Quilting Mystery: Knot In My Backyard Part 6

I ran forward, grabbed him around his chest, and pulled with all my might, dragging the heavy German shepherd back toward my car. He whined in pain, leaving a dark trail of blood behind.

Crusher yelled at me, "Get out of here!"

I opened the door to the backseat of my car. "Not without my dog!"

I tried to lift Arthur up into the car, but he was way too c.u.mbersome for me.

Suddenly a biker appeared beside me. He scooped up the dog in his arms, laid him gently into the backseat, and slammed the door shut. "Go!"

I ran to the driver's side, jumped in, and turned the ignition key even before I'd shut the door. Arthur's cries of pain were m.u.f.fled by the sound of my tires squealing on the road.

Oh, please don't let him die! Please don't let him die.

CHAPTER 11.

I broke the speed limit all the way to the twenty-four-hour animal hospital in Encino, pulled into the parking lot, and leaned on my horn, hoping to arouse someone inside. A tech dressed in blue scrubs came to the door.

I jumped out and opened the pa.s.senger door. "My dog! He's been stabbed! Please help me!"

The tech yelled something over his shoulder; then another tech appeared, running with a rolling stainless-steel table. Arthur whined softly as they pulled him gently out of the car. Blood dripped on the carpet and puddled on the seat. He lifted his head and gave me a sad look.

The open car door triggered a persistent dinging to let me know the keys were still in the ignition. I ran inside after the techs, ignoring the sound.

Arthur had tried to keep me from leaving the house tonight; I took him with me instead. I was so ashamed. I put him in danger, knowing he'd protect me, even at the risk of his own life.

Frantic for rea.s.surance, I grabbed the tech's sleeve as his helper wheeled Arthur through doors marked STAFF ONLY. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Don't know yet. He's got a deep laceration on his shoulder and he's lost a lot of blood. Looks like he'll need surgery. We'll know more after the doc looks at him. Meanwhile, register at the desk and then have a seat and wait."

I ran back to the car, pulled the keys from the ignition, and grabbed my purse from under the seat. I reached inside for my cell phone, dreading the call I had to make. I could hardly see through my tears.

He answered on the second ring. "Beavers."

"Oh, Arlo, I've done something so foolish. Now Arthur is hurt. I'm so sorry," I blubbered.

"Slow down. Are you all right? What's this about Arthur?"

"I went out tonight and took Arthur with me. Someone attacked me and then stabbed the dog when he jumped in to protect me. I'm at the animal hospital in Encino."

His voice got very quiet. "Were you injured?"

"No. But Arthur-"

"How bad?"

"He got stabbed in the shoulder. He's in with the doctor now. He may need surgery."

"Where were you when this happened?"

"On Burbank Boulevard."

"Near the 405? We've just responded to a call. Were you in that mess?"

"Yes."

"That's it. I've had enough." Then the phone went dead.

Ten minutes later, Beavers pushed open the waiting-room doors and reached my chair in three angry strides, eyes on fire. A look of dread briefly crossed his face when he saw Arthur's blood smeared on my clothes and hands. "Where's my dog?"

The STAFF ONLY door opened and a gorgeous young veterinarian in a white lab coat walked efficiently over to us, peeling off a pair of b.l.o.o.d.y latex gloves. Her long blond hair hung in a perky ponytail and her blue eyes flicked from me to Beavers. "Are you the owners of the German shepherd?"

Beavers turned his back to me and faced the doctor. "I am. How is he?"

The pretty doctor looked at him and smiled, ignoring my presence completely. "I'm Dr. Kerry Andreason." She held out her hand. I noticed she wasn't wearing any rings.

He shook her hand. "Arlo Beavers."

She led him a few steps away, effectively shutting me out of the conversation. I sat by helplessly and listened.

"Well, Mr. Beavers, he's sustained a pretty serious cut to his shoulder. He may have some nerve damage. We'll have to wash out the wound and st.i.tch the muscles back together. He'll need to stay here on an antibiotic drip for a few days."

"Just do what you have to do, Doctor."

She glanced over at my b.l.o.o.d.y shirt and then back at Beavers. "How did this happen?"

"He's a retired police dog. Someone stabbed him while he tried to protect this woman." Beavers jerked his thumb in my direction, refusing to look at me.

This woman?

"It's a good thing your dog was there, I guess." She smiled into his eyes and slightly caressed his upper arm. "Don't worry, Mr. Beavers, I'll take good care of him."

She's flirting with him!

"Thanks, Doc."

She smiled once more. "Call me 'Kerry.'"

He nodded.

When she disappeared through the door again, Beavers turned to look at me. His eyes were cold.

"Arlo, let me explain."

"Not this time. Whatever this is you're doing, you're doing it alone from now on. Go home. I've nothing more to say to you."

He took a few more steps over to the reception desk. With a deep sinking in my heart, I knew he might as well have taken a thousand steps. Arlo Beavers just walked out of my life.

I spent the night crying. What was wrong with me? Why did I take such a stupid risk? Poor Arthur almost died protecting me. What for? I'd just lost the best man I'd ever known. Oh, G.o.d, I probably couldn't fix what I'd broken. On top of everything, that pretty doctor's flirty smile flashed through my mind. More tears.

Sleep finally came at around four. At nine, the phone woke me up.

"You okay?" Crusher asked.

"No. Arthur's in the hospital and Arlo has left me." I started crying all over again, wallowing in misery. I didn't even think to ask if he and the other bikers were okay. After all, they went into combat for me. Saved me.

"I'm just a rotten person," I sobbed.

"I'm coming over with some strong coffee, babe."

To heck with Weight Watchers. "Bring some donuts," I sniffed.

I put on my bathrobe. My b.l.o.o.d.y clothes lay on the bathroom floor, right where I dropped them last night before taking a shower. I scooped them up, went to the kitchen, and put them in the trash, along with the b.l.o.o.d.y rag I'd used to clean my car. Then I fed b.u.mper and cleaned his litter box. Arthur's dishes sat empty on the floor. I washed them in the sink, arrows piercing my heart.

A huge white Dodge Ram, with just about the biggest tires I'd ever seen, pulled up in front of my house. I stood at the living-room window. Crusher limped up my walkway, carrying a large paper bag from Western Donuts and a cardboard tray with two giant cups of coffee.

I opened the door and he walked straight to the sofa, sitting down gingerly. This giant of a man, with gray creeping into his red beard, was way north of forty; yet he fought like a young gladiator last night and came away with one swollen eye and hands covered with cuts and bruises.

I sat down on the other end of the sofa. "I never got a chance to thank you for saving Arthur and me last night."

"I've gotta be honest, babe. You were smart to bring the dog along. If he hadn't jumped in, we might've been too late."

I opened the bag of donuts. How does he know I love apple fritters? I reached in and took out a glazed hunk of deep fried dough and cinnamon apples the size of a salad plate. "What happened after I left last night?"

"The minute we saw Switch grab you, we came down like his worst nightmare. None of us really got jammed, but we busted up those other guys pretty bad. They probably put Switch in the hospital." Crusher grinned. "I recall he somehow got stuck with his own knife. By the time the cops got there, we were dust. Did you get anything useful outta him?"

"Two names, Javier and Graciela, but names alone don't do us much good. We don't even know how to find them. You got hurt, and Arlo's dog almost got killed." I couldn't stop the tears. "Arlo was so angry-he broke up with me."

Crusher watched me silently as I wept. "He's a fool if he did." Then he slid over next to me, put one arm around my shoulders, and pulled me into his chest with his other. I felt like I sank into the middle of a giant inner tube that smelled like a mixture of gasoline and Tide.

As nice as Crusher tried to be, this didn't feel right. I pulled back and gave my head a firm shake. I didn't want him to get any ideas.

Somewhere a cell phone rang. Crusher reached in his pocket. "Yeah. When? Okay. Meet you there."

He stood up. "Ed's on his way home. The cops couldn't hold him any longer without charging him. They don't have enough evidence and his lawyer knows it. I'm going over there now."

I blew my nose in a Kleenex. "Thanks for everything, Yossi."

"Don't worry, babe. I'll be in touch."

CHAPTER 12.

I splashed cold water on my face and looked in the bathroom mirror, horrified at my splotchy red skin and puffy eyes. Even my graying curls were drooping sadly. I looked every bit my fifty-five years-and felt even worse. The trauma and stress of the last few days caused my fibromyalgia to flare. My body ached all over and all I wanted to do was crawl in bed, pull a quilt over my head, and escape the reality of the damage I'd caused.

I swallowed a Soma, my go-to medication for muscle pain, and headed for the bedroom. There was a firm knocking on my front door. I looked out the peephole. Beavers!

I opened the door and stared hopefully at his face. I wanted him back. Wanted him to forgive me.

He had a firm jaw as he walked past me, with grim determination, into the kitchen.

"How's Arthur?" was all I could think to say.

"I've come for his things. He'll need them when he gets out of the hospital."

"So he's going to be all right? The surgery went well?"

Beavers scooped up Arthur's bowls and bag of dog food. "If you really cared about him, you wouldn't have put him in such danger."

"But I do care! I'm devastated he got hurt."

"You should have thought of that before you took my dog with your biker friends. I might be able to put up with your stubbornness. Even your selfishness. But you deliberately lied to me!"

"But-"

"Cut the c.r.a.p. If I can't trust you, I can't be with you-especially because of what I do for a living. If you want to ride with the outlaws, be my guest, but you can't have it both ways."

"Arlo, I'm not riding with the outlaws. I'm-"

"Whose truck is in front of your house?"

By the accusing tone in his voice, I knew he already knew. He'd probably run the plates through the system as soon as he spotted the truck.

Beavers looked at the two coffee cups and remnants of donuts on my coffee table. "Levy was here this morning." He wasn't asking a question.

I couldn't speak.

He looked at my bathrobe. "Last night?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but Beavers tossed my house key on the hall table, turned on his heel, and slammed the door behind him.

I stood for a minute in the stunning silence that followed. Then I picked up my phone and called Lucy.

My voice shook. "Can I come over?"

"What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you when I get there." I put on my clothes and hurried over to my best friend's house.