Free Widowmaker by Paul Doiron

there, but he could tell that I was watching him, and so he was watching me back with that intense gaze common to predators.
    A group of armored officers was stacked up, preparing to enter the house. Protocol required that they go in as if there might be a gang of heavily armed criminals behind the door. But everyone seemed to recognize that this afternoon was not going to be as action-packed as they had thought when they responded to the “officer down” call.
    I began searching for the animal control officer. Instead, I ran into one of the EMTs who had patched me up. He tried to persuade me to ride with them to the hospital in Bridgton, but I told him I would drive myself.
    â€œThat’s probably not the best idea,” he said.
    â€œReally, I’m fine.”
    â€œDo you know how often we hear that from people who are anything but fine?”
    I spotted a little pickup truck with the Cumberland County logo painted on the door and a woman standing beside it with a catch pole, looking vaguely lost. I thanked the EMT for his concern and went over to introduce myself to the animal control officer. She was a pear-shaped woman with kind eyes and tinted brown hair that was thinning at the top. When she introduced herself, I had to ask her to repeat her name.
    She smiled, as if this request was a regular one. “Joanie Swette.” She spelled it for me.
    â€œI’m Mike Bowditch,” I said. “I’m the one who found the wolf dog.”
    She turned her whole body to look, instead of just turning her head. “Where is he now? Has he run off on us?”
    â€œHe’s still around. Did you bring a carrier?”
    â€œIt’s in the back of my truck.”
    It was one of those plastic crates with holes punched in the side for air and a steel gate at one end. I manhandled it out of the back of her pickup and then used my good arm to carry it down the road toward the tree line beyond the house.
    Joanie followed with her catch pole. It had a four-foot-long aluminum shaft with a spring-loaded noose that could be slipped over the head of an uncooperative animal and tightened without getting anywhere near the animal’s jaws. It was the same model I had back home in my garage.
    Shadow was exactly where I had last seen him. “There he is.”
    â€œHe’s magnificent! But I have no idea how we’re going to get near him.”
    I had no idea, either. Secretly, I was hoping that he would just turn tail and run, thus relieving me of the responsibility of capturing him, at least for now.
    â€œHey, handsome,” Swette called in that singsong voice certain people use with animals. “Aren’t you handsome?”
    Shadow remained motionless, his dark ears up, wisps of steam rising from his nostrils into the cold air.
    She reached into her pocket and brought out a handful of kibble. “Do you want a treat?”
    The wolf dog didn’t so much as flick his tail.
    â€œShadow!” I shouted.
    To our mutual surprise, the wolf dog took a step forward.
    â€œI thought that was a name those two losers just gave him,” I said. “Give me that kibble.”
    I extended my open hand as I called his name again, and the animal came closer. Halfway across the yard, he sat down in the snow and looked at us.
    â€œCome here, boy!” Swette called.
    I squatted down to his level. “Come here, Shadow!”
    He came right over.
    He was even larger up close than I had imagined. I remained absolutely still, with my arm out as he hopped over the snowbank. I had a momentary bout of anxiety as the enormous animal opened his mouth and began to gobble dog food from my palm. He could have taken off my hand at the wrist with a single bite of those jaws.
    Swette stepped back to loop the snare around the wolf dog’s head.
    â€œWait,” I said. “Maybe we don’t need that. Put some kibble inside the carrier.”
    She opened the gate and scattered pellets