Something Deadly. Rachel Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ they reached the edge of the yard, Kato sat. He planted himself firmly, his entire posture saying that he wasn’t going another step, no matter what. Markie felt embarrassed. She didn’t want to stand here like a ghoul, but even tugging sharply on Kato’s collar didn’t persuade him to move.

      A police officer walked her way. Tom Little, she realized, owner of one of her more frequent patients, a toy poodle with digestive problems. Tom was a Jamaican who spoke with an accent at once British and lilting, and whose skin was the most beautiful shade of coffee. “Hi, Tom,” she said.

      He nodded. “Hello, Doctor. Is Kato giving you problems?”

      “He seems determined to stay right here.”

      Tom chuckled. “Well, let him. You won’t see anything gruesome. He probably smells it, though.”

      “Smells what?”

      Tom jerked a thumb toward the house. “Carter Shippey passed on a little while ago. His wife came home and found him gone. Looks like a heart attack.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “It’s sad. Cart wasn’t but sixty-three.”

      Prime age for a heart attack, Markie thought sadly. “Is someone taking care of Mrs. Shippey?”

      Tom nodded. “A group of the neighbors carried her away to one of their houses. She won’t be alone tonight.”

      “Good.”

      She looked down at Kato, but he still wouldn’t budge. Every fiber of his being seemed to be pointing toward the house.

      “Don’t worry about him, Doctor,” Tom said, giving Kato a quick scratch behind one ear. Kato flicked the touch away with an impatient twitch of his ear. “He’ll go when the body’s removed.”

      “I hope so. I don’t want to be stuck here all night.”

      Just then a car pulled up, a BMW that Markie recognized. Declan Quinn, one of the island’s dozen or so full-time physicians. She hadn’t had cause to need any of them yet, but she knew them by sight, the way she was getting to know most everyone, little by little.

      Dr. Quinn climbed out of his car, dressed in khaki chinos and a blue polo shirt that somehow emphasized his dark Irish good looks: black hair, brilliant blue eyes. But he didn’t just walk past the police cordon. He flipped out a badge.

      So he was here as the medical examiner. Something inside Markie twisted a little. Somebody didn’t think this was an ordinary heart attack.

      Declan signed in at the door, another indicator that this was being treated as a crime scene, then disappeared inside.

      Maybe, she thought, this was standard procedure. Maybe all sudden deaths were treated this way initially. That would make sense.

      She looked down at Kato again and realized his ears were not only at high alert, but they were twitching, twisting this way and that as if scanning the entire area for something. He sniffed at the air again.

      Then he did something she’d never before seen him do: he curled back his lips, baring his teeth. Just a little. But even that little was unnerving. She shivered in the steamy, still night air.

      Part of her wanted to scoop him up, right then and there, and stagger down the street with him in her arms. Another part of her was afraid to walk off down the darkened streets right now. He sensed a threat of some kind, and Tom Little’s presence nearby was comforting. A block away, she and Kato would be on their own.

      “Kato.”

      He looked up at her, his golden eyes dilated so wide they appeared nearly black. And somehow she felt a warning from him.

      “Home?” she asked.

      Apparently not. He returned his attention to the house, and she wound up standing there like the obedient owner she was. Under other circumstances, she would have found this funny. But not tonight.

      Well, she told herself, indulging in a silent lecture in order to avoid thinking about what was really happening, what did you expect from a mix of the two most independent breeds in the world? Not a lapdog, certainly. Wolves were wild animals that could be tamed just so far, and Siberian huskies were only one step removed on the genetic chain, bred to think for themselves, sense dangers a musher couldn’t see, and protect the sled and their teammates, even to the point of disregarding the musher’s commands.

      The result: Markie Cross was stuck standing on a street in the middle of the night, like a ghoul waiting to pick over the bones, because her damn dog wouldn’t budge.

      She tried again. “Kato. Bedtime.”

      He huffed at her, that unmistakable sound of disgust. Not yet.

      A gurney appeared in the doorway, bearing its load in a black rubber bag. Instinctively Markie crossed herself and said a quick prayer for Carter Shippey. Kato watched the gurney’s journey to the back of the ambulance, his gaze intent and unwavering. Then the ambulance door slammed, and the vehicle pulled away. No lights, no sirens, the silence speaking volumes.

      Declan Quinn appeared at the door. He spoke to a couple of officers, his words too quiet to hear.

      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 СКАЧАТЬ