Excerpt from Murder Off-Leash.
Jerking the steering wheel sharply to the right, Mitch pulled the car into the service station, stopping at a pump one over and the pump behind her. He stayed in his car, attempting to slide his large frame down into the seat, pulling his Yankees baseball cap over his eyes.
“Fill’er up,” he mumbled to the attendant. “Oil’s fine.”
The attendant, a pimply-faced kid in his teens, removed the lid from the gas tank, cautiously eying the large dog lying in the back seat as he filled the tank. The dog raised his head and let out one bark. The attendant jumped back, spilling the gas. “Jeez.”
“Don’t worry He doesn’t bite.” At least I don’t think he bites...maybe I should buy a muzzle just in case, Mitch thought to himself. He had no idea why he had that dog in his back seat. He didn’t even like dogs, hadn’t since he’d been bitten by that damned Doberman. He had overcome the fear when he’d joined the force, but he still didn’t like the damn animals.
He turned and looked at the large sad brown eyes, as the dog lay slobbering all over his seat. “It’s okay, boy. It’ll get better. It can’t get much worse.”
Mitch paid the attendant, then shifted the gears of his older model, slightly rusted, dark blue Chevrolet. The car looked more like an old family sedan, but he’d had the engine rebuilt under that slightly rusted hood. It could take almost any damn car on the road. Every once in awhile some hotshot teenager would rev his engine as he pulled up beside him at a stop light, challenging him to a race, laughing at his heap. Mitch always enjoyed the shocked look on the kid’s face when he left him behind, eating his dust.
He eased the car forward, pulling out of the service station and moving to a spot on the street where he could watch her in his rear view mirror. She and the kid had gone inside the convenience store.
Mitch reached into the brown grocery bag on the seat beside him. Just in case she didn’t stop, he’d picked up enough junk food to last for a couple of days, including dry dog food and a couple of jugs of water. He’d also managed a stop at one of the fast-food drive-thrus along the highway, when she and the kid stopped for lunch. The fries were cold, but still not too bad. He bit into another hard, cold, greasy one, and waited for her next move. He could sure use a cold beer about now. He should have picked up a six-pack. He scratched his chin, then rubbed his hand up his cheek. He needed a shave. Like that was going to happen.
The whining started in the back seat. Then the shaggy head appeared, resting on the top of the passenger’s seat, leaning over Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch grabbed a hand full of dry dog food and dumped it on the back seat. He’d have to get the damn car vacuumed one of these days.
The dog slid back down on to the seat, munching away on the dry food. He appeared to be in mourning if dogs did mourn. Most of the time he just kind of lay there on the seat, whining occasionally. He hardly even barked anymore.
Enjoy the fall and happy Halloween!
