Something Deadly

Then he spied Markie. For some reason, she didn’t like the way he walked toward her. It wasn’t the way he moved—with a supple, graceful ease—but rather the look on his face. He bore down on her as if…as if she were guilty of something.

Kato, however, chose this moment to assume his best “I’m a cute doggie” pose, lying down with his head between his paws and looking upward soulfully. She almost huffed back at him.

“Dr. Cross,” Declan said, extending a hand.

“Yes. And you’re Dr. Quinn.”

“That’s me. Not the medicine woman.” His mouth twisted into a roguish smile.

“I never would have made that mistake.” Impossibly, she felt herself smile back.

His smile evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “Is there a reason you’re waiting out here? Did you have something you wanted to tell someone?”

This could get embarrassing, she thought. “Uh, no. I’m here because my dog dragged me here and won’t let me leave. He’s stubborn.”

Declan squatted and looked at Kato. “What’s his name?”

“Kato.”

“Hi, Kato.” Declan held his hand out, palm up. Kato lifted his head, sniffing the hand at a distance. His ears flattened back against his head.

“He’s part wolf,” Markie said. “He doesn’t make friends easily.”

“I can see that,” Declan said. “Should I be worried?”

“No. Putting his ears back is a submissive posture. It means he’s wary of your strength.”

He looked up. “Well, he has no need to be.”

He reached out and brushed his fingertips over Kato’s head. The dog accepted the touch, but Markie could see the tension in his haunches.

“Better to let him come to you,” she said quietly. “When he’s ready.”

Declan stood, and Kato rose to his feet, sniffed the air again, and made a low, mournful sound. Markie felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.

Declan seemed to sense something, too, and took a half step back. “Does he do that often?”

“Only when he’s trying to tell me something.”

Those brilliant blue eyes fixed on her. “What’s he trying to tell you?”

“I haven’t a clue. Did you hear the dogs barking earlier?”

“Sort of. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“It was like every dog on the island was sounding off. After that, he got nervous, so I decided to bring him for a walk.”

“And you wound up here?”

“He dragged me here. And once we got here, he wouldn’t let me leave.”

Declan gave her a long look, as if measuring her truthfulness. Apparently satisfied, he squatted again. Kato sat and met the man stare for stare.

“What do you know, boy?” the doctor asked quietly. “Do you know something?”

The question chilled Markie. “It wasn’t a heart attack?”

Declan looked up at her. “I won’t know for sure until the autopsy.” The apparently straightforward statement seemed to Markie to be withholding something. As if there were more, but he wouldn’t discuss it.

Once again, he straightened. “Can I give the two of you a ride home?”

“That’s up to Kato.”

Declan took a step in the direction of his car. “Come on, Kato, time to go home.”

To Markie’s surprise, the dog followed.

“Make a liar of me,” Markie said under her breath.

Kato looked up at her and yawned.

Across town, a telephone rang. Tim Roth hit the pause button for the DVD player and picked up the cordless receiver at his elbow. “Yes?”

“Carter Shippey’s dead,” Steve Chase said.

“And?”

“There are cops all over the place.”

“So?”

“If they find the hole…”

“If they find the hole, it’ll mean nothing at all. It’s under his house.” Tim paused, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. “How did he die?”

“I’m told they think it’s a heart attack.”

“Those happen.”

“What if it wasn’t? What if she’s back?”

Tim sighed heavily. “That’s myth and local legend. Carter was aging, and not well. He’d been sedentary ever since he sold his fishing boat. Not a good recipe for longevity.”

“What about his wife?”

“Nothing’s changed. She thinks we’re looking for a leak in the water main.”

“All right. All right.”