Running Scared Part 28

Again the uneasy sensation and suddenly she knew what it was. The dog. She hadn't seen or heard Houndog all morning. She gave a short sharp whistle and listened for an answering bark. All she heard was the gentle pounding of the rain as it started to pour. "Houndog! Come on, boy!" Setting her cup on the table by the platter of cupcakes, she mounted the stairs. Jon was in his room alone. "Have you seen the dog?"

Stretching, Jon yawned and his eyebrows slammed together. "He's not here?"

"Not in the house."

"But-oh, yeah, maybe I left him outside."

"When?"

"He started scratching at the door and whining, like he does when he hears a possum or cat, so I let him out. He took off like a streak across the front yard, barking his head off."

"So you left him outside?"

"He wouldn't come back when I called, so I figured he'd be all right."

She bit her lip. Apprehension knotted her stomach. "When?"

"I don't know. Last night sometime." He rubbed his face and his eyes locked with hers. "Geez, Mom, what? You think something happened to him?"

"Probably not," she lied.

"So where is he? It's not like he ever wanders off." He threw off the covers, and dressed only in his boxer shorts, he searched in the pile of clothes near the foot of the bed for something to wear. Frowning, he came up with a pair of wrinkled jeans and a sweats.h.i.+rt.

"I think I'll look outside."

"We'll find him, Mom."

Was it her imagination or did she hear a little hint of anxiety in his voice? "Of course we will," she lied as she hurried downstairs and into her room. In seconds she was dressed and outside, sidestepping the puddles that were already beginning to collect and calling Houndog's name. Jon, wearing a Mariners' hat, joined her and together they searched the wet acres, trudging through gra.s.s and mud, hoping against hope that they'd come across the puppy, alive and somehow trapped so that he couldn't free himself. But why then wouldn't he whine or bark?

Silently praying that he hadn't been hurt by a pa.s.sing car or truck, she checked the road and stood in the thicket of trees that sheltered the house from the county highway. Where would the dog run off to? Would someone pick him up? Was he hurt somewhere...or was it worse? "Don't borrow trouble," she told herself as she felt the drip of rain soak the hood of her sweats.h.i.+rt. Oh, Houndog, where are you? Oh, Houndog, where are you?

She searched the undergrowth and heard Jon's voice, edged in worry, as he called for his dog and best friend in the world. Around the house and past the rosebushes with their dry leaves and blossoms gone to seed.

Fear congealed in her heart when she walked around the woodshed and saw the pumpkins smashed against a pile of old flagstones. "Did you do this?" she asked but Jon just stared at the seeds and stringy orange pulp that dripped from the pumpkin sh.e.l.ls.

"Neider," he whispered.

"You don't know that."

"Who else?"

"I...I can't imagine."

"d.a.m.n it, Mom, of course, it's Neider." His jaw thrust forward, he blinked hard and fought a brave but losing battle with tears. His discolored face twisted into a determined grimace. "You think he...he killed him?"

"Of course not. Why would he hurt an innocent animal?"

"Neider doesn't need a reason. He's just mean."

"We don't even know it was Todd. Come on, let's go inside." But as they turned, they both saw the walls of the pump house-the time-darkened wood covered with graffiti.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN f.a.g.

CRY BABY.

c.o.c.k SUCKER.

f.u.c.k YOU, SUMMERS.

Ugly, filthy epithets all aimed at Jon and written in neon orange and stark black.

"Oh, Lord," Kate whispered, reading the slurs and hate. "This has got to stop. Come back in the house," she ordered, marching up the steps not really knowing what she would do, but convinced that the police had to be involved. Jon could scream b.l.o.o.d.y murder for all she cared, but she was going to dial Sheriff Swanson and explain to the authorities everything that had happened. She'd just reached for the phone when she heard the sound of a truck pulling into the lane.

Nerves strung tight as new barbed wire, she ran to the front of the house and thought about grabbing the old rifle she had locked in the closet. Look what I've come to, Look what I've come to, she thought, her heart hammering wildly as she recognized Daegan's truck through the blinds. "Thank G.o.d." Flinging open the front door, she ran across the porch and would have willingly thrown herself into his arms if they weren't already full with a wiggling ma.s.s whom she a.s.sumed was Houndog. "No!" she cried just as Jon rounded the corner. she thought, her heart hammering wildly as she recognized Daegan's truck through the blinds. "Thank G.o.d." Flinging open the front door, she ran across the porch and would have willingly thrown herself into his arms if they weren't already full with a wiggling ma.s.s whom she a.s.sumed was Houndog. "No!" she cried just as Jon rounded the corner.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!" He was across the yard in an instant and taking Houndog from Daegan's hands. Tears mingled with the rain as they drizzled down his face.

"At least he's not dead," Daegan said, a dangerous fire burning in his eyes. "I found him on the back porch tied and drugged, I guess."

The dog had been shorn, scratches evident in his naked, mottled skin, only his face and tail showing more than clumps of fur. On his shaved body, the same filthy words had been sprayed.

"I'm gonna wash him."

"No," Kate said, "not yet. Take him into the car and we'll go visit the sheriff." Outrage searing through her blood, she turned to Daegan. "Would you be willing to sign a statement about Todd Neider a.s.saulting Jon and then discovering the dog this morning?"

"Absolutely."

"No!" Jon protested then looked down at the s.h.i.+vering, drowsy dog in his arms. "Fine. Let's go. Just let me wrap him in a blanket."

"I'll drive," Daegan said as Jon ran into the house. A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "I guess it's time I met the sheriff anyway."

"...a shame about the pup, there...we'll investigate, of course, but since you have no proof it was the Neider boy, there's not a lot I can do," Sheriff Swanson said. Fit, trim, with a clipped silver moustache and thick gla.s.ses, the sheriff leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers together. Daegan had grown up not trusting the law and he stared at this military-looking man through suspicious eyes. Swanson was trying hard to placate Kate and she was having none of it.

"It's more than a shame and it's more than criminal," she said through tight lips. "It's downright cruel and immoral and it's got to stop!"

"Hey, I'm not disagreeing with you, Kate. I'll send a deputy out to take pictures of the vandalism, and we've already got shots of the dog." He stared at the little pup s.h.i.+vering in Jon's arms. Between the shaved, painted mutt and Jon's bruised and swollen face, they made a pitiful picture. Just looking at his son caused fury to burn through Daegan's blood, and whether the sheriff did anything or not, Daegan sure as h.e.l.l planned to visit Neider's old man. "As for the charges of a.s.sault," Swanson said, eyeing the signed complaint on the desk, "I believe you. Todd's an ornery character, but the two other boys, Morrisey and Flanders, they're usually not into much trouble. Why, Morrisey's father's a minister down at the First Christian-"

"Just because his old man spouts the word of G.o.d doesn't mean he can't get into trouble," Kate said swiftly.

"I know, but-"

"Those two-Morrisey and Flanders-weren't throwing any punches," Daegan said, unable to keep his mouth shut a second longer. Content to drink the sheriff department's sludgelike coffee, he'd rested his hips against the window sill and nodded in confirmation whenever the sheriff had glanced his way. He'd let Kate and Jon tell their side of the story, but when it became obvious that the law would rather just sweep this "little incident" under the carpet, Daegan had decided to stand up and be counted. "But they were egging him on. And if they say different, they're liars just trying to save their own miserable hides. Cowards, they took off running when I showed up. But the Neider kid, he's the ring leader, the one who needs to be horsewhipped himself."

"I'm afraid that's a little harsh."

"Right," Daegan said sarcastically. "We'll save the whip for his old man." To hear Jon tell it, Carl Neider spent too many nights drinking down at the Plug Nickel. If he escaped a brawl at the tavern, he usually came home mean as a wounded rattler and ready to strike. His primary target was his son. In turn, the oaf of a kid took out his frustrations on smaller boys, primarily Jon.

Swanson smiled at the thought of whipping one of the regulars he had to lock up on Sat.u.r.day nights. "Neider's a mean cuss when he's had a few too many, but he's had a hard row to hoe, what with his wife walkin' out on him when Todd was barely two."

"Doesn't make it right, Swanson. Lots of people raise kids alone these days."

The sheriff promised to look into matters but Daegan wasn't satisfied. "Not exactly a ball of fire," he remarked once they were back in the car and headed to the veterinary clinic on the edge of town.

Doc Martin, a short balding man with a horseshoe of snow-white hair and freckles on his pate, took one look at Houndog and scowled fiercely. "Who did this?" he asked, taking the s.h.i.+vering pup from Jon's hands.

Kate exchanged glances with her son. "We're not sure yet."

"Well, whoever it is, he's one sick individual, isn't that right, Houndog?" Running expert fingers along the dog's body, Doc Martin poked and prodded gently, took Houndog's temperature, looked into his eyes, and p.r.o.nounced him none the worse for wear.

"He's traumatized, naturally. Who wouldn't be? Just because Houndog here is an animal doesn't mean he doesn't realize when he's been mistreated. Isn't that right, fella?" He stroked the pup behind his ears. "Boy, I'd like to get my hands on the jerk who did this." Shaking his head, he looked over the tops of reading gla.s.ses. "I might just get out my own razor and can of paint."

Daegan grinned. "Not a bad idea," he said.

"Just leave this little guy here overnight and we'll clean him up and make sure he's all right," the vet suggested.

By the time they returned to Kate's, it was nearly noon. Daegan parked his truck and turned off the ignition. Over her protests, he walked them to the house, pausing at the pump house where he stood in the wet mashed-down gra.s.s and read the graffiti hastily sprayed on the graying siding. His jaw hardened and Kate watched as a transformation took place. No longer the affable rancher, Daegan, eyes narrowed, muscles tensed, appeared dangerous, even deadly.

His gaze moved to the ground surrounding the old building and to the garden before settling on the horizon. "You know, Jon," he finally said, as if he'd come to some inner decision, one that made Kate's blood run cold. "If you'd like, you can come over to the house and I'll teach you a few things."

"Yeah?" Jon was interested.

Kate didn't like the hard glint in Daegan's eyes. "Like what?"

"To ride a horse, for one." That seemed safe enough.

"Would you? Really?" Jon's black-and-blue face split into a grin.

"Yep, but we'll start with Loco before we move on to Buckshot."

"Why couldn't your horses be named Midnight and Scout? I'd feel a whole lot better," Kate said, still nervous. A soft mist had begun to fall and a breeze stirred her hair.

"That's the way they came." He glanced over at Jon again. "I'll also teach you how to shoot a rifle."

Her gut clenched. "Wait a minute, I don't like guns. Not even BB guns." She couldn't let this man-this stranger-start running her son's life.

"Neither do I," he admitted, turning his gaze back to her and staring hard. She felt as if a raw wind had rushed past her soul. "But living out here, Jon needs to learn to respect how guns work and what kind of damage they can inflict."

"I don't know," she said, still caught in his mesmerizing steely eyes.

"Mom, come on!" Jon insisted, seeing a chance to work with weapons as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Daegan wasn't finished. He dragged his eyes from hers and motioned through the trees to his house. "I was thinking about putting up a punching bag in the old barn, too. Do you have weights?"

Jon shook his head.

"You might want to start with those at first."

Kate felt as if she were losing control, of her son, her life. Aside from the outside forces physically attacking Jon, there was this man who was working some kind of magic on him and her. Maybe he could be trusted, but maybe he couldn't. The jury was still out on Daegan O'Rourke, and even though he'd acted in her and Jon's defense with n.o.bility in the past few days, she wasn't convinced that she could trust him. Not completely. Not yet. "Let's just slow down a minute, okay? I'm not letting you turn Jon into some kind of...Rambo."

"Ah, Mom-"

"Shh!" she said. "This isn't how we live our lives, Jon. We're not survivalists or-"

"Maybe you should be." Daegan was serious and she felt a frisson of cold fear slide down her spine. "This"-he motioned to the ugly words scrawled on the wall-"won't end here."

"Oh, G.o.d."

"It's just the beginning."

"How do you know?"

"I was a kid once, too. Had my share of fights. Knew guys like Neider." His eyebrows slammed together and his eyes thinned to a distance only he could see-a distance that looked past time. "Jon just needs to learn to defend himself, that's all."

"Yeah, Mom, why not?"

"No guns," she said firmly. "If you want to teach him about wrestling or boxing or whatever...that's okay, but no firearms."

"Mom," Jon protested.

"Don't argue with me, Jon. Go on in and clean up and I'll make lunch-"

"But I want to-"

"Now!" she said, at the breaking point. With the anxiety she'd felt over Houndog, the fear for her son's safety when it came to Neider, the worry about his dreams, and now these new frightening emotions that gripped her every time she was with Daegan, her patience was running thin.

For once Jon didn't push the issue, and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he turned on his heel and headed for the house. When he'd rounded the pump house and was out of earshot, she said, "You're scaring me, you know."

"You should be scared."

"Because of Todd Neider or because of something else?" she asked, the words tumbling after each other. She felt the cool mist against her face and the wind tug at the hem of her jacket. He stared at her long and hard, as if weighing what he knew about her in his mind. His gaze flicked to her lips and she realized in a heart-stopping second that he was going to kiss her.

The back of her mouth turned to cotton and she licked her lips as his head lowered and his breath caressed her skin. "I'm just telling you to be careful, Kate. You can't go around being a Pollyanna, believing that everything will turn out right just because you want it to."

"I'm not."

"Then give the boy a chance. Cut the ap.r.o.n strings, let him learn to defend himself."