Dogs Don't Lie Read Online Free PDF Page B

since I do…” I lopped off a sizable chunk of butter and dropped it into the pan. I’m not the do-gooder type, and she knew it.
    Wallis stretched, the question implied in the arch of her back. I sliced off another pat for her.
    “I have to, Wallis. She can’t speak up for herself.” I held the butter out to her: a blatant bribe.
    “Most of us can’t. We manage.” She turned back toward the window, and I dropped the pat in her dish. She had a point, and I knew it. It would be so easy to just let this go.
    I turned the gas up and watched the butter skate around the pan, my thoughts just as frantic and hot. “But I can hear her. I can’t turn that off.” The butter sizzled. “And I know what happened.”
    “You
think
you know.” Wallis jumped off the sill and went to examine her dish. The butter had softened a bit, and she licked it. “Humans. You think you understand everything.”
    “I understand
some
things.” We were on familiar ground now, and I turned my attention back to the skillet as I poured in the eggs. “Someone wants that dog to take the fall. She was set up.”
    “And you weren’t?” Wallis had made quick work of the butter and was now washing her face.
    I paused, spatula in hand, and thought of the day before. The young cop with his questions. “What do you mean by that?”
    Whiskers clean, she walked back to the window. A moment’s hesitation, a quiver, and she was on the sill again, staring out the window.
    I shoveled the eggs onto a plate and joined her by the window. Together we looked out on my front yard of scrub bushes and old trees. “Wallis?”
    Unlike the view from our New York apartment, the birds here were smaller and faster. With the window open on the warm autumn morning, I could smell the woods and hear the twitter and rustle of life. From Wallis, I caught an image, a flash of what was holding her interest. A small brown wren hopped on what had once been a lawn.
    “Wallis, I know that if I push too hard, the cops will like me for it. I’m not a fool.” A twitch of the right ear was her only comment. “But why do you say ‘set up’?”
    She kept staring. Somewhere up in one of the trees a blue jay cawed. The wren paid no mind.
    “Some animals are prey, Pru. That’s just the way it is.” She was on her haunches now, staring at the wren. Whiskers forward. “And some walk into trouble, eyes open.”
    “Are you saying Lily’s a natural victim?” I didn’t think animals felt empathy, but this was harsh. I was glad for the screen that kept Wallis from pouncing.
    “Forget the dog, for once.” Out loud, Wallis began chattering softly with excitement, her soft, sharp mews mimicking the bird sounds. “It was the man who was killed. Quite savagely, if your reaction is any indication. Or don’t you remember?”
    “I remember.” The morning scene was suddenly clouded, the scent of death strong in my mouth. I put down the plate, no longer hungry for fried eggs. Outside, something flew by—a hawk, a cloud, a shadow—and the wren was gone.

Chapter Five
    Most of the eggs went into Wallis’ dish. She’d given me food for thought. I wasn’t particularly worried. I mean, I didn’t know anyone here well enough for him to want me dead. Still, something nasty was out there, and it wasn’t Lily. I tried to think what kind of weapon would leave a gaping wound so similar to a dog bite and recoiled from the idea that any creature would chose to do that to another. Any
human
, which ruled out food or pure animal fear, and reinforced my new policy of isolationism. Too much had gotten into my head. I just wanted to be left alone.
    Still, I had some kind of professional obligation, didn’t I? At least on the animal-trainer level, the one that people knew about. The shelter didn’t open till nine, but I had the vet’s private number. By eight, I’d gotten him on the line.
    “Tranqs, Pru? I don’t think I can.” Doc Sharp was a good enough guy, but I was sticking with the