“Meredith, it’s not a question of whose fault it was. Shit happens.”
She held up a staying hand. “That dog knows how afraid Sammy is of men. He didn’t just arbitrarily decide to bite! He was only trying to protect her. You’ve seen how he acts when she’s afraid. Remember the night she had the bad dream? He wouldn’t let me near her. It was the same today. She got scared when she saw that man, and Goliath tried to keep him away from her. When the man didn’t back off, Goliath bit him. Not hard, though. Two little puncture marks. He could have done much worse.”
Heath didn’t miss the fact that Meredith had finally just admitted her daughter was afraid of men. There had been a time, not so very long ago, when she’d vehemently denied it. On any other occasion, he would have insisted she elaborate.
“Meredith, what exactly are you asking me to do? Lie by omission?”
“What’s so wrong with that? There are extenuating circumstances. How do you know that man didn’t plan to hurt Sammy?”
“He seemed like a nice enough fellow to me.”
“So do serial killers! Little children are kidnapped from their yards all the time. When Goliath worked with you, weren’t there times when he alerted you to someone suspicious?”
“Sure he did. But he never attacked anyone unless given the command.”
“He isn’t a vicious dog.”
“In your opinion.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded, her voice turning shrill.
“It means I have to think about this. We can justify Goliath’s behavior until the cows come home, but it’s all just supposition. The bottom line is, I’ll be responsible if he hurts someone, and with a highly trained Rottweiler, that’s one hell of a lot of responsibility.”
“So you’ll just let him be put to sleep?” she asked incredulously.
Heath had to clench his teeth to keep from sniping back at her.
Pressing her knuckles against her mouth, Meredith went to the window. She stood gazing out for a long moment. “It’s all my fault,” she whispered. “If only I’d heard his car. If only I had insisted Sammy play in the house this afternoon.”
Heath stepped over to rest a hand on her shoulder. Her body was trembling. “Don’t do this to yourself, Meredith.”
She gulped and averted her face. “I love him, too,” she admitted. “Not as much as you, I know. But I do love him. He’s worked miracles with Sammy, and I owe him for that. The thought of him being put to sleep breaks my heart.”
Chapter 15
After locking Goliath in his kennel to keep him out of trouble, Heath went into the house, called the department to tell Jenny Rose he meant to take the rest of the day off, and then began pacing the floor. He had a decision to reach, and it wasn’t one he could make easily. Goliath wasn’t just any dog, but his ex-partner. The Rottweiler had saved his life more times than he could count. Heath could have more easily decided to amputate his right arm than to be instrumental in killing that animal.
Damn. He wasn’t sure what to do. A large part of him wanted to follow Meredith’s advice and keep this hush-hush. It was tempting. So very tempting.
Finally, as a last resort, Heath telephoned Rich Hamilton, a veteran city policeman and longtime friend who was also providing a home for a retired canine cop. Rich listened quietly while Heath gave him the back story and explained what had happened that afternoon.
When Heath finished speaking, Rich heaved a weary sigh. “Shit, man. That’s a bummer. I can see the dog being protective of the kid. Rambo is so protective of my boy Teddy that I have to keep a really close eye on him. A bigger kid was picking on Ted one afternoon, and Rambo nipped him. Didn’t break the skin, but it scared me, all the same.”
Rambo was a great dog, an intelligent, well-mannered German shepherd. But the dog wasn’t another Goliath. The shepherd wasn’t as smart, for one thing, and as far as Heath knew, the other dog had never received a single citation.
“I’m so attached to Goliath that it’s difficult for me to make a responsible call on this,” Heath admitted.
“Hey, buddy, I understand where you’re coming from. Rambo is like one of our kids. Diana loves him as much as I do, I think. If something happened and I had to put him down, I’d probably be sleeping on the sofa for six months.”
Heath’s throat went tight. “I’m going to put you on the spot, Rich. If you were me, would you report the bite?”
Long silence. “Damn. I knew you were going to ask me that.” Rich gave a low laugh. “You know what my answer’s going to be, Heath. These dogs are wonderful animals until they go bad. Then they’re potential killers. If Rambo bit someone, I’d have to report it.”
“Even if there were extenuating circumstances?”
“Yeah, even so. There’s too big a risk factor to do otherwise. You gotta think of what could happen. You know? He’s a great dog, and maybe he’ll never bite again. But if he does, you don’t want it on your conscience. Do you? The guy was just a salesman, for Christ’s sake, not a burglar. Maybe then I could say, give the dog another chance. But that isn’t what happened.”
After a moment, Heath said, “Thanks, Rich. I appreciate your being honest.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for, man. If you decide not to report this, the secret’s safe with me.”
Just as Heath started to hang up, the call waiting beeped. He switched to the other line. “Masters, here.”
“Heath?”
He closed his eyes at the sound of Meredith’s voice. She was the last person he wanted to speak to right then. “Hi, honey.”
“I, um…well, I just need to talk to you. About Goliath?”
Surprise, surprise. “Yeah, what about him?”
“I just want to try one more time to convince you that you shouldn’t report what happened.”
He smiled slightly. Rich thought he might have problems with his wife Diana over Rambo? In Heath’s situation, sleeping on Meredith’s sofa for the next six months would have been a step up. “I’ve already made my decision, honey.”
“You already turned him in, you mean?”
She made it sound as if he were a Judas. “Not yet. As soon as we hang up.”
“Please, don’t!”
He clenched his teeth.
“He won’t ever bite again. I’m sure of it.”
“This isn’t going to get us anywhere. I have to do this.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the law, and I have to abide by it.”
“You bend the law for teenagers all the time. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you supposed to arrest them if they’re caught drinking?”
He winced. “That’s hitting below the belt.”
She fell quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I guess it was. It’s just—well, you have made exceptions before. All for a good cause, mind you. Isn’t Goliath a good cause?”
Her voice squeaked there at the last, and Heath knew she was about to cry. Christ. He’d had the occasional relationship over the years, and there had been a few times, none of which filled him with pride, when he’d been responsible for making women cry. But he’d never cared this much about any of them.
He felt as if giant hands were grabbing hold of his guts and wringing them like a wet rag. “Merry, sweetheart, please don’t cry.”
“I’m not.”
He knew a sob when he heard one. She was crying, all right, and it made him feel like a jerk. God damn it, he didn’t need this right now. “Honey, I know you love him. But sometimes we have to set our feelings aside and do hard things. You know?”
“Oh, Heath, they’ll put him to sleep! You know they will.”
“Maybe not. I’ll certainly argue like a son of a bitch against it.”
“How magnanimous of you! You know very well they’ll still decide to put him to sleep, no matter what you say!”
“Merry, sweetheart—”
“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’! You’re supposed to be his friend. Some friend!”
>
With that, she hung up in his ear. After Heath returned the receiver to its cradle, he stood there staring at the phone. He jumped when it suddenly rang again.
When he lifted the receiver, he heard a tremulous voice say, “I’m sorry,” before he could even say hello.
“Merry?” Dumb question. How many other bawling females might be calling him to say they were sorry? “Honey, let’s not fight, okay?”
“I’m sorry,” she squeaked again.
He listened to two sniffs and a gulp, his heart twisting at each sound. “I love him, too, you know,” he told her gently. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“I know.” Gulp, sniffle. “Oh, Heath. I said cruel things. I didn’t mean them.”
“I know you didn’t.” He swept a pile of papers off the counter with a vicious sweep of his hand. “I really need you to support me in this. I’m having a tough time.”
“I know. I’ll try.”
“I bottle-fed him. I keep remembering how cute he was. And then all the times he saved my ass. I feel like a bastard.”
She made a sound that reminded him of someone sucking air from a whistle. “I support you,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I do. I know you’re just doing what you feel is right, and I admire you for that.”
“Thank you. I need to know that.”
“When do you think they’ll meet to decide what should be done?”
“Soon, probably. Tomorrow would be my guess. This is pretty serious business, and they’ll get right on it.”
“Will you get to be there?”
“Of course.”
“You have to tell them about Sammy, Heath. How protective he is of her. Then, maybe, they’ll understand and give him another chance.”
“I’ll be sure to tell them.”
“Promise? Stress to them that he’s never offered to bite before.”
“I will. I promise.”
The whistling sound came again. “Heath?”
He smiled and closed his eyes. Women. Was this what marriage would be like—feeling like a yo-yo on a string? With this particular woman, he wished he could find out. “What?”
“Could you call me when you learn what time the meeting will be?”
“You’ll just worry.”
“I’ll worry anyway. Maybe if I pray a lot while you’re at the meeting, they’ll give him another chance.”
From her mouth to God’s ear. If anyone on earth had a divine audience, it had to be her. “All right, I’ll call you.”
“And when the meeting’s over? You’ll call me then, too? I’ll be pacing the floors, wondering what happened.”
“Sure. The first thing I’ll do is call you. I promise.”
“Don’t forget.”
As if he could? This lady had taken up permanent residence in his thoughts.
The meeting was scheduled for two o’clock the following afternoon. When Heath called Meredith to inform her of the time, she sounded as if she were talking with a clothespin on her nose.
“So you did it? You reported him.”
Son of a bitch. “Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Honey, have you been crying all this time?”
“Of course not.”
She was a little liar. “It was the right thing for me to do,” he said evenly. “You know that, deep down.”
“Yes. Now we just have to wait and see what happens. Right?”
“Right.”
“It’ll be a long night. Won’t it?”
“Very.” He could think of only one thing that could make it pass more quickly, and she wasn’t in the market. “Merry, if you need to talk later, you know my number.”
“Same for you.”
“I may take you up on it.”
“Would you, um…well, like to have dinner with us? I fixed plenty.”
“I don’t think I’d be very good company tonight,” he replied. “Thanks for offering, though. I think I’ll just spend the evening with my dog. If things go badly tomorrow, this could be my last—well, you know.”
“Your last night?” she asked thinly.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Heath. If my car weren’t in such awful shape, I’d sneak over there and steal him, then disappear.”
She sounded dead serious. Heath smiled. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”
“Don’t laugh. I mean it. I’ve become rather good at doing vanishing acts!”
After Heath broke the connection, he couldn’t get the words Meredith had spoken out of his mind. Vanishing acts? He felt almost guilty for catching the slip. She was upset right now, not thinking clearly. It really wasn’t fair that his law enforcement training kicked in at times like this, enabling one part of his brain to operate on automatic pilot. Otherwise, he might have failed to pick up on what she’d said.
All along, he had suspected that she’d fled from an abusive husband. Now he was certain of it.
Over the years, Heath had seen more women stay in abusive marriages than not, subjecting themselves and their children to hell on earth. He admired Meredith for breaking free. It had taken guts. He had never understood the psychology of battered women. He only knew it was predictable—a characteristic condition and pattern of behavior that led to a mindless sort of resignation and apathy, stemming, he supposed, from relentless fear of reprisal if they tried to leave. Some women did overcome it, but they were in the minority.
No two ways around it, Sammy was a lucky little girl that her mother had found the courage to run.
After bringing Goliath in from the kennel, Heath sat in his recliner, one hand on the Rottweiler’s massive head. With every stroke of his fingers through coarse fur, Heath wondered if this would be the last night he ever got to spend with this dog he considered to be his best friend. The thought brought a lump to his throat.
Memories. So many memories. Goliath had once taken a bullet in the shoulder that had been meant for Heath. Another time the dog had saved him from getting his throat slit. There had been other incidents as well. In short, Heath had never had a more loyal friend.
Gazing into his dog’s soulful brown eyes, Heath wondered what the hell he was going to do if the board voted to have the animal destroyed.
After tucking under the last flap of the cardboard box, Meredith reinforced the top with wide packing tape. Glancing around her bedroom, she took stock of the few remaining articles of clothing hanging in the closet and lying in the open drawers, the bare essentials she’d left out to wear tomorrow and during the trip.
The word “trip” hung in her mind like a brightly illuminated neon sign. It was a term usually reserved for vacations, and the journey she was about to embark upon was anything but that. Even if the car didn’t break down, it was going to be a grueling stint. Nevertheless, she’d been ready to do it to save her own neck and she would do it for Goliath as well. The dog had become like a part of the family, and she loved him far too much to allow him to be destroyed.
Pulling a small duffel bag from the closet shelf, she began packing the toiletries on top of the dresser. In the morning, first thing, she would throw their stuff in the car. No last-minute walks through the house, no grabbing things she nearly forgot. Once she went to the bank to cash out her account, she would be ready to leave town, no looking back.
The car wouldn’t hold much, she thought grimly as she left the bedroom and did a slow tour of the house. None of the knickknacks could go or any of the kitchen utensils. Collectively, the whole kit and caboodle hadn’t cost that much, but it would still be difficult to replace. The iron and ironing board, the skillets, the coffeepot. She’d spent days combing thrift stores to equip the house, and now she had to walk off and leave everything. It couldn’t be helped. What little leftover room there was in the car would be taken up by Goliath.
She had lost her mind, no question about it. First she had kidnapped her child. Now she was planning to steal Heath’s dog. But what else could she do? Let Goliath be killed?
r /> No. Over the last six years, there had been a lot of things that happened in her life over which she’d had little, if any, control. But this wasn’t one of them, and she was finished with not fighting back. That dog had turned her daughter’s life around, teaching her to love and trust again, and to laugh when Meredith had despaired of ever hearing her laugh again. Goliath had only been trying to protect Sammy this afternoon. If Meredith let him pay for that with his life, she would hate herself for it until the day she died.
Leaving here had been inevitable, anyway. She’d realized that the first time she saw Heath’s Bronco pull into the driveway next door. Living so close to the county sheriff wasn’t exactly a healthy situation for a fugitive. True, it would have been better if she could wait. Get the car fixed. Save a little more money. But sometimes life threw a person curve balls, and you did what you had to do and trusted in God.
Somehow, the car would make the trip without breaking down. Somehow, she would get another job and find a place for all of them to stay until she could regain her feet financially. Somehow she’d keep food on the table for Sammy and kibble in Goliath’s dish. It wouldn’t be easy, and sometimes she might go hungry herself. But somehow she would make it all work.
She moved to the doorway of Sammy’s bedroom, her gaze wandering slowly over the contents. Meredith hated to make the child part with all her favorite things again. But better that than to watch Sammy grieve over the death of her canine friend. Toys were replaceable, after all. A dog like Goliath wasn’t.
There would be time tomorrow to pack Sammy’s clothes and the few small toys that could be stowed in the trunk, Meredith concluded sadly. She would do all the packing on the sly, just in case the board of commissioners surprised her and decided to give Goliath a pardon. In that event, Meredith would slip Sammy’s clothes back into her drawers, unpack her own things, and resume the usual routine, with Sammy never suspecting they’d nearly left here.