She sighed, and her smile faded. She let go of Zane and started to lean over the fence to throw a treat to Bruck. The dog growled low in his chest then lunged at her. She snatched her hand back just in time. She had better keep her mind on her surroundings instead of day-dreaming about the baby.
“I just told you not to feed him. He’s liable to leave you with a stump. Besides, I don’t want you making him soft.”
The dog growled again and leapt up on the fence. He could smell the food and wanted it ferociously, which Jonelle knew was just the state Zane liked to keep him in. He grabbed up the cattle prod and zapped the dog with it. Bruck yelped and snarled, but slunk away. Jonelle flinched.
“He needs to spend some time on the treadmill,” Zane muttered. “Burn off some of that energy.”
“What are you wanting help with?” Jonelle linked her hand through Zane’s elbow.
“A dognapping.”
She groaned. “Zane, you already got some dogs. Let it be.” Her heart sank. She didn’t want him to take that Samson. He was a pet.
“This dog’s going to bring in some good money. Don’t feel too sorry for him. He’ll give Bruck a good fight.”
“I don’t think Bruck can be beaten. Isn’t that good enough for you? Do you want him to fight until he is finally bested, or do you want him to go down in history as the greatest fighting dog ever?”
“He’s not ready to retire. Look at him; he’s still in his prime. I’ll know when the time comes.”
She sighed. “What do I have to do?”
“Just drive the truck.”
She sighed but followed him to the truck. They drove to town in silence. She knew he could sense her disapproval by the way he turned his head and stared out the window at the passing scenery.
“We could do a lot with the money,” he said abruptly. “Put up another barn and maybe start to breed Bruck. With the prices I could get for tough pups, we could put that new room on the back of the house you been wanting.”
Jonelle had been bugging him about that new room for two years. But she wasn’t sure the price tag was worth it.
They reached the edge of town. “How do you know where to find this dog?”
“We’ll drive past where he lives. Go that way.”
Jonelle drove out Negaunee toward the lighthouse. The thick leaves hid the structure until they passed the Blue Bonnet. “There it is,” he told her.
Jonelle sighed but drove on.
“Let’s see if he’s in the yard.”
Jonelle nodded and slowed the truck. They crept past the lighthouse, but the yard was deserted and no Jeep was parked in front. “They must be gone,” he muttered. He drummed his fingers on his leg. “Head to town,” he ordered. “There are two other places to check.”
“We can’t snatch a dog in the middle of downtown,” she protested.
“We won’t. But maybe the kid and the dog are with the aunt or the grandmother. I got both their addresses.”
He had her cruise by Anu Nicholls’s neat cottage, but nothing stirred there. Then he directed her to the edge of town. “There he is!” He pointed to the handsome dog lying under an oak tree in front of a large home on the hill. “What a beauty! Look at the muscles on him.”
Jonelle looked at the dog. And she watched the avarice on Zane’s face as he drank in the sight of the big dog.
“Looks to be part shepherd,” he muttered. “And he’s been trained for endurance. He won’t die quick.”
“Are you nuts? That’s the sheriff’s house!”
He blinked, then his smile spread. “It just makes it a challenge, darlin’. Park here.” He put on a heavy coat and gloves.
The dog lifted his head when Zane approached. Jonelle shook her head. Funny how most dogs could sense danger.
“Hey, Samson,” Zane said softly. From his pocket he pulled a steak in a plastic bag. “Look what I have for you.” He opened the bag and held out the meat.
Jonelle grinned when the dog sniffed it then took it delicately in his mouth but didn’t eat it. Zane may have been outsmarted. Samson continued to eye Zane warily.
“Eat it, pooch.”
Jonelle knew the meat was laced with a sedative. Samson laid it on the porch and gave it a lick.
Zane pulled a choker leash from his pocket. She wasn’t sure he could get it around Samson’s neck. The dog seemed pretty wily. Jonelle glanced at the curtained windows. Someone could come any minute. They needed to get the dog and get out of here.
He held out his gloved hand. “Take a whiff, Samson. I’m okay.”
The dog showed his teeth but took a delicate sniff of Zane’s proffered hand. Samson’s hackles didn’t go down though. Jonelle felt her admiration for the dog rising. This was one smart animal. He knew when to be wary.
Zane harrumphed and stood. “I’ll have to use the stun gun. You can’t blame anyone but yourself, pooch.”
He jogged back to the truck and got it out of the back. “He’s not taking the bait.”
“So I see,” Jonelle said through the open window. “Just leave him be, Zane. He seems a really nice dog. I saw his picture in the paper, and he saves lost people. Besides, he’s that little boy’s pet.”
“Shut up!” He strode back to the dog.
Jonelle held her breath. Samson lay with his nose to the untouched steak. Zane didn’t waste any more time trying to coax the dog. He loaded the dart in the gun and aimed it at the dog. “Sweet dreams.”
The dog flinched and yelped when the dart struck his flank. He turned to bite at the dart, then got to his feet and started toward Zane. Samson staggered as he neared, then crumpled into a heap.
Jonelle shuddered at the smile of satisfaction on her husband’s face. Zane slipped his hands under the dog and started to lift him. He grunted with exertion. “I might need your help, Jonelle. This is one heavy dog.”
She started to get out of the car, but he managed to heft the dog to his chest and stagger toward the truck.
“Hey, you there! What are you doing with that dog?” A pregnant woman stood on the porch. A little boy ran past her down the steps.
“Let go of my dog!” The child reached Zane before the woman and pummeled his legs. “Give me back my dog!”
Zane shook the boy off. “Get away from me, kid.”
The boy clung to his leg like a limpet, and the dog started to slide from his arms. Holding her stomach, the woman came running across the yard. Dropping the dog, Zane shoved the kid away and ran for the safety of the truck.
He waved the gun. “Stay back or I’ll shoot!”
“Samson!” The kid wailed and flung himself onto the prone body of the dog.
The woman stopped suddenly and bent over double. “Davy, go get the phone,” she said, clutching her stomach.
“Samson’s dead!” The kid was crying in earnest now.
“No, he’s not, but I have to get help.” The woman groaned.
Jonelle spared one last look as Zane flung himself into the truck. Even from here, she could see how pale the woman in the yard was.
“Get us out of here!” he shouted.
As the truck roared away, she had one last glimpse of the woman in agony.
7
The bubble light on top of the sheriff’s car in front of Hilary’s house was rotating, but the deputy had turned off the siren. Bree jammed her foot on the brake and threw the Jeep into park. She was out the door practically before the vehicle stopped moving.
Davy was crouching over Samson. Wailing, he kept trying to rouse the inert dog. When he saw Bree, his face screwed up even more, and he broke into noisy sobs. “Make him wake up, Mommy.”
Bree knelt by her son and pulled him onto her lap. She was almost afraid to touch Samson. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears, and she felt faint. She reached out and touched the dog. Warm. And his chest was still moving up and down. Relief came in a sweet flood. “He’ll be okay, sweetheart. He’s just sleeping.” She saw the dart on the dog’s flank and pulled it out. She st
arted to toss it away with an angry gesture, but instead laid it on the ground. Mason might need it for evidence.
“Where’s Aunt Hilary?”
“In the house with Uncle Mason.” Davy rubbed at his eyes. “I want to play ball with Sam.”
“Dr. Meeks is on his way here. He’ll take care of Sam.” She needed to check on Hilary but couldn’t tear herself away from Davy and Samson until more help arrived.
Why Samson? Did someone need to use him to locate something or someone? His tracking ability was the only thing that set Samson apart from other dogs. But if that’s what it was, all they had to do was ask for her help, and she’d gladly give it. And Davy could have been hurt as well.
“Make him wake up, Mommy,” Davy sobbed again. He buried his face against her shirt.
“The vet will be here any minute,” she said, hugging him.
The ambulance screamed down the street and stopped in front of the house. Bree looked up from her intent concentration on her dog. “Was Aunt Hilary hurt?”
Davy nodded. “She was holding her tummy and crying.”
Bree winced and closed her eyes. Please God, let Hilary and the baby be all right. She stood with Davy in her arms as another car pulled in behind the ambulance. She recognized the vet’s car. The paramedics raced past her, and she waited until Dr. Meeks knelt by Samson.
“I’ll take care of him,” the vet promised, opening his bag.
She put Davy down. “You stay here in case Samson wakes up and needs you,” she told him. She dreaded to see what was happening inside the house.
Hilary’s sobs, mingled with Mason’s deep, soothing voice, came through the bedroom door. A hopeless quality about her sister-in-law’s cries broke Bree’s heart. She walked slowly toward the bedroom. Reaching the doorway, she paused and peeked inside. Papers were strewn on the floor, probably from the book Hilary had been working on. The paramedics were taking Hilary’s vitals. Mason held her hand. Her mascara had run in rivulets down her face.
“Hil?” Bree said softly.
Hilary’s face crumpled still further. “I lost the baby, Bree.”
“Oh no.” Bree closed her eyes, but the tears leaked out anyway. She went to the bed and sank to her knees. “I’m so sorry, Hil. Has anyone called your mom?”
Mason nodded. “I did. She’s on her way.”
Bree didn’t know what to say. She reached out and squeezed Hilary’s hand. The comforting words she wanted to say felt trite. Only God knew if Hilary could get pregnant again. It had been a miracle the first time, and Bree wasn’t sure if God would grant more than one of this type.
“Di . . . did the man hit you, Hil?”
Hilary just shook her head without answering. Mason slid a sidelong glance at Bree. “She ran outside when the guy tried to take Samson. The pregnancy was already pretty shaky.” His voice trembled.
Guilt swept over Bree. If Davy and Samson had been with her, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Not your fault,” Mason said.
Hilary turned her head away, and Bree wondered if it was because she couldn’t bear to look at her. Maybe she was being too sensitive, but she could almost feel the accusation radiating from Hilary.
“Kulta,” Anu whispered from the doorway.
She went to her daughter’s side, and Bree tiptoed out of the room. She felt aimless and wished Kade were here to hold her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she went outside.
“How’s Samson?” she asked the vet.
“Drugged. He’s going to be okay, maybe tired and achy for a few hours. But he’s strong. I gave him something to counteract the sedative, and he should be rousing soon. See he gets plenty of water.” The vet snapped his bag shut and stood. “You have any idea what this was all about?”
“I wish I knew. Another dog, a small one, was taken a few days ago. But it’s probably just coincidental.
Dr. Meeks rubbed his chin. “Maybe not. I’ve heard that a couple other small dogs have come up missing lately.”
Samson began to stir. Bree sank to her knees and ran her hands over his curly coat. He raised his head and licked her hand. She gave a shaky laugh and buried her face in his neck, breathing in his familiar doggy scent.
“Thanks, Dr. Meeks,” she murmured. At least Samson would accept her comfort, even if Hilary wouldn’t.
“You’re quite welcome. I don’t often make house calls, but Samson is someone special.” He nodded to Bree and Davy and went toward his car. “Call me with any questions,” he called over his shoulder.
By now, Samson was struggling to get up. He licked Davy’s hand, then stood on wobbly legs. Davy threw his arms around the dog’s neck.
Bree resolved to keep a closer watch on both Samson and Davy. “Come to the house,” she told Davy. He led the dog toward the front door, passing the paramedics on their way out.
Inside the house, Bree gave her son some crayons and a coloring book Hilary kept for him and went back to the bedroom. Standing outside the door, she heard Hilary’s heartbroken voice.
“It’s all the dog’s fault. If I hadn’t been running to save him . . .”
Rubbing the tears from her face, Bree stepped into the room. “Is there anything I can do for you, Hilary?”
“No.” The answer was muffled. “Just go home and get that dog out of here.”
Anu sent Bree a pleading glance, and Bree tried not to be hurt. Hilary was just reacting out of pain and desperation.
“It’s not Samson’s fault, Hil,” Mason said, taking his wife’s hand.
Hilary closed her eyes, and her face contorted. She swallowed, and her chest heaved. She opened her eyes and held out a hand to Bree. “I’m sorry, Bree. It’s not your fault or Samson’s. It was an accident. I just want to blame something, someone.” Her chin wobbled. “Forgive me.”
Bree squeezed Hilary’s cold fingers. “It’s okay, Hil,” she said. “I understand. Call me if you need anything.”
Mason pressed his lips to Hilary’s hand, then laid it down and followed Bree down the hall. He caught her at the door to the living room.
“Sorry, Bree. She and Samson have never been the best of friends. You know how she is about dogs. She’ll be up and down like this for days.”
“I know.” Bree looked away. She couldn’t bear to see the pain in Mason’s eyes. This was as hard on him as it was on Hilary. “I’m so sorry about the baby.”
“Thanks. Thanks for understanding.”
“No problem. I love Hilary. I wish I knew what’s happening.”
“I heard Bertie Smith’s two poodles are missing.”
“Dr. Meeks mentioned other missing dogs, but they’re all small ones. You think they’re all connected?”
“Yesterday Doug Montgomery wondered if a dogfighting ring has cropped up somewhere nearby,” Mason said. “They typically use small dogs for training, bigger dogs like Samson for the real deal. It might be a hunch worth looking into.”
She frowned. “I’m going to have to watch over Samson like a hawk. I can’t let anything happen to him. It would crush Davy. Me too.” Bree glanced into the living room where Samson lay with his head on Davy’s lap while her son colored. Her two boys. To get to either of them, they’d have to go through her.
Naomi stirred the whipped cream into her mocha and took a sip. Timmy sat beside her, his thin legs swinging happily as he licked his sugar-free chocolate cone. “Want to go to the park when we’re done?” she asked him. Emily was at her best friend’s house for a sleepover, and Naomi was enjoying this one-on-one time with Timmy.
“Can we go to the park?”
“Sure.”
A woman stepped through the door to The Coffee Place. The pharmacist, Terry Alexander, waved to her from his table in the corner. She waved back, then walked to the counter and ordered black coffee and bought twenty dollars in Lotto cards. Her dark hair gleamed above a red sweater that showed way too much cleavage, and her black jeans were tight enough to show her liver workin
g, as Naomi’s grandmother used to say. Naomi stared, trying to place the woman.
Steve Asters came in. His eyes widened when he saw the black-haired beauty, and his gaze cut to Naomi. He raised his voice a bit. “Marika O’Reilly, I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“It’s Marika Fleming now. I’ve been married and divorced again since I was here last.” She smiled up at Steve in a way that suggested she wouldn’t mind considering him for the role of husband number three.
Marika? Naomi stared. She had seen her picture in Emily’s room. Naomi nodded her thanks to Steve for warning her, then took Timmy’s hand. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
They’d almost reached the door when Marika turned and saw them. Her eyes zeroed in on Timmy’s face, and recognition spread across her face. She took a step toward them. “Timmy,” she said softly.
Timmy stopped and pulled his hand from Naomi’s grasp. “Hello,” he said, licking his cone. “Are you here to buy some berry stuff?”
“Don’t you know me, Timmy?” Marika approached and knelt before the boy. A myriad of emotions rippled across her face as though she were an actress not sure what part she was supposed to play. Longing, consternation, love, all mingled into a visual kaleidoscope that left her mouth sagging.
Timmy looked at her curiously. “Hello.” Something in Marika’s face must have alarmed him, and he took a backward step.
Naomi wanted to snatch him into her arms and dash out the door, but she stood rooted to the floor. She felt horrified yet not surprised. With all the calls Marika had made lately to Donovan, she’d been half expecting something worse than phone calls. Here it was.
How long had Marika been in town? Had Donovan seen her and not mentioned it? Naomi tried not to think her husband would keep something like this from her, but next to Marika, Naomi felt plain and dowdy. She wished she’d taken the time to curl her hair this morning instead of pulling it back into a French braid. And she’d just grabbed faded jeans and a T-shirt when she got out of the shower this morning. There wasn’t a stitch of makeup on her face.
“I’ve missed you, Timmy.” Marika drew closer.