by Linda Howard
“He has two speeds,” said Aunt Jo. “He’s either at a dead run, or he’s asleep. That’s it. Have fun. Come on, Evelyn.”
“I think we’ll go by Wal-Mart and buy some baby gates so we can at least hem him up in one room. Do you want us to pick up some for you, too?”
“We’ll buy what they have in stock,” said Aunt Jo. “Come on, Evelyn.”
“Oh, dear, is he that bad?” Daisy asked, dismayed. He looked like such a little angel, lying there asleep.
“He seems to be mostly house-trained,” said her mother. “But he needs to go outside every two hours, as regular as clockwork. He did piddle on the puppy pads—”
“When he wasn’t tearing them to shreds,” interrupted Aunt Jo. “Evelyn, come on.”
“He likes his stuffed toys—”
“He likes everything, including his water dish. Evelyn, if you don’t come on, I’ll leave without you. He might wake up any minute.”
The puppy lifted his head and yawned, his little pink tongue stretching out. Within ten seconds, her mother and aunt had their purses and were out the door. Daisy put her hands on her hips and looked at the little fluff ball. “Okay, mister, just what have you done?”
He rolled over on his back, stretching. She was unable to resist rubbing the warm little tummy, which he took as an invitation to begin licking her everywhere that pink, eager tongue could reach. She picked him up and cuddled him, loving the warmth and smallness of him under all that fuzz. His big, soft feet batted at her, and he wiggled, signaling that he wanted down. She set him down, then broke into a sprint when he darted for the kitchen.
All he wanted was some water. He lapped eagerly, then all of a sudden pounced into the bowl with both front feet, sending water flying.
She got the kitchen floor mopped up—which he thought was a great game, because he kept pouncing on the mop—fed him, and took him outside to do his business. He squatted as soon as his feet touched the grass; then he attacked a bush. Worried that the leaves might be poisonous to him, or at least upset his little tummy, she got him away from the bush and used the hose pipe to run water in the kids’ wading pool she’d bought for him.
He was too little to climb over the rim of the pool, so she helped him in and watched him run and slide in the two inches of water until he was drenched, she was drenched, and her sides ached from laughing so much. Lifting him out of the pool, she wrapped him in a towel and carried him inside, hoping he’d take another nap so she could eat.
He pounced into his water bowl again. While she was mopping, he chased the mop. Then he grabbed the kitchen towel and made a run for it. She caught him as he dove under the bed, and hauled him out. Her efforts to take the towel away from him evidently convinced him she wanted to play tug-of-war and he pulled on the towel for all he was worth, emitting baby growls while his whole body quivered with effort.
She distracted him with a little stuffed duck. He threw the duck over his head, pounced on it, and managed to stuff it under the couch where he couldn’t reach it. Then he stood there and yapped until she got down on her hands and knees and retrieved the duck. He immediately stuffed it under the couch again.
Next she tried a rubber chew toy as a distraction, and it worked for about ten minutes. He lay on his belly and held the chew toy between his front paws, gnawing with fierce concentration. Daisy took the opportunity to get out of her work clothes and begin making herself a sandwich. She heard a crash from the living room and ran in barefoot to find he’d somehow dislodged the television remote control from the lamp table and was busy trying to kill it. She took the remote away and put it in a safe place.
He loved her red toenails. He pounced on her bare feet. He kept jumping at her, trying to catch her fingers in his mouth; startled, she would jerk her hand back, and his sharp little baby teeth hurt. Finally, she just held her hand down and he mouthed her fingers as if tasting her, then, satisfied, released her.
At last, he got sleepy. He stopped practically in mid-run and collapsed on his belly, heaving a huge sigh as his eyes closed.
“I guess it was a big day for you, little guy,” she murmured. “Do you miss your mama, and your brothers and sisters? You’ve always had someone to play with, haven’t you? And now you’re all by yourself.”
It was after seven o’clock by then, and she was starving. She finished making her sandwich and ate it standing where she could keep an eye on him. He looked so sweet and tiny while he was asleep, but as soon as his eyes opened, he would be full speed again.
He slept on, with the absolute obliviousness of a baby. She decided to take a quick shower and left the bathroom door open so he could come in if he woke up. She undressed, dropping her clothes on the floor, and stepped into the tub. She had just gotten soaped when she heard something and parted the curtain to see a pale fuzz ball darting into the hall with her panties in his mouth.
Daisy leaped out of the tub and ran in naked, sliding pursuit. He somehow squeezed behind the couch with his captured treasure. She pulled the couch away from the wall and retrieved her panties. There was, of course, a hole in them. He wagged his tail.
“You little demon,” she said, picking him up and carrying him into the bathroom with her. She closed the door so he couldn’t get out, put her clothes on the back of the toilet where he couldn’t reach them, and got back into the shower. He spent the whole time yapping and standing on his back legs, trying to crawl over into the tub with her.
She had learned from the mop episode; instead of stepping out onto the bath mat to towel off, she stood in the tub. He eyed the towel with longing, sitting on his haunches and looking angelic.
His little face was so happy, she thought, his mouth open in a perpetual smile. His dark eyes, the rims dark, as if someone had lined his eyes with kohl, were very exotic with his pale fur and long blond lashes. He was so curious and enthused about everything that his tail wagged nonstop, like a souped-up metronome.
“So what if you’re a little devil,” she said. “You’re my little devil, and I fell in love with you when you climbed in my lap.” His tail wagged even faster as he listened to her voice and the crooning note in it.
“I have to come up with a good name for you, something that sounds big and tough. You’re supposed to protect me, you know. I don’t think it would scare many burglars if I yelled, ‘Sic ‘im, Fluffy,’ do you? How about Brutus?”
He yawned.
“You’re right; you aren’t a Brutus. You’re too pretty. How about Devil?” After a moment, watching him, she vetoed that choice herself. “No, I don’t like that, because I just know you’re going to be a sweetheart when you grow up.”
She tried out names on him for the rest of the evening: Conan, Duke, King, Rambo, Rocky, Samson, Thor, Wolf. None of them were right. She just couldn’t look at that smiling little face and make a macho name fit.
She learned not to leave water in his water bowl, or it ended up on the kitchen floor. When he went to his bowl, she poured a little water in, and after he’d lapped that up, she poured some more, until he quit lapping. Unfortunately, there was usually some water left in the bowl when he finished, and he pounced into it. Daisy mopped up water seven times that night, with him in fierce pursuit of the mop head.
He was so intelligent she was amazed; in just that afternoon and night he had learned to go to the back door when he needed to go outside. Finally he seemed to be winding down, so Daisy introduced him to his dog bed, which she had placed in her bedroom so he wouldn’t be lonely and cry at night. She closed the bedroom door to keep him corralled for the night, placed the stuffed duck in the bed with him, and wearily crawled into bed. She turned out the lamp, and exactly two seconds later he started whimpering.
Fifteen minutes later she gave up and lifted him into the bed with her. He was almost hysterical with joy, jumping and tugging at the covers and licking her in the face. She had just gotten him settled down when the phone rang. It was Jack. While he was talking, the puppy found her robe, which she’d tosse
d across the foot of the bed, and began tugging at the sleeve. She said, “Killer, no! Put that down! I have to go,” and hung up to lunge across the bed and grab him just before he tumbled backward to the floor.
Not five minutes later, the doorbell rang. Sighing in fatigue, she got out of bed, picked up the puppy, and carried him with her to the door. That seemed the safest thing to do. A quick peek revealed Jack standing impatiently on the porch. She turned on the light and with one hand unlocked the dead bolt and let him in.
He stepped inside and froze, staring at the puppy. “That’s a puppy,” he said in almost stunned astonishment, which was really observant of him considering she’d already told him she had a dog.
“No!” she said, pretending shock. “That lady lied to me.”
“That’s a golden retriever puppy.”
She cuddled the baby to her. “So?”
With measured movements, Jack closed the door, locked it, then rhythmically beat his head against the frame.
“What’s wrong with my puppy?” Daisy demanded.
In a strained voice he said, “The whole idea was to get a dog for protection.”
“He’ll grow,” she said. “Look at the size of his feet. He’s going to be huge.”
“He’ll still be a golden retriever.”
“What’s wrong with that? I think he’s beautiful.”
“He is. He’s gorgeous. But goldens are so friendly they’re no protection at all. They think everyone is their friend, placed on earth just to pet them. He might bark to let you know when someone comes up, but that’s about it.”
“That’s okay. He’s perfect for me.” She kissed the top of the puppy’s head. He was squirming, trying to get down so he could investigate this new human.
Sighing, Jack reached out and took the little guy in his big hands. The puppy began licking madly at every inch of skin he could reach. “So his name’s Killer?”
“No, I’ve just been trying out names. Nothing seems to fit.”
“Not if they’re like Killer, they won’t. You name goldens something like Lucky, or Fuzzbutt.” He lifted the puppy until they were nose to nose. “How about Midas? Or Riley? Or—“
“Midas!” Daisy said, her eyes lighting as she stared from him to the puppy. “That’s perfect!” She threw her arms around him, stretching up on tiptoe in an effort to kiss him, but the newly named Midas got there first and licked her on the mouth. She sputtered and wiped her mouth. “Thanks, sweetie, but you aren’t half the kisser the guy is.”
“Thanks,” Jack said, holding Midas at a safe distance as he leaned down and their lips met. And clung. The kiss deepened. The melting started again.
“Do you mind if I spend the night?” he murmured, trailing his kisses down her throat.
“I’d love it,” she said, and was overtaken by a huge, jaw-breaking yawn.
Jack gave a crack of laughter. “Liar. You’re dead on your feet.”
Daisy blushed. “I had a very active day yesterday. And last night.” She glanced at Midas. “And tonight. I can’t turn my back on him for a minute.”
“How about if I stay and we do nothing but sleep?”
Blinking in astonishment, she said, “Why would you want to do that?”
“Just to make sure you’re all right.”
“I think you’re going overboard with this protection business.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Today the mayor got me to run a tag number; he said he’d seen the car parked in the fire lane at Dr. Bennett’s office. Guess whose tag it was?”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
“Mine!” she said indignantly. “I’ve never parked in a fire lane in my life!”
He hid a grin as he set Midas down. “I didn’t think so. Do you have any idea why the mayor would want me to run your tag number?”
Slowly she shook her head.
“If he had seen your car, he’d have known it was you, so obviously someone else got him to do it. That has me a little worried. The good thing is, you’ve moved, so your address isn’t the same as what’s on your registration.”
She gasped. “My goodness, I totally forgot about that! I’ll go to the courthouse and change—”
“No, you will not,” he said sternly. “Not until I find out what’s going on.”
“Why don’t you just ask Temple?”
“Because I feel uneasy about the whole thing. Until I’m satisfied nothing suspicious is going on, I don’t want you to give out your new address to anyone. Tell your family to keep it quiet, too.”
“But if anyone wants to know where I live, all he has to do is follow me home from work—”
“After today, I’ll handle that. I’ll drive you home, and I guarantee no one will be able to tail us.”
She stared up at him, at the hard cast of his expression, and realized he was deadly serious. For the first time, a frisson of alarm skittered up her spine. Jack was worried, and that worried her.
Midas scampered into the kitchen, and she heard the splat as he landed in his water bowl. “Get the puppy and take him out in the backyard while I mop up the water,” she said, sighing. “Then we’ll go to bed.”
“With him?”
“He’s a baby. You don’t want him to cry all night, do you?”
“Better him than me,” Jack muttered, but he obediently took Midas outside and was back in five minutes with a sleepy puppy in his arms.
“I suppose he sleeps in the middle,” he said, grumbling.
Daisy sighed. “At this point, I’ll let him sleep wherever he wants. And we have to take him out every two hours.”
“Do what?” he said in disbelief.
“I told you, he’s a baby. Babies can’t hold it.”
“I can tell this is going to be a great night.”
NINETEEN
If the blonde lived at the address Nolan had given him, Glenn Sykes had yet to see her today. Two older women had come and gone, but not the blonde. In that kind of residential neighborhood, it was difficult to keep watch without being spotted himself, because old folks sat out on their porches and watched everyone who went by.
He got a phone book and looked up Minor. There was only one listing, and that gave the same address the mayor had given him, so the blonde had to live there. Maybe she was off on a business trip or something. He was both worried and relieved: relieved because the woman evidently hadn’t been paying much attention to them, and worried because it was on the news that a man’s body had been found in the woods by a hunter—it was always those damned hunters—and if the news-paper ran a picture of Mitchell, the lady just might remember that she’d seen him Saturday night.
The mayor seemed unusually shaken by the whole situation, which also worried Sykes. He thought everything could be managed if no one lost his cool, but the mayor’s hold seemed to be slipping a little. Because of that, he was reluctant to call Nolan and tell him the Minor woman hadn’t shown up. He didn’t want to send the mayor off the deep end, but neither did he want to just let the situation languish. He needed to find her and get things taken care of so that that loose end was tied off and the mayor would settle down. They had another shipment of girls coming in, Russians, and Sykes wanted everything handled before they arrived. They stood to make some big money off this batch; one was supposed to be only thirteen, and as pretty as a doll.
He drove by the Minor house several times after dark that night, when he wasn’t as likely to be noticed, but the beige Ford still hadn’t showed up. Finally it occurred to him to go to the Buffalo Club. Duh! He felt like smacking himself in the head. This Minor babe was into partying, not sitting at home nights with two old women. Feeling certain he’d find her there, Sykes made the drive to Madison County.
But when he scouted out the parking lot, the beige Ford wasn’t there. The traffic was lighter on Mondays than it was on the weekend, so he was certain he hadn’t missed it. Either she had already hooked up with some guy and gone home with him, or she had gone to some other club.
Okay, it was beginning to look as if the best way to find her was to stake out where she worked. That should be easy to find out, in a small town like Hillsboro. Hell, the mayor might even know her. Come to think of it, he’d sounded unusually subdued when he’d called and given Sykes her name and address; maybe he did know her, and his conscience was acting up.
Sykes couldn’t find the woman now, but he was damn sure where she’d be tomorrow: at work. He figured he might as well go home and get a good night’s sleep, then call the mayor in the morning on the chance he knew the woman and knew where she worked—she was such a classy-looking babe, the mayor might even have the hots for her. Sykes hoped not. The mayor had become skittish enough already without Sykes’s having to eliminate one of his playmates.
But everything would work out tomorrow. Tuesday looked like a busy day.
Daisy and Jack took turns getting up every two hours and taking Midas out. Like a little trooper, he did exactly what he was supposed to every time. Unfortunately, every time they brought him back in, he thought it was playtime and it took another half hour or so before he cuddled up and went back to sleep.
“This is like having a newborn,” Jack said at seven o’clock, sitting at the table and sipping his second cup of coffee. His face was rough with stubble and his eyes had dark circles under them. Daisy lacked the stubble, but her eyes matched his.
She looked down at Midas, who was lying on his back with all four paws in the air, and the stuffed duck in his mouth. “Except you don’t have to chase down newborns,” she said. “They pretty much stay where you put them.”
“I’ll get him a ball. Chasing it should wear him out, so he’ll nap longer—and more often.”
Despite her fatigue, Daisy beamed at him. That was so sweet, buying her puppy a toy. He’d been very good natured about the whole thing last night, but then he had volunteered to stay. She would have loved to have made love with him, but at the same time, sleeping together and not having sex had been . . . kind of wonderful. They had even managed to cuddle, though Midas had been right there, squeezing his fat little body between them as if that was his natural place.