always there.
He left the Mini in the drive and headed for the house. Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe sheâd gone to the galvanized steel tub he kept filled for her by the back door.
As Mad Dog passed the lilac bushes in front of the house, a splash of color caught his eye. Red, on his front door. There wasnât supposed to be any red on his front door. Paint, he thought at first. Then he got closer and realized it wasnât exactly red and it sure wasnât paint. It was more the rust shade that blood turns when it dries. And it had been applied to his door to spell one wordââPagan.â
Mad Dog was starting to get seriously angry. The sign in his front yard, that was bad enough. But somebody had painted their intolerance on his door in blood, and left behind the paint brush. One of the squirrels that lived in the big trees that dotted his yard had been gut shot, its tail dipped into the death wound to paint the message.
This was almost like killing a pet. The squirrels in his yard were half-tame. Hailey delighted in chasing them, and they delighted in teasing her from just out of reach. It seemed to be a game both sides had agreed to play without the normal consequences. Hailey might cut them off from a tree they were headed for, but she always let them get away. And when they stayed too close to the ground to stop and brag about their escape she showed them how high a wolf could jump, but she always managed to avoid snapping her powerful jaws on one. Even when they threw sticks or hedge apples at her.
The little corpse had been dead a while. This must have been done shortly after he left. He was surprised the kid heâd hired to keep an eye on the place hadnât cleaned it off.
Mad Dog tested the front door to be sure it was still locked. It was. And the windows all proved to be closed, unbroken, and secure, as he made his way around to the back door.
Thatâs where he found Hailey. By the water tub, along with more dead squirrels and a few dead birds. Haileyâs hackles were up. She was staring at the tub and growling deep in her chest. Mad Dog wanted to join her. The water was green from the discarded bottle of antifreeze that had been dumped into it.
Jesus, she hadnât drunk any, had she? No, she couldnât have. From her stance and attitude, sheâd recognized the threat and the evil behind it. He didnât take any chances, though. He turned the poisoned water over and got a hose and diluted the stuff until heâd turned his back yard into a muddy mess. He still wasnât satisfied, but he didnât know what else to do. Heâd have to ask someone, the local vet, maybe. But first, he needed to make sure Hailey came inside and got fresh water, safe water, straight from the tap. And he needed to call Englishman. Tell his brother about the greetings heâd found in his yard. And warn him, because Mad Dog was pretty sure that however viciously heâd been attacked, Englishman was the real target.
***
Heather English parked her Honda Civic in the lot behind the Benteen County Courthouse. It was a dazzling fall morning. She stepped out and stretched, a bit stiff after the three-hour drive home from Lawrence. She was a first-year law student at KU. Bright sun, gentle breezes, lots of color in the leaves welcomed her. It was always good to come home, but it was odd to drive past so many election posters urging voters to pick someone other than her father for Benteen County Sheriff. Heâd been getting reelected by narrow margins for as long as she could recall, but this yearâs signs had a nastier quality than she remembered. Politics in general had been moving that direction for years, but when it was your dad, that made the insults personal.
Englishmanâs Chevy pickup wasnât in the lot, but Mrs. Kraus would know where he was. Heather went in through the back door, anxious to find him. She was sure he was all right, but sheâd woken with