Chapter 2 #3
“But on the other side some kind of mark—I can’t figure it out.” Swanson was clearly puzzled. “Looks like hieroglyphics of some kind.”
“It’s a damned rock, Swanson. Do you see what we’re dealing with here?”
Nikki strained to hear the rest of the conversation, but she couldn’t appear too interested, and she had the dog to deal with.
It watched her as she approached, its black lips pulled back, sharp teeth bared, dark eyes bright from the reflection of the lights. As she approached, it snarled in warning.
“Shhh,” she commanded softly, and the beast, a shepherd of some kind, glared. “Quiet.” She was calm and steady, moving slowly, but with determination. “It’s okay,” she said, which, of course, it very much wasn’t.
The dog lunged and snapped. Teeth flashing.
“No!” she ordered tautly but didn’t back down.
She’d been in tighter spots than this. One scared shepherd wasn’t going to stop her.
She took a step up to the porch, and the dog backed up.
“You’re okay,” she cooed. “Look, if you don’t want to end up in the pound, you’d better hush. Got it? You’re lucky I’m here.”
Another low growl, but finally the dog quieted and slunk away, hiding under a broken chair covered in horseback-riding paraphernalia.
Beneath the pile of bridles, helmets, and even a saddle covering the dilapidated rocker, the shepherd’s eyes were still fixed on her.
But he—or maybe a she—was no longer making a racket.
The shepherd was scrawny, its coat matted and dark.
And was there blood in its mottled fur? “Oh, let me look at you.” But as she neared, the dog snapped before sinking deeper under the rocker.
“Okay, okay.” Nikki sank down on an ottoman losing its stuffing and spoke in a quiet, soothing tone, all the while straining to hear what was happening on the other side of the wire fence.
She only caught a word or two, phrases, bits of the conversation over the hum of insects and the regular croak of a nearby frog.
The cops’ conversation was muffled as they tried to piece together what had happened.
Flashlights swept over the scene and upward to the roof of the barn, where a piece of gutter was hanging.
Pierce straightened and glanced over his shoulder to the Jeep, then toward the porch, where, in the darkness, she met his gaze. His jaw was tight again, lips flat. Obviously, he was irritated with her, but didn’t say anything as she’d managed to stop the barking.
Within minutes, the medical examiner’s van arrived, slowing to a stop with a crunch of tires on the sparse gravel. A stern-faced, balding man stepped from behind the wheel, and after a few quick seconds of talking with the officers, he, too, bent down to examine what had once been Billy Huber.
She considered how wise it would be to just walk up to her husband, but before she could make a move, headlights cut through the night, and the crime-scene team arrived.
There was more chatter, more flashlights glowing, instructions issued before Billy Huber’s body was zipped into a bag and hauled into the back of the ME’s van.
The crime-scene team took over the area, taking measurements and digital pictures, combing the area as the deputies backed off, huddling with Pierce, their conversation only a mumble.
Nikki turned her attention back to the space under the rocker, where dark eyes glittered suspiciously. If the dog was bleeding, it wasn’t all that much. No blood was dripping onto the floorboards.
It took over an hour before Pierce started back to the Jeep. By this time, the dog had stopped its intermittent growling, but was still regarding Nikki guardedly.
“You coming?” her husband said.
“Yeah, but I want to—”
“We’re not taking the dog.”
“Of course we are.” She straightened off the broken ottoman.
“Nikki, we can’t. I mean, how do you think you’re going to get him to come with you? And when he does, what about Mikado?” he asked, mentioning their aging husky mix as he opened the driver’s side door.
Nikki slipped through the gate and latched it behind her. “But—I think he could be injured.”
“Animal control will see to him.”
“Animal control. No, Pierce, we need to—”
“We need to let the professionals handle it. First of all, he’s not ours.
Secondly, who knows if he’s had all his shots?
And thirdly, we don’t need another pet. We’ve already got a cat and a dog.
And if this one’s hurt,” Pierce added with a hitch of his chin toward the house, “the department will handle it. The answer is no.”
He was firm. And, unfortunately, making some sense. Frustrated, Nikki hurried through the mud and grass and around what appeared to be part of an old treadle sewing machine to reach the Jeep. “So he’ll see a vet?” she asked, opening the passenger door.
“First animal control, at least to begin with, and then a vet if necessary.”
“After that?”
“Then we’ll see. After we speak with Billy Huber’s daughter.
She’s the one who called the department to check on her dad.
In the meantime, the dog has to be removed from the property so we can investigate the house and yard.
” He motioned toward the fenced area that included Huber’s cottage.
“We’ll be back in the morning to check out the house. ”
Nikki said, “Okay, then. I’ll come with you.”
For once, he didn’t argue.