“She hasn’t been destroyed yet,” Mason said. “Looks like you’ve healed up pretty good, so I guess it’s been a while. What’s the holdup?”

Harwood colored. “These things just don’t happen overnight,” he said. “But I assure you, that dog’s good as dead.” He stood. “Now, Mr. Burke, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few other issues to deal with today. I wish you the best of luck in your search for a dog.”

He held out his hand. Mason shook it, let the deputy guide him out of the small office. He crossed the detachment toward the front door, felt every eye in the place watching him, knew there’d be plenty of chatter the moment he stepped outside. Didn’t care.

The dog was alive. That was a start.

The motel owner was still behind the front desk when Mason walked back into the lobby.

“Her name is Lucy,” Mason said before the man had even looked up. “The dog that bit the deputy. I know her, I trained her, and I’m just not willing to believe that she attacked that man without cause.”

The owner stood up slowly, and for about the tenth time already that day, Mason felt himself being studied. Scrutinized. He fought his prisoner’s instincts, made himself hold the man’s eyes.

“You’re a dog trainer?” the man said finally.

“No, sir.” Mason hesitated, but there was no way to do it but just come out and say it. “I’m an ex-con. There was a program where I was locked up; they brought in dogs who needed rehabilitation, gave them to guys like me who needed something to do.”

The man didn’t say anything. “That dog was a scared little runt when they brought her to me,” Mason continued. “Pretty much nobody gave her a chance. But we got to each other somehow. And I didn’t train a dog who’d go attacking people for no reason.”

“Oh, son,” the man said. He said it gentle, like maybe Mason would freak out and get violent if he pissed him off, like Mason was some kind of damaged person who needed extra care.

“Son, sometimes a dog just goes crazy,” he continued. “We think we know an animal, and then something triggers and it’s all of a sudden something wild again, something we’ve never seen. Happened to me more than once—I’ve had dogs. There’s nothing to it but to move on.”

“Not this dog,” Mason said. “All due respect, but I know this dog, sir. I just can’t accept that she acted out of turn.”

“So what are you asking? What is it you’re thinking you’ll do?”

“I want to talk to the dog’s owner at least. Deputy Harwood didn’t want to play ball, so I’d like to get her side of the story, hear what happened. If nothing else, I just want to understand why Lucy did what she did.”

The man said nothing for a while. Looked Mason in the eye and seemed to be weighing something.