Laying Down the Paw (25 page)

Brigit had been plotting revenge until Megan stopped at a pet supply store, took Brigit inside, and found her a suitable substitute—a stuffed mallard duck.

Yeah. Brigit had Megan wrapped around her paw.

Sucker.

 

THIRTY-SIX

SLAVE LABOR

Dub

After a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast, Dub brushed his teeth and got dressed. His phone rang as he was tying his basketball shoes. An older couple who lived only a few blocks from the tornado's path needed someone to clean up the broken tree limbs in their yard and replace a few fence boards that had blown away.

“Attic needs a little cleaning out, too,” the old man said. “Shouldn't take you more than an hour or so. We'd be willing to pay you twenty dollars.”

Twenty dollars wouldn't get him far, but at least the work would get him out of the apartment for a while.

As he walked out to his van, he came across Long Dong and Gato putting bottles of liquor into the trunk of Gato's Sentra.

Long Dong waved Dub over. “We're going to the high school later to see if we can sell some of this shit. Grab your cigarettes and come with us.”

“Thanks, man,” Dub said. “But I got some things I gotta do today.”

“Like what?” Gato asked.

Like it's none of your damn business
, Dub thought. But he said, “Got a girl to go see.”
If only.
He didn't want these jerks to try to horn in on his odd job business.

Gato cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “You'll be missin' out. Sellin' this stuff to those kids will be like shooting fish in a tank.”

“Where's Marquise?” Dub asked. If this was such a great opportunity, why wasn't their leader involved?

“He's already unloaded his take,” Long Dong said. “He's got some friend who works at a restaurant. Bought all his liquor and cigarettes.”

Looked like Marquise had cut the others out of the deal. Dub didn't point that out, though. It could come back to bite him in the ass. So could giving Gato and Long Dong the brush-off. Guys like this, you were either with them or you were against them. “I'll try to meet up with you if I can,” Dub said. “What time you going over there?”

“When school lets out at three,” Gato said. “We'll be in the lot.”

“Okay,” Dub said. “But if I don't get by there today, count me in next time?”

Gato cut him a sharp look. “We'll see.”

*   *   *

You people be crazy,
Dub thought.
An hour's work, my ass.

The attic was packed with box after box of kids' toys, old clothing, and kitchen stuff. Their stepladder shook each time he carried a load down. He wouldn't be surprised if the thing folded up under him. The couple watched him closely, like they thought he might pocket some of their precious possessions. What the hell would he want with a dozen sets of animal-shaped salt and pepper shakers?

It took him two and a half hours to empty the attic, and another fifteen minutes to sweep it out to the old lady's satisfaction. The fence—
whoa
—that was a whole 'nother story. It was no wonder the dang thing blew over. Most of the boards were so weathered they'd split, and the support posts were rotted around the bottom. He drove to the closest Home Depot and spent sixty dollars of his own money on fence boards and nails. The old man wouldn't give him cash up front. He probably thought Dub would take the cash and never come back. Hell, if anyone was getting robbed here it was Dub.

He returned with the boards and gave the receipt to the old man, who hung over him in the backyard while he worked.

“Make sure that nail's straight,” the man said. “Get that board flush up against the one next to it.”

When Dub finally left five hours later with the twenty-dollar profit, he felt cheated again. He'd made only four bucks an hour, far less than minimum wage.

Why did life keep kicking him in the balls?

 

THIRTY-SEVEN

SHOOTERS AND CHASERS

Megan

After speaking with Stefan Nicolescu, I'd driven to a nearby church, pulled into the lot, and ran a background check on the guy. He had no prior convictions, no arrests, not even a fine for an overdue library book.

Hmm.

Nicolescu might have a clean record, but he definitely seemed like an odd duck. Being the sucker that I am, I'd then stopped by a pet supply store and bought Brigit a stuffed duck. A run-of-the-mill mallard, nothing odd about this one. I didn't normally shop while on duty, but since Brigit was my partner and, thus, an official cop, I figured tending to her needs counted as legitimate police work. I'd also driven back to Tessa Gilpin's house and tossed the soggy raccoon onto her porch. Restitution.

Later Tuesday afternoon, as I cruised by Owen Haynes's place for the bazillionth time, dispatch came over the radio.

“We've got a report of thugs selling liquor in the parking lot at Trimble Tech High School. Who can respond?”

My “Officer Luz and Brigit responding” crossed Derek's response on the airwaves. “Officer Mackey on the way.”

Not one to back down, I put the pedal to the metal and hightailed it over to the school. The tree-shaped pine-scented air freshener I'd picked up at the gas station swung to the side as I careened around the corner that led to the school.

It was easy to tell where the illegal pop-up sale was taking place. A dozen kids were gathered around a silver Nissan Sentra at the back of the parking lot. Fortunately, they were too distracted by the promise of liquor to pay attention to the cop heading their way.

I turned on my flashing lights as I drove across the half-empty lot. My eyes spotted the Big Dick coming in from the other side. He, too, turned on his lights. Both of us drove as fast as we dared through the lot, nearly colliding as we pulled our cars to a V behind the crowd.

I grabbed the mic for my public address system just as Derek grabbed his. Our orders came out like this.

Me: “Don't—”

Derek: “Stop—”

Me: “—move—”

Derek: “—right there!”

Me: “—or else!”

Ignoring our garbled demands, most of the teenagers who'd been lined up scattered like fire ants from a mound that had been poked with a stick, disappearing among the remaining cars in the lot or running off down side streets. As they scattered, they revealed two men facing the open trunk, their backs to me.

As I leaped from the Barfmobile, the two men turned around and my eyes met those of the men selling the booze.
Holy Mary, it's the Latino and the Asian from the Bag-N-Bottle.

“Put your hands in the air!” I pointed at them with my left hand while using my right to yank my baton from my belt. I flicked my wrist and extended the stick with a
snap!

The men looked from me to Derek, lifting their hands, but only as high as their chests.

The Big Dick stepped up on my right. “Put your hands in the air!”

I slid a glare to Derek. “I already said that.”

“They clearly didn't listen to you.”

True.
Dammit.

“These guys drew on me Saturday,” I told my former partner. “They might be armed.”

Derek raised his chin in acknowledgment and pulled his gun from his belt. “I said to put your hands in the air! Don't make me tell you twice.”

“Technically,” I told Derek, “you already have told them twice.”

“Shut up, Luz,” he muttered.

When the men still failed to raise their hands, Derek stormed toward them. The Latino took off running in one direction, the Asian in the other. Derek dashed after the Asian. That left the Latino for me.

I let Brigit out of the cruiser and gave her the command to stay close by my side. With so many inexperienced teenaged drivers in the vicinity, I wasn't about to send her down the street alone. We set off after the guy, the two of us chasing him down the road, past a row of medical offices, and into a neighborhood. The guy was fast and nimble, darting around parked cars, garbage cans, and small children. When a school bus pulled through an intersection, the big yellow roadblock gave him an advantage. By the time my partner and I could circle around the behemoth, the guy had disappeared.

“Shit!”

A little girl who'd climbed out of the school bus gave me a stern look. “You're not s'pposed to say that word.”

Sheesh.
“Cut me some slack, kid,” I said as I glanced around, trying to figure out where my quarry had gone. “I'm t-trying to make the world a safer place for you.”

Derek pulled up in his cruiser, the Asian man secured in the back. The suspect's nose was bloody, his forehead scraped raw. Looked like he'd taken a nice skid across the asphalt.

A snide grin spread Derek's lips when he saw me empty-handed. “Mackey one,” he said, “Luz zero.”

Jackass.

“It's not over yet.” I gave Brigit the order to follow the scent. She put her nose to the ground and began to sniff her way forward, with me following on her furry heels.

Derek trailed us in his cruiser, acting like the ass he was the entire time. “Come on, bitch!” he called. “Let's see what you've got! Let's see what your dog can do, too!”

When he barked with laughter, I turned to him. “You want me to tase you again?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn't dare.”

He was right, of course. The last time I'd lost my temper and used it on Derek the Chief had nearly canned me. One more wrong step on my part and I'd be out of a job, my dreams of becoming a top-notch detective down the toilet.

I returned my attention to my dog. She sniffed and snuffled her way up to a six-foot privacy fence that enclosed the backyard of a house that sat on a corner lot. Standing on her hind legs, she leaned up against the fence and sniffed along the top. She sat down, letting me know the guy had gone over the fence.

I stepped closer and peeked between the fence boards. I saw nothing in the backyard other than a rusty metal garden shed.
Could the man be inside?

I turned back to Derek. “Go see if anyone's home who can let us into the backyard.”

He scowled, but did as I asked, parking his car at the curb as he went around to the front of the house. A minute later he came back around the corner. “Nobody's home.”

We checked the gate, but it had a solid padlock on it. Looked like there was only one way to get past this fence—by going
over
it.

Realizing Brigit wouldn't be able to jump the tall fence on her own, I bent over to form a human vault and issued her the order to scale the fence. With her love for the chase, she was more than happy to oblige.

The hundred-pound dog took a running leap toward me and bounced off my back, sailing gracefully over the top of the fence while I fell to my hands and knees on the sidewalk.
Oomph!

My partner sniffed her way up to the shed and began to bark wildly at the door, her tail whipping back and forth in excitement.

“He's in there,” I told Derek. “Now the score is even.”

“Not yet it's not.” He grabbed the top of the fence and pulled himself up in an instant, swinging his legs over and dropping to the lawn on the other side.

Oh, hell no.

I darted back a few feet and took a running leap at the fence, my feet scrabbling against it as I pulled myself up and over, ignoring the rough wood digging into my palms.

The two of us ran for the shed, reaching it simultaneously. “We know you're in there!” I yelled. “Come out now or I'll send my dog in after you!”

I really didn't want to send Brigit in. This guy was the one who'd threatened to shoot my partner the other day. If he hurt her, God help him. I'd beat the guy with my baton until he was nothing but a fleshy mess on the lawn.

There was no response from within the shed.

“Get your ass out here!” Derek ordered. “Or I'll send my dog in there, too!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I whispered. “You don't have a dog.”

Derek cut me a snarky smile and squatted, his hands on his knees. “Bow-wow!” he barked, the sound deep and scary and surprisingly doglike. “Bow-wow-wow!”

A small voice came from within the shed. “All right! I give up! Call off your dogs!”

“Down, boy,” I said to Derek.

He chuckled and stepped aside. “Come out with your hands in the air.”

I called Brigit back to my side and we backed a few feet away. I pulled out my gun and held it at the ready just in case the guy tried to pull a fast one. When the metal door slid open and he stepped out, I issued the order for Brigit to take him down. For one, she deserved to have the fun of bringing this guy down after tracking him here. And, for two, she could get to the guy faster than either Derek or I could.

Brigit ran around behind the man and jumped onto his back like she was playing a rough game of leapfrog. The man careened forward and fell to the ground, his chest hitting the dirt with a
fwump
.

I stepped over, put a foot on the man's rump, and cut Derek a snarky smile of my own. “This one belongs to the bitches.”

 

THIRTY-EIGHT

ALL JERK, NO JERKY

Brigit

Brigit was surprised to hear Derek barking. Of course, if translated, his attempts to speak the canine language would translate roughly as “I'm a human idiot who should be neutered so that I cannot reproduce.” Dogs could understand around 165 human words, but humans? They could never seem to pick up dog language.
Poor, dumb creatures.

After Brigit had taken down the man who'd been hiding in the shed, Megan held up her palm and Brigit tapped it with her paw, giving her partner a high five as she'd been trained to do. She didn't much see the point in the exercise, but she could tell it was a celebration of sorts and she didn't want to deny her partner her bragging rights, even if Brigit had done the bulk of the work here.