SECTION IV
Our work there, served as a catalyst and an inspiration to bring me to the conclusions that drive my passion and mission today.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Haddie woke to sharp thunder echoing in her bedroom. She sat up, crying out as she stretched her bandaged arm. In with the wind came the scent of rain and gunpowder. Rock growled and whined from the living room.
She stumbled off the bed, trapped in blankets and groggy from sleep. Dressed in only her panties, she froze at the sight of the front door open. Haddie grabbed a yellow sweatshirt, slipping it on before snatching her phone and creeping to the doorway.
Rock growled, crouched on the floor of the living room in an awkward position. The open door was pinned by the wind. Papers rustled and folders flapped. Rock crawled toward the open door.
Haddie peeked into the kitchen. Jisoo sat, wide-eyed, on the counter and gave her a quick glance. No one was in her apartment. Rock had scared them off. Liz had been right.
As the wind shifted, the door slammed shut, nearly causing Haddie to drop the phone. She opened the cell and hit the first number — Dad. Bringing it to her ear, she gasped and dropped her phone to the carpet.
Rock was bleeding.
They shot him. Haddie stumbled and fell to him. He whimpered, seeming almost embarrassed. His left front leg splayed out to the side, and a hole bled in his chest at the edge of the shoulder. She instinctively reached to press her hand there to stop the bleeding. I caused this. Liz had been right, and she hadn’t listened. She should have taken Rock and Jisoo and gone somewhere. Dad’s.
Rock growled and flinched, then whined and licked her hand, pushing it away. The white giraffe on his chest was smeared with blood.
She had to get him to the vet’s. I need help. She couldn’t carry him to the RAV4 alone.
Scrambling on her knees and one arm, she reached her phone. She’d been calling Dad.
“Dad?” Silence replied. Voicemail. Haddie swore and hung up.
Sam. She dialed and stood up to return to Rock. He lay on his side now, looking up with dark eyes. She knelt, laying her hand gently against his muzzle and cupping his chin. Sucking in a ragged breath, she brought her face down close to his. Haddie fought tears, breathing through her nose in stiff bursts. He couldn’t die. She wouldn’t be able to live with it. He whined, blinking slowly.
Haddie drew in a scent of gunpowder and felt her jaw tighten. She wanted to hurt whoever did this to him. They’d been after her; Rock didn’t deserve this.
“C’mon, Sam. Wake up.” She set it on speaker and left it beside Rock to grab a pair of yoga pants off the floor beside her desk.
“Hello?” Sam’s voice drawled over the phone.
Haddie slid the leg of her yoga pants under Rock’s head, pinning the bulk behind his neck with her knee. She shifted it down with her good hand. “Sam, I need you. Right now. Can you come help me?” She couldn’t say anything about Rock’s condition, Sam might lose it.
Rock whined when Haddie got the legging under his good shoulder. He had to hurt terribly. Had the shot hit his lung?
“Is that Rock? Is he okay?” Sam’s voice cleared and shuffling sounded over the phone.
“Sam, please.” Haddie pulled out enough of the leg to wrap up to Rock’s back.
“Okay. Okay. I’m coming.” The connection ended.
Haddie pulled the pant leg between his legs so that she angled against the wound. Dark and angry, it welled blood. How much could he lose?
She tried to hold the end with her left hand, pain searing up to her shoulder, but she couldn’t get enough strength between her fingers. With her index finger through the fabric, she clenched her fist and felt woozy. Looping the ankle of the legging around with her good hand, she pulled and formed a single knot. Adjusting, she felt some pressure against the wound area. It would have to do until Sam arrived.
Stroking down his muzzle she whispered, “You’re going to be okay. You have to be.” His eyes closed and she sobbed. “I need you, Honey. Stay with me.” Tears rolled down her face.
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Sam pounded on the door. She must have run the entire way.
“It’s open,” Haddie yelled.
Rock stirred and she put her hand on his neck to keep him from rising.
The door opened and she could see an officer’s uniform, and a gun drawn, pointed toward the floor. “Police, are you okay?”
Haddie raised her eyebrows. Of course, someone would have called the police. What she’d thought had been thunder had been the gunshot. “I’m fine. I’m alone.”
An older man with dark brown skin and black hair leaned in, looking around. “You’re alone?” He squinted toward the back bedroom. “Can we enter?”
Rock struggled, too weakly.
Haddie swallowed. “My dog’s been shot. If you come in, he’ll try and get up to defend. I’m waiting for a friend, to get him to the vet. Can you wait there — a moment?”
He turned away.
Sam’s voice called from outside. “Haddie?”
“Let her in.” Haddie called out. Rock was getting agitated, fighting against her to get back up. “Please.”
Sam took one step in, wearing a pair of pink jeans with a trans pride patch on her left knee and a loose, crumpled T-shirt. Her typically straight black hair was rumpled from sleep, and she stood wet, pale, and shaken, until she saw Rock lying on the floor beside Haddie. Turning with a snap she faced the officers outside. “Did you do this?”
Haddie pushed Rock down. “Sam, no. Help me. We’ve got to get him to the vet.”
Rock weighed about forty-five pounds. With two good arms, she could lift him. Getting down the stairs with Sam would be difficult, but she didn’t imagine he’d let one of the officers near him, or her.
Sam skidded to her knees in front of Rock. “Who did this?” She cupped his chin.
“I don’t know. Can you help me carry him down to the RAV4?”
“Of course,” Sam said. She brushed bangs from her eyes and looked at Haddie’s legs. “You’re going to need keys —”
Haddie looked down. She wore only the sweatshirt. I’ll need pants. Remembering Mel, she stood, tugging at the hem before heading into the bedroom. She’d worn less in front of more people. Grabbing the closest pants, a pair of red jeans, off the floor, she stuffed her keys and wallet into the pockets. Shoving her feet in her Vionics, she zipped them up with her good hand.
Sam had tied the second leg of the yoga pants into a tighter bandage.
The officer remained in the doorway as she came out of her bedroom, and his partner stood further back. “Miss, I’m going to have to know what happened here.”
Haddie walked to Rock. “Someone broke in and shot my dog. You’re welcome to search the apartment once we have Rock out of it. You can get a full statement at the animal clinic if you want to follow me there.” She stuffed her phone in her pocket.
Rock stirred as she knelt and slipped her good arm under his back legs. Sam, a little over five foot, raised Rock’s neck and head to her chest trying to support his left leg as well. He’d lost too much blood to fight them. He managed a whimper that broke her heart, but she couldn’t allow herself to cry again. He needed her strong.
They passed the officers, who stepped back, though Rock didn’t show any indication that they were there.
It took longer than Haddie wanted to get down the stairs and through the downpour to her RAV4. The police car, lights still on, waited in the alley. Red and blue lights splashed in the falling rain. Her Fat Boy faced forward, a reminder that Biff had dropped it off and of the events of the evening. Someone had broken into her house with a gun. Did they intend to shoot her? Liz would be livid. The day blurred with all the failures. It wasn’t midnight yet.
Haddie would have to call the clinic during the ride. They had overnight emergency service, but she’d need one of the veterinarians. Hopefully, Dr. Stevens.
Sam managed Rock’s full weight while Haddie opened the back. Together they got him in, his breathing too shallow. Wet, dark eyes barely visible between lids, he whined and licked weakly. I can’t lose you. Her heart broke as she closed the back hatch on him. She choked back a sob. Tears welled in her eyes.
“I want to go.” Sam paused, despite the statement, at the back of the RAV4. She rarely left the couple of city blocks surrounding their two apartments. ‘Wanting’ to go could have different meanings.
“Can you stay here until the officers leave, and check on Jisoo?” Haddie moved toward the driver’s door as she spoke.
Sam nodded, looking ashamed. “Call me.”
Haddie yelled out the door as she climbed in. “I will.” Starting the car, she called back to Rock. “Hang in there, Boy. We’re getting help.”
Sam stood under the overhang watching as Haddie back out. The pain in her face made Haddie cry worse. Arm aching, she put the RAV4 into reverse and turned in three one-handed pulls to get out into the alley and heading toward the street. She could see the officers stopping at Sam in her rear view.
What monster shoots a dog? Rock had likely attacked. He rarely barked, and not in warning. Dad had worked with her in training and said that Rock had been born to protect.
She paused at the end of the alley to dial the vet — something she could have done at the apartment if she’d been clear-headed.
A drowsy voice started to answer over the car speaker and Haddie interrupted, “This is Haddie Dawson. My pit bull, Rock, is a patient of Dr. Stevens. He’s been shot. I’m on my way now.”
The man on the other end stuttered. “Uhm, I, well. I’ll call now, but Dr. Stevens is not on call.”
“Please call someone in.” She dropped the connection before getting on the street. Hopefully, that would spur the man to wake up and focus.
The rain had settled into a solid downpour, gutters flowed with rivulets, and the streets had emptied. The RAV4 cut through abandoned streets, sheeting water to the sides. She came to the first red light and peered down both ways before running it. They could hand her a stack of tickets if they wanted.
Did Mark Coleman’s killer really mean to see her dead? Muggers and hit men? This sounded more like a local gang than organized crime. What do I know? She’d never come across either, really. There were stories about some of the bikers Dad did work for. Biff made jokes about them. Was there a chance that the dogfighting ring did have a larger gang?
Haddie could see the animal clinic. “We’re almost there, Boy. Hang on.” A round male figure stood in the doorway, looking into her approaching lights. The overnight tech, she imagined.
Whoever wanted her harmed, they had shot her dog. That did nothing but make her angry. Right now, she needed to get Rock taken care of. After that, she had no intention of letting them get away with it.