Say No More (33 page)

“There’s no catch,” Lise said. “She gets you the money. You go free.”

“And who the hell are you, again?” he said. “Naw, never mind. It don’t matter. But maybe ... maybe you got money, too. What if I kept the boy and sent each of you one at a time? Now that could be lucrative.”

Right and left I looked. Then I saw it — the closet door was cracked open. Two small, wide eyes gazed back at me. Cammie’s lip was trembling. Tears streaked down her cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound, not even a snivel.

Tucker pulled his feet back and stood. I lowered myself to the ground. If I didn’t stop him, this could end very badly. I tucked myself in the corner of the porch, so he wouldn’t see me. I had to think of something. Meanwhile, he rambled on about all the bad breaks he’d gotten in life and how he’d been set up every step of the way.

In quick succession, Tucker opened and slammed three cupboards. “Where do you keep the whiskey around here?”

I contemplated returning to the barn and barking up a storm to lure him outside. Maybe running to a neighbor’s house and trying to lead them back. Either way that meant leaving all the people I loved with Tucker Kratz. I couldn’t. Not now.

And then I heard a creak from the floorboards just inside the house. I cocked my head, stepped back, ready to leap behind the bushes and make a run for it if shells started to fly.

The front doorknob turned slowly. Someone tugged on the door from behind. A tiny hand slid around the edge.

Cammie popped her head into the opening. She motioned me inside.

As I brushed past her leg, Tucker started warbling a Keith Urban song. Murdering it, actually.

Slowly, Cammie closed the door, but the hinges were old and rusty. They let out a long groan. Cammie froze in terror. Tucker stopped singing.

“What the fuck!?” he roared.

The little girl glanced at me, then dashed into the closet, pulling the door shut as far as she could without clicking the latch into place.

I squeezed behind the sofa. There was barely enough room between it and the wall for me to breathe, but I pushed toward the other end. Halfway, a board in the framework of the sofa dug into my shoulder. As I slid further, the sharp edge of the wood caught against fresh stitches. Skin tore open. The wet warmth of blood seeped beneath my fur, oozed down my hindquarter.

“Tucker,” Bernadette said, flailing a hand at him from the place where she sat, “you can’t just —”

Just as I stretched my neck forward to get a better view, Tucker raised the butt end of the shotgun up above her head and slammed it down. Bernadette crashed sideways, her head hitting the floor first. The scent of iron filled my nose: blood. And not mine.

Leveling the shotgun, Tucker shoved Hunter aside. Lise caught her son, steadying them both against the doorway.

Jaw twitching, Tucker’s eyes zeroed in on the closet door as he lifted the barrel, took aim —

“Nooo!!!” Hunter shouted.

Tucker whipped around. Lise yanked Hunter back, trying to drag him into the hallway. But he had grown bigger. He was too strong. He ripped himself from her arms, hands thrust before him, even as the barrel of the shotgun swung toward him.

Now!
Cam’s voice said from somewhere faraway.
Do it now, Halo!

I launched myself from my hiding spot, mouth wide, my head turned sideways. My teeth sank into Tucker’s flesh, pinching the tendon low on his calf, just above his heel. His leg jerked forward, but I gripped tighter. Held on.

The shotgun blasted.

A crash. A scream.

Then ... silence.

T
he ambulance turned at the mailbox and rolled down Sweet Potato Ridge Road, its sirens mute. A minute later, it disappeared around the bend beyond the next hill.

Patches of blue sky shone between pewter clouds. A beam of sunshine spilled down to brush the land with golden light. The snowy limbs of sycamore trees shone brilliant against the darker tangles of locust, oak and ash, their branches long bare of leaves.

Looking over it all — the wooded hills, the grassy slopes, the places where sky met earth — filled me with great sadness. I was going to hate leaving this place.

I stretched out my front legs and lay down. My feet dangled over the edge of the porch, just above the first step.

Gentle fingers scratched at my neck. I leaned into them.

“I missed you, Halo.”

I nosed Hunter’s wrist. He turned his hand over. It smelled of fried chicken. I licked his palm, the trace of grease smooth on my tongue. Scooting closer, he curled his arms around me.

I missed you, too.

“I know this sounds funny, but ... when that man aimed at the closet, I thought I heard Dad’s voice. Like he was right next to me. He told me to stop him. So I did.” He kissed the top of my head. His voice caught, grew softer. “Thanks for saving me ... again.”

The door creaked behind us, then banged shut. Small feet padded over the weathered planks. Cammie settled down on the other side of me.

Hunter lifted his head and inhaled. “Do you smell skunk?”

“Nope,” Cammie said. Tentatively, she held her hand out. “She’s our dog now? Really?”

I sniffed at her knuckles and sneezed. Giggling, she stroked my side. She was careful not to touch my stitches. The wound had pulled apart slightly when I caught myself on the nail, but Lise had taken care to clean it up and make sure the bleeding had stopped.

“Yep, all ours.” The stiff material of Hunter’s coat crinkled as he jerked sideways. “You aren’t going to run away screaming every time she looks at you, are you? She won’t bite
you
, you know.”

She shook her head, looking offended. Then she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her small chin as if mustering her courage. “I’m
not
scared of her.”

“Good.” He pointed a finger at her. “Because she only bites bad guys.”

Cammie smiled. “She got him good, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, real good.”

Voices drifted from the rear of the house. Shoes scuffed over limestone rock. Both children looked to the right as Lise and the sheriff rounded the corner of the house.

“Thank you for getting here so fast, Sheriff Dunphy.” Lise wrapped her arms tight around herself to ward off the cold.

The sheriff reached out, his fingers brushing her upper arm. “Not often something as exciting as this happens around here, ma’am. I’m impressed you were able to detain him. Whatever gave you the idea to tie him up with the electrical cord from the vacuum?”

“A lot of MacGyver as a kid. Besides, he tripped over it when his feet got tangled in it. When the light fixture fell on his head, he was pretty stunned, so I just grabbed the cord and wound it around his ankles and wrists. It helped that he shot such a big hole in the ceiling and all that plaster dust fell in his eyes.”

“We can thank the dog his aim was off.” Sheriff Dunphy’s gaze rested on me a moment, then swept over the old house: the flaking gingerbread framing the front porch, the gutter pulling loose from the eaves, the overgrown bushes. And then to the property beyond: the carefully tended fence rows, the freshly painted barn. “Beautiful setting. Place sure could use a little sprucing up, but overall it’s in good shape. It’ll make some family a wonderful home, I hope.”

Lise’s face took on a faraway look.

Sheriff Dunphy waved a hand in front of her. “Is everything okay, Mrs. McHugh? Do you want me to call the EMTs back?”

“What?” Lise stared at him blankly for a moment until his words registered, then shook her head. “No, I’m fine. And please, call me Lise. I was just wondering about Bernadette. They’re taking her to the hospital, you said?”

“Yes, the one in Somerset. Just a precaution. Looks like a minor concussion. She might need a few stitches, too. Nothing serious.”

“Thank goodness. I was so worried when he hit her. I think I swallowed my heart.”

“Things could have been much worse.” His gaze shot to Hunter. “Son, in a way that was incredibly foolish of you. Charging at a man with a loaded gun ... You could’ve been killed.” His eyes softened as he approached the boy. He stooped down before him. “But in my twenty years in the department, it was also the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of. Your sister’s alive and safe because you took action.” He offered his hand. “Well done, young man. I’ll make sure Cynthia Wunderly down at The Messenger sends someone out to take your picture for the Sunday paper.”

Hunter took his hand. “Thanks, sir.”

Lise’s mouth fell open.

“Something the matter?” The sheriff started toward her.

“It’s just that ...” She blinked several times. “That was the first thing he’s said to anyone outside the family since ... well, for years.”

“Oh, I have the feeling he’ll be telling this story a lot from now on.” Sheriff Dunphy tugged his hat down closer to his dark eyebrows, and then drew a business card from inside his jacket and handed it to her. “I think the boys are just about done inside. If you need anything, anything at all, call me.” He turned back around and patted me on the head. “That’s some dog you have there. I have the feeling you won’t ever have to worry about your family as long as she’s around.”

A commotion arose from the rear of the house.

Two deputies escorted Tucker to a second Adair County police car. Tucker strained against the cuffs, cussing and spitting at the men. One opened the back door, while the other pushed him inside.

Before the door swung shut, Tucker shouted, “You tell Aunt Bernie I’m gonna get her for this! She better —”

The deputy slammed the door on him. He exchanged a look with his partner.

“He’ll be lucky to get out in fifty years,” the other one said.

“Yeah, if he ever does.” They laughed.

Sheriff Dunphy nodded at Lise. “If you’ll excuse me ...”

“Sheriff,” Lise said, “can you answer a question for me before you go?”

“Certainly.”

“How much does a place like this usually go for?”

His mouth twisted in thought. “Hmm, if I recall, it’s just over eighty acres, twenty or so in timber ... House is on the small side.” He tapped his chin with a forefinger. “This end of the county, maybe two hundred grand, but developers have been scouting the place. Likely, they’re looking to divide it up into acre lots — that or some industrial corporation has their sights on it. If they get in on the bidding, it could go for two or three times that.”

“Is there any way to make a pre-emptive bid?”

“Might be. But you’d have to approach the estate executor about that.”

“And who’s that?”

“Bernadette Kratz.” With a wink, he pinched the brim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger. “Good day ... Lise. By the way, the name’s Brad.” He was about to get in his car when he stopped and came back to her. “I was just wondering ... Have you ever been to Adam’s Rib, down in the square? It’s a new place. Folks say the barbecue sandwiches are really good.”

“No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering.” He glanced at the kids, then at his car. “I’m, uh, not supposed to ask women out while I’m on duty, but ... you have my card there. That one has my cell number on back. Call me sometime.”

Tilting her head, she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do you write your private number on the back of all your cards?”

He motioned toward the house. “No, actually, you’re the first. I did that just before I came outside here. Almost didn’t get up the nerve for it. Anyway, hope I get a chance to talk to you again.”

Without waiting for an answer, he marched back to his car. As he grabbed the door handle, Lise called out, “Brad?”

He looked over his shoulder at her.

“Day after tomorrow all right? For a call, I mean. I’ve got so much to do before then.”

“That’d be good.” He smiled broadly. “Real good.”

He got in his car and the two vehicles started off down the lane. Mouth flapping, Tucker Kratz pounded his forehead on the window.

“Mommy?” Cammie jumped down from the porch and skipped to Lise. “Can we live here?”

“I don’t know, pumpkin.” Lise picked her up and hugged her daughter tight. She held her other arm wide, inviting Hunter into the embrace. He joined them. “That’s a lot of money. I’m
still
paying off my school loans. Physical therapy school wasn’t cheap, but at least I get paid more than a teacher’s salary now.”

“Please, Mom?” Hunter cast a pleading look up at her.

She ruffled his sandy hair. “We’ll see.”

The little girl tugged at her mom’s sweater. “If we stay here, can I have a kitty?”

“Why on earth would you ask that? You’ve never wanted a cat before.”

Cammie’s tiny finger pointed at the barn door. The black and white kitten stood in the opening, its tail flicking side to side as it mewed softly. It trotted across the open yard, skidded to a halt at the base of the steps, then struggled to climb them as if they were a mountain.

I scooted back, considered bolting, but if I so much as flinched, the devil creature would probably fling a paw out and eviscerate me with those razor sharp claws. Rear feet kicking, it pulled itself over the last step.

The kitten arched its back and headbutted me. I eased back and prepared to launch myself from the porch in a single, energy-packed leap, but the thing just kept rubbing my cheek and neck with its head. Then it began to ... rumble?

Bouncing happily to us, Cammie scooped the kitten up and tucked it inside her coat. “Aw, Mom, he’s purring. And he
loves
Halo!”

Yeah, but Halo doesn’t love him back.

I might, maybe, possibly, learn to tolerate him. Given enough time.

—o00o—

“That Sheriff Dunphy is sweet on you, darlin’.”

Lise poured Bernadette a cup of apple juice and placed it on her bedside table. “What makes you think that?”

Footsteps rang down the hallway, came closer, and then passed by. I lay low, my snout tucked in the warm space between Bernadette’s arm and her ribs. She’d pulled some strings with the hospital staff to get me into her room that morning, lauding my recent hero status and reminding them that I was practically a local celebrity already, due to my work at the literacy center. She pressed a button on a control in her opposite hand. The bed made a strange whirring sound, and then started to fold upwards, so she could sit up. I inched toward the edge, looking down at the floor.