The Scottie Barked At Midnight (2 page)

With the blanket that was part of her emergency gear wrapped around her new friend, Liss settled the Scottie in the backseat of the car. She remembered reading somewhere that the hard, wiry outer coat of the Scottish terrier was weather resistant, but the poor little thing was shivering with the cold.

Liss had just closed the car door when a sharp cracking sound made her jump. It sounded as if someone had stepped on a twig.

“Is anyone there?” Liss hoped someone was—preferably the Scottie's owners, searching for their missing pet. She called a second time, but no one answered either hail.

Deciding that the sound she'd heard must have been a branch breaking under the weight of accumulated ice, Liss moved on to the next task, spreading kitty litter beneath her tires so she could maneuver the car back onto the road, get herself turned around, and continue on to Moosetookalook. As she worked, she tried to remember if there were any houses nearby. There were none in sight. That made her wonder where the Scottie had come from. She was still pondering that question when she climbed back in behind the steering wheel. She was just about to start her engine when flashing lights, moving slowly in her direction, appeared in her rearview mirror.

“Hallelujah!” Liss whispered.

It was a town plow, clearing the road and depositing sand and salt in its wake.

 

In the examining room at Moosetookalook Small-Animal Clinic, Liss's anxious gaze followed the veterinarian's hands as she gently poked and prodded, searching for injuries. She'd already confirmed that the Scottish terrier was female and that she seemed well cared for.

Audrey Greenwood had moved to town three years earlier to set up her business a few blocks away from the town square. Ever since, she had been active in civic affairs, including the Moosetookalook Small Business Association. In a few weeks, she'd be running the information booth during the March Madness Mud-Season Sale, an annual one-day shopping extravaganza sponsored by the MSBA on the last day of the month. She was also Liss's cochair for the event.

“You say she came out of hiding when you called?” Audrey asked without looking up. Her blunt-cut blond hair was just long enough to be tucked behind her ears to keep it out of her way when she bent over a patient. In the bright light above the examining table, her pale, flawless skin, devoid of makeup, looked almost translucent.

“She was a little gimpy, but she didn't seem to be in a lot of pain. And she was good as gold about letting me pick her up. She didn't fuss when I put her in the car, either. Then, with a little help from the plow driver and my handy-dandy bag of kitty litter, I got turned around and brought her straight here.”

Liss didn't mention the two quick phone calls she'd made before setting out. Audrey knew about the first because Liss had contacted her to give her a heads-up that she was on her way with an emergency patient. The second call had been to Dan.

“I'm not finding anything worse than a few bruises,” Audrey announced.

“You're sure?”

Audrey's manner was brusque and no-nonsense as she straightened. Upright, she was a couple of inches taller than Liss's five-foot-nine. Her rangy, athletic build was the result of many hours of exercise, divided almost equally between the tennis court and cross-country ski trails. She shot an incredulous look in Liss's direction.

“Of course I'm sure. I don't think your car clipped her at all,” she added, turning back to the Scottie to tickle her under her chin. “More likely she got hit by a chunk of hard-packed snow when you spun onto the shoulder.”

“But what if there are internal injuries? Shouldn't you take X-rays? I'll pay for them. If there's the slightest chance she—”

Audrey raised a hand, palm out, to stop the flow of words. “I'll keep an eye on this little sweetheart overnight, but I don't anticipate any complications. What you need to do is find her owner. She's clearly someone's pet.”

“There isn't much I can do tonight, but in the morning I'll put up posters,” Liss promised. “Maybe notices in the local newspapers.”

“Don't forget the
Daily Scoop.
”

“How could I?” Liss grinned. Nine times out of ten, the online newspaper beat the few remaining print versions to breaking stories.

While Audrey got the Scottish terrier settled in a comfortably furnished cage, one of only a half dozen, since there was no room in the small clinic for more, she reeled off additional places for Liss to contact, including the animal shelters in nearby communities. “From your description, the place where you found her isn't in Carrabassett County. Maybe you can get Sherri to put the word out to neighboring police and sheriff's departments.”

“I'll ask.” Sherri Campbell, the Moosetookalook chief of police, was one of Liss's closest friends.

“Good.” Audrey sent her an amused look. “Now go home. You've done all you can for now. And don't you have a good-looking hunk of man waiting for you?”

“And two cats,” Liss agreed.

She reached into the cage to give the Scottie a final tickle behind the ear. The little dog had already curled herself into a ball on the padded dog bed. Poor baby. After the excitement of the day, she was all tuckered out.

It had been a long one for Liss, too.

Five minutes after leaving the animal clinic, driving along streets that had been plowed as soon as the snow stopped, she pulled into her own driveway. There, too, Dan had already been out to shovel and sand. Even better, the moment she turned off the engine, he appeared at the front door. Framed in the opening, he'd never looked more appealing. Tall and broad shouldered, his sandy brown hair just a little too long, he was exactly the tonic Liss needed. It took her less than five seconds to get from the car to his welcoming arms. If her bad knee zapped her again en route, she didn't feel a thing.

“Hey!” Dan said with a laugh when she let him come up for air. “I'm happy to see you and all, but what's with the extra enthusiasm?”

“I'm just very, very glad to be home.”

And then, because they'd promised not to hide things from each other, Liss filled him in on the details she'd left out when they'd spoken on the phone. Earlier, she'd said only that she was stopped by the roadside to look for someone's pet. Now she shared the way she'd felt when she'd realized how close she'd come to slamming head-on into a humongous sugar maple.

 

Bright and early the next morning, Liss was back at Moosetookalook Small-Animal Clinic. “There she is,” she said when Audrey let her in. “She looks happy to see me.”

“Don't let it go to your head. Anyone bringing food and water would look good to her.”

“Cynic. That little girl and I bonded. Didn't we, sweetie?” The Scottie looked for all the world as if she was nodding. She did an impatient little dance as she waited for her bowls to be refilled.

“You start baby-talking and I'll ban you from the clinic,” Audrey threatened. “Here. Make yourself useful.”

As they saw to the needs of the animals in Audrey's care, Liss outlined her plans for the morning. “A handful of phone calls to start. Then, if no one knows anything about a missing Scottie, I'll make posters to put up around the area. Then I thought I'd head back to the stretch of road where I had my accident. Someone who lives nearby may know who owns a Scottish terrier.”

“You made one of your famous lists, didn't you?”

Liss laughed. “Of course.”

No one had been in touch with any of the animal shelters that she contacted during the next hour. One of the women she talked to reminded her that some people just didn't bother reporting a missing dog or cat. They assumed their pet was lost or dead and went on with their lives.

Liss shook her head. She didn't doubt the truth of the statement, but she found such an attitude hard to understand. If one of her cats went missing, she knew she'd move heaven and earth to find out what had happened. Lumpkin and Glenora were family. As for the Scottie, she hadn't been kidding when she'd told Audrey there was a bond between them. They'd been through a harrowing experience together. One or both of them could have been killed. Liss had been able to drive home and resume her life as if nothing had happened, but her fellow survivor had been set adrift. Until the little dog was safe, her future secure, Liss intended to assume full responsibility for her well-being.

Driving south, approaching the site of the accident, Liss began to feel a bit queasy. The tire tracks she'd left were gone, covered by the slush the plow had thrown onto the shoulder of the road, but she had no trouble spotting the tree she'd come so close to hitting.

She didn't stop. She already knew this wooded area was devoid of habitation. So were the fields on the other side of the road. The last house she had passed leading up to the empty stretch had been some distance back. She planned to stop there on her way home, but for the moment, she kept her eyes peeled, searching for the first house in this direction.

A quarter of a mile passed without any sign of a driveway or side road. Liss slowed to a crawl to make sure she didn't miss anything. There was little traffic at midmorning on a Tuesday. She remembered that it had been clear sailing on the morning the previous day, too. Most adults were already at work. The kids were in school. Just “ladies of leisure” like herself had the freedom to be out and about.

Liss smiled at the notion. There was only one reason she was free to hunt for the Scottie's owner. A few months earlier, she had taken a step back and decided she was driving herself too hard. All work and no play and so forth. Since Monday and Tuesday were traditionally slow days for walk-in customers at Liss's store on the town square, she'd made a change in the hours Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium was open. Wednesday through Sunday, they remained the same, but on the other two days her sign read
BY CHANCE OR APPOINTMENT
. Ordinarily, she went in to work anyway. She had mail and online orders to deal with. This week was an exception.

A superstitious person with the advantage of hindsight might say she should have stayed at home rather than indulge in her shopping spree. Liss was too practical to buy into such a theory, but she did believe in fate. Things happened for a reason. If she hadn't crossed paths with the Scottish terrier in such a dramatic fashion, she'd undoubtedly have run across the little dog—but hopefully not
over
her—at some later date. There was something special about the Scottie. If no owner turned up, Liss was already considering the possibility of adopting her.

When she finally spotted a house, it was set so far back from the road that she almost missed it. A glance at the odometer told her she'd driven almost a mile past the scene of her accident. That was a long way for a small dog with short legs to wander. She pulled into the driveway, parked in front of a tidy cape with dormers, and went to knock at the door.

An elderly woman was at home. Once she'd turned up her hearing aids far enough to understand Liss's question, she shook her head. “Sorry, dear. I don't remember seeing a Scottie dog or hearing any barking last night. No one in the neighborhood owns a dog except the Bentleys over on the Leahy Road. They've got a Doberman.” She grimaced. “He's a big brute, too. He makes me nervous.”

Liss thanked her and went in search of the Bentley house. It wasn't visible from the road Liss had been on, but once she drove south for a bit longer she found a street sign. She understood their neighbor's uneasiness as soon as she got a good look at the dog, but the large, fenced-in area seemed adequate for both the animal's needs and the safety of small animals and nervous passersby. Mrs. Bentley was positive neither had recently ventured onto her property. “Cujo is a terrific guard dog,” she boasted. “Just take a look at those teeth.”

The remainder of Liss's inquiries were equally fruitless. After the last stop—at the farmhouse north of the accident site—she headed for the Moosetookalook Police Department.

“That is one lucky little dog,” Sherri Campbell said when Liss had brought her up to speed.

The two women were in Sherri's office, a cramped space containing two desks, two desk chairs, two hard plastic chairs for visitors, and a large, gunmetal-gray file cabinet. The latter was still in everyday use, despite the advent of “paperless” record keeping. The door behind Liss led to the reception area, furnished with similar plastic chairs and old magazines. Another door, to her left, hid a holding cell, a space so minuscule that Liss had always suspected it had originally been a closet.

“I'm just relieved I didn't actually hit the poor little beastie.” Liss took a sip of premium blend from a recyclable take-out cup bearing the logo of Patsy's Coffee House.

Since the café was on her way, she'd stopped there before intruding on Sherri's workplace. Liss and Dan's house was situated in the middle of one side of the town square. She'd walked to the corner, popped into Patsy's, and from there it had only been a few more yards to the back door of the redbrick municipal building. In addition to the police department, it also housed the town office, the fire department, and the public library.

“That dog wasn't the only lucky one.” Sherri shifted in her chair, adjusting the pillow tucked in at the small of her back.

“Still hurting?” Liss asked.

Sherri grimaced. She was well into her seventh month of pregnancy and could no longer fit into her trim blue Moosetookalook, Maine, police uniform. Fortunately, as chief, she could get away with wearing civvies on the job. She sat behind her desk, across from Liss, her chair tipped slightly back. Although they were out of sight, Liss felt certain Sherri's feet rested on the small footstool she'd brought from home. Sherri rarely complained, but anyone with eyes could see how uncomfortable she was.