Home to the Harbor--A Novel Page 6

  The dog, a medium-sized, short-haired beauty, snarled when she reached out her hand.

  “Don’t touch it,” Kaitlyn said. “Dad says all animals will bite when they’re hurt.”

  Sunny studied the creature’s back, keeping a safe distance. “It’s got a big cut.”

  “Its ear is torn, too.” Kaitlyn pulled out her phone. “No service. We should go get help—my dad or the vet.”

  “Or the police,” Sunny said. “I think someone did this to her.” There were too many wounds in odd places. Maybe the dog had been hurt before and gotten attacked by a predator in its weakness.

  “Come on!” Kaitlyn started backing away toward the path. “Let’s get help.”

  Sunny bit her lip. “I don’t want to leave her. You go.”

  Kaitlyn hesitated, then squatted down and studied the dog. “Okay. I will. Be careful.” Kaitlyn jogged back the way they’d come.

  Sunny sat down near the dog and slowly stretched out a hand to it. It strained toward her, then pulled back. She could see its ribs.

  “Hey, be careful.” The male voice startled her, and the dog yelped and struggled, trying to get to its feet.

  Sunny turned and there was Caden, just a few feet away. “What are you doing here? Did you follow us?”

  “I come out this way a lot,” he said, which wasn’t really an answer. He knelt down, a safe distance from the dog, and it stopped struggling and subsided back down with a sigh. “Maybe give her some water.”

  Sunny wished she’d thought of that. She pulled a water bottle out of her day pack, hesitated, and then poured the water into her cupped hand and extended it to the dog. From this angle, she could see that it was a female.

  “I didn’t mean in your hand! You’re gonna get bit,” Caden warned.

  But the dog sniffed the water and then took a couple of laps, then a couple more. Sunny refilled her hand and the dog drank thirstily. “I wonder how long she’s been here? And what might have happened?” She glanced at Caden.

  He shook his head. “People are crazy.”

  “You think someone did this to her?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen animals killed by other animals, and they don’t look like her. If another animal hurt her to that extent, it would probably have done it for food, and...” He trailed off.

  “And she’d be dead and half eaten,” Sunny finished. Slowly and carefully, she refilled her hand once more and let the dog drink. “But it doesn’t look like something a human would do, does it? And anyway, why? Why would anyone do that?”

  Caden shook his head. “My mom used to volunteer at a shelter. She came home with all kinds of stories.”

  Sunny tilted her head to one side. “You said you can’t live at home now. But your mom sounds nice, if she worked for a shelter.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Her charitable activities never last longer than a couple of weeks,” he said. He nodded toward the dog. “See if you can pet her.”

  That was an obvious change of subject. Was Caden in trouble, so much that he’d gotten kicked out of his house?

  The dog whined, and Sunny leaned forward and carefully rubbed her neck, taking the opportunity to study the torn ear.

  Voices and the sound of bushwhacking warned of Kaitlyn’s approach, and sure enough, she came into view. With her was her father and a police officer they knew, Trey Harrison.

  “There they are!” Kaitlyn sounded out of breath. She led her father over to them, and he knelt and tilted back his head, squinting a little. He was mostly but not entirely blind, and he was good with dogs.

  “Did you see anyone else around here when you found the dog?” Trey asked.

  Sunny looked toward Caden, but he was gone, and she gulped. How could he be gone? He must have taken off the minute they’d heard the others.

  “Nobody else was here,” Kaitlyn said, relieving Sunny of the need to answer.

  “Is its tail docked? Ears?” Kaitlyn’s dad, Mr. Martin, asked.

  Kaitlyn leaned one way, trying to see the dog’s tail.

  Sunny leaned forward again, studying its ears. The dog cringed away, quivering, probably scared of the newcomers. “It just has regular ears, I think,” she said. “Small and flopping over a little.”

  “Tail’s docked,” Kaitlyn announced.

  Trey knelt down beside Drew. “You’re thinking dogfighting?”

  “Just asking what we’d ask back in Baltimore,” Mr. Martin said. That was where he and Kaitlyn and the rest of their family had lived before, back when he’d been a police officer. “We had some problems with it.”

  Trey shook his head, frowning. “I’ve heard of problems with dogfighting around here, but I’ve never seen direct evidence.” He studied the dog, holding his hand out for it to sniff, and surprisingly, the little creature allowed it. “This doesn’t look like much of a fighting dog, though.”

  “You think someone abused the animal?” Kaitlyn’s dad asked, his voice going flat.

  Sunny’s heart was pounding now. Should she tell them that Caden had been here? Could he have abused the dog and then made up the story about his mom to cover it up?

  But she didn’t think so. She’d be able to tell if he were that much of a jerk. He’d seemed interested in the dog’s welfare.

  “Could be abuse,” Trey said. He pulled out a leash. “Could be something else. I’m going to put this on her and we’ll take her up to the pound.”

  “No,” Sunny said.

  Trey, Mr. Martin and Kaitlyn all turned toward her. “What do you mean, no?” Kaitlyn’s dad asked.

  “No pound for this girl,” she said. “I’m taking her home to stay with my mom and me.”

  * * *

  “NO WAY CAN we keep her.” Bisky set down her grocery bags, parked her hands on her hips, and looked at two pairs of puppy-dog eyes, one pair belonging to a pitiful-looking medium-sized dog, and the other pair to Sunny. They were huddled together in the middle of her kitchen floor. “She needs veterinary care that’s going to be really expensive, and even if she can get healthy, she’s going to have a lot of issues.”

  Sunny cradled the dog closer. The white towel she was using to hold it—one of Bisky’s new ones, of course—was dotted with blood. “They were gonna take her to the pound, Mom.”

  “The pound would have the means to deal with a dog like that.” Bisky knelt to look at the dog more closely. “What happened to her, anyway?”

  “We don’t know, but Kaitlyn and her dad think somebody abused her. That, or she was in a dogfight. Like, a professional one, you know? We found her in the woods.”

  Bisky drew in a breath to reiterate that no, they couldn’t take this project on, when there was a pounding on the screen door. “Open up! Police!”

  Since the door was open, Bisky heard another officer’s comment. “Don’t come on strong like that when you’re just asking questions in the community! Hey, Bisky, you in there?”

  She rose to her feet and went to open the door. “Sure am. Hey, Evan. Jimmy.”

  “Mind if we come in and ask a few questions?” Evan stepped in front of Jimmy as if making sure he didn’t open his fool mouth again.

  “Not if you grab a couple of those grocery bags outta my truck,” she said, “since my kid is too busy to help her mom.”

  “That’s not our job—” Jimmy started to say.

  “No problem,” Evan interrupted. “Jimmy will bring them right in.”

  Bisky smiled a little as she let Evan in the house, then held the door for the blustering and complaining Jimmy Colerain. “What’s up, gentlemen?”

  “We need to talk to your daughter.” Jimmy thumped the grocery bags down on the kitchen table, probably breaking Bisky’s eggs.

  Bisky stiffened. No way was she letting this pair take an aggressive tone toward her daughter. She stepped between the officers and the spot where
Sunny and the dog sat now; they’d shifted to the corner of the kitchen, and Sunny’s back was against the wall.

  “If you don’t mind, that is,” Evan said. He was relatively new in town, but he seemed like a sensible person, wanting to connect with the locals and help in any way he could.

  Jimmy Colerain, on the other hand, had grown up here, and while he was only a part-time cop, probably one of the chief’s projects, he had an inflated sense of his own importance.

  “What do you want to talk to Sunny about?” She kept her arms crossed and stared Jimmy down. Sometimes, it was nice to be a bigger and taller woman.

  “That abused dog there,” Jimmy said.

  Evan glared at Jimmy, then smiled apologetically at Bisky. “We’d like to talk to her a little more about what she saw and heard.”

  “And it takes two of you? Do you think she did something to the dog? Because I’m looking at a girl who had the courage to help a poor wounded creature, and I don’t see why you need to come in here acting threatening.”

  Evan cleared his throat. “There are two of us because Jimmy’s getting some mentoring about how to talk to members of the community,” he said evenly. “He won’t be participating from here on out, just watching. Isn’t that right.” He looked at Jimmy.

  The younger man’s face reddened.

  Evan continued to stare him down.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Jimmy said finally.

  “You can ask her a few questions,” Bisky said to Evan, “if that’s okay with her. What do you think, Sunny?”

  “It’s fine, Mom.” Don’t embarrass me was the implied subtext, which meant that Sunny was comfortable with the basic situation.

  “We wanted to know if she saw anyone else hanging around where the dog was found, or heard anything.” Evan knelt down beside Sunny and looked at the dog, shaking his head. “We’d sure like to catch whoever did this to an innocent dog.”

  Sunny shook her head rapidly. “No, we didn’t see anyone.”

  Bisky frowned. She knew her daughter, and Sunny had said that too fast. She was hiding something.

  “No other teenagers?” Evan asked. Maybe he’d heard the lie in her voice, too.

  “Some of the dock kids?” Jimmy said from his station by the door.

  Bisky glared at him.

  “C’mon,” he said, “Y’all skin muskrats for fun.”

  Bisky tensed and glanced over at Sunny. She wanted to give Jimmy a piece of her mind, but she didn’t want to embarrass Sunny or set a bad example.

  “Shut up, Colerain,” Evan said.

  “Well, it’s the truth! Y’all do skin muskrats.”

  Bisky opened her mouth to chew him out. This was exactly why the dock kids struggled.

  Sunny cleared her throat. “Y’all,” she said from the floor, drawing out the word for emphasis, “y’all eat hamburgers. Do you know about conditions in slaughterhouses? Because I can give you some details if you’d like. Show you a video, although it’s pretty graphic. It might upset you, but it might also make you wonder who’s really into abusing animals.”

  Evan winced, and Jimmy reddened, and Bisky smiled. That’s my girl.

  There was another knock at the door, and Bisky turned to see William there.

  “Come on in,” she said. “Join the fun. We’re suspected of abusing animals now.”

  “What?” He looked from Jimmy to Evan.

  “Because of how we supposedly skin muskrats for fun,” Sunny explained. She was stroking the dog’s head now.

  “That’s a cultural thing!” William frowned.

  “You’ll have to tell me about that some day.” Evan looked from William to Bisky. He sounded genuinely interested.

  William drew himself up to his full height, which meant that his head was practically scraping the ceiling. “I’m sure there’s a demonstration you could attend, or a book you could read on the subject,” he said to Evan. All of a sudden, he sounded like the professor he was, and he also sounded like he was scolding a student. Why, she couldn’t fathom.

  “Right. Well, I’ll just ask Sunny a couple more questions.” Evan settled into a sitting position and petted the dog some more. “Tell me again about the spot where you found her,” he said to Sunny. “Do you know of anyone who hangs around that area? Any particular reason you went hiking there today?”

  As Sunny denied knowledge of anything, Bisky was again conscious that her daughter was hiding something. She didn’t suspect Sunny of hurting the dog herself. No way would Sunny have anything to do with abusing an animal, Bisky would stake her life on that. But as a mother, she could see that Sunny wasn’t telling the whole story.

  “We’ll continue to investigate,” Evan said, standing. “If you think of anything, let us know right away. We don’t want anyone mistreating animals in this community.”

  Jimmy let out some kind of snort under his breath. Evan frowned, and the police officers left. Evan started scolding the younger officer as soon as they got outside.

  “We’re keeping this dog,” Sunny said when the officers’ car started up and they drove away.

  Bisky frowned. William shrugged.

  The last thing Bisky wanted in her house, as her responsibility, was an abused dog. She wasn’t the type of parent who had trouble saying no, either.

  But when she looked at Sunny’s face, she blew out a breath. “This is probably a big mistake,” she said, “but we’ll give the dog a home for now.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WILLIAM PACED THE small kitchen of Victory Cottage. Looking out the window at the wind-tossed bay didn’t provide the usual comfort.

  He hadn’t slept well and was still on edge. The scene at Bisky’s yesterday had bothered him for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

  That cop who’d made comments about dock kids was irritating, but William knew the type, had grown up with them. A little better off than the families that worked the water, they’d trumpeted their superiority as a way to bolster themselves up. He’d had bigger problems back then, and the jokes had run off him like rainwater off a duck’s back.

  It hadn’t been Jimmy Colerain who’d caused his insomnia. It was the other one. The good-looking officer who’d seemed all too interested in learning about Bisky and connecting with her.

  He climbed up the stairs as Sunday morning church bells rang somewhere in town. He’d do his laundry and clean the place, pay his bills. Maybe he’d get to work fixing that broken segment of fence he’d seen yesterday.

  The sound of the doorbell startled him and he realized he hadn’t heard it since arriving in town a week ago. Who would be coming over this early on a Sunday? He barely knew anyone in town, these days.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, went downstairs and opened the door.

  There was Bisky.

  He sucked in a breath. She wore a denim skirt, above knee length and fitted, with a red sweater that suited her coloring. Her face was pink and the breeze off the bay lifted her loose hair from her shoulders.

  He’d wondered what she would look like with her hair down, and the answer was, good. She looked good.

  He also couldn’t help but notice her curves. When had Bisky turned into such a knockout?

  She cleared her throat and smiled, looking a little nervous. “Did I wake you up?”

  “No. Come on in.” He held the door, gestured her into the kitchen and watched the sway of her walk, mesmerized.

  She looked over her shoulder and frowned. “You okay? If you’re not in the mood for company, just say so. Although I’m not here for a visit.”

  Stop looking at her like that, it’s Bisky. “I’m glad to see you,” he said truthfully, following her, “but if not for a visit, then what’s up?”

  “I’m taking you to church,” she said.

  He stopped. “I don’t go to church.”

 
“Maybe that’s your problem. Come on.” She softened her words with a smile. “There’s a lunch after. Everyone brings stuff, and some of them are amazing cooks.”

  He looked out the window to stop himself from staring at this new version of his old friend.

  Going to church. His family hadn’t gone, ever. Like other kids in Pleasant Shores, he’d gotten dragged along with friends and neighbors sometimes, but he’d always felt like people looked at him funny, talking about the big dock kid in the ragged clothes, wondering what he was doing there.

  When he’d married Ellie, it had been in a church, and they’d attended church on holidays. And later, in the dark months after Jenna had been killed, a couple of friends had practically forced him into counseling with a local pastor, who’d given him some books and bible passages to read and had prayed with him.

  He couldn’t say whether it had helped or not. Nothing had really helped, but the pastor had brought him back from the brink of despair, reminded him he had things to live for still, could do some good in the world.

  In honor of that guy, and because it was Bisky who was asking, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”

  “Good.” But when he grabbed his jacket, she just stood there, eyebrows raised. “Do you have anything nicer to wear?”

  “I...” He looked down at his jeans and T-shirt, and it all flooded back to him. The dock folks had tended to dress up for church, while the richer town folks dressed down. “We still wear our Sunday clothes?” he asked.

  She smiled and nodded. “You said ‘we,’” she said. “You’re one of us still.”

  So he had. So he was. He trotted upstairs and put on khakis and a polo shirt. “Is there time for me to shave?” he called down.

  “If you hurry.”

  So he did a quick shave and added a sports jacket, and went downstairs, feeling better.

  She smiled when she saw him. “You look like a professor,” she said, and there was something that resembled appreciation in her eyes.

  That put a spring in his step, and they walked out together into the early spring morning, keeping a brisk pace so they’d get there on time.