. The sounds of their chugs filled the room. The beer splashed the back of Mark’s parched throat. It tasted cold and good, tingling and satisfying as it went down.

  “That’s good,” said Amy, breathy and quiet. She softly belched. “Excuse me.”

  Mark smiled. He liked when a woman didn’t pretend she didn’t do things like that. But if she suddenly lifted her rump and ripped a rapid-firing fart, he might be a little offended. Mark took another heavy swig. He held the bottle out and saw half of it was already gone.

  Slow down.

  Amy slapped her empty bottle on the table with a hollow clang and reached for the other. She needed to take it easy as well. He wanted to say something to her, but remained quiet. It wasn’t his place to lecture.

  “I can’t believe this,” she said, twisting the cap off the second bottle. She raised it to her lips and drank. Mark watched her throat work as she swallowed.

  “I know,” he said. “A shock to come home to, I’m sure.”