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September froze, the scream scalding but refusing to leave her throat. She couldn’t breathe; terror transformed the action into stuttered slow motion.
Shadow. Ski masked man. Shovel.
Wielded like a club, the wickering sound ripped the air as it swept back and forth at the dancing dog. The stranger’s broad shoulders rippled beneath his padded fleece jacket, and his tight jeans revealed muscular thighs as he aimed each swing at Shadow. She braced and flinched, each time anticipating the dull thud against Shadow’s furry body and helpless to stop it.
But Shadow managed to dodge until it finally connected a glancing blow off his tail. He yelped, spun away, and launched himself at the man, teeth catching his sleeve. He hung on, snarling and shaking his head, suspended half off the ground with rear paws pin wheeling for purchase. For an endless moment, the attacker juggled the shovel.
The sleeve fabric gave way, and Shadow dropped to the ground, quickly regaining his balance but not fast enough.
Timothy lay crumpled on the ground. He moaned and tried to roll over. The shovel descended and connected with a sodden thump-crunch against his shoulder, prompting a shriek.
Shadow yelped, an echo to the vet tech’s cry. He placed himself between the supine figure and the attacker, snarling a warning to back off.
The sound unfroze September’s feet as well, and she raced forward. And then stopped, afraid to get too close. “Stop! The police are on the way!” She hoped they were, anyway.
She peered over her shoulder, and saw Doc Eugene through the window with a phone pressed to his ear. She turned back to the masked man. “Why are you doing this?” She heard Macy yowl from inside the truck’s bed, and prayed the cat wasn’t hurt when the carrier was flung.
Victor was heavy and limped; this man was lean and athletic. “Who are you?!”
He put a gloved finger to his lips and remained silent. Perfect teeth gleamed through the red and blue knit mask for only a moment before he tossed the shovel into the truck bed, climbed inside, slammed the door and peeled out of the lot.
September rushed to Timothy, barely registering the clomping footsteps approaching from the clinic. “Help is on the way. I’m so sorry.” She shouldered the dog out of the way. “Shadow, stay back.” She had to push the pup away again when he tried to climb into her lap and lick her face.
Doc Eugene grabbed her shoulder and pulled her aside. “I called 911.” He knelt beside Timothy, examined him quickly, and then covered him up to his neck with several clean but tattered towels. “He’s breathing. Barely. Don’t see any bleeding. But I don’t want him moved, he got hit in the head.” The blunt force trauma left the young man’s arms at weird angles when he’d tried to deflect the spade. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
September sat on the cold pavement, arms around Shadow. “He took my cat.” Tears spilled unchecked down her face, freezing in the wind.
Doc Eugene crossed his arms, trying to stay warm. “That makes no sense. Why would he take your cat?” He scowled. “He must know you.”
Timothy stirred, blood pooled at his mouth and he blew red bubbles at the corner.
“Be still, Tim, help’s on the way.” Doc Eugene’s voice was unsteady, but his hands held Timothy’s head immobile, not allowing movement.
“I didn’t recognize him.” She wiped her eyes, dodging when Shadow tried to lick her face again. “He had a mask. And gloves. He didn’t say anything.”
“Yes he did.” Timothy’s voice, reedy and faint, startled them.
“Don’t talk, hang in there.” Doc Eugene sounded desperate. “Where the hell is the ambulance?”
One of Timothy’s bare hands grabbed September’s knee and she flinched before she bent close when he tried to speak again. He mouthed, “Macy?”
She blinked hard, but forced a smile and put her hand over his and gently squeezed. “Don’t worry about Macy. You need to take care of yourself.”
“I’m sorry.” A bloody tear escaped one eye. The other had already begun to swell closed. “He asked if Macy was yours. Couldn’t stop him. So sorry . . .”
“Asked about me?” It was Victor’s doing. Her heart broke. The monster had targeted Macy, and Timothy had also fallen victim to his payback. She reassured him with lies she didn’t believe, and choked on the words. “Macy will be fine. I promise.”
“Stop making him talk.” Doc Eugene checked Timothy’s respiration that grew ever more strained. “September, think. Think! What did he look like? Did you get the license? What color was it? You’ll need to give a statement to the police.”
The police. That’s right, they’d be here any second, and keep her repeating her statement over and over and the son-of-a-bitch would get away. If she followed now she could catch him. How dare he hurt Timothy, and take her cat! Macy’s damaged heart could give out at any time.
Timothy’s hand flexed under hers, and she leaned close to hear. “Payback,” he whispered.
She felt her face blanch. “What?”
“Hurt Macy.” Gasp. “Unless.” A breath, and he choked. “Meet you.” He stopped breathing. His hand fell from her knee, dropping a scribbled note with the same red block lettering as the anniversary card. September grabbed it, stuffing the note in her pocket.
She poised to begin CPR when Doc Eugene shoved her aside and took her place. “No, oh no no no.” He took charge, feeling for a pulse before tipping back Timothy’s head.
“Let me help.” She moved closer.
“Haven’t you done enough?” His voice cut her to the quick.
Doc Eugene began rescue breathing as the ambulance arrived. Within seconds, the parking lot swarmed with EMTs.
“You’re right. Nothing I can do here will help.” September grabbed the end of Shadow’s leash. “Let’s go for car ride.” She whispered the magic phrase and the dog rushed to her car.
Nobody noticed when September slowly drove away from the clinic. She couldn’t help Timothy. She’d probably gotten him killed. Besides, Doc Eugene knew as much about the attacker as she.
Payback. Sent by Victor. If she’d doubted before, the note confirmed the author, and she had to do what he demanded. He had Macy.
