Page 87 of Death on Gallows Path

“—our treat,” Clara was saying.

“I appreciate it, but, honestly, there’s nothing else I can tell you—”

“After we eat.”

That reminded me of Willow scrunching her mouth the first time we talked, and how I’d later floated — to myself — the theory that it was in response to something she’d eaten.

As we wrapped up the eating portion of the agenda, I introduced the topic, aiming to thread between not undoing Clara’s calming and not leaving Willow room to slide away.

“How long were you walking Izolde when the Swindells adopted Lucifer?”

“A week or so.”

“How did you start walking Lucifer?”

Her brows ticked down, remembering. “I was returning Izolde. Pammy and Damon were there and—

Listen, I don’t know anything for sure. Not absolutely. I heard . . . but I couldn’t tell you every word. I don’t remember—”

“Of course not,” Clara cut it. “Nobody could expect that. Especially us. Because we’re not official.”

Without saying it, she’d raised the sheriff’s department as official boogeymen in contrast to our warm-and-fuzziness.

“Oh, it’s nothing official. Nothing . . . they would be interested in. It’s because you know the dogs and you’d understand.”

“We will understand.”

With that encouragement from Clara, Willow said.

“After the Georgers got Izolde, I heard Bryon talking about how wonderful she was. Wasn’t long after that the Swindells got Lucifer.

“Pammy called me and asked about walking him with Izolde. I said I’d have to check with the Georgers. Bryon said okay. Zoley said she didn’t care.

“When I went to get Lucifer the first time, Damon was there and he said a lot about Izolde being a boring breed, one everybody got because they didn’t know dogs the way he — Damon — knew dogs. But he barely looked at Lucifer.”

Clara nodded. “He was the same at training.”

Willow expelled a breath. “It never stopped, at least when I heard. And it wasn’t only about the dogs. It was everything, anything. Damon was always saying he was better, had better, did better.”

She hadn’t liked Damon. Not at all.

I shook my head. “It got old.”

“It sure did,” she said with less caution than she’d shown previously.

“He acted like he was so perfect, but the only place in the house that was ever a mess was his office. And last week, I heard him shouting at Pammy, saying something happened to his . . . something-or-other accounts. She tried to calm him down, but he went off.

“I got Lucifer on a leash and we got the hell out of there. I was relieved to get to the Georgers, but then . . . then . . . Zoley came downstairs as I was getting Izolde and she was . . . She had . . .”

“Bruises on her face,” Clara filled in.

Willow nodded, her face solemn, but also a tiny bit thrilled.

“What did she say?”

“Kind of mumbled about thinking I was someone else. I said I was there to get Izolde. She swore and said I should get to it, then.”

“She swore at you?”