Terrier Terror, page 21
He was standing and adjusting his computer screen for premium viewing. “Shut the door and have a seat. It’s show time!”
“Have you watched it yet?” I asked as we both took our seats.
“Nope. I waited for you. But it’s all cued up.”
He pressed the play icon. “Whoops,” he said a moment later, pressing the pause icon. “This is the video I took of you and Dog Face, during the Jumps With Weaves. I wanted to show you that one, too.”
“Cool. Let’s watch it first.” He started it again, and the screen showed the stands behind the arena as he started to focus in on Dog Face and me. Something in the background caught my eye.
“Wait, Baxter. I saw a flash in the back of the stands.”
“Let’s back up the video.”
“There!” I cried, pointing. “What was that?”
“A cigarette lighter.” He studied my gaze. “You’re thinking it could have something to do with the sprinklers going off?”
“There’s no smoking allowed inside the buildings, or anyplace besides the designated area and the parking lot. So why is someone using a cigarette lighter?”
“Whoever set off the sprinklers was testing their lighter.”
“Precisely. Why do that if you’re about to watch a competition where you’re not allowed to smoke? Why not wait until you’re in a smoking area?”
I peered at the still frame. “It looks like a tall man. But he’s in the shadows.”
“I’ll back it up, frame by frame,” Baxter said. He did so. The figure with the lighter was moving in reverse out of the shadowy corner of the room. With each second-long image, the man’s image became clearer and clearer.
My breath caught in my throat. “Oh, Jeez. It’s Cooper. He doesn’t smoke.”
“Are you sure?” Baxter asked.
“Absolutely. I’ve never once smelled smoke on his clothing, and I remember distinctly at the Greeley show last spring his mentioning that he didn’t smoke.”
“The fact that a nonsmoker is toying with a lighter doesn’t prove anything, you realize. It’s just circumstantial evidence.”
“Which adds yet more circumstantial evidence to the possibility that he killed Terrington,” I said. “Kiki’s extortion and Marsala’s bribery might not have had anything to do with Terrington’s murder.”
“Unless it was Cooper’s sprinklers’ prank that had nothing to do with any of the above,” Baxter said.
“Let’s call the police.”
Baxter sneaked a glance at his wristwatch.
“You know what?” I said. “Let’s just watch the recordings later. I’m starting to get too edgy about everything. I’d like to get this phone call out of the way and leave watching the video for when we can relax and enjoy it.”
“I can call the police now and—” His phone rang.
I rose. “I’ll call and let you get back to work. I’ll go outside where it’s quiet and nobody can overhear.
“Okay. I’ll see you at eleven or so. Ringside.” He winked at me as he answered his phone.
I left and scanned the immediate area. For once, nobody I knew was in the vicinity. I made it all the way across the expansive floor and out the front door without anybody stopping to talk to me.
I headed toward the back of the main building, but stopped about two-thirds of the way, not wanting to risk bumping into someone after all. I deliberately kept my back turned to the entrance, thinking I would surely give anyone the distinct impression that I wanted to be alone to talk in peace and quiet on the phone.
I found Officer Tates’ direct phone number at work and called. He answered on the second ring. I told him about the cigarette lighter that Cooper had flicked on and off an hour or so before someone had tinkered with the ceiling sprinklers in the other building. The pause afterward was deafening.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Anything else?”
“Well, no, but the thing is, Cooper Hayes doesn’t smoke. And even if he did, he’d have had to use his lighter outdoors, in the designated smoking areas. After the agility trial was over.”
“Right. I made a note of that.”
“Okay. I was just trying to be a good citizen.”
“Thank you, Ms. Babcock. Don’t hesitate to call again if you think of anything else that might be pertinent.”
“I won’t. Hesitate, I mean. Bye.” I hung up, feeling a little foolish.
“Hi, Allie.”
The voice was right behind me. Startled, I jumped, and turned around, hunching over as if to ward off a blow to my head. Cooper was standing there, looking at me as if pained by my presence.
“Cooper. Hi. You scared me. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“So I see. You need to come with me now.”
“I can’t. I’m about to meet Baxter. We’re going to watch the...the Hound competition together. But I can go somewhere with you after that. How about eleven? Before the Best of Show starts?”
“I don’t have that kind of time, Allie. And I’m afraid I have to insist.” He opened his jacket. He had a silver handgun. The barrel of the gun was jammed under his brown leather belt. “We’re going to walk toward my car. You’re going to get in the car. Don’t scream. Don’t run. Otherwise, I’ll shoot you, then I’ll shoot as many people as I can in the building.”
He grabbed my arm and started ushering me toward his car. Now I was praying for someone I knew to see me. Nobody was watching. As we reached his car, I spotted two guards looking at a little girl who appeared to be crying. Cooper clapped his hand over my mouth so fast my scream was muted. He threw me in the car. I crawled to the driver’s side to escape but he was aiming his gun at me through the window.
He rounded the front of the car, still pointing his gun at me. I started to cry with fear and frustration. “Please look at me!” I yelled, pounding against the passenger-side window.
Cooper ducked into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. He put the pistol on the left side of his seat. I wouldn’t be able to reach it easily. He started the car. We headed toward the far exit. The seatbelt alarm sounded. He fastened his own seatbelt. “Ironically, I’m going to ask you to buckle up,” he said, his voice oddly flat.
I hesitated but then obeyed. My brain was in a fog. None of this made any sense. If I jumped out and ran, would he shoot me in the back? Would he open fire on bystanders?
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Did you kill Terrington? Are you taking me hostage?”
“It’s a good day to die,” he said. “That was a line in an old movie. Little Big Man, or something like that. Dustin Hoffman.”
My heart and my thoughts were racing. How long would it be before anyone even knew I was missing? Dear God. Baxter wasn’t even expecting to meet me until eleven! And I’d been stupid enough to be happy no one had seen me leave!
Cooper pulled onto I-25 and we headed south. Maybe we were heading for Boulder. He was driving the speed limit, unfortunately. No chance of getting pulled over.
My phone rang.
“Leave it!” Cooper said. That was a command in dog-training. Leave it. How to stop dogs from eating something they shouldn’t. You counter-trained them. You got them to expect a yummy treat from you in exchange for ignoring dead animals or goose poop.
My thought patters were running amok.
“It’s Baxter,” I told Cooper, hoping that was the truth. “He’s looking for me. He’s going to know I’m gone, and that something’s very wrong.”
“You’d better pray he doesn’t find us somehow. If you want him to live.”
“I want all of us to live, Cooper!”
He snorted. “Once upon a time.”
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer.
Minutes later, my phone rang again. I looked at Cooper in profile. He said nothing. I pretended to have a coughing fit as I tried to get my phone out of my pants pocket without his notice.
Cooper held out his palm. “Give it here.”
I feigned accidentally dropping my phone, then I kicked it under my seat. I knew that cells could be traced while they were powered on. “I can’t reach it,” I claimed.
He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear. “It will all be over soon, Allie,” he said in his strange, flat tones. “Might as well enjoy the scenery.”
The minutes and miles passed. A smarter person maybe would have figured out what to do. My brain seemed to be on red alert for so long now that it might as well have blanked out entirely. Cooper drove past the exit for Baxter’s and my home sweet home. He passed an exit for Longmont and Boulder. Then a second exit. Then he turned west. We were driving toward the Flatirons. Maybe he was taking us to Baseline Road.
Several minutes later, we were heading west on Baseline. Neither of us had said a word for quite some time. My throat was dry. “Are we going to Chautauqua,” I asked.
“Farther than that.”
“Flagstaff?” I asked.
He nodded. “We’re going to the amphitheater at the top. It’s where I got married. And it’s where we’re going to die.”
“I don’t want to die, Cooper. I’ve given you no reason whatsoever to be part of your suicide pact.”
“It’s circular. It’s the way the world turns. And our existence on this earth. You started it all...you and your significant other. You put me on this path.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Baxter took away my self-respect.”
“He had nothing whatsoever to do with your being demoted and given the temporary position as a manager in the dog show.”
“Damage that happens unintentionally is still damaging.”
“But it was Davis Miller who caused that...damage, not Baxter. And not me, either.”
He slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “I broke up my marriage because I thought I could make you love me back!”
“What? You.... We barely know each other! You told me you got a divorce almost a year ago.”
“And I couldn’t get you out of my head all of that time. I did all of this for you. I tried to make myself your boss for your sake. I talked you up to every single Terrier owner, convincing them that you would be their best shot at winning. At the time, I thought I couldn’t compete in the Terrier class. I thought I was the manager. I got you Valerie. I got you Jesse. I had Marsala all convinced, too.”
“That’s just...I had no idea. And last year’s show, I was already living with Baxter. I never led you on. I told you I had a partner.”
“I thought you meant a business partner. But none of that matters. You caused my world to crash. You led me along like a dog in a choke collar. I nearly died for you! I was going to try to live off the land. Give away my car. Live in the mountains. I left my keys in the ignition. Then I fell and hit my head and broke my arm.”
Finally this made some sense. “Cooper. It’s your brain injury. Don’t you see? That’s what’s caused this horrible behavior swing!”
For a moment he looked at me with surprise and understanding in his expression. He returned his eyes to the road. We were driving along Chautauqua now. Both sides of the street were lined with cars, in defiance of parking laws.
“No, it can’t be,” Cooper stated.
“You killed a man because you’re not in control of yourself. It’s made you violent.”
“Now you’re a brain doctor?”
“No, but I know you’re nothing like you were a year ago. And I know you won’t be the first person to have a radical swing after a concussion.”
In truth, the idea of willfully tempting car thieves to steal his car and living in the mountains without proper provisions was a sign of depression, plus it had happened before the head injury. But, still. This was a man who needed help.
“Please, let me help you, Cooper. Let me take the wheel. You need to see a doctor.”
He took a gasp of air. He was starting to cry. “It’s too late. I need to put myself out of my misery.”
“No, you don’t. You need to see a doctor. I’ll take you to one.”
“Then you shouldn’t have forced my hand. You shouldn’t have poked your nose into the murder.”
“You asked me to help prove your innocence!”
He clammed up, his jaw muscles working. Experience had taught me there was no statement or action that people couldn’t twist around to suit their own purposes or versions of events. We are all the heroes of our life stories. Right now, Cooper needed me to be the villain. Or maybe the unintended consequence—the collateral damage.
We started up Flagstaff Road, with all its twisting switchbacks. Again, Cooper gulped for air. He was crying. He caught my eye.
“You have no idea what it’s like to go through humiliation after humiliation. Terrington destroyed every facet of my life. And the worst part was, he didn’t even care. I was nothing to him. He just stole my wife and my girlfriend and my dogs and my career. He turned me into a mockery. And he didn’t even know my name.”
He started crying so hard I was afraid he couldn’t see well enough to prevent us from veering off the cliff.
“Cooper. I understand why you hated him enough to kill him. I really do. But this isn’t the way to resolve anything. Are you actually going to kill me to try and escape? You’re going to commit two murders? I didn’t do a thing to hurt you. And you’re not going to escape from this. The police will be all over you.”
He was starting to slow the car. “You’ve always been nice.”
“Let me go.”
“You’ll tell the police.”
“The police already know, Cooper. That’s why they took you to the station in the first place. You’d be killing me for nothing. Please, Cooper. You’re not violent. Your head injury is affecting you. Don’t make me die because you hit your head.”
He slammed on the brakes. We skidded dangerously close to the edge, but the car came to a stop. “Get out. Now. Before I change my mind.”
I did as he said. He took off while I was still shutting the door. By the time I’d taken a dozen steps down the winding road, I heard sirens. I waved my arms. The first police car pulled over and gestured at the others to keep going, while holding up his radio.
“He’s at the chapel on Flagstaff. He has a gun, and he wants to commit suicide.”
“I’ll radio that ahead. Do you want me to get someone up here to get you down? We already blocked the road at the base.”
“No, I’ll walk down. I’ll be okay.”
He nodded and drove away. I made a silent prayer that I wouldn’t hear any gunshots.
Epilogue
Two weeks passed from my brush with death. I still struggled with flashbacks and nightmares. Baxter helped me through them. I fell more deeply in love with him with every passing day.
An hour after Cooper Hayes let me escape from his car, he was taken into custody. The officers said they found him sobbing and rocking himself in the amphitheater, saying that his head hurt. They managed to convince him to put down his gun. He surrendered peacefully.
Meanwhile, Baxter knew when I hadn’t returned to the building that something had happened and someone had forcibly driven me away. He, too, had called Detective Baker and told them he was certain Cooper Hayes had kidnapped me. The police had been able to put a tracer on Cooper’s cellphone as well as mine.
For reasons I didn’t care to examine, Marsala was allowed to show her Terrier in the Best of Show competition. Her dog finished in third place. Ironically to my mind, the winner was a Beagle.
On the Tuesday following that nearly fatal Sunday, Eleanor knocked on our door with a marvelous peace offering. She had withdrawn her complaints to the county about our dog shelter and convinced everyone that we could be good neighbors in Dacona without regard to the kennel. It was late in coming, perhaps, but she even hosted a gathering for the neighbors stating that they should use us as their dog watchers and even cat watchers. Eleanor turned out to be a public-relations savant. In just a few days, we went from the pariahs of the neighborhood to the local resource for premium care in behavioral training and kenneling.
Baxter and I took several days off to just hang out at home with the dogs. Every day I was regaining a bit of my confidence. This particular Monday morning was no different. I was scheduling clients starting tomorrow. Baxter was busy speaking with breeders and veterinarians about our soon to be better-than-ever dog boarding business. I was surprised to see him at shortly after one when I heard him enter the house. He’d told me he wasn’t going to return until three at the earliest.
He grinned at me lovingly when he saw me on the living room sofa. “Hey, Allie. I heard the Humane Society has a couple of new arrivals. Let’s go take a look.”
“Right now?”
“Yep. I got done early. Perfect timing.”
Baxter and I had been going to the Longmont Humane Society on a regular basis lately. He kept telling me that one of these days, we’d find a dog there and just know right away that he or she was meant to be ours.
We made small talk as we drove to the shelter. Baxter seemed to be more talkative and energetic than typical. He must have had a successful time promoting our business. As we parked, he smiled at me and said, “I have a good feeling about this.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I get the feeling there’s a dog with our name on it just waiting for us.”
He was so happy I couldn’t have helped but return his smile even if tried. He gave me a kiss, then put his arm around me as we walked to the door. He swept it open for me and we entered.
“Hey, Cindy,” he said to the clerk. “We’re going to take a look around.”
She grinned at him as we passed. We went down the first aisle of cages, with its small and medium-sized dogs. They weren’t for us, but they were still worth greeting. The air smelled acrid as usual, but I’d take having the company of dogs over fresh-smelling air anytime. The moment we turned the corner to the next aisle, Baxter said, “Well, look what we have here.”
And there he was. Our dog. He was black, maybe with some terrier in the mix, definitely with a black Lab in his gene pool. I glanced at the sheet of descriptions on the door. “Hi, Gus,” I said. Gus got up on all fours, grabbed a soft chew toy of some kind, and headed to his door to greet us, his tail wagging eagerly.
“Have you watched it yet?” I asked as we both took our seats.
“Nope. I waited for you. But it’s all cued up.”
He pressed the play icon. “Whoops,” he said a moment later, pressing the pause icon. “This is the video I took of you and Dog Face, during the Jumps With Weaves. I wanted to show you that one, too.”
“Cool. Let’s watch it first.” He started it again, and the screen showed the stands behind the arena as he started to focus in on Dog Face and me. Something in the background caught my eye.
“Wait, Baxter. I saw a flash in the back of the stands.”
“Let’s back up the video.”
“There!” I cried, pointing. “What was that?”
“A cigarette lighter.” He studied my gaze. “You’re thinking it could have something to do with the sprinklers going off?”
“There’s no smoking allowed inside the buildings, or anyplace besides the designated area and the parking lot. So why is someone using a cigarette lighter?”
“Whoever set off the sprinklers was testing their lighter.”
“Precisely. Why do that if you’re about to watch a competition where you’re not allowed to smoke? Why not wait until you’re in a smoking area?”
I peered at the still frame. “It looks like a tall man. But he’s in the shadows.”
“I’ll back it up, frame by frame,” Baxter said. He did so. The figure with the lighter was moving in reverse out of the shadowy corner of the room. With each second-long image, the man’s image became clearer and clearer.
My breath caught in my throat. “Oh, Jeez. It’s Cooper. He doesn’t smoke.”
“Are you sure?” Baxter asked.
“Absolutely. I’ve never once smelled smoke on his clothing, and I remember distinctly at the Greeley show last spring his mentioning that he didn’t smoke.”
“The fact that a nonsmoker is toying with a lighter doesn’t prove anything, you realize. It’s just circumstantial evidence.”
“Which adds yet more circumstantial evidence to the possibility that he killed Terrington,” I said. “Kiki’s extortion and Marsala’s bribery might not have had anything to do with Terrington’s murder.”
“Unless it was Cooper’s sprinklers’ prank that had nothing to do with any of the above,” Baxter said.
“Let’s call the police.”
Baxter sneaked a glance at his wristwatch.
“You know what?” I said. “Let’s just watch the recordings later. I’m starting to get too edgy about everything. I’d like to get this phone call out of the way and leave watching the video for when we can relax and enjoy it.”
“I can call the police now and—” His phone rang.
I rose. “I’ll call and let you get back to work. I’ll go outside where it’s quiet and nobody can overhear.
“Okay. I’ll see you at eleven or so. Ringside.” He winked at me as he answered his phone.
I left and scanned the immediate area. For once, nobody I knew was in the vicinity. I made it all the way across the expansive floor and out the front door without anybody stopping to talk to me.
I headed toward the back of the main building, but stopped about two-thirds of the way, not wanting to risk bumping into someone after all. I deliberately kept my back turned to the entrance, thinking I would surely give anyone the distinct impression that I wanted to be alone to talk in peace and quiet on the phone.
I found Officer Tates’ direct phone number at work and called. He answered on the second ring. I told him about the cigarette lighter that Cooper had flicked on and off an hour or so before someone had tinkered with the ceiling sprinklers in the other building. The pause afterward was deafening.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Anything else?”
“Well, no, but the thing is, Cooper Hayes doesn’t smoke. And even if he did, he’d have had to use his lighter outdoors, in the designated smoking areas. After the agility trial was over.”
“Right. I made a note of that.”
“Okay. I was just trying to be a good citizen.”
“Thank you, Ms. Babcock. Don’t hesitate to call again if you think of anything else that might be pertinent.”
“I won’t. Hesitate, I mean. Bye.” I hung up, feeling a little foolish.
“Hi, Allie.”
The voice was right behind me. Startled, I jumped, and turned around, hunching over as if to ward off a blow to my head. Cooper was standing there, looking at me as if pained by my presence.
“Cooper. Hi. You scared me. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“So I see. You need to come with me now.”
“I can’t. I’m about to meet Baxter. We’re going to watch the...the Hound competition together. But I can go somewhere with you after that. How about eleven? Before the Best of Show starts?”
“I don’t have that kind of time, Allie. And I’m afraid I have to insist.” He opened his jacket. He had a silver handgun. The barrel of the gun was jammed under his brown leather belt. “We’re going to walk toward my car. You’re going to get in the car. Don’t scream. Don’t run. Otherwise, I’ll shoot you, then I’ll shoot as many people as I can in the building.”
He grabbed my arm and started ushering me toward his car. Now I was praying for someone I knew to see me. Nobody was watching. As we reached his car, I spotted two guards looking at a little girl who appeared to be crying. Cooper clapped his hand over my mouth so fast my scream was muted. He threw me in the car. I crawled to the driver’s side to escape but he was aiming his gun at me through the window.
He rounded the front of the car, still pointing his gun at me. I started to cry with fear and frustration. “Please look at me!” I yelled, pounding against the passenger-side window.
Cooper ducked into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. He put the pistol on the left side of his seat. I wouldn’t be able to reach it easily. He started the car. We headed toward the far exit. The seatbelt alarm sounded. He fastened his own seatbelt. “Ironically, I’m going to ask you to buckle up,” he said, his voice oddly flat.
I hesitated but then obeyed. My brain was in a fog. None of this made any sense. If I jumped out and ran, would he shoot me in the back? Would he open fire on bystanders?
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Did you kill Terrington? Are you taking me hostage?”
“It’s a good day to die,” he said. “That was a line in an old movie. Little Big Man, or something like that. Dustin Hoffman.”
My heart and my thoughts were racing. How long would it be before anyone even knew I was missing? Dear God. Baxter wasn’t even expecting to meet me until eleven! And I’d been stupid enough to be happy no one had seen me leave!
Cooper pulled onto I-25 and we headed south. Maybe we were heading for Boulder. He was driving the speed limit, unfortunately. No chance of getting pulled over.
My phone rang.
“Leave it!” Cooper said. That was a command in dog-training. Leave it. How to stop dogs from eating something they shouldn’t. You counter-trained them. You got them to expect a yummy treat from you in exchange for ignoring dead animals or goose poop.
My thought patters were running amok.
“It’s Baxter,” I told Cooper, hoping that was the truth. “He’s looking for me. He’s going to know I’m gone, and that something’s very wrong.”
“You’d better pray he doesn’t find us somehow. If you want him to live.”
“I want all of us to live, Cooper!”
He snorted. “Once upon a time.”
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer.
Minutes later, my phone rang again. I looked at Cooper in profile. He said nothing. I pretended to have a coughing fit as I tried to get my phone out of my pants pocket without his notice.
Cooper held out his palm. “Give it here.”
I feigned accidentally dropping my phone, then I kicked it under my seat. I knew that cells could be traced while they were powered on. “I can’t reach it,” I claimed.
He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear. “It will all be over soon, Allie,” he said in his strange, flat tones. “Might as well enjoy the scenery.”
The minutes and miles passed. A smarter person maybe would have figured out what to do. My brain seemed to be on red alert for so long now that it might as well have blanked out entirely. Cooper drove past the exit for Baxter’s and my home sweet home. He passed an exit for Longmont and Boulder. Then a second exit. Then he turned west. We were driving toward the Flatirons. Maybe he was taking us to Baseline Road.
Several minutes later, we were heading west on Baseline. Neither of us had said a word for quite some time. My throat was dry. “Are we going to Chautauqua,” I asked.
“Farther than that.”
“Flagstaff?” I asked.
He nodded. “We’re going to the amphitheater at the top. It’s where I got married. And it’s where we’re going to die.”
“I don’t want to die, Cooper. I’ve given you no reason whatsoever to be part of your suicide pact.”
“It’s circular. It’s the way the world turns. And our existence on this earth. You started it all...you and your significant other. You put me on this path.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Baxter took away my self-respect.”
“He had nothing whatsoever to do with your being demoted and given the temporary position as a manager in the dog show.”
“Damage that happens unintentionally is still damaging.”
“But it was Davis Miller who caused that...damage, not Baxter. And not me, either.”
He slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “I broke up my marriage because I thought I could make you love me back!”
“What? You.... We barely know each other! You told me you got a divorce almost a year ago.”
“And I couldn’t get you out of my head all of that time. I did all of this for you. I tried to make myself your boss for your sake. I talked you up to every single Terrier owner, convincing them that you would be their best shot at winning. At the time, I thought I couldn’t compete in the Terrier class. I thought I was the manager. I got you Valerie. I got you Jesse. I had Marsala all convinced, too.”
“That’s just...I had no idea. And last year’s show, I was already living with Baxter. I never led you on. I told you I had a partner.”
“I thought you meant a business partner. But none of that matters. You caused my world to crash. You led me along like a dog in a choke collar. I nearly died for you! I was going to try to live off the land. Give away my car. Live in the mountains. I left my keys in the ignition. Then I fell and hit my head and broke my arm.”
Finally this made some sense. “Cooper. It’s your brain injury. Don’t you see? That’s what’s caused this horrible behavior swing!”
For a moment he looked at me with surprise and understanding in his expression. He returned his eyes to the road. We were driving along Chautauqua now. Both sides of the street were lined with cars, in defiance of parking laws.
“No, it can’t be,” Cooper stated.
“You killed a man because you’re not in control of yourself. It’s made you violent.”
“Now you’re a brain doctor?”
“No, but I know you’re nothing like you were a year ago. And I know you won’t be the first person to have a radical swing after a concussion.”
In truth, the idea of willfully tempting car thieves to steal his car and living in the mountains without proper provisions was a sign of depression, plus it had happened before the head injury. But, still. This was a man who needed help.
“Please, let me help you, Cooper. Let me take the wheel. You need to see a doctor.”
He took a gasp of air. He was starting to cry. “It’s too late. I need to put myself out of my misery.”
“No, you don’t. You need to see a doctor. I’ll take you to one.”
“Then you shouldn’t have forced my hand. You shouldn’t have poked your nose into the murder.”
“You asked me to help prove your innocence!”
He clammed up, his jaw muscles working. Experience had taught me there was no statement or action that people couldn’t twist around to suit their own purposes or versions of events. We are all the heroes of our life stories. Right now, Cooper needed me to be the villain. Or maybe the unintended consequence—the collateral damage.
We started up Flagstaff Road, with all its twisting switchbacks. Again, Cooper gulped for air. He was crying. He caught my eye.
“You have no idea what it’s like to go through humiliation after humiliation. Terrington destroyed every facet of my life. And the worst part was, he didn’t even care. I was nothing to him. He just stole my wife and my girlfriend and my dogs and my career. He turned me into a mockery. And he didn’t even know my name.”
He started crying so hard I was afraid he couldn’t see well enough to prevent us from veering off the cliff.
“Cooper. I understand why you hated him enough to kill him. I really do. But this isn’t the way to resolve anything. Are you actually going to kill me to try and escape? You’re going to commit two murders? I didn’t do a thing to hurt you. And you’re not going to escape from this. The police will be all over you.”
He was starting to slow the car. “You’ve always been nice.”
“Let me go.”
“You’ll tell the police.”
“The police already know, Cooper. That’s why they took you to the station in the first place. You’d be killing me for nothing. Please, Cooper. You’re not violent. Your head injury is affecting you. Don’t make me die because you hit your head.”
He slammed on the brakes. We skidded dangerously close to the edge, but the car came to a stop. “Get out. Now. Before I change my mind.”
I did as he said. He took off while I was still shutting the door. By the time I’d taken a dozen steps down the winding road, I heard sirens. I waved my arms. The first police car pulled over and gestured at the others to keep going, while holding up his radio.
“He’s at the chapel on Flagstaff. He has a gun, and he wants to commit suicide.”
“I’ll radio that ahead. Do you want me to get someone up here to get you down? We already blocked the road at the base.”
“No, I’ll walk down. I’ll be okay.”
He nodded and drove away. I made a silent prayer that I wouldn’t hear any gunshots.
Epilogue
Two weeks passed from my brush with death. I still struggled with flashbacks and nightmares. Baxter helped me through them. I fell more deeply in love with him with every passing day.
An hour after Cooper Hayes let me escape from his car, he was taken into custody. The officers said they found him sobbing and rocking himself in the amphitheater, saying that his head hurt. They managed to convince him to put down his gun. He surrendered peacefully.
Meanwhile, Baxter knew when I hadn’t returned to the building that something had happened and someone had forcibly driven me away. He, too, had called Detective Baker and told them he was certain Cooper Hayes had kidnapped me. The police had been able to put a tracer on Cooper’s cellphone as well as mine.
For reasons I didn’t care to examine, Marsala was allowed to show her Terrier in the Best of Show competition. Her dog finished in third place. Ironically to my mind, the winner was a Beagle.
On the Tuesday following that nearly fatal Sunday, Eleanor knocked on our door with a marvelous peace offering. She had withdrawn her complaints to the county about our dog shelter and convinced everyone that we could be good neighbors in Dacona without regard to the kennel. It was late in coming, perhaps, but she even hosted a gathering for the neighbors stating that they should use us as their dog watchers and even cat watchers. Eleanor turned out to be a public-relations savant. In just a few days, we went from the pariahs of the neighborhood to the local resource for premium care in behavioral training and kenneling.
Baxter and I took several days off to just hang out at home with the dogs. Every day I was regaining a bit of my confidence. This particular Monday morning was no different. I was scheduling clients starting tomorrow. Baxter was busy speaking with breeders and veterinarians about our soon to be better-than-ever dog boarding business. I was surprised to see him at shortly after one when I heard him enter the house. He’d told me he wasn’t going to return until three at the earliest.
He grinned at me lovingly when he saw me on the living room sofa. “Hey, Allie. I heard the Humane Society has a couple of new arrivals. Let’s go take a look.”
“Right now?”
“Yep. I got done early. Perfect timing.”
Baxter and I had been going to the Longmont Humane Society on a regular basis lately. He kept telling me that one of these days, we’d find a dog there and just know right away that he or she was meant to be ours.
We made small talk as we drove to the shelter. Baxter seemed to be more talkative and energetic than typical. He must have had a successful time promoting our business. As we parked, he smiled at me and said, “I have a good feeling about this.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I get the feeling there’s a dog with our name on it just waiting for us.”
He was so happy I couldn’t have helped but return his smile even if tried. He gave me a kiss, then put his arm around me as we walked to the door. He swept it open for me and we entered.
“Hey, Cindy,” he said to the clerk. “We’re going to take a look around.”
She grinned at him as we passed. We went down the first aisle of cages, with its small and medium-sized dogs. They weren’t for us, but they were still worth greeting. The air smelled acrid as usual, but I’d take having the company of dogs over fresh-smelling air anytime. The moment we turned the corner to the next aisle, Baxter said, “Well, look what we have here.”
And there he was. Our dog. He was black, maybe with some terrier in the mix, definitely with a black Lab in his gene pool. I glanced at the sheet of descriptions on the door. “Hi, Gus,” I said. Gus got up on all fours, grabbed a soft chew toy of some kind, and headed to his door to greet us, his tail wagging eagerly.
