Orchid Beach (Holly Barker 1)

Holly walked through the door and found herself in a kitchen. The remains of breakfast were on a table in the center of the room. “Mr. Doherty?” she called out. “Hank?”

She started for the door on the other side of the kitchen, then stopped. As if by magic, a dog had materialized in the doorway—a Doberman pinscher, strongly muscled.

The dog emitted a low growl and its lips curled back, revealing large white fangs.

Holly stopped. “Hello, puppy,” she said. She had had a dog as a little girl, but when it was hit by a car, her father had talked her out of getting another one. An army life was nomadic, and a dog was a lot of baggage.

The dog growled more loudly.

“Jimmy, back out of here,” she said. “And don’t run.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimmy replied.

Holly stood her ground. “Hello, puppy,” she repeated.

The dog repeated its previous statement.

They seemed to be at an impasse.

CHAPTER

6

H olly waited a moment, then got down on her knees and held out a hand, palm down. “C’mere, puppy,” she cooed, as sweetly as she could. “Come see me.”

The dog stopped growling but didn’t move, still eyeing her suspiciously.

“Come on over here and see me, sweetheart. You’re a good dog. Come on, now.”

The dog made a small sound in its throat and slowly walked toward Holly. It sniffed the outstretched hand.

Holly stayed still for a moment, then stroked the dog’s muzzle with the backs of her fingers. “Yes, you’re a good dog; you’re not going to eat me, are you? I certainly hope not.”

Then the dog did an odd thing: it took Holly’s fingers gently in its mouth and tugged.

Holly had to put out her other hand to keep from falling on her face, but the dog didn’t let go. It continued pulling. Holly got to her feet and followed the dog, which backed through the kitchen door, towing her into a hallway, then dropped Holly’s hand and turned toward the closed door at the end of the hall. The door was in terrible shape; it was covered in deep scratches.

“I guess you wanted to go in there,” Holly said. “Just a minute, and I’ll open it for you.” She turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. The dog ran into the room, which was a reception area, and disappeared around the front desk into the rear part of the room. Holly followed. As she turned the corner of the desk, she stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, Jesus,” she said.

A legless man lay on his back beside an overturned wheelchair; most of his head was missing. The dog lay down beside the body and laid its head on a dead hand, making small noises in its throat.

“Shotgun,” Holly said aloud to herself. She started to approach the body, but the dog lifted its head and growled. Holly stopped. “Come here, puppy. Come!” she said firmly; then she repeated herself.

The dog got to its feet and came to her. Holly stroked its face and head and scratched it behind the ears. “You’re a good dog, aren’t you? You tried to come and help Hank, but the door was closed. How did you get in the kitchen? Who put you there?” For a moment, she thought the dog would tell her. Holly stood up. On the counter beside her lay a leash and a chain collar. She picked up the collar and read the tag. “So your name is Daisy, is that right? You’re a girl, just like me.” She put the collar over the dog’s head, and attached the leash to it. “I want you to come outside with me, Daisy,” she said softly, tugging at the leash. It took more encouragement, but Daisy finally followed her through the kitchen and out the back door.

Jimmy was waiting beside the steps. “Everything under control?”

“Not exactly,” Holly said. “Daisy, this is Jimmy. I want you to stay here with him. Jimmy, pet Daisy, and get to be friends.”

Daisy allowed herself to be petted by the policeman.

“Daisy, you sit down right here.”

Daisy sat down.

“Keep her here with you. I’m going back inside.”

“What’s going on in there? Is Hank passed out?”