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Authors: Michael Lee West
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a pet, you have to dog-proof, because ordinary things like raisins and onions are fatal to canines. If T-Bone or Sir found my ancient stash of chocolate, I’d never forgive myself. I lured the dogs into the parlor. It was a cozy, old fashioned room. A carved settee. Piano. Old hi-fi. Nothing that could hurt a dog. I firmly latched the pocket doors, hurried onto the porch, and locked up.
Ten minutes later, Red angled the van into the McDonald’s parking lot. Emerson dove into the backseat and grabbed Coop’s arm. “Daddy, will you sit next to me?”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I was fixing to ask you the same thing.”
A lot of guys wouldn’t be this accommodating to a bratty kid, even one who’d lost her mother, but Coop wasn’t just any guy.
Emerson scarfed down two Happy Meals and a vanilla shake. In between bites, she quizzed us. “Which animal is not in the Bible?” she asked, dangling a fry over her head.
“Hamsters,” Coop said.
“Y’all need to go to church. Cats are the only animals not in the Bible.” She dropped the fry into her mouth.
“What about mountain gorillas?” Red asked.
* * *
On the drive home, Emerson kept yawning. When the van pulled up to the farmhouse, she flung open her door and jumped into the gravel.
“Wait, honey, the door’s locked,” I called, fumbling in my purse for the key.
She ignored me and sprinted toward the porch. Coop helped me out of the van, and a gust of wind filled my striped skirt, shaping it into a bell.
Emerson pushed open the front door and ran inside. The dogs trotted onto the porch and shot down the steps. T-Bone loped in circles, but Sir waddled over to me and rubbed his flat face against my legs.
Red pointed at the door. “I thought you locked up, homegirl.”
My stomach tightened. “I did.”
“Maybe the wind blew it open,” Coop said, draping his arm around me.
It was indeed a blustery night. The trees moved against the dusky sky, the heavy branches whispering like ladies in church. T-Bone’s ears perked and he gazed off into the shadowy orchard. I looked, too. A ripple of light cut through the tall buffalo grass. T-Bone padded into the clearing, his fur bristling.
“Don’t you go chasing rabbits,” Coop told him.
Red’s hand dropped to his holster. “That’s no rabbit.”
Way off in the shadows, the light bobbed. A grainy shape darted between the trees. It was a man. And he was running toward the creek. T-Bone sprinted into the weeds. Sir was right behind him, but I drew him back. “You’re no match for a burglar,” I told him. Just saying that word made me sick.
Red pulled out his Glock. In the distance, a human howl rose up. The light zigzagged violently, bouncing against the trees, then it dropped and went still. A few seconds later, the beam levitated from the weeds and moved toward the house in a quivering dazzle.
“It ain’t the prowler,” Red said. “The light is too low.”
A blinding radiance cut through the buffalo grass. T-Bone ran into the clearing with a flashlight in his mouth. He dropped it at Coop’s feet.
“Sheesh.” Red shoved the Glock into the holster.
Coop snatched the light and aimed it at the trees. No movement. Nothing.
Sir twisted around, trying to escape. Coop passed the beam over the orchard again. “Teeny, you ever had prowlers before?”
“Someone broke in last December. Aunt Bluette was in the hospital.” I let go of Sir and stood, brushing dirt off my skirt. “A guy stole her pain pills and a portable TV.”
“I’m checking the backyard.” Red waved at the house. “Y’all go in and see if anything’s missing.”
My heart pounded as I followed Coop to the porch. The dogs padded behind us, their nails scritch-scratching on the cypress planks. Coop bent down to examine the door. The lock was intact, and the wood didn’t have gouges or scratch marks.
“You’ve got a spring lock,” he said, and pointed at the knob. “A credit card could
Ten minutes later, Red angled the van into the McDonald’s parking lot. Emerson dove into the backseat and grabbed Coop’s arm. “Daddy, will you sit next to me?”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I was fixing to ask you the same thing.”
A lot of guys wouldn’t be this accommodating to a bratty kid, even one who’d lost her mother, but Coop wasn’t just any guy.
Emerson scarfed down two Happy Meals and a vanilla shake. In between bites, she quizzed us. “Which animal is not in the Bible?” she asked, dangling a fry over her head.
“Hamsters,” Coop said.
“Y’all need to go to church. Cats are the only animals not in the Bible.” She dropped the fry into her mouth.
“What about mountain gorillas?” Red asked.
* * *
On the drive home, Emerson kept yawning. When the van pulled up to the farmhouse, she flung open her door and jumped into the gravel.
“Wait, honey, the door’s locked,” I called, fumbling in my purse for the key.
She ignored me and sprinted toward the porch. Coop helped me out of the van, and a gust of wind filled my striped skirt, shaping it into a bell.
Emerson pushed open the front door and ran inside. The dogs trotted onto the porch and shot down the steps. T-Bone loped in circles, but Sir waddled over to me and rubbed his flat face against my legs.
Red pointed at the door. “I thought you locked up, homegirl.”
My stomach tightened. “I did.”
“Maybe the wind blew it open,” Coop said, draping his arm around me.
It was indeed a blustery night. The trees moved against the dusky sky, the heavy branches whispering like ladies in church. T-Bone’s ears perked and he gazed off into the shadowy orchard. I looked, too. A ripple of light cut through the tall buffalo grass. T-Bone padded into the clearing, his fur bristling.
“Don’t you go chasing rabbits,” Coop told him.
Red’s hand dropped to his holster. “That’s no rabbit.”
Way off in the shadows, the light bobbed. A grainy shape darted between the trees. It was a man. And he was running toward the creek. T-Bone sprinted into the weeds. Sir was right behind him, but I drew him back. “You’re no match for a burglar,” I told him. Just saying that word made me sick.
Red pulled out his Glock. In the distance, a human howl rose up. The light zigzagged violently, bouncing against the trees, then it dropped and went still. A few seconds later, the beam levitated from the weeds and moved toward the house in a quivering dazzle.
“It ain’t the prowler,” Red said. “The light is too low.”
A blinding radiance cut through the buffalo grass. T-Bone ran into the clearing with a flashlight in his mouth. He dropped it at Coop’s feet.
“Sheesh.” Red shoved the Glock into the holster.
Coop snatched the light and aimed it at the trees. No movement. Nothing.
Sir twisted around, trying to escape. Coop passed the beam over the orchard again. “Teeny, you ever had prowlers before?”
“Someone broke in last December. Aunt Bluette was in the hospital.” I let go of Sir and stood, brushing dirt off my skirt. “A guy stole her pain pills and a portable TV.”
“I’m checking the backyard.” Red waved at the house. “Y’all go in and see if anything’s missing.”
My heart pounded as I followed Coop to the porch. The dogs padded behind us, their nails scritch-scratching on the cypress planks. Coop bent down to examine the door. The lock was intact, and the wood didn’t have gouges or scratch marks.
“You’ve got a spring lock,” he said, and pointed at the knob. “A credit card could
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