Pursue Page 6

  “You’re hurt, aren’t you? Oh, you poor baby.”

  The cable was too thick to break on her own. She had some tools in her Jeep, but didn’t think pliers were equal to the task. Fighting defeat, she looked around.

  “The shed door’s open. Hopefully there’s cable cutters in there because otherwise—otherwise what?”

  She couldn’t leave the dog like this, just couldn’t! But what if she couldn’t free it? Her only option, at least the only one that came to mind, was to call Darick and beg or demand he come out here. As for why he was the first person she’d thought of, she’d address that later.

  “You know the people who live here,” she said as she headed for the shed. “Are they handy? The kind of folks who’d have a lot of tools?”

  It was a stupid question to ask of an animal kept isolated, which meant she had no choice but to go in search of an answer on her own. Thank goodness the dog wasn’t barking, because she needed to listen for the sound of an approaching vehicle. It wasn’t that she was afraid of confronting the bastards responsible for the hell the dog was forced to live in. She just didn’t want a confrontation getting in the way of what she was determined to accomplish.

  No, she decided as she stepped into the dark and stale-smelling shed, it wasn’t Darick she needed. This was something for the grays to handle.

  * * * *

  “The rescue gods are shining on us,” she told the hound mix, as she held up a rusty cable cutter. She’d had to work the handles several times to get the blades to open and close. The blades didn’t look particularly sharp, but she didn’t have much choice. Something the tool had going for it—it would work as a weapon if that was what it took to get the dog out of hell.

  Because she figured she’d need help convincing the dog to get into her Jeep, she measured about six feet from him and placed the blades around the cable there. The blades didn’t cut so much as saw. Blisters were forming on her fingers and her back protested having to lean over for so long, but there was no way she’d stop. The dog had lifted its belly off the ground while she was gone, which allowed her to see she was dealing with an unneutered male. The hound mix’s ribs were visible, but at least he wasn’t as depleted as the mare. Just because both animals were underweight didn’t mean the same person or persons owned them, but maybe they did.

  After several minutes of attack, the cable separated. Still holding on to the cutter, she picked up the cable end attached to the animal and tugged. The dog started to back away.

  “No, no.” She let up on the pressure. “You’re going to hurt your neck even more if you do that. Come on, trust me, please.”

  Unfortunately, trust was a foreign concept with the dog. She was getting a little desperate when she remembered the sandwich she’d tried to bribe him with earlier.

  “Stay where you are, please. Don’t run away. I’ll be right back.”

  To her relief, he was still there when she returned with the sandwich. She concluded that even though the collection of trees was a prison, they might’ve been the only home the dog knew. She took the sandwich out of its wrapper and extended it toward the dog. Flat ears lifted, eyes brightened and he started to drool.

  “You’re that hungry? Oh, you poor thing.”

  She hadn’t expected the dog to instantly switch from suspicious to trusting, so wasn’t disappointed when seconds passed before he closed some of the space between them. She mentally walked when he did, waited as he worked up the courage to take another step, sent silent messages of support and love. The imbedded cable had caused his neck to become infected and she caught glimpses of raw red flesh. The smell made her stomach roil.

  “It’s going to get better.” She broke off a piece of bread and tossed it at the dog’s feet. “From now on you’re going to think life is worth living.”

  Yes, she decided as the bread disappeared, whatever it took, she’d make good on her vow. Not only was she willing to pay to have his wound treated, she’d show him that humans—some humans, anyway—could be trusted.

  Foot by foot, she guided her patient toward the Jeep. When she passed the chicken coop, she paused and looked inside. She wasn’t surprised to see no water or food in the containers. Another wave of anger swept through her as she unhooked the door and let it swing open. She couldn’t gather up the chickens and load them in with the dog, but by god she’d give them freedom. She’d also call Hank and tell him what she’d found and done.

  The owners—she hated having to call them that—might insist on the return of their stolen animal. Hell, they might threaten to have her charged with kidnapping.

  To hell with them. They’d never see this poor creature again, not as long as she was alive.

  What if they were dead?

  She forced the question aside as she placed what was left of the sandwich on the back seat and scooped the dog up in her arms. She’d deposited the dog next to tuna and bread almost before he knew what she’d done.

  “You stay right there. We’re out of here as soon as I get behind the wheel.”

  The dog planted a front paw on the sandwich and started pulling it apart. So much for worrying he might try to jump out of the Jeep.

  “You and me, buddy.” She put the key in the ignition. “The great escape.”

  The engine sound was comforting, and, as she turned around, the question she’d briefly denied returned.

  What if the bastard or bastards who’d turned cruelty into an art form didn’t wind up standing in front of a judge trying to justify their actions? What if there wasn’t enough of them left for that?

  “It’s in your hands,” she told the grays. “Your decision. But I won’t try to stop you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. The dog had finished eating and was standing on widely-spread legs, looking around as if seeing the road out for the first time.

  “Smell freedom. Take it in through your pores. Trust me. If nothing else, trust me.”

  Even though she tried to avoid pot holes, the Jeep kept bouncing. With a sigh, the dog sat.

  “You’re liking this, aren’t you? Trying to figure out what’s happening but up for the adventure. Good. Good in ways you might never understand.”

  The dog might’ve needed to continue to hear the sound of her voice but that would have to wait. She hadn’t finished communicating with the grays. It was asking too much for the gray that had shown up at her place to have followed her all the way out here, but he wasn’t the only one. Maybe the other big gray, the female, that had reached out to her yesterday was still in the neighborhood of Dogwood Campground? Maybe, like she’d done, that one was looking for the mare’s owner? She had no proof of who the guilty party was. Plus her companion wasn’t ready to attack.

  But what if the gray, the puppies and the wolf-dog were close enough to have watched her? Knew what had been done to the hound mix?

  Crazy thinking. The only kind she had.

  “This isn’t just neglect.” She made sure her voice carried. “It’s abuse. Cruelty. No question about it. Not in my mind and surely not in yours.” She took several deep breaths during which she nearly convinced herself to stop with what she’d already said.

  “Revenge. Justice.”

  * * * *

  “Hank isn’t going to be content with that.”

  “Too bad. That’s all he’s getting.”

  “Why?” Darick demanded. “Don’t you want him investigating this?”

  “I don’t know.” Niko sighed and fought not to look at the door Doc’s assistant had taken the dog through. It was Sunday and except for Darick and her, the waiting room was empty. Still, she didn’t want to take a chance on Doc Beck or the young man she’d entrusted the dog to hearing, so she kept her voice low. “I’m sure you can put one and one together. I didn’t exactly have permission to be on the property.”

  “I already figured that out, but I doubt if that’ll be Hank’s primary concern.” Darick jerked his head at the door. “There’s an injured dog in there, an injury that
didn’t have to happen.”

  Darick was making sense, but that didn’t mean her actions wouldn’t come back to bite her. She’d stepped onto property without permission. She’d taken someone’s tool to free the dog. She’d let the chickens loose. More to the point and something she couldn’t imagine telling Darick, she’d all but begged the grays to take the law into their fangs. If their brand of justice was served, she didn’t dare let it be linked to her.

  “How are you doing?” Darick asked.

  “All right.”

  “Are you? It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  Yes, it had and if she thought about it too much she started to shake. “I’m tough.”

  “You’re also human. Look, carrying that tiny, helpless foal just about did me in, so I have a rough idea of what you’re going through. I still don’t understand why you didn’t call me this morning but it doesn’t matter.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. The only thing she was sure of was that she didn’t regret responding to the message he’d left on her cell phone while she was heading for the vet’s office. He hadn’t said that much, just wanted her to know he too had talked to Doc Beck and hoped she was able to relax a little. Relax? Hardly. She’d called thinking to let him know how far off base he was. He’d answered before the second ring, saying her name in a quick, quiet voice. Caught off guard, she’d blurted out what she was doing.

  ‘I’ll meet you there,’ he’d said. ‘You’ve already told Doc you’re coming in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All right. See you in a few minutes.’

  He’d been in the parking lot when she’d turned off the highway. After opening the driver’s side door and giving her a hand down—a hand she didn’t need but took—he’d stared at the dog. A low ‘Damn’ had told her everything she needed to hear from him. To her relief, the dog hadn’t growled or resisted when Darick had picked him up and headed for the clinic. She’d opened the door then stepped back, watching how Darick held the trembling mutt against his chest.

  Doc Beck’s assistant had barely looked at the garroting cord before taking the dog from Darick and disappearing down a hall. That had been a good five minutes ago.

  “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do,” she admitted. “I don’t want to leave before talking to Doc but if he’s going to be tied up—what do you think? Will he put the dog out before getting that damned thing off?”

  “I hope so.” Darick pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stared at it. “He’s been through enough.”

  “I gave him my sandwich, but there wasn’t any water within reach. I should let Doc know—”

  “Give him a few minutes. If he hasn’t come out— There’s a text from Jeff. He’d asked the state police to check to see if anyone has been at Dogwood Campground since we were there. It doesn’t look like it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That maybe we’ll never determine the mare’s ownership.”

  She wished her mind was clearer so she could be sure whether she was about to say something she wouldn’t regret, but three animals at risk of dying in the space of two days were more than she could handle. Usually when life’s stress got to her, either she climbed on Misty’s back and went for a long ride or ran along the beach, but she needed to be here right now.

  “That’s what I was after today,” she admitted. “I wanted to try to determine who the mare belonged to.”

  “I know.”

  Of course he did. What other need did she have for the maps he’d supplied her with? There seemed to be a thousand things she should’ve said to him but none of them swam to the front of her mind. She seldom drank but her brain was acting as if she was half-looped. Not that long ago, she’d wanted nothing to do with Darick Creech, and here she was sitting close to him, her emotions like bleeding wounds.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait.”

  She started at the sound of an unexpected voice. Somehow, Doc had entered the waiting room without her sensing his presence. She wondered if it was the same for Darick, if his thoughts were locked on what they’d been talking about.

  “It’s all right,” she heard Darick say. “What can you tell us?”

  “That we have a dog with a cable that’s been around his neck for so long it’s killing him.”

  A whimpering sound escaped before she could hold it back. “He’s going to die?”

  “No, fortunately. But it’s a good thing you found him when you did.” Doc clenched his right hand. “Niko, I need to ask a hard question. You swear this isn’t your dog?”

  “No! I’d never—”

  “That’s all I need to hear. You haven’t said where you found him and I’m not going to ask, but I’m sure Hank will.”

  She nodded and waited for the vet to continue.

  “I have to report this,” Doc said. “In fact my assistant is making the call right now. I don’t know if Hank will get in touch with you today.”

  “Can I see the dog once you have that damned thing off him? I’d love to spend some time with the mare and foal.”

  “I figured you would. The dog’s being sedated. As soon as he’s asleep, I’ll tackle the cable. In the meantime, the colt’s in here.”

  The operating room was separate from the recovery area, but because the door between them was open, she saw the hound’s limp form on the table. The colt was in something resembling a playpen, stretched out on his side with an IV affixed to his neck. At least his eyes were open. He didn’t look scared, just uninterested.

  It wasn’t until Darick knelt beside the pen that she realized he’d come in there with her. He reached through the webbing and stroked the colt’s forehead.

  “You’re a beauty,” Darick muttered. “Stay strong, stay healthy. You do those things and before long you’ll be in an irrigated pasture running with other horses.”

  Darick’s words were almost more than she could handle. Hoping he couldn’t see her tears, she leaned over the pen’s side and rested her hand on a bony shoulder.

  “You’re in the best possible place,” she said. “Right where you need to be. Ignore those silly dogs and cats. Soon as you’re strong enough, you’ll graduate to the barn where you’ll be reunited with your mother.”

  That was it. She couldn’t say another word because the realization that there might never be a bond between mother and son was making her angry again. She needed to get control over her emotions. The little one needed a serene environment, not to be touched by hatred.

  Leaning over was getting to her back, so she straightened then knelt near Darick. After working her hand through the webbing, she placed her fingers on the little nose so each breath warmed her. She could hear Doc and his assistant but didn’t try to concentrate on what they were saying.

  “Do you want to go see the mare now or wait until this is over?” Darick jerked his head at the operating room.

  “Wait a few more minutes. How long does it take to—?”

  “What are you going to tell Hank?”

  Talk about catching her when her defenses were down. She stood and started toward the bank of cages, only to wind up focusing on Darick as he got to his feet. He was taking care not to twist his back and let his legs do the work.

  “Everything. I’d rather not have to admit I was trespassing, but he can’t do his job if he doesn’t know the whole story.”

  “The whole story? What about the grays?”

  “I don’t know. Right now the dog is what matters.”

  “Yeah. We need to discuss that. Have you had anything to eat? You said you used your sandwich as bait.”

  “Food hasn’t been on my radar.” Three tiny kittens were nestled around their mother’s belly in the cage closest to her. They looked so peaceful.

  “That’s what I thought. How about we do something about that once we know how the surgery went?”

  “You don’t have to wait,” Doc said in a voice designed to carry. “I’d say you won’t want to see this if you’re squeamish, but
you both must have a good idea of what was going on beneath that damn cable.”

  Having a good idea and reconciling herself to the actual damage wasn’t the same thing. Niko recoiled at the sight of raw, red, seeping flesh that should have been covered by hair. The cable had exposed fat and a bit of muscle. The entire area looked inflamed.

  Darick wrapped his arm around her, offering warmth without pulling her against him. She was both grateful and confused.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  She listened as Doc explained that he intended to keep the wound exposed instead of using stitches, since closing the wound might allow infection to grow undetected. The dog would always have a scar, but a lot of the hair would grow back. He might never allow a collar to be placed on him, which was something his new owner would have to deal with.

  “This guy’s pretty young.” The female assistant stroked the dog’s side. “He’ll heal quick. While he’s here we’ll assess his temperament. Hopefully there won’t be a problem putting him up for adoption. For the record, we’re going to snip him while he’s out, right, Doc?”

  “Right.”

  “Oh,” the assistant continued, “to let you know, I left a message for Hank. No idea when I’ll hear from him, hopefully soon.”

  “Good,” Darick said with his arm still around her. “The sooner the investigations get rolling, the better.”

  Investigations. Both what happened yesterday and now.

  Chapter Five

  For the second time that day, Darick found himself in the same café. He and Niko were sitting in a different booth from the one he’d occupied this morning with a decent view of the parking lot, if that’s what someone was after. When she’d said she didn’t care what she ate, he’d asked her opinion of hamburgers. That had elicited a smile, so he’d ordered one for each of them.