Page 56 of Final Ride

Cleo bounced around wagging her tail at the mention of the water.

“Yes, I know what breed you are. You’re a Newfoundlander and you’re the rescue dog for the Rock—that’s what they call Newfoundland in Canada.”

“Just like the Saint Bernards in the mountains, you do your rescue work in the ocean. How far can you swim, girl?”

With Cleo sprinting ahead, Bobby stomped through evergreen trees until he found the path and once he began following it, he was surprised how steep it was.

Hanging onto tree branches all the way down to keep from flying ass over teakettle, he made it to the bottom. Taking a breath on the shore, Bobby took in the nearly-new dock and the boathouse and marveled at the huge, shining lake in front of him.

“Look at that, Cleo. Fuckin’ amazing. What a gorgeous sight that is. If you want to go for a swim, don’t let me stop you.”

Bobby was surprised when Cleo ran along the dock and jumped right off the end into the water like she’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe she had.

He watched her swim a good ways out towards the middle, then turn a circle and swim back to him. With her great strength, she had no trouble jumping out of the water onto the dock.

“Wow, you were amazing, Cleo.” Bobby backed up. “Don’t you shake all that water all over me.” He laughed. Cleo shook twice and the water flew from her thick, black coat and made Bobby jump clear.

“There’s a boathouse over there, girl. Do you want to go fishing? Do you like riding in a boat?”

Cleo followed Bobby to the boathouse and jumped right into the boat and waited.

“Yep, you’re used to being near the water. This is going to be fun.”

Trauma Unit. Watertown. New York.

Her vital signs improved enough that the doctor taking care of her gave in and allowed Detective Carmichael and his partner to fingerprint the Jane Doe who had washed up on the bank of the Saint Lawrence River.

When they finished up and had the results, Carmichael said, “This girl is Deputy Sheriff Tammy Traynor/Bristol, and she’s wanted for several murders. She’s an escaped fugitive wanted for crimes all over the U.S.”

“Wow,” said Jones, Carmichael’s partner. “We grabbed us a winner.”

“She’s not a win for us if she regains consciousness,” said Carmichael. “There are a lot of charges ahead of us waiting for her. This girl will be spending her life in a prison infirmary somewhere other than New York State.”

“Yeah, I can’t see her recovering from this,” said Jones. “She’s pretty close to closing the book, and what is she?”

“Nineteen,” said Carmichael. “Unbelievable, a girl of nineteen could have committed all these thefts and murders and the kidnappings Tammy is charged with. Amazing.”

Jones frowned. “She’s a Deputy Sheriff, for chrissakes, Brody. What do you make of that piece of news?”

“Don’t know. It’s all pretty crazy. We’ll take this information back to the station and make some phone calls.”

“Roger that,” said Jones.

Health Sciences Center. Kingston. Ontario.

Willy had been getting out of bed sporadically and limping around the room and down the hospital corridors when he had spurts of energy and the pain in his damaged legs wasn’t too excruciating.

Anxious to get back to Gananoque to pick up George and Gracie, Willy talked to the nurses and obtained the address he needed. He thanked them for all the trouble they’d gone to for his dogs.

When the doctor made his rounds later in the day, and saw how well Willy was walking, he agreed to release him, with certain restrictions.

Willy had to get going and didn’t object to any restrictions. He agreed to all of it. Taking it easy, taking his meds, walking with a crutch for support, and a few more things.

Nothing he couldn’t handle.

On leaving the hospital, Willy waited for a cab outside on one of the benches.

The driver pulled up and was patient while Willy took a little extra time getting into the back seat. “You been in the hospital long?”

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