Natural Evil (Elder Races #4.5)(3)

She turned back to Cowboy Hat. He had raised bushy, white eyebrows.

Rodriguez moved the last bench aside as he said, “This is Doc Dan Jackson. He’s the only vet within sixty miles.”

“People kept knocking on my door with their injured pets,” said Johnson. “Gave up trying to retire seven years ago.”

“Dan, this is Claudia Hunter. Says she found the dog on I-80.”

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. Rodriguez didn’t have to pull out her driver’s license in order to introduce her by name. Showed he was paying attention. The vet unlocked the cabinet and withdrew vials of clear liquid and a syringe.

She moved. When the vet turned, she was standing between him and the dog on the table. She met the sharp inquiry in his eyes with her own clear gaze. “Doesn’t matter if I haven’t had him long. He is my dog now.” She looked down at the vials he held in his gnarled hands. She repeated, “I want you to do everything you can to save him.”

Jackson opened his hands to show her what he held, turning the vials so she could read the labels. He said, “Your new dog needs to be anesthetized so I can work on him. I’m going to sedate him with a combination of Valium and ketamine so that I can insert an endotracheal tube and administer Isoflurane, which is a gas anesthetic. Then I’m going to try to save his life. That okay by you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Then get the hell out of my way,” he said.

She stepped back, watching closely as he administered the injections. Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed the dog eased and began breathing easier almost immediately. The vet gave her a scowling look. “Get the hell out of my kitchen too.”

“I want to help,” she said.

Jackson moved quickly to insert a tube down the dog’s throat. “You a vet tech?”

“Nope,” she said.

“An EMT? Human nurse? Any goddamn thing that might be useful?”

“My unit got shot up a couple times in Afghanistan,” she said. “Once we had to deal with the aftermath of a roadside bomb. I’ve triaged more than my share of wounds and sometimes they were ugly. I didn’t bandage animals, and I wasn’t a medic. But if you need an extra pair of steady hands from someone who won’t faint at the sight of blood, I can provide it.”

Jackson snorted without looking up from his work, but after a moment he said, “Grab a pair of gloves. Top drawer on your left.”

She opened the drawer, pulled out a pair of latex gloves and yanked them on.

Rodriguez folded his arms as he watched the exchange. His original friendly expression had morphed into a scowl. He said, “Isn’t that against the law, Dan? You could lose your license.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said the vet. “I’m not letting her actually do anything surgical on the animal, and you’re not the veterinarian State Board. Like she said, an extra pair of steady hands. Speaking of which, hold this a sec.” He thrust an implement at her.

She looked at it with interest. It was kind of like a scalpel, nice and sharp on one end. It would make a good hand-to-hand weapon.

“I have questions I want to ask you,” Rodriguez said to her.

“So ask,” she said. She stood balanced on the balls of her feet and kept her eyes on the vet as she held the implement in one hand and flipped it, then flipped it again.

As she twirled the implement between her fingers, Jackson glanced sidelong at her. He said irritably, “Stop that.”

She stopped and stood quietly as she watched him inspect the dog. He probed the dog’s swollen neck, and his face tightened. He held out his hand and she handed the implement back to him. “Still has rope tied around his neck,” he said. “Get your fingers over here. Keep his skin pulled back so I can cut the rope off.”

“Shit.” She bent over and pulled the swollen, abraded flesh apart as best she could.

“Can you take me back to where you found the dog?” Rodriguez asked.

“Nope,” she said.

“That’s a pretty glib response,” said the sheriff. “You actually give your answer any thought?”

“I’m from New York,” she said tersely, sparing the sheriff a single sharp look. “I’m not familiar with this area. The desert all looks the same to me, and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was when I decided to stop to investigate the lump beside the road.”

“First you say you found the dog,” Rodriguez said. “Now you say he’s yours. Animal torture is against the law.”

“For God’s sake, John!” Jackson snapped.

“Something doesn’t add up about her story,” Rodriguez said, his voice hard. “There’s no damn way she could get an animal of his size and weight into her car all by herself.”

She angled her jaw out. Should she tell the sheriff about her telekinesis? She thought over recent events and stuck by her original instinct, remaining silent.

The vet said, “This dog was dragged behind a vehicle before the rope broke. Go check her goddamn bumper. If you find something, arrest her. If not, go away. We’ve got a lot to do here and it’s going to take a while.” He lifted one shoulder in a fatalistic shrug. “Unless, of course, the dog dies.”

“I’ve said that a lot in the last forty-five minutes,” she said. That dog had one of the strongest wills to live she’d ever seen. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to die on Jackson’s table. She added to Rodriguez, “If you’re going to ticket me, set it on the counter along with my license and registration. I’ll pay it before I leave town.”