Chapter 2

“Fifty-nine Plymouth Fury, red with white and chrome. Tennessee TSY-967.”

Dan sucked in a fast breath. That must be one rare auto, and the guy was going nuts about a dog? “What kind of dog?”

“Commando’s a rescue. Pitty. One of those they rescued from that drug baron’s dogfighting operation. He was just a puppy, though. He’s a perfect angel, the best dog I ever had. I want that dog back—now. Let’s go after them. He couldn’t have gone far. I was almost out of gas.”

“Pity the dog is a rescue? I don’t get it.”

The man gave a snort of irritation. “Pit Bull. We call ‘em pitties. They have a totally undeserved reputation. Commando wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

Dan sighed. For a moment his rednecked cousin’s taunts and sneers flashed across his mind. Bubba had no use for “flamin’ queers,” and had an act that got most of the family in stitches, pretending to carry a pocket-size pooch in one hand and waving the other while he cried, “Oh, bowsie wowsie” in a falsetto voice.

He’d made Dan’s life hell once he came out. This guy did not use a falsetto voice, and a Pit Bull was no bowsie wowsie, but some of his words and gestures hinted to Dan that he just might also be gay.

Although the car sounded much more important to Dan than even the best dog, he sprang into action. Grabbed the mike through the open window, he put out an ATL on the Fury. He mentioned the dog, as well.

He then turned to the stranger. “Come on. Get in. I’ll go down this road to where it gets back on the interstate. Maybe we’ll spot him. If not, I’ll drop you at a motel. I suppose you have your wallet and stuff?”

The man huffed. “Of course.” Then as if he realized he needed to chill out, he held out a hand. “Trek DuHamel. I appreciate your help. I just pray we can catch up before that creep does anything to my dog, like throw him out on the highway.”

Dan accepted the hand shake. “Officer Dan Winstead. Let’s see what we can do.”

He jumped back into the unit and started off while Trek was still fastening his seat belt. A red Fury should not be hard to spot.

It wasn’t. They found it sitting at the foot of the on-ramp back to the interstate, neatly folded around a light pole. Trek bailed out before the unit’s tires quit turning and ran toward the car.

The driver waved wildly out the open window with his left hand and seemed to be bouncing around in the front seat. He also screamed in frantic tones. “Oh my God, get this fucking dog off me. He’s got hold of my ear, and he won’t let go. Help me. I’m bleeding all over the place. Get this man-eating dog away from me.”

“Commando, let go. Come to Daddy now, like a good dog.” An instant later, the fawn-colored pooch bounded out the window and ran straight to his master. Kneeling, Trek hugged and petted him.

“Hey, Officer—Dan—can you hang onto him while I get a leash out of the car? He’s all upset and he might take off.”

“Is he gonna go for my ear?”

Trek looked aggrieved. “No! He knows good guys from bad buys. He just didn’t want to get too far from me, and he wasn’t going to let this ignorant ape get on the freeway.”

Dan grabbed the dog’s collar, careful to hold the animal at arm’s length. While he wasn’t scared of dogs, he knew how a bite felt, and it wasn’t fun. Meanwhile the would-be car thief spilled out, one hand clapped to the right side of his head, still cussing and blubbering. With his free hand, Dan drew his pistol and ordered the man to face the car and put both hands on the roof.

“I’m bleeding, goddammit. Call the EMTs. Feels like my ear is torn half off.”

Growing irritated with the theatrics, Dan snorted. “Do what I said, or I’ll finish the job.”

By then Trek came back with the leash and took charge of the dog. Dan read the guy his rights, cuffed him, and put him in the squad car. He’d bleed all over the seat, but that could be cleaned up later. Trek still waited, holding Commando’s leash and not seeming a bit impatient. Although he did glance at the Fury with a wry expression, otherwise he seemed calm about the situation. He had his dog back, and maybe that really was his main concern.

Certainly the car was not going anywhere for a while except onto a tow. The grill and radiator were practically in the front seat, and the hood looked like a beer can a horse had stepped on. Dan shook his head. “I’ll call a tow for you. The car’ll have to be held as evidence for a few days. It’ll take that long to get repair parts in, I expect.”

Trek nodded. “I may just have it sent home and let the shop that did the restoration handle the repairs. As soon as it’s released, that is. I don’t want a half-assed job done. Will you hold it at the police yard or what?”

“It’ll go to the county sheriff’s substation, actually. The local PD doesn’t have space. I can probably get it released tomorrow if push comes to shove but no guarantees.”

They waited until the tow truck arrived. Dan knew the operator, having met him very early in his tenure with the local police department.