She touched his cheek. “Hot and sweaty. Just how I left you last night.”
“You could try his cell.”
“I’m taking a run out Adam’s Gulch,” she explained. “You want to come with?” Patrick’s compound abutted state forest land. Aspen -and evergreen-shrouded mountains were braided together with interlocking bike and foot trails.
“I’m just wrapping up,” he said, declining. “There’s coffee, if you want.”
“Staff arrives at eight, isn’t that right?” She checked her watch and cozied up to him. “We could put that twenty minutes to good use.”
“Rain check,” he said.
She complained, “It doesn’t rain much here, Danny. You know that.” She stepped away and looked around the room. “You’d never guess there were a hundred people here last night.”
She had a sultry walk as she prowled the room. He felt himself stir. He wanted none of that, already resenting the night before. “Can I leave a message or something?”
“Or something,” she said.
“Allie…”
She turned to face him. “Come on, Danny, I’m just kidding around.” They both knew differently. “Why so serious? I’ve got news for you. Good news for a change. The least you could do is pretend you’re glad to see me.”
“We talked about this.”
“Not really. I don’t remember talking all that much.”
He fought back an urge to just walk away and leave her before it got out of hand again.
“I’ve arranged a meeting between you and Stu.”
He felt his breath catch. “I expressly asked-”
“You can thank me now, if you like.” She checked her watch. “We’ve still got eighteen minutes.” She closed to within an arm’s reach.
“You know how hard it was to set up a meeting given his conference schedule?”
Danny felt his face flush.
“Don’t gush with thanks all at once. I can take it in little bits. Or little bites, or whatever.”
“I asked you to leave it alone.”
“You know me, Danny: I’m impulsive.”
He took her by both wrists and backed her up several feet against a couch.
“Shit, Danny, that hurts.”
He drove himself against her, pelvis against pelvis. “Is this what you want, Allie? Nice and rough. You want it on the couch? On the kitchen counter? Where?”
“You’re hurting me,” she gasped.
“You love it.”
“Fuck you!”
“You wish.”
He let go of her, stepped back.
Panting, she inspected her wrists.
“Shit, Danny. I think you bruised me. How am I going to explain that?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Sorry?” she said, rubbing her forearm. “You obviously don’t know Stu very well.”
“I told you I have to do this myself,” he scolded. “I don’t want Paddy’s help, or yours, or anybody else’s.”
She was still rubbing her forearm. “Shit! Shit! Shit! Long sleeves in July? Are you kidding me?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“What’s happened to you?” she mumbled. “You’re fucked up, Danny.”
“I was fucked up,” he said. “Not anymore.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
She pulled the heavy front door open. Morning sunlight had broken onto the opposing hillside, setting it on fire. She didn’t look at him, just walked outside.
She started into a slow jog, turned at the end of the drive, and broke into a full run.
Danny stepped back inside, shaken by what he’d done. He wondered where such anger came from, and worse, where it could lead.
Two
V eterinarian Mark Aker’s low voice growled as he walked stiffly and slightly bowlegged toward the Sun Valley Lodge, Walt at his side. “This guy must be charmed. You pulled off a miracle.” His dark brown eyes peered out from his tanned, bearded face. In his right hand he held a dark blue nylon leash, leading a fine-looking German shepherd.
“We,” Walt corrected. “And I don’t even know how we did it.”
“He has Maggie to thank. And Patrick Cutter’s wallet. This is costing north of five hundred bucks a day.”
Walt whistled. “What’s amazing is she looks just like his dog-the one that died.”
“Animals and commercial aircraft shouldn’t mix.”
The lodge’s portico was crowded with vehicles, valet personnel, and bellmen. One of the bellmen caught sight of the dog and moved to intercept Mark Aker. “Service dog,” Walt said. “Being delivered to a hotel guest.”
“Sure thing, Sheriff.”
Walt had called ahead. Nagler had tried to talk him out of the offer.
“We may have to sell him on this,” Walt warned.
“I doubt it,” Aker replied. “Toey will sell herself.”
Three
W ith the opaque contact lenses blocking his vision, and anxiety welling in his chest, Trevalian awaited the arrival of the sheriff-the sheriff-yet enjoying the irony that the man was now supplying him with a dog that he desperately needed.
He sat on a couch in the lobby, Karl the bellman as his eyes.
“Here they are,” Karl announced. “Oh, sir, she’s a fine-looking dog.”
Trevalian stood.
“A fine-looking German shepherd. You should see everyone looking at her. Queen of the ball.”
“Mr. Nagler.” The sheriff.
“Sheriff,” Nagler said.
“I believe you may have met Mark Aker yesterday.”
He and Aker shook hands.
“In less fortunate circumstances,” the vet said. “But allow me to introduce Toey.”
“Toey?” Nagler said.
Karl took the cane from Trevalian’s hand and Aker put the leash into his grip. Trevalian squatted and Toey immediately licked his face.
“She’s service trained,” Aker said, “and ready to go.”
“Are you now, Toey?” Trevalian said, petting the dog furiously.
“She’ll direct you to a handrail on stairs on your signal,” Aker said. “She’ll move through a doorway and return to working position.”
“A smart girl, are you?” Trevalian said.
“Take her for a spin?” Aker asked.
“I couldn’t possibly.”
“But you’ve got to!” the sheriff said. “It’s all been arranged.”
Trevalian looked up in the general direction of that voice. Play hard to get, he thought. “Sheriff, do you have dogs?”
“Three.”
“Then you know there’s a bond of trust that forms between the handler and the animal. Whatever I do with Toey will only corrupt whatever training she’s had to this point, will spoil her for her real owner. As much as I’d love her company, and her help, I’d be doing a disservice to her and the people who trained her.”
“Three days is not going to undo fourteen months of training.”
Trevalian leaned his head far back, smiled and rocked side to side. If anyone happened to catch a look behind his sunglasses, they would see only milky orbs, without pupils or irises. “Toey?” he said excitedly. “You want to take a walk?”
He imagined Aker and the sheriff silently congratulating themselves. He wondered how they’d feel two days from now.
Taking hold of the dog’s service harness, he ordered in a crisp voice, “Walk!”
Together they maneuvered around the crowded lobby, Trevalian stifling a grin of satisfaction. The sheriff, of all people.
He had his substitute: His original plan was back on track.
Four
T he mountains rose steeply on either side of him, a narrow canyon called Chocolate Gulch with a creek that snaked between two dozen custom homes. The mouth of the canyon intersected Highway 75 to the east while to the west it was covered by vast stands of lodgepole pine and Douglas fir, the rolling green of which was broken only by rock outcroppings, copses of aspens, and patches of deadfall.
With his dog in the lead, the tall, nondescript man held to a game path, a narrow, sometimes aimlessly bending strip of bare dirt and rock cut into the side of the hill by years of use by deer and elk. Below him, the rich green lawns were laid out like quilt squares, connected by stitching of post-and-rail fences.