4 Woof at the Door Page 6

  I steeled myself as best I could with the intention of feeling for his carotid artery, but I realized it was too late. Ty was dead. His throat had been slit.

  Chapter 6

  Against my will, I studied Ty’s body, horrified and yet mesmerized. Part of me was screaming that my eyes were playing tricks, that if I looked hard enough, the horror would be exposed as some elaborate Halloween-style hoax.

  This was crazy. Ty’s arms and chest were covered with scars, as well as by fresh claw and bite marks. Ty’s pants were ripped in numerous places, the accompanied jagged wounds there all too apparent. Yet the cuts on his fingers were straight lines, as if he’d defended himself against the knife-wielder.

  How could Ty be dead—stabbed to death, I was certain—yet wounded from bites and claw marks all over his body? Had he been attacked by Doobie, closed him up in a closet, then gotten stabbed to death in his kitchen? That made no sense. The scars on his arms appeared to be healed bite wounds.

  “Allida?” Beverly called. “Is everything all right?”

  That had to be the stupidest question I’d ever heard. “No, it’s Ty. He’s dead.”

  Beverly shouted, “Paige. Why didn’t you call the police! Allida’s in there, and she says Ty is dead.”

  “Oh, my God!” Paige cried. “I’ll go call now. I thought my dog might be inside. I didn’t want the police to shoot her.”

  What was wrong with these people? What kind of an idiot hears a dog growling, a man cry for help, and phones a dog psychologist instead of the police! A better question: What kind of an idiot dog psychologist enters a house under these circumstances?

  I spotted an old-fashioned black phone on the wall on the other side of Ty’s body. The telephone cord below it had been cut. Ty was beyond help, and I needed to get out of here. There could still be a second dog, who at this moment might be on the other side of whatever door the locked-in dog was behind.

  I started to head for the back door, but my vision grayed. I closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to summon the strength to leave this horrible place without vomiting or passing out.

  Just then I heard a rumbling growl, coming from the direction of the living room. Oh, good Lord! Was this Doobie? I whirled around toward the sound.

  It was a wolf.

  I gasped, feeling my blood turn to ice water.

  The wolf considered the body his kill. That also meant he was worried I might steal it from him. I had to get away from Ty’s body.

  “Twenty feet” popped into my head—some obscure fact about the distance wild animals instinctively registered as a sufficient distance for other animals to maintain. Or was it twenty yards? Meters?

  My heart in my throat, I backed away from Ty and from the wolf, being careful not to look him straight in the eye, which the wolf would take as a direct challenge. Crap! If anyone ever needed a bigger kitchen, this was the time. This room was too small to allow me the distance I needed from Ty’s body.

  Petrified, I backed to the opposite corner of the kitchen, along the same wall as the door, bumping into the refrigerator. Still facing the wolf, I smoothly boosted myself up on the counter. The wolf could easily leap up here after me. I could only pray that he wouldn’t.

  The wolf was still standing in the beaded entranceway of the kitchen. If he’d flown to the attack immediately, I’d be history. He had to have been checking out whatever door Doobie was behind till he heard me in the kitchen.

  I struggled to keep from panicking—to think of a means of escape. I would have to get down on the floor and flatten myself to make it out the dog door. Might as well make a general announcement that I was wolf bait. Nor could I make it to another room in the house. Wolves can run some forty miles an hour, and there was no chance of my sneaking out the doorway when that damned beaded curtain started clacking.

  The wolf took a couple of silent steps toward me, his muscles moving in perfect coordination. I was about to die at the claws and jaws of a graceful, beautiful animal. Small consolation. This wolf had a slightly darker coat and was smaller than Kaia—but I wouldn’t want to stake my life on my belief that this was a different wolf from the one I’d met. Was this wolf domesticated?

  Doobie, in the meantime, was making a relentless racket from the other room. I had no idea if this was going to drive the wolf into a greater frenzy or, with the possibility of Doobie making a flank attack, distract the wolf from attacking me.

  The wolf padded closer. I flattened myself against the cabinets. A growl rumbled in his chest. His muscles were primed to spring at me.

  “Allida?” Beverly called, pushing open the dog door a crack. “Are you coming out?”

  The wolf started to head toward the dog door. I couldn’t let him get out! He’d dash through that opening and maul Beverly before she had any idea what hit her!

  “Get back, Bev!” I hollered. “Block the dog door!”

  I had the two sturdy choke collars in my hand, which would do me no good as long as the wolf was set to attack me. If I could get the lead on him, I might be able to stop him from heading through the dog door.

  “What’s going on?” Beverly yelled, but also let the dog door swing shut behind her.

  “There’s a wolf in here!” My hands were shaking so badly I dropped one leash. I crouched down on the counter and, with trembling hands, managed to loop the leash through the facing handles of the side-by-side refrigerator/freezer.

  In the seconds that this action took, the wolf growled at me. He seemed torn by competing instincts, by judging who was the greater threat to steal his prey—me or Beverly on the other side of the dog door. He took the triangular approach and trotted over to Ty’s body, keeping menacing yellow eyes on both me and the dog door.

  Growling and in a stealth-like crouch, the wolf darted back toward me. I stood up again, still on the counter.

  Dear Lord, help me! How could I have been so stupid as to get myself into this mess!

  Beverly called again, her voice choked with emotion, “Allie! I can’t just leave you in there alone with a wild animal! Tell me what to do!”

  As she spoke, the wolf paced in a small circle between the door, the body and me. He was extremely agitated, panting and salivating. The other animal locked in a back room was now making more noise, too. I didn’t know how Beverly could help me and was afraid my answering would spur the wolf into taking the offensive.

  The police would be here soon. If this wolf was domesticated, I might be able to wait this out. If not and the wolf attacked, he could quickly shred me. Plus, Paige had already lied once about contacting the police.

  I scanned the room. I needed a net, a tranquilizer gun, and a steel cage. Beside me were a blender and a toaster. There was a butcher knife on the counter above Ty’s body. Even if I could reach that—which I couldn’t from here—I didn’t like my chances of fending off this wolf with a knife.

  I had to tilt things for the wolf in favor of the dog door, while still allowing Beverly to keep it shut. “Beverly! Count to ten, then throw something through the door, and brace it shut again.”

  I said a silent prayer. My heart was pounding so hard it felt as though my chest would explode. My hands were trembling terribly. I made as big of a noose-like circle with the collar of the tethered leash as I could, holding it open before me with trembling hands. My throat was the bait that would tighten the noose, and heaven only could help me now.

  The wolf sprang toward me.

  Just then, Beverly hollered, “Ten!” Her shoe came flying through the entrance and whacked against a cupboard, sounding like a gunshot.

  It’s too late, I thought.

  And yet the wolf flinched a little and hesitated in his charge toward me. I slung the noose over his head and threw myself out of his path, staggering sideways along the counter.

  He snarled and snapped at me, but the leash held, keeping him tied to the refrigerator.

  “I’m coming out,” I cried and dove through the dog door and was soon panting beside Beve
rly, who was all set to whap me with her other shoe. When she saw it was me and not the wolf, she dropped her shoe.

  “What the hell happened?” she cried as I struggled to get to my knees. She grabbed hold of me by the upper arms and shook me. “What was a wolf doing in Ty’s house?”

  “I don’t know! I wouldn’t have gone in there if I’d known he was there!”

  “Did the wolf kill Ty?”

  “No. He was stabbed.”

  The full realization of what I’d just seen and experienced hit me full force. I felt nauseated, dizzy with fear. If that wolf had been fully set on attacking me, I never could have survived.

  Someone had unlocked Ty’s dog door. The same person who’d stabbed him? Who’d put the wolf in the house? I’d come so close to getting mauled! “Thanks, Beverly. You saved my life.”

  I flinched automatically as the gate flew open. Paige came running up to us. “I called nine-one-one,” Paige said. I must have looked as horrible as I felt, for her jaw dropped when she saw me. “What happened in there?” she asked.

  Hank Atkinson came sprinting through the gate after her. “Are you women all right?”

  Their pregnant Samoyed trotted along behind them on a long leash.

  “We found Sammy,” Paige said, giving me a weak smile as she pushed a handful of brown hair behind her ear. “Just like you said, she was with Hank all along.”

  “Never mind about the damned dog!” Beverly yelled at Paige. “Where are the police! Why aren’t they here yet?”

  “For God’s sake, Beverly! I just called them thirty seconds ago!”

  In the background, I heard the screech of tires as someone threw on the brakes. Meanwhile, Beverly gaped at Paige and cried, “Thirty seconds ago? What are you talking about! You left here at least five minutes ago and you said that—”

  Hank interrupted, “Beverly, please calm down. If Ty’s dead, who cares if the police are here in five minutes or in fifteen?” Hank, I noticed, had changed clothes since I’d last seen him. He was now wearing gray sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  Beverly was angrier than I’d ever seen her. She towered over Paige Atkinson, who backed up in the face of her fury. “Allida was nearly killed by a wolf! Whatever problems you might have with me, you had no right to—”

  “Hank?” The male voice came from the other side of the fence. The gate banged open, and a man I’d never seen before approached. Probably another neighbor.

  Great. The troops had arrived after the fact and were determined to start up another war.

  “Damian,” Hank said. “I thought you were out of town.”

  I did a double-take. This was the wolf’s owner. He was in his late thirties or so and had such a large, muscular build he even dwarfed Hank’s powerful frame. He had a cleft in his chin and wore tight-fitting jeans and yellow T-shirt. His hair was light brown on the sides and sun-bleached on the top.

  “I was, but I checked my phone messages and turned around,” he said. “Someone named Allida Babcock left me a message about you and my wolf. Now I can’t find Larry Cunriff anywhere, and Atla is missing.”

  “Atla?” he repeated.

  “My wolf! She’s missing!” He looked angry enough to flatten Hank with one punch. “She’s my least well-mannered animal. She’s not used to being around humans. She’s dangerous. Do you have her?”

  “Of course I don’t have—”

  “She’s in there,” I said. All along, I’d assumed the wolf was a he, but then, I’d had other things on my mind than checking for the wolf’s gender.

  “In someone’s house?” Damian hollered.

  “She’s tied to the handles of the refrigerator. I don’t know how long that will hold, though.”

  “Christ!” He knelt and pushed at the doggie door. “I can’t fit through that door.” He rocked back on his knees and pointed at me. “You! Get in there and unlock the door! I need to get my wolf in a cage before she or someone else gets hurt.”

  “Too late for that,” Hank said. “Seems your wolf already killed Ty Bellingham.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Damian murmured. He grabbed both of my shoulders. His blue eyes seemed to see right through me. “Please, just let me inside the house so I can try and get her out of there! If I have to break a window, she might go completely berserk.”

  He was right. “I’ll crawl through and unlock the door for you.”

  I got down on my elbows and knees to crawl through the small dog door. I couldn’t. For the first time in my life, I was paralyzed with fear. I felt furious with myself for my weakness. There was no reason for me to feel this now. The wolf was securely tied. I’d already faced that horrifying scene in the kitchen once.

  I could hear Atla’s frantic struggle inside. He needed to get her out of there before she choked herself on the chain or ripped the handles clear off the refrigerator and freezer doors.

  “Get in there! You’re the only person small enough to fit through the opening! Now go!”

  I propped myself up and vented at Damian. “Look it, buster! I don’t know you from Adam, but you’re a complete jerk!”

  “Lady, that’s what my ex-wife used to say, but it isn’t getting us anyplace right now!”

  Police sirens were growing louder. They would break through the kitchen door and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot the wolf dead. For Atla’s sake, I had to act now. Whatever had happened tonight, it wasn’t her fault. Some fool had brought her here. Who? Ty?

  I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and wriggled through the door, mentally telling myself not to look at anything, just to stand up and immediately throw the locks on the back door.

  I got in and stood up. The smell of blood and death made me gag.

  Atla was whining, definitely still breathing, despite her choke collar. My back was to her as I threw the locks, determined to do this fast. From deeper inside the house, Doobie was still thrashing about and trying desperately to get through the bedroom door.

  Just as I fumbled with the last lock, there was a strange noise from the direction of the refrigerator.

  It sounded for all the world like a bolt ripping loose from the door handle.

  Chapter 7

  The lock was stuck. I leaned against the door and finally forced its turn-style mechanism open. I turned to check on Atla. A blur of gray came at me. A hot-poker shock of pain raced up my arm as Atla sank her teeth into my left hand. I screamed in agony. The door bashed into me, and Damian rushed into the room.

  “Atla, no!” he yelled. She instantly released her grip on me, which sent another shock wave of hideous pain through my body. Damian grabbed hold of her leash just above the collar and was strong enough to lift her front paws off the ground.

  I took a couple of staggering steps, my vision blurred with pain. I gripped myself tightly around the wrist. I looked at the injury. She’d caught me in the fleshy part of my hand. The puncture wounds had begun to bleed. The pain was searing and relentless.

  “You okay?” Damian asked, straining as the wolf started to pull him toward Ty.

  In the corner of my vision, a quick view of the shocked faces outside the door registered on me. “What happened?” a female voice called. Beverly’s voice, I realized.

  “I’m okay,” I immediately shot back. A by-product of my being small and young-looking for my age was that I couldn’t tolerate being coddled, even when it was justified.

  “I’ve got to get her out front to my van,” Damian managed to tell me, straining with his physical effort at keeping the wolf under control. He paled when he and the snarling wolf reached the far side of the kitchen. “Oh, Jeez,” he murmured, staring down at Ty’s body. Frenzied by being near the body, Atla snapped at Damian, who held so tight to the leash that only her back paws were on the ground.

  In a remarkable show of strength, Damian managed to half lift the struggling wolf through the beaded entranceway. “Get the front door for me,” he barked over his shoulder. “I’ve got to load her into the van and get her caged. Now. Before the poli
ce burst in here and shoot her.”

  In a strange, almost out-of-body state, I managed to obey, stepping around the body and after Damian and the wolf. We crossed the living room. He held his wolf at bay as I staggered past him toward the door. The room was dark, the heavy curtains on all windows drawn tightly shut. The room was empty. No bean bags, lamps, collectibles. Had the house been burglarized?

  Working with my good hand, I got the locks to operate and looked back into the room as I pulled open the front door. Along the wall of cinderblock shelves, the stereo and TV were still in place. A tripod was set up in the back corner, no camera in sight.

  Outside, Damian was instructing a pair of startled officers and another pair of male paramedics to let him pass. “Just let me get her locked up. The van’s got a built-in cage.” Damian’s vehicle was a dark blue and again had tinted windows, similar to the steel gray van that Larry Cunriff had used a few hours earlier.

  One paramedic opened the back doors of the van for him and then dashed aside. Damian was strong enough to hurl the wolf up and into the van.

  I made my way down the steps toward them in a dazed state. Beverly had rounded the house and was on the sidewalk talking to one of the officers. When she saw me, she trotted toward me, ignoring the policeman beside her telling her to stop. In the corner of my vision, I could see the Atkinsons heading through the gate with yet another uniformed officer.

  Feeling faint, I shut my eyes for a moment and saw a vision of Atla, her blood-soaked ruff and paws.

  Beverly rushed to my side. “Allida! What happened to you? You’re bleeding!”

  “The wolf bit me. Not bad, though. I’m current on my tetanus vaccinations. I’ll be all right.”

  She yanked off the long-sleeve blouse that she’d been wearing jacket-style over her T-shirt and wrapped it around my hand. The policeman had stepped beside us. “Officers? She needs medical attention.”