The man sank to the dirt. I felt for a pulse. Nice and steady, and he was already starting to move and groan.

I looked for something to bind him. The polyethylene bags. Telling the dog, “Stay,” I ran to get them. I tied them together, managed to fashion two thick, plastic ropes and used one to secure his hands behind his back, the other his legs.

The dog had stepped back to watch me, head cocked. I said, “You did great, Spike, but you don't get to eat this one. How about sirloin instead—it's higher grade.”

The man opened his eyes. Tried to speak but produced only a retching cough. The front of his neck was swollen, and a deep blue bruise that matched his tattooes was starting to blossom.

The dog padded over to him.

The man's eyes sparked. He turned his head away and grimaced in pain.

I said, “Stay, Spike. No blood.”

The dog looked up at me with soft eyes that I hoped wouldn't betray him.

The man coughed and choked.

The dog's nostrils opened and shut. Saliva dripped from his maw and he growled.

“Good boy, Spike,” I said. “Watch him for a sec, and if he gives you any problems, you're allowed to rip out his throat for an appetizer.”

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER

17

“What an idiot,” said Milo, putting his notepad away. “His name's Hurley Keffler and he's got a sheet, but not much of one. More of a bad guy wannabee. We found his bike parked down the road. He claims he wasn't stalking you, got here just as the pond people drove away and decided to have a talk.”

“Just one of those impulsive weekend jaunts, huh?”

“Yeah.”

We were up on the landing, watching the police cars drive away. The dog watched, too, sticking his flat face through the slats of the railing, ears pricked.

“I found a letter from the Wallaces' lawyer in my mailbox,” I said. “He wanted to know where the girls were and threatened me with legal action if I didn't tell him. Looks like the Priests decided not to wait.”

“It might not be an official Priest mission,” he said. “Just Keffler having a few too many and deciding to improvise. His dinky record, he's probably low man in the gang, trying to impress the hairy brothers.”

“What are you booking him on?”

“ADW, trespassing, DUI if his blood alcohol's high enough to prove he drove over here soused. If the Priests go his bail, he'll probably be out within a few days. I'll have a talk with them, tell them to lock him in the house. What a clown.”

He chuckled. “Bet your little chokehold didn't do much for his powers of comprehension, either. What'd you use, one of those karate things I'm always ribbing you about?”