She kept loping, then suddenly raised her head, the pointed ears hard upright. Just as he realized the pup Scout was nowhere in sight, she bolted into the forest. He bolted after her.

A sharp whining pierced his ears. Over a ridge in a shallow ravine, Enola nudged something that must be Scout, then raised her head and howled. He hurried down, cautiously moved her aside, and reached for the b.l.o.o.d.y pup. Cradling it, he started back, heart aching.

Enola pressed into his legs, but there was nothing she could do. He needed Liz. He pulled the hem of his shirt free and tugged it up around the pup. He closed Enola into the house, then broke every speed limit in town, hoping as he banged the clinic door with the toe of his boot that their bad blood wouldn't keep her from letting him in.

"Liz! I need help. Liz!"

She came forward, looking startled and annoyed. "I'm not open."

"It's my pup," he hollered through the door. "He's hurt."

She unlocked the door, and he pressed through with the bleeding pup still wrapped in his shirt.

"This way," she said.

He followed her to the surgery and laid him on the stainless steel table. The pup shuddered feebly.

"Something got him," he rasped. "It's bad."

She went to the sink and started washing her hands. "Did you see what?"

"Enola must have scared it off."

She dried her hands on paper towels.

"Can I help?"

"Scrub your arms and hands. He's lost too much blood to anesthetize. You'll need to hold-"

"I've got him." He was weak enough it took hardly anything to hold him still. He followed the directions she gave, holding Scout still while she disinfected and st.i.tched the gashes. The rents were not ragged, but sharp and straight, one deep enough to show white rib bones. Could claws or teeth do that? Eagle talons?

"Has he been dropped?"

"You mean from a distance?"

"Could it have been a hawk or eagle? I found him in the trees, so the branches might have broken a fall."

"I can't tell without x-rays, but I don't think so."

"The cuts are sharp, not ragged. A badger?"

"I don't know, Jonah. I'm not really experienced with predators." She gave him a look he would unpack later.

"Will he make it?"

"He's lost a lot of blood."

"Can you transfuse?"

"A large veterinary hospital might have blood on hand, but I collect from donors as needed for preplanned surgeries. I'm not sure we could match his type."

"Enola?"

"How would you get her here?"

"DOW might have a tranquilizer gun." He hated the thought. "Her blood may or may not match, and testing would take time and a lab."

"Your pups?" He was grasping and knew it.

"Just because they were in the same litter does not mean the same sire. We would have to test the blood or a transfusion could kill him. That's days or weeks for results, Jonah." Liz stroked a finger up the pup's oversize ear. "You'll just have to wait it out."

Scout made a small movement of his head. Jonah pressed in. "Did he move?"

"The wounds are serious, but there's no organ damage. If he can recover the blood loss, he should survive."

A rush of relief.

She said, "I'll watch him overnight."

"No, I'll take him. If you don't have blood anyway, I'll return him to his mother."

"She could damage the st.i.tches, licking the wounds."

"I'll watch." He cradled Scout's head.

From a cabinet, she gave him a bottle of antibiotics.

"Thanks. Do you want to send a bill, or can I pay you now?"

Her eyelids hooded. "I'll bill you."

"Thank you. I mean it." He lifted Scout, wrapped him again in the hem of his b.l.o.o.d.y shirt, and went out.

Liz stared after him, stunned.

"Lizzie?"

"I've never hurt something on purpose." She looked down. Her hands were shaking. And why not? They were streaked with Scout's blood.

She scrubbed and disinfected her hands, her arms to the elbow and above. She scrubbed the table, her eyes stinging from the bleach, until no molecule of blood remained. She found a drop on the floor and scrubbed the entire floor until her knees ached and her knuckles throbbed. Then she washed her hands again.

"You can't get rid of it."

She turned and glared. "Rid of what?"

"The bad feeling."

Shaking, she toweled her hands dry. "I'm cleaning up the mess."

"But the damage is done."

"Why are you saying that?"

"You should have left him alone."

She knew it.

"But you wanted him to come."

"Yes." Liz seethed. "Is that so wrong? For me to want something? I've given you everything. My whole life."

"That's not true." Lucy's voice was weak. "You know it's not."

Liz sank to her knees, her head reeling. Lucy faded in and out, and Liz was sure she'd faint. She gripped her head, swaying.

"But I love you. I'll always love you." Lucy came close and held her. "Even when I'm gone."

Liz wrapped her sister in her arms. "You're not leaving. I won't let you go."

"Oh, Lizzie. How much longer can we do this?"

"Forever."

Lucy sighed. "I don't have forever."

With Scout cradled in his lap, Jonah drove home, knots of tension in his muscles. "Jonah." Ruth came over the radio. "Are you on your way in?"

"I have to go by my house first. What's-"

"I'll meet him out there. Tell him-"

Ruth broke in. "The mayor says he'll meet you there."

Jonah scowled. "What's up?"

"He'll talk to you there."

Mayor Buckley was waiting when he climbed out. "You'll have to give me a minute."

The mayor took in his b.l.o.o.d.y shirt and the animal he clutched. "Anything I can do?"

"I wouldn't recommend it. His mother's half coyote, and she's already frantic. Just give me a few minutes to deal with this."

Enola came out of his room, hackles raised, growling.

"Easy, girl." He knew she could smell the puppy's blood, the vet, and his own fear. "I'll just bring him in where it's safe and quiet." He moved past her to the closet, squatted down, and laid Scout on the blankets inside. He backed away to let her in, watching for any sign that she might harm her offspring.

She shot a look over her shoulder, then moved into the closet and started licking. Liz had been concerned about the st.i.tches, but they looked-his breath caught-no. He gripped his head, staring at the sharp, straight cuts, neatly st.i.tched. No!

Enola looked up, sensing his sudden fear. Dread filled his chest. He'd need a sample of that thread to send to the lab for a match. And if it matched the racc.o.o.n thread, what did that mean?

Experimentation? Research? She must have a reason for not voicing it when he'd shown her the animals. Another cog turned. If she could do that, then-Scout?

The breath left him. Sharp slices, like a blade, a scalpel. He had no proof, no evidence. He didn't want to believe it. Why would she hurt-Tia.

He had told her no one would see, but what if someone had? What other reason could there be? He stared down at Scout, barely responsive. His chest felt cold.

And then he remembered the mayor in his yard. He went out, barely hiding his scowl. "Sorry to keep you waiting. What did you need?"

Mayor Buckley handed him an embossed invitation. The Founders' Luncheon. He could not be serious. Jonah looked up.

"Noon today."

"I'm not a founder."

"Neither are half of them on the board. It's about solidarity. About caring for Redford. I want you to hear the speakers so you'll understand the big picture."

"I have two investigations that require my attention. I don't have time-"

"Have the sheriff back you up on that if the officers we pay aren't enough." The mayor flashed his smile. "I'll see you there."

Cursing, he went inside and changed into his full uniform, armed himself again, then stopped when Sarge came out of his room. "I know you never saw combat, Sarge. But did you ever want to kill?"

Twenty-Six.

All are good and happy. The blessing of unity still dwells amongst us and oh what a blessing, it should make all else pa.s.s into nothing.-CATHERINE MCAULEY Tia went into the shop, amazed that it could feel so foreign already. She moved through it to the back room, like a ghost that had once occupied a s.p.a.ce and couldn't understand why it was still there. She grabbed card stock from a shelf and started making signs. Once her merchandise sold, she wouldn't enter this store again.

She put the big sign in the window, the smaller ones around on the shelves. Then she started making calls, Mary Carson first, then the others who had faithfully supported her. With the hint of a smile, she included Ruth. In the back room, she sorted and discarded everything she would have no use for, going to the front when Mary and others came in to buy out her stock.

"So," Mary said. "A new direction."

"I hope it's the right one. It's taken me long enough to find it."

"Well, nothing is wasted. The Lord is infinitely resourceful."

Tia tipped her head. "Where have I heard that before?"

"You mean Carolyn's pet phrase?"

They laughed.

Mary c.o.c.ked her head. "When I got your message, I thought you might be depressed, but you seem ... joyful."