Page 8 of Wall

“You gonna look for him?”

“Yup.”

“Gimme a minute.”

“I’ll wait out back.” I stomp down the hall toward the exit, making a ruckus. I’m a big man in hunting boots. I can’t move no other way. I pat my pocket, making sure I remembered the baggie of kibble.

Outside, the sun’s hiding behind a blanket of winter clouds. I draw in a deep breath. There’s a bite and a dampness to the air. The storm they’re callin’ for is coming quicker than the weatherman said.

I glance around for a prospect. Mikey, the skinny one, is chopping wood for tonight’s bonfire.

“Mikey!”

“Yeah, Wall?” He trots over.

I grab a grease pencil from my side pant pocket and tear a page from my little notepad. “In a few hours, or when there’s two inches or so on the ground, head over to Shady Gap. Go here.” I scrawl down an address. “Shovel the driveway and the walk. If the lady asks, say you’re doin’ community service. Don’t wear your cut.”

“Cool, man. Cool. I got you, man.”

“Tomorrow morning, head over again. Six o’clock. Shovel again. Maybe lay down some salt tonight. Yeah.” I dig in my pocket and peel a fifty off my roll. “Get the kind that’s pet friendly. Keep the change.”

“Thanks, man. Thanks. So, whose house this is?”

“It’s my house.”

“I thought you lived at the clubhouse.”

“I do.”

For a second, it looks like he’s gonna pry, but he ain’t that dumb. “Okay, man. I got you.”

“Remember. No cut. You’re in high school. You need community service hours.”

He strokes his patchy beard defensively.

I stare him down.

“All right. If you say so, man. Got it.”

The door slams, and Heavy tromps out in his bright orange puffy jacket.

I raise an eyebrow. “You seriously wearin’ that?”

“You said we were looking for the dog, not hunting it. I don’t wanna get shot doing a good deed.”

I snort and head off toward the woods.

“So what kind of dog are we looking for?” Heavy has his phone out, dashin’ off a text. The man is always working, always got a dozen irons in the fire. Still, he’s decent company. He don’t run off at the mouth, and he’s one of the few men tall enough to keep up with my pace.

“Way Deb describes him, German Shepherd maybe.”

“Where’d she see him?”

“She says he’s been hangin’ around the yard. Heads off to the woods as soon as he hears people comin’. She’s been watchin’ him from her office window.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I dunno.” I scan the sky. Snow’s gonna start any minute. Won’t be able to look for tracks. “Guess we’re lookin’ for piles of dog shit.”

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