Free Fear the Darkness: A Thriller by Becky Masterman Page B

don’t think so. They left him at the vet’s.”
    “So why are you in trouble? Did you poison their dog?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “What d’you mean not exactly?”
    “It ate a Colorado River toad.”
    “You fed their dog a Colorado River toad?
    Gemma-Kate studied his face. “Okay, yeah. I fucking poisoned their dog. Okay?”
    “Because they wouldn’t let me come over while they were gone?” He almost looked flattered. “That’s extreme.”
    “It wasn’t like that.” Gemma-Kate paused, staring at him. She could tell he was trying to tell if she had a bra on underneath her sleep shirt. She was sorry she told him.
    “Don’t you tell anybody,” she said.

 
    Twelve
    The next morning when I got up shortly before sunrise I found the other Pug lying with her back pressed up against the door leading to the garage, paws jerking a bit, making little moofmoof sounds in her sleep. I woke her from what sounded like a bad dream, and she followed me into the kitchen.
    Carlo had left the invoice from the vet on the counter. It specified that the charge of three hundred and twenty-five dollars was for initial treatment and projected costs for three days in the hospital with nursing care. The form listed the Pug’s name as Al.
    After firing up the first pot of coffee, I grabbed my cell phone off the kitchen counter, and the Pug and I sat together on the back porch watching the sun come up and listening to the coyotes’ high-pitched keening in the arroyos behind our property. Two cups later Carlo followed suit. Like any normal teenager, Gemma-Kate slept in. That allowed Carlo and me to have privately a little of the postmortem that only mates can have, a conversation that feels like lazy lobs on a tennis court where no one needs to score points.
    “I called the vet,” I told Carlo.
    “So early?”
    “They say they’re twenty-four hours, so I took them at their word. They told me he’s stable.” I petted the female a bit. “She misses him. I’ve come to like these guys.”
    “I like them, too.” Carlo gestured at the invoice on the table between us. “At these rates it’s a good thing.”
    “You told them his name is Al?”
    “The girl asked, and I was too embarrassed to say we hadn’t named him. While you were in having the other guy treated, the girl asked the female’s name.”
    “I can’t stand the suspense,” I said.
    Carlo glanced away with a smile as if he was half embarrassed and half kind of proud of himself. “Peggy.”
    “Peg the Pug. Al and Peg.”
    “Well, it’s not like they’re going to file for Social Security someday. We can always change them. Are you going to call Jacquie Neilsen?”
    “I don’t want to.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because she’s crazy.”
    “She’s not crazy, she’s in pain.”
    “There you go doing that priest-and-the-stray-pup thing.”
    He made a whining sound.
    “Okay, okay, you know I can’t stand it when you whimper. I’ll call her, I just want to do a little homework before I go over there.”
    A little while later Gemma-Kate shuffled out in her drawstring pajama bottoms and T-shirt and asked about breakfast.
    “What, no crepes?” I asked. If not an apology, seemed like there would be at least that for letting the Pug eat a toad on her watch. Now she just rooted around in the pantry for cereal without speaking, looking more guarded, as if she feared blame would descend without warning.

 
    Thirteen
    The Neilsen homework consisted of calling Dr. George Manriquez, a lovely individual first and medical examiner second, who treated the dead as if they were his patients. He told me once that they, or more precisely their flesh, spoke to him more intimately than any of us, the living, are capable of. We were kind of close because we both came from Florida. Florida is a different kind of place.
    The eye bank was there removing some corneas for reuse, and it took a while for George to return my call, but when he did he was as helpful as ever. We exchanged a