policeman at the end of the line obviously heard it. Maybe he was used to people with unsteady voices calling. He also recognised the caller.
âGabe? Whatâs up?â She heard concern.
âNo problem. Or not a major one. A stray dog.â
âAnother one.â The policeman sighed.
âWhat are you talking about?â Gabe demanded.
âHenriettaâs Animal Welfare van was involved in an accident a few days back,â the policeman explained. âWe have stray dogs all over town. Describe this one.â
âBig, black and malnourished,â Gabe said. He was watching Nikki as he spoke. Nikki was trying to get the sand from between her toes before she put her shoes on. It wasnât working.
She was soaking. She sat and the sand stuck to her. Ugh.
She was also unashamedly listening.
âLike Great Dane big?â
âYeah, but heâs shaggy,â Gabe said. âIâd guess Wolfhound with a few other breeds mixed in as well. And I donât have him.He was down the beach below the house. We tried to catch him with a lump of steak but heâs headed round the headland to your side of town.â
âWe?â Raff said.
âYeah,â Gabe said dryly. âMy tenantâs been helpful.â
âBut the two of you canât catch him.â
âNo,â Gabe said, and Nikki thought miserably that he sounded as if he could have done it if he was by himself. Maybe he could, but at least he didnât say so.
âIâll check from the headland in the morning,â Raff was saying. âYou okay? You sound odd.â
âNothing I canât handle. If he comes backâ¦you want me to take him to the shelter?â
âYou might as well take him straight to the vetâs,â Raff said. âHe was on his way there to be put down. If heâs the one I think he is, someone threw him off a boat a couple of weeks back. We found him on the beach, starving. Heâs well past cute pup stage. Heâs huge and shabby. Old scars and not a lot of loveliness. He looks like heâs been kicked and neglected. No one will rehouse a dog like that, so Henrietta made the decision to get him put down. But if he doesnât come back to your beach itâs not your worry, mate. Thanks for letting me know. âNight.â
ââNight.â
Gabe repocketed his phone.
Nikki flicked more sand away.
A starving dog. Kicked and neglected. Thrown from a boat. She hadnât even managed to give him a meal, and now he was lost again.
Plus a landlord who was still sounding shaken because sheâd thumped him.
Was there a scale for feeling bad? Bad, terrible, appalling.
âLeave the steak just above the high tide mark,â Gabe said, his voice gentle. âItâs not your fault.â
âNice of you to say so.â
âYeah, well, the bang on the head was your fault,â he conceded, and he even managed a wry smile. âBut thereâs nothing more we can do for the dog. Heâs gone. If he smelled the steak he might come back, but he wonât come near if he smells us. Weâve done all we can. Moving on, I need an aspirin. Do you have those toes sand-free yet?â
âIâ¦yes.â No. She was crusted in sand but she stood up and prepared to move on.
She glanced along the beach, half hoping the dog would lope back.
Why would he?
âRaffâll find him,â Gabe said.
âHeâs the local cop?â
âYes.â
âHe wonât look tonight?â
âThereâs no hope of finding him tonight. The beach around the headland is inaccessible at high tide. Weâll find him tomorrow.â
âYouâll look, too?â
âIâm leaving at dawn,â he said. âI have fish to catch, but youâre welcome to look all you want. Now, if you want to stay here youâre also welcome, but I need my bed.â
Â
She followed him up the track, feeling