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ONCE SEPTEMBER CRANKED the engine in Pam’s Jeep, the blower quickly grew toasty. She loved the sports car look of her Volvo, but appreciated the utility of the Jeep. September pulled off her gloves with her teeth, and held her hands in the warm blast from the dashboard vents. The familiar prickly-painful sensation announced the return of circulation.
She located the charger, unplugged Pam’s phone and connected her own. Bruno’s happy bark made her smile despite herself. The fenced-in park was a perfect doggy playground. This side of the park’s trees offered shade on hot days, and a windbreak against today’s snow, while the other side where she’d left her Volvo had no protection.
But dogs don’t care about such things. Bruno leaped and danced through drifts to retrieve his toy, ranging back and forth from the Volvo side of the park to where September sheltered in Pam’s Jeep. Pretty good for an old doggy. His genes stood the Shadow-pup and Steven in good stead. She could see Pam bending to scoop and toss soft snowballs at the dog.
Using Pam’s phone, September called information. “I need the number for the HART-Line Public Transportation, in Heartland, Texas.” She punched in the number dictated by the recording. “Please let somebody be there.” Chances were the office had closed early like everything else.
“HART-Line, how may I help you?”
“I’m at the Gentry Park stop, and need to know the route the bus travels from here. And if any drivers reported picking up a young boy and a dog.”
“Dogs aren’t allowed on HART-Line.”
“I thought maybe with the snow—”
“It’s not allowed.” She was as cold as the weather.
September wanted to scream, but tempered her tone. “A little boy and his dog are lost in this mess and I think—hope anyway—they boarded the bus.” She concentrated to keep her voice steady. “Could you at least check for me?”
“Lost in this blizzard? Seriously?” The dispatcher’s attitude took an about face. “We’ve not had any reports from drivers. Hold on, let me check something.”
September heard the keyboard clatter, and hoped her luck held after all.
On the far side of the field, Pam and Bruno raced around like kids on holiday. Dakota used to do that. He’d scoop up snow with his long muzzle until a little mountain of white capped his nose. She called him “shovel face.” Last winter she and Chris made a snow-dog that Dakota promptly baptized yellow. Chris and the dog were so proud.
The dispatcher brought September back to the present. “All buses are accounted for, most en route to our terminal. We’re shutting down early. My driver for that route didn’t answer, but Freda’s final stop is Star Mall, and the return route driver called in sick. So the bus will stay at the mall overnight.”
“Star Mall?” Sheesh, that was clear on the other side of the city. “What stops should I check along the way?”
“Only made two stops for anybody to get on. Several got off. Do you want all the stops?”
“Yes, all of them. Thanks a bunch.” Steven wouldn’t get off unless he recognized his mom’s car or house, but a Good Samaritan might have taken him off. Her heart hiccupped at the notion, knowing that too often, bad guys outnumbered good guys.
September jotted down the five stops on a notepad Pam kept on the dashboard. She reached for the Jeep’s door latch and only then noticed the Hummer across the field parked near her Volvo. A tall man in a long dark duster clambered out, strode to her Volvo and tried the door. Ghost Man?
She scrunched down out of sight and risked a peek out the window. Pam and Bruno continued to play, oblivious to the threat.
Maybe she was mistaken. Other men wore long coats, and had white hair. It was too far to see features. Ghost Man and Lizzie didn’t drive the only Hummer in town.
He eliminated any question when he hit and shattered the front passenger window of the Volvo.
September screamed, wishing she’d thwacked him harder. The Volvo’s car alarm whooped but gave him no pause. He reached through the window and pulled out April’s laptop.
Bruno barked at the commotion and started toward the vandalized car. Pam yelled. “Get away from there! What’re you doing?” She trotted after the dog. “Drop that and get away from there!”
September scrambled to open the door, and finally managed to scroll open a window an inch or two. If it was Ghost Man, Pam had no chance. She yelled a warning.
He shot the front and rear tires on the near side of September’s Volvo.
Pam cried out. Called over her shoulder to September. “Phone the police.” She confronted the man, a fearless gamecock defending territory. “Bruno, fass.”
September preferred the rabbit-hole safety of the semi-hidden Jeep to facing danger. But Pam’s bravery shamed her. She bungled open the door, and promptly fell out into the snow, and her stomach clenched as another shot popped.
A thunk-twang hit the Jeep. So much for being hidden. No silencer this time—the distance didn’t allow for that—Ghost Man had braced his gun arm on the top of the open SUV door to help his aim. The snow added inches to his height, giving him a giant’s proportions.
“Pam, get away!” September scrambled and managed to climb back into the Jeep’s open door.
“Bruno, hier. Hier.” Pam screamed the recall a second time, fear for her dog overriding any notion of her own safety.
September slammed the door. She flinched when another bullet struck the side of Pam’s Jeep, and she quickly started the engine. Bruno’s teeth were no match for bullets. He couldn’t protect Pam. September jammed the car into gear. Wheels spun, dug deep and found traction. Up over the curb, across the sidewalk. She aimed for the open gate. “Didn’t like the dumbbell? Let’s see how you like two tons of car upside your head.” The Jeep banged through a fence post, fishtailed, and steadied.
Bruno finally obeyed and raced back toward Pam.
Ghost-Man pointed his gun. At Pam. He shouted to her, something that September couldn’t hear over the engine’s roar. The gun popped, popped again.
Pam fell.
“No!” September slammed the brakes. The Jeep carved doughnut tracks in the field and then shuddered to a stop.
Bruno howled. He threw himself at Pam.
September stumbled from the car. Too late, she was too late. She wanted to run to Pam but instead stood frozen. Stared at Ghost Man. She’d rejoin Chris after all, and it was what she deserved.
Pam’s moans broke her daze. September dove for cover as if the snow offered protection. She crawled toward her friend.
The pale man lowered his gun. “Find the flash drive. You won’t get another warning.” He climbed into the SUV and drove away.
September swam through the mounds of white until she could push Bruno aside and huddle next to Pam. “Honey, talk to me.” Her bare fingers were nerveless sticks that smoothed Pam’s scarf aside. Bruno continued to cry.
A woman from the closest house stuck her head out the door. “Is she okay? Is the dog hurt? He’s making an awful racket. My Cleo’s fit to bust over it.”
“Call an ambulance!” Pam’s skin paled to match the snow. Breaths shallow, slow. Bubbling. “Bruno, move.” September again pushed the big shepherd. He slunk to Pam’s other side. Bruno licked and nibbled the fabric of Pam’s sleeve, nudged her arm.
“I done called for help. Even called that radio show with the policeman already. Should I call ‘em again?”
“For God’s sake, call nine-one-one!” September turned back to Pam. “Can you hear me? Where do you hurt?” She couldn’t see the wound. Pam’s bundled coat cocooned her, hiding the injury.
Tears spilled from Pam’s brown-sugar eyes. “How’s my dog? He shot us. How’s Bruno?” At the sound of his name, the dog howled and tried to climb into her lap.
“Bruno platz. Down. Good dog.” September tasted blood. She’d bitten her cheek. “He’s fine, Pam. He’s right here. What about you?” September held tight to Pam’s hand.
“Hard to breathe.” Pam coughed. “You’re in deep do-do.” It wasn’t a question.
The guilt hurt worse than any physical injury. “I never meant for you or anyone to get hurt.”
Pam’s eyelids fluttered as if to clear fading vision. She breathed and gasped with the effort. Distant sirens wailed. “You go. Find Steven.”
Another siren joined the first. EMTs must have been in the neighborhood. September tried to gauge how soon they’d arrive.
The neighbor lady stood nearby, jaw agape. “Bring a blanket,” September shouted, turning back to Pam. “Help’s on the way.”
“Tell my husband—”
“Tell him yourself. This is just another SAR adventure. You’ll have a great story to share over that merlot.” She said the words out loud to convince herself as much as Pam.
The sirens grew louder. She could stay with Pam, should stay with her, but that meant giving up on Steven. And April.
The neighbor trudged through two-foot drifts to toss a green and red afghan to September. “I don’t want to get close to that dog.” She sniffed, nodded at the whimpering Bruno. “He looks like a biter.” She stood several feet away, watching.
Bruno’s focus never wavered from Pam as September tucked the blanket around her friend, propping her head out of the snow.
“September?”
“I’m here, right here.” She squeezed Pam’s hand.
“Get the hell out of here.” Froth stained Pam’s teeth red. “Police won’t let you leave. Steven needs you.” Her eyelids fluttered. “My dogs, the puppies. Eugene. He isn’t home. Who’ll take care of my dogs?” A single tear escaped down her cheek. Bruno licked it off.
“I’m so sorry.” That bastard. She’d track down Ghost Man; he wouldn’t get away with this. “Concentrate on yourself, Pam. Stay with me, Eugene needs you. The dogs are counting on you.” That wasn’t what Pam wanted to hear, so September gave her what she wanted. It was the only thing she had to offer. “I’ll take care of the dogs, no worries. I promise.”
Pam relaxed. Her lips moved, but nothing came out.
“What is it? Hang on, help’s almost here.” September bent close, ribs protesting, her ear next to Pam’s mouth. “I can’t hear you, say again?”
“Hurry, go after Steven.” Pam gasped with the effort to be heard. “That man. He said they found Steven.”
