Page 3 of D for Dead

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Usually Huckleberry liked to pee on everything, but tonight, as if sensing once he had done the deed it would be game over, he was purposely taking his time, stopping to sniff every post and every bush.

Amy sighed and glanced around her. Were it not for the spits of rain it would be a gorgeous night, so quiet and still, a blissful contrast to her busy evening in the bar. Across the road, the trees of the park were illuminated by the faint glow from the street lamps nestled between their branches. In the morning she would take Huckleberry for a longer walk but keep him on his leash, as last time he’d caused chaos by chasing the ducks. For tonight he would have to make do with the sidewalk, where she felt safer.

He sniffed for another two minutes before eventually cocking his leg at the bottom of a step leading into one of the neighbouring apartment buildings. As soon as he had finished Amy swung around, eager to get home.

Huckleberry whined and tugged on the leash.

‘Come on, you little shit,’ Amy hissed.

Ryan owed her big time for this favour.

Huckleberry continued to pull, unhappy at the briefness of the walk. He stared at Amy, brown eyes daring her to make him go back. When she gave the leash another yank, he shook his black and white head from side to side.

‘Huckleberry!’

The dog was having none of it and planted his butt firmly on the pavement. As Amy reached for his collar, he started shaking his head more frantically and next thing she knew, he had managed to slip free. He bolted in the direction of the park, leaving her gawping after him, the leash and collar still in her hand.

‘Huckleberry!’

This time she was louder than intended and from one of the apartments above came angry shouting.

‘Shut the hell up! It’s the middle of the night.’

Amy didn’t respond; she was already across the street, following the direction she had seen Huckleberry run. The dog was a pain, but she couldn’t lose him. Ryan would kill her.

She followed his lead down the path to the river, almost certain this was where she would find him as it was the route they had taken that morning. She only hoped Huckleberry didn’t decide to launch himself into the water again.

She was an idiot being out here all alone, but what choice did she have? She could hardly leave the dog and go home. Reassuring herself she was only still minutes from her apartment block and the chances of anyone else being out here in the middle of the night were less than zero, she stopped abruptly as she spotted a shadowy figure, maybe thirty yards ahead, silhouetted against the silvery light bouncing off the water.

Amy caught her breath.

What the hell?

Unsure what to do, she remained where she was, heart thumping and mouth dry, listening to the steadying patter of rain hitting the leaves of the trees overhead.

Had he seen her? What was he doing out here?

Barking distracted her.

Two barks?

A larger pale dog emerged from the bushes, Huckleberry hot on its tail.

The man yelled, ‘Hey!’ and reached out to stop the pale dog. Letting out a joyous woof, Huckleberry bounded into them both, catching the man off guard and sending him sprawling on his ass. Cursing under her breath, Amy charged down to the scene, embarrassment overcoming her apprehension.

‘Huckleberry, come here!’

The man was getting to his feet as she approached, and he looked really pissed. ‘Is that your dog?’ he demanded.

‘Yes… No… Um, well, kind of.’

He stared at her pointedly. He was youngish, maybe mid-thirties, dark hair, and from the way the moonlight was playing with the hollows and angles on his face, attractive… in an angry kind of way.

‘Look, I’m sorry, okay. I took him out to pee, and he got off the leash.’

‘Well, maybe if you can’t control him, you shouldn’t own a dog.’