Free Retribution by Elizabeth Forrest Page A

in agonizing conflict. His lips curled back. The golden ruff at the back of his neck quivered as if to rise. His ears shifted. John looked into his torment steadily. Then the dog blinked, and, with a whimper, went down.

    John let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He put his hand to Jagger's head and patted him gently. "Good boy. Good dog."

    Jagger whined miserably and dropped his head to his paws, no longer secure in his doggish estimation of himself and his world. Rubidoux reached for the harness. "It's okay, I've got him."

    Mary Saunders moved past him in a swift rustle of silk and blue, crying, "Charlie!"

    Not far behind her, he recognized Judge Laverman and his wife. Mrs. Laverman put a hand on Mary's shoulders. "The paramedics are on their way."

    Mary sat down unceremoniously on the temporary stage, pulling her daughter's head and shoulders into her lap, smoothing stray tendrils of golden-brown hair from her forehead, crooning "Oh, Charlie, Charlie."

    Mrs. Laverman traded looks with her husband. "She's been working hard, Mary," the woman said softly. "Perhaps she is just tired."

    Mary Saunders rocked her daughter's unconscious form ever so slightly, her eyes brimming with tears still unshed. "Oh, God," she mumbled. "It can't have come back. It can't!"

    Mrs. Laverman put her hand on Mary's shoulder and patted her comfortingly. "Don't even think it."

    Frowning, Mary eyed Jagger. "That damned dog."

    "It wasn't his fault, Mrs. Saunders. If you need to blame anybody, blame me."

    "And who are you?"

    "I'm the man your husband hired to retrain him."

    Mary's face quivered with expression, as she soothed the hair from Charlie's face and crooned to her. Then she looked at John and nodded, as if to acknowledge him as one of the culprits. John stood in uncomfortable silence.

    And no more words were exchanged between them as the EMTs came running up the driveway and sprinting across the lawn. Jagger lurched to his feet, growling anew. John corrected him, although the harness could not tighten on his throat as effectively as a choke chain, but he got the dog's attention. As John worked to keep Jagger calm, someone from the philanthropic organization came to the mike and announced free champagne in the buffet tent to disperse the crowd. They went, still looking back curiously, as the paramedic team straightened her body and began to take vitals.

    Mary stood to one side, her hand to her mouth, as if she could smother unwanted thoughts the way she could words.

    As a gurney was brought up the drive, one of the techs nodded to her, saying, "You can ride in the van with us if you want, ma'am."

    "Thank you," Mary Saunders murmured. Her glance flickered to the dog.

    John volunteered swiftly, "I'll take Jagger home with me, if you don't mind." He fumbled a card out of an unfamiliar tux pocket and pressed it into her hand.

    She looked at him. "Thank you," she repeated, her voice sounding as if it were on automatic, but gratitude flickering in careworn eyes.

    Mrs. Laverman slid an arm around Mary's shoulders and gave her a quick embrace. "Don't worry, dear," she said. "It can't be a tumor again. It simply can't be."

    Charlie's mother shuddered, but whether it was because of the other's touch or her words, John could not say. "It's been ten years," she answered. "I thought— we'd both hoped— that it was all behind us finally. Now this."

    Jagger whined and pressed close to John's legs, as the gurney carrying Charlie was taken back down the drive to be loaded in the paramedic van, and Mary followed slowly after.

    He ruffled the dog's ears thoughtfully.

    The strokelike weakness in her right side. The artist who used to paint brilliantly and now didn't… or couldn't….

    What had been taken from her then, saving her life yet changing it irrevocably, and what more could be taken from her now?

    John felt his throat grow tight, gripped by emotion, as he watched the van doors slam shut, and he could no longer