Thursday morning Tom got up at six o’clock when Brandon’s alarm went off. He wanted to do a time trial along Inlet Road before the traffic built up. This would be a benchmark time for future training.
The track to the road was always dim because of overhanging trees. At that time on an April morning it was pretty much dark – the ideal hiding place for a black dog.
Tom heard the snarl and saw the white teeth at the same time. Then it was lunging at him, smashing into the front wheel. The bike toppled sideways. Tom thrust up with his legs, arms out, hoping to cushion the fall. The dog yelped. The bike crashed. Tom fell. And when it was all over, he was lying in the long grass at the edge of the track, with the dog standing over him, tongue out, panting, as if waiting for a reward.
“Harvey!” shouted Tom. “Why do you do that?”
More panting.
Tom sighed. “Get back so I can get up.”
Still more panting.
In the end Tom had to push the dog sideways so he could climb to his feet. He tested his legs and arms. Nothing seemed damaged. The same couldn’t be said for the bike though. Three broken spokes stuck out from the front hub.
Tom leant the bike against a tree and threaded the broken spokes through others so the bike could be wheeled back home. Riding it would only cause more damage to the wheel. The repair was already going to cost more money than Tom had.
Meanwhile, Harvey sat on the track watching Tom at work, seemingly pleased with himself.
Tom turned on him. “Look what you’ve done, you stupid mutt. That’s going to cost me heaps. Why don’t you stay inside the gate?”
Now Harvey realised he was in trouble. He crouched down until his nose was on the ground, his sad eyes looking up at the angry boy.
“Oh Harvey,” sighed Tom. “We’d better get you back home.” He’d started to walk towards the road when he had another thought. He returned to the bike. “I’m taking this with us. Your owner needs to see this damage. Come on Harvey, let’s go.”
* * *
The front door to Mrs Hopwood’s mansion was wide open. Harvey walked straight in, giving the impression the door was always open for him.
Tom propped his bike against a pillar before ringing the doorbell and waiting.
Harvey returned with his owner.
Mrs Hopwood saw who it was and sighed. “Okay, what was it this time?”
“He lunged at me again,” said Tom. “Damaged my bike.”
“I’ll pay,” she said, without pause. “How much?”
“I won’t know until I take it into the bike shop.”
“All right. I know the owner. I’ll give him a call and he can charge me back.” Another sigh. “You’d better come in so I can write down your name and details.”
They went into a kitchen gleaming with stainless steel appliances. Tom was invited to sit on a stool at a polished-stone breakfast bar.
“You had breakfast?”
“No. I’ll have it when I get home.”
“How about sausage and egg?”
Tom smiled. “Yeah, all right.”
As she cooked, she quizzed him about where he lived, who else was in the family, what school he went to, where his father worked – the full interrogation. Tom answered honestly without going into detail about why the family didn’t live together. Her little nods indicated she was quite capable of filling in the gaps.
When breakfast was served, she joined him at the bar. Harvey moved until he was crouched beside Tom’s stool, as if waiting for something.
“He’s hoping to get your plate to clean up.”
“Do you let him do that?”
“Yes.” Her eyes twinkled. “I call it the pre-rinse before it goes in the dishwasher. Saves on water.”
Tom chuckled. “He’s a nice dog.”
“Yes. He was mainly my husband’s. When he died I wasn’t sure I wanted a dog, but now I’ve become very attached to Harvey. He’s great company.” The eyes twinkled again. “Never argues about a thing.”
This was Tom’s chance.
“Except going out the gate,” he said, staring her in the eyes. “Harvey was on the other side of the road when he attacked my bike. He was in the forest.”
She turned away. “Yes, that worries me. The problem is we can’t have a gate put on until that man finishes the fence.”
“You could tie him up.”
“But he’s never been tied up in his life. That would be unfair.”
“It’ll be worse if the authorities find him near the kiwis. We saw a dog that looked like him well away from the road yesterday.”
Mrs Hopwood took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
Tom pushed on. “He could be the kiwi killer.”
“No!” she cried. “No! Harvey would never do that.”
“How would you know? Has he had aversion training?”
She shook her head. “The DoC people came and took samples, though. Surely they would have got back to me if he’s involved.”
“I don’t think the results are known yet,” said Tom.
He was about to push more when he saw tears in her eyes. Instead he asked, “Mrs Hopwood, have you got a collar?”
She nodded.
“Then put it on him and keep him shut in the house.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll do that.” Then she gave a crooked smile. “And thank you young man for reminding an old lady of her responsibilities.”
Tom also smiled, sensing they had just become friends.
* * *
Tom and Dave went into town after lunch, with Buffy in the cab, and the bike on the back.
Dave went to the supermarket while Tom sorted things out in the bike shop. Mrs Hopwood had kept her word and rung to arrange payment. She’d also suggested Tom could choose something extra to have fitted if he wanted. After much discussion Tom chose a speed and distance computer that would help with his training. The job would be finished by closing time at five o’clock, leaving four hours to search for Buffy’s owner.
With no idea of where the pig hunter might live, they decided to do a grid search of Kerikeri. While Buffy took plenty of interest in where they went, nothing caused her to get excited. She did react to any dogs they saw, but none of them caused her to bark like she had in the forest.
After covering the streets around the town, they moved out to the rural roads where there were lots of lifestyle blocks, on roads Tom hadn’t known existed. And yet there was still no major reaction from Buffy.
At quarter to five, Dave decided to quit and head back to town.
“This is stupid,” he said. “The hunter could have come from miles away. Nothing says he’s from Kerikeri. He could be anywhere up north. Kawakawa, Kaikohe, he could even have come down from Kaitaia.”
Tom said nothing. He had an idea where to search next, but it could wait until after they’d picked up the bike.
Once the bike was on the back they set off for home. As they approached the bridge over the mangroves Tom said, “Don’t turn off. Keep going. There’s something I want to check out.”
As they went past the new subdivision, Tom noted that another row of blocks had been added. It did look as if Mike Davidson would finish before the week was out as he had promised.
The man himself was not there, but a couple of new temporary posts had been put in beside the concrete ones. Tied to them with rope was a wire farm gate. Tom nodded to himself: Mrs Hopwood had taken their conversation seriously.
“How far do you want me to go?” asked Dave.
“Keep going until we’re past the forest.”
“What are we looking for?”
“A place where I heard a lot of dogs the other day.”
“Okay. Tell me when we get there.”
Buffy showed increasing interest as they travelled further along Inlet Road.
“You need to turn right soon,” said Tom, now almost as excited as Buffy.
“Onto Bush Road?” asked Dave.
“I don’t know what it’s called. It’s a gravel road that leads to the forest.”
“Yeah, I know it,” said Dave. Then after they’d made the turn, he added, “Seems like Buffy does too.”
She was breathing quickly, her mouth open, her eyes bright, peering forward, anticipating what would appear soon.
Only when the house came into view, did she start barking, climbing onto Dave’s lap to get her head out the side window.
“Get off, Buffy,” growled Dave. “I get the message. That’s your home.”
Tom put his arms around her, pulling her back.
“Thanks,” said Dave. “I’m going to drive past.”
“There’s a locked gate up here a bit,” said Tom.
“I’ll stop and turn around there. We need to do a bit of thinking.”
Buffy had stopped barking when they got to the gate, but the dogs behind the house hadn’t. It sounded like there was a pack of them.
After the ute had been turned, they sat studying the house expecting something to happen. Buffy was back sitting in the middle, staring at the house more intensely than either human. She knew somebody would come out soon.
When a man did appear out a side door, he first looked across to the ute, pausing a moment, before heading around the back to yell at the dogs.
“That’s Mike Davidson,” said Tom.
“Oh yeah? How come you know that?”
Tom explained.
“Mmm, I’ve heard of him,” said Dave. “Can’t say I’ve ever met him.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Wait a while and see what happens.”
First, the dogs quietened. Then Davidson reappeared to stare long and hard at the ute.
Buffy let out a little growl.
For a time it looked as if Davidson might come over. In the end he turned and went back inside.
“You going to take her back?” asked Tom, quietly.
Dave shook his head. “Nope. I know she wants to be with her pack, but I don’t think that’s the best thing for her.”
“So what do we do?”
“What we do,” said Dave, “is take her back home and hold her until she’s fully recovered. In the meantime I’m going to ask around about this Mike Davidson. Find out everything we can. I want to be prepared before we come back. He’s not going to like what we’re going to say.” He paused. “We need to be careful, because things could get ugly very, very quickly.”