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She got to the study where the writing table was kept. Her keen eyes noted the empty space where it had been and the open window behind it. Jarvis was meowing loudly. He was standing on the big desk, and there was a smear of blood on some bond paper that was stacked beside him, near the printer.
“Are you okay, baby?” she asked Jarvis quickly. He seemed fine, although there was blood on one of his paws.
She ran to the low window and looked out. Snow was lying on the ground, still, motionless. Her heart stopped in her chest. In the distance, there was a tall figure in a gray coat carrying a big cloth bag, like the sort artists carried their canvases in. He didn’t look back. He was running.
So Meadow had a choice. Chase the thief, which was her job, or save her pet’s life. It was no choice at all.
She holstered the gun and climbed quickly out the low window. As she knelt in the snow to put a hand on Snow’s chest, she noticed a long piece of firewood just beside the animal, obviously the thing the thief had used on her poor pet. There was dirt on Snow’s head, visible against the blinding white snow in the outside security light, probably from the wood. Snow’s chest was rising and falling. She was alive! Now Meadow had to get help to keep her that way.
It was a long way to the driveway where her SUV was parked. She struggled to drag Snow around the side of the house. The dog was very heavy. She was still breathing, but also still unconscious. Terrified, Meadow found strength she didn’t even know she had as she wrangled the big dog up into the vehicle and closed the door.
She had her cell phone out even as she revved the SUV and roared off down the snow-covered road, sliding a little in her haste. She’d left the window open, the door unlocked. Dal was going to be furious . . .
Snow could die! She had no time to go back and secure the house. She had the vet’s number on speed dial, thank God.
There was a lot of information on after-hours care, with a phone number. She stopped in the road, turned on the overhead light, and grappled for a pen in the console. She wrote the number on her hand, having no scrap of paper except in her purse, on the floor. No time to hunt for some.
She called the number and shot the big vehicle forward, her heart shaking her with its terrified beat. It rang once, twice, three times.
“Come on, come on,” she cried aloud, glancing at the dog’s still form. “Please!”
Apparently angels did exist, because a soft, feminine voice came on the line. “Dr. Clay. How can I help you?”
“I’m a deputy sheriff. I was standing guard over a priceless antique when a thief managed to get into the house and take it. My Siberian husky tried to stop him and he hit her over the head with something. A piece of firewood, I think, I remember seeing one . . . she’s unconscious. Still breathing. Please . . .” Tears blurred the road in her eyes.
“Bring her right on to the office. I’m less than five minutes away. I’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much!” Meadow sobbed. She hung up. She was about eight minutes away.
Damn the snow, she thought recklessly, and stood on the accelerator. Thank God they had the snowplows out in force. At least the roads were mostly clear—the main roads, that is. She had to get from the ranch road to the main road, and it wasn’t easy. The snow was deep. But she got through it, sliding onto the main highway but recovering quickly.
She glanced at Snow and reached over to smooth the soft fur. She hadn’t noticed any blood around the dog’s mouth, which hopefully meant that there was no fatal damage. “Hang on, baby, please hang on! I can’t lose you,” she whispered. Her voice broke. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her dog, her companion, her friend.
She gunned the engine, prepared to out-argue any fellow law enforcement officer who caught her speeding. Luckily the road seemed to be empty.
She spun the SUV off the road into the parking lot of the veterinary office, where another SUV was parked just at the door.
The vet came running to help Meadow get the big dog out of the vehicle and inside, onto the examination table.
“Head trauma,” Dr. Clay murmured as her hands went over the still form of the dog. She opened Snow’s mouth and nodded. “Good, good.” She took the stethoscope from around her neck, looped the earpieces into her ears, and listened. She nodded again. Her hands probed the skull and she nodded again.
“Concussion,” she said, “as you’ve probably guessed. We’ll need to run tests, but the most immediate thing is to get her oxygenated, start electrolytes, and elevate her head. I don’t feel any depressions in her skull that would indicate a skull fracture, and her heart rate is good. There may be some pulmonary issues, but we’ll worry about those after she’s stabilized. She’ll need to be watched continuously until she comes to.” She noted Meadow’s terror. “I’ll have Dr. Bonner relieve me, but I’ll stay with her for the next few hours.”
She didn’t addif she comes to. Meadow knew from her experience in law enforcement that if a patient with a head injury didn’t regain consciousness in seventy-two hours, the patient was likely not to survive.
Meadow took a deep breath. “It was my fault,” she said. “Snow ran ahead after the perp. I wasn’t quick enough to stop her.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Dr. Clay said gently. “We’re human. We do the best we can. It’s not your fault. Okay?”
She nodded, lips pressed together to stop them from trembling.
“I’m going to have to have help with her once I get the preliminary things started,” the doctor said, and searched for the materials she needed. She had her cell on speakerphone. Meadow heard it ring, and a soft voice answered. “Tanny, I need you to come in. I have a patient, a female husky with severe head trauma.”
“I’ll be right there,” the vet tech promised and hung up.
“She’s very good,” Dr. Clay told Meadow as she started Snow on oxygen with a mask. She reached for clippers and removed the fur around the dog’s lower leg, just above the foot, to start a drip.
“She has to live,” Meadow ground out. “She just has to.”
