Big Three-Thriller Bundle Box Collection (101 page)

CHAPTER 47

P
arker seemed to be passing in and out of some sort of a stupor, at times thinking clearly, at other times confused and frightened. For now, his mind cleared.

He glanced at his watch and saw it was a quarter after nine. The ten-o’clock news would be on soon with Truong’s interview. If any of the dogs that were in Doc’s clinic in the last couple of months were near a TV when the news on Channel Two came on, there would be more attacks, maybe dozens more.

Parker sprang off of the tailgate and ran into the house. He had to warn Hill first. It could be too late. She may have already seen the preview with Sheik. The line was busy.

“Damn!” he said and hung up the phone, then ran out the door to the truck. He pulled out of the driveway quietly, trying not to wake Julie, and waited to turn the lights on until he was down the street.

“AC One to dispatcher,” he panted, finding it hard to breathe.

“Dispatcher. Go ahead, Top Dog. Didn’t expect to hear your voice so soon.”

“Good, it’s you, Tyrone. Listen very carefully. We have a major— disaster about to happen.” He heaved, gasping for breath.

“Uh, sure, Tony. You okay?”

Parker didn’t answer Tyrone’s concern.

“First thing, you need to get a hold of the police chief. Tell him that if Channel Two News shows the interview with a guy named Truong tonight—there will be more dog attacks, possibly over a hundred of them. The chief will be the one—that will have to tell them not to air it. I don’t think they’d believe me—they might believe him. Have him contact all of the TV and radio stations and cable, too. I want bulletins on every channel and station—instructing people to lock their dogs up.”

“Damn, Top Dog, you for real?”

“I’m very serious, Tyrone. Now stick with me. Next, call the animal-control office. Have the officer on duty—I think it’s Tommy Chin— have him meet me at Dr. White Cloud’s clinic. We’re going to have to get a hold of all of the dog owners that could be affected
tonight
. I’m guessing that there’s—around two hundred of them. We’ll call you as soon as we have their names and phone numbers, and we’ll split them with you. You and the other dispatchers can divide those names up—and call them all immediately while we call our share from the clinic.”

“What do we tell them? Don’t let your dog watch the news tonight—it might be bad for him?”

“Damn it, Tyrone, I’m serious. I need your help. Tell them anything, I don’t know. Tell them that their dogs—have been exposed to rabies and their last vaccination was defective. Have them lock them in a garage—or a vacant room—or a securely fenced-in backyard on a leash—until the police come. And above all else—tell them to keep their dogs away from their TVs—because it might excite them. Then, give the addresses to the police—and have them go pick the dogs up and bring them to the shelter for now. I don’t know what we’ll do with all of them—but we’ll figure something out.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Trust me. I’m sure.”

“What if the chief doesn’t go along with it, or Channel Two? It’ll be a miracle if we can get a hold of that many people by ten.”

“Well then—we have a real problem on our hands, don’t we? I’m on my way to Dr. White Cloud’s now. But I’m stopping at Sarah Hill’s on the way. Tell Chin not to go in—if he gets there before I do. Tell him to wait outside. There might be a madman there. His name is Truong. He saw him before at the clinic—when he took one of the dogs in. He’s to stay clear of him. Truong could be very—dangerous. You got that?”

“Tony, you don’t sound too good. You sure you’re okay?”

“I asked if you understood, Tyrone. Do you?”

“Yeah, I got it, Top Dog.”

“All right, then. Get busy.”

“Right. Ah, uh-oh, it sounds like it’s already started. We’ve got two dispatchers taking calls about dog attacks.”

“Probably saw the preview I did. No time to lose, Tyrone.”

If Truong’s interview aired, there would be little chance of preventing all the attacks. The sooner they got the names, the more lives would be saved. He had to get those names quick. He reached over and opened the glove compartment and pulled out Jack’s .357. If he ran into Truong, he might have to use it.

The first thing was to alert Hill. Parker ran up the stairs to Hill’s third-floor apartment. His wrist throbbed, and he held his arm close to his stomach to hold Simpson’s gun in his belt while he ascended the steps. Blood stained the front of his pants and the side of his collar.

He rang the doorbell and worked the knob. The door was locked. He beat on it. Maybe she was asleep already, but the lights were still on.

“Come on, Sarah, open up. It’s me, Tony.”

Still no answer. Parker put his ear to the door. There was a muffled sound. The TV—or maybe Sheik growling.

Parker stepped back and kicked just to the side of the knob, and the door blasted open, splintering the jamb.

“Sarah! Sarah!” he yelled out, running into the room.

Phone on the floor. Spots of blood leading to the bedroom.

He drew the gun and stepped into the bedroom doorway. Sheik had Hill’s foot in his mouth and he was dragging Hill’s limp body out from under the bed. The dog dropped her foot and pounced, open-mouthed, at her exposed throat. Parker aimed and fired. The dog reeled around, a red spot between his shoulders. Blood

flowed from the side of his neck where the bullet passed through. He snarled. Parker pulled the trigger again. The dog collapsed like a plumber’s canvas bag full of pipe

wrenches across Hill’s legs, a bullet hole just in front of one ear. He ran to Hill, falling to her side and lifted her head up to his lap. “Sarah, wake up. Sarah,” he pleaded. She moved her head, and he saw that the wounds, although deep

and mutilating, weren’t immediately life threatening. “Tony?” she said, coming to, “Tony, what happened?” She frowned up at Parker’s face, then at the gun. She looked

down at Sheik, lying across her legs, and broke into tears. “Oh, Sheik!” she cried, pulling his bloody head up to her chest.

His beautiful, snow white, fur coat was matted and stained with blood. “He called, Tony. That son-of-a-bitch called.” “Truong?” “Yeah. And he asked to speak to Sheik. Then, he didn’t say anything, but Sheik started going nuts!” Sarah buried her face into Sheik’s neck, crying. Parker got up and called for an ambulance, then went back to her.

He held her, trying to quiet her. “Will there be more? Will there be more of this
shit
?” she asked. “Truong is taped on an interview to be aired during Channel

Two’s ten-o’clock news. I think he plans to set off as many as another two hundred dogs.”

“You’ve got to do something. I don’t know how he does it, but you’ve got to stop him,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right. The ambulance will be here soon.”

Parker looked into her beautiful blue eyes, now badly bloodshot. Her platinum hair was sopped in red tangles. Blood smudged her face. One deep slash was plowed across her right cheek. Her pink bathrobe was spotted in blood and her neck was covered in red. Her lovely, silky smooth right shoulder was exposed, and blood flowed down to her breast from two large gashes raked into her throat. Her thigh was badly injured and bloody. Muscle and bone were exposed on her calf. Parker gaped at her injuries.

Hill looked at him and said, “I guess my men will have to love me for my mind, now, huh?”

Parker tried to give her a reassuring grin.

“How about you?” she asked.

“No problem, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

Sirens keened in the distance. The ambulance was only seconds away. Parker bent down and kissed Hill on her forehead. She reached up and kissed him on the lips. The kiss told Parker that there would never be another chance, that they would never be lovers, and never again be alone together.

He heard the ambulance stop in front, then hasty footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Bye, Tony,” Hill said and pushed against his chest.

Parker tucked a pillow under her head, then rushed out the door.

CHAPTER 48

P
atsy White Cloud sat alone in her big empty house less than a mile from Doc’s clinic. Loneliness had set in, and a tear rolled down one cheek as she sat on the sofa, watching the
Dances With Wolves
videotape she’d given Doc last Christmas. It was his favorite movie. He’d told her that it made him feel young and free again.

She unbraided her long ebony hair and brushed it slowly down over her shoulders. She remembered how Doc had liked her long black hair. He had liked the way it shone in the low light of their bedroom when she brushed it before going to bed. He had liked the way it felt soft and silky.

Patsy drew a ragged, sobbing breath.

Scratching and whining came from the back door. Red was feeling the lonelies also and wanted inside. Patsy put the movie on pause and got up. When she looked out the window, she could see the big half-Irish setter, half-German shepherd looking up at her with sad, begging eyes, wagging his tail.

“Poor old Red.”

She opened the door and looked out at him. Red sat and looked back, still wagging his tail. He’d been well trained and knew he wasn’t to come in unless invited.

“What’s wrong, Red? Lonely, too?”

A strange, chilling howl pierced the night’s stillness.

Patsy looked up and scanned the neighborhood but could see nothing. Red was alert and also looking around.

“Oh, come on in, Red. We’ll be lonely together.”

Red wasn’t interested now. He’d run over to the fence and began a low growl, the fur on the back of his neck standing up.

“It’s all right, Red. Come on in,” she pleaded.

Red hesitated for a moment, then turned and came back to her. They went inside, and Patsy locked the door behind them. Red went straight to the front window and looked out with the same low growl. Patsy scurried to his side.

A car, parked at the curb three houses down and across the street, had just turned its headlights out. She couldn’t make out the type of vehicle or who was in it. It looked like it could be a white van like the clinic’s. It was too dark. They both watched for a full two minutes and didn’t see anyone get out.

“Oh, come on Red. It’s nothing. Come on over and watch the movie with me.”

She yanked at his collar, and he obeyed. They sat together on the sofa with Red’s head in Patsy’s lap. She patted his brow and pushed the play button to continue the movie.

“You miss ol’ Doc, don’t you, Red?” she asked, seeing the big dog look to the chair Doc used to sit in.

Red responded with a sad whine.

“I know, Red. I miss him, too,” she said, scratching behind his ears.

Suddenly, Red sat up. He looked at the front door, then to the back.

The low growl got a little louder.

“Red?”

He wasn’t responsive this time. He jumped off the sofa and headed toward the back door and began barking, pacing back and forth.

“Stop it, Red. You’re scaring me. Is there somebody out there? No, there can’t be. Now, you stop that this instant.”

He continued, barking frantically.

“Stop it, Red. Stop it, or you’re going out.”

More barking.

“All right then.” Patsy opened the door. “Get out!”

He ran past her and out the door. He continued raving, running back and forth in the yard, jumping up on the roof of his dog house under the kitchen window and then running back out into the yard again. Patsy watched from the back door.

“Fool dog. Probably some cottontail.”

She closed and locked the door. Now she wasn’t just lonely, but frightened, too. Red still barked frantically. Maybe it wasn’t a rabbit. Maybe it was something else. Maybe it was Jezebel.

“I’ll call Tony. He’ll know what to do,” she said aloud and headed for the phone in the kitchen.

As she walked past the sink, the window over it broke with a loud, shattering crash.

It was Red.

He landed on her shoulder.

She knocked him to the floor.

“Stop it, Red! What’s got into you?”

Red replied with a furious growl, looking up at her from terrifying, dark eyes.

He leaped for her again.

Patsy held him away from her throat. He’d pushed her back to the cabinet. It was all she could do to keep him from tearing at her neck. The big dog was nearly her height when standing on his hind legs, and his paws were on her shoulders. They struggled, looking as if they were dancing a strange death waltz, which only one of them could survive.

“Oh, Red, not you, too. Not you!”

He chewed on her wrist. Patsy searched the countertop behind her with her free hand and came across a butcher knife she’d been using earlier to cut up some chicken.

The dog yelped when she slung the large knife around and drove it deep into the side of her beloved companion’s chest. His eyes became blank and lifeless, and his body went limp. She held him up close to her. His long tongue lay out the side of his mouth.

“Oh, Red! Red!” she cried and hugged the big dog.

The window in the back door broke through.

What was this? She couldn’t imagine. Her eyes widened as she gawked around the corner. Something big, something dark, had entered the house. Patsy pulled the knife out of Red’s side and let him flop to the floor. She held the cutlery over her head and crept nearer the back door.

*-*-*

Tommy Chin waved a patrol car down at an intersection just before Doctor White Cloud’s clinic. He wasn’t going to radio for help, but he thought since they were already there, he might as well have some back up. The policemen followed Chin down the long drive to the dark building. Tony Parker was yet to arrive.

“Okay, now what’s this all about?” the first cop, Officer Draper, asked as he stepped out of the passenger’s side of the patrol car.

Chin walked over as the second policeman, Officer Clark, got out.

“The animal-control director, Tony Parker, will be here in a minute. He’ll be able to explain better,” Chin began. “But essentially, there’s a couple of hundred dogs in the county ticking like time bombs. They’re about to go off and start attacking like all these others have over the last couple of days. The thing is, they’re going to all go nuts tonight, and the only way to identify them is through Doctor White Cloud’s records inside.”

“Holy shit!” Clark exclaimed. “Are you bullshitting?”

“No, I’m not. . . . ” Chin stopped when he heard something rustle in the bushes along the side of the building.

Draper had heard it also and turned in that direction. “Who’s there?”

No answer, still more rustling.

“I said, who’s there?” he insisted, putting his hand on the grip of his .45-caliber Beretta.

Still no answer, but a figure emerged fifty feet away. A small man, dressed in black with a black eye patch, walked toward the three. He walked swiftly, calmly, and not in a threatening manner.

“It’s Truong. He’s behind this. Stop him!” Chin demanded.

Truong continued, walking purposefully.

“Stop him for what?” Draper asked Chin. He turned to the little man in black. “Is your name Truong?”

Truong didn’t answer but continued his swift advance, now fifteen feet away.

Chin could see he wasn’t going to stop. It was like he was going to walk right over them.

“Stop him. Stop the son-of-a-bitch. He’s the one behind all these attacks.”

Both officers began to draw their guns.

Truong attacked before they were able to clear their holsters. His first punch struck quickly. His right hand blurred, smashing Clark’s throat. Clark collapsed in a pile, his face contorting.

In the same second, Truong’s right foot spun around in a roundhouse kick and struck Draper in the jaw, causing a loud crack. He caught Draper by the head as the officer leaned back against the patrol car. With one hand on the back of Draper’s head and one on his chin, he twisted. Draper’s neck snapped as his head was jerked, grotesquely, 180 degrees.

Clark lay on the ground sucking air in sibilant gasps. He was suffocating, airway closed.

Tommy Chin realized he was no match for this lunatic. The best way he could help Clark and himself was to get out of there and radio for help.

He sprinted toward his van, thirty feet away in the gravel parking lot. Halfway, he tripped and slid on the loose gravel. Truong would be right behind him. Chin didn’t look back. He stumbled to his feet and ran again. Slamming against the side of the van, he grabbed the door handle.

Now, to jump inside and lock the door, then drive to safety and call for help. Armed or not, Truong was very deadly, and he now had access to the police officers’ guns.

Chin yanked the door open, slipped inside, and hammered down the lock. He’d made it. He’d had his doubts, but he had actually made it. He reached for the keys in the ignition and took his first look back toward the patrol car. Both officers still lay on the ground. Truong wasn’t in sight.

Chin turned the engine over and felt tremendous relief when it started immediately. He continued searching out the window into the night for Truong.

Out of the blackness, an arm appeared. Truong’s fist busted through the driver’s side window, shattering glass like an explosion. Tommy Chin saw stars, then darkness.