The Dog Who Knew Too Much Read Online Free PDF Page A

now, and real bad.
    “Easy, big guy,” Bernie said.
    “What got into him?” said Anya.
    “He likes open country, that’s all,” said Bernie.
    Doesn’t everyone?
    We left the freeway, took two-lane blacktop, rose higher, the air getting fresher and cooler. Did Bernie say something about crossing a state line? Maybe, but that was around the time Ispotted a roadrunner. This little bugger, like all roadrunners, thought he was fast. Well, get ready, amigo, to see what real speed—
    “Chet?”
    Soon after that, we took a lunch break. Bernie parked by a long flat-topped rock at the side of the road, just like a bench. Peanut butter for Bernie; egg salad for Anya; tuna for me—the chunky kind, my favorite. Mountains rose, not too far away, greener than the mountains I was used to.
    “Tell me about your ex-husband,” Bernie said.
    “What do you want to know?” Anya said.
    “Start with the investment business.”
    Anya gazed at the distant green mountains. A cloud or two hung over them, not dark clouds, but the fat, golden kind.
    “This used to happen to me a lot as a kid,” Anya said.
    “What’s that?” said Bernie.
    “Wishing that time would stop.”
    Whoa. She was wishing time would stop right now, leaving us with the crusts of one egg salad sandwich? At that moment I knew one thing for sure: Anya was a risk taker.
    She turned to Bernie. “Do you ever think that?”
    “No,” said Bernie. Phew. We were on the same page, meaning dinner was still in the plans, and possibly a snack before that.
    Anya’s face flushed. That’s something I look for. You see it in kids and in women, hardly ever in men. It has something to do with feelings inside; I haven’t gotten farther than that—every time I try I come up against the thought: does that mean kids and women have more feelings than men? And stop right there, on account of knowing Bernie the way I do.
    “Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to—”
    “Nothing to be sorry about,” Bernie said. “Back to the investment business.”
    Anya took a deep breath, her color returning to normal. “Guy handles money for some private investors,” she said.
    “Are these the people you don’t want around Devin?”
    “Maybe that wasn’t fair,” Anya said. “I don’t really know them.”

FOUR

    B ack in the car. So quiet, except for the wind, and even the wind was sort of quiet. There are lots of different quiets: this one was all about everybody thinking to themselves. No idea what was on Bernie’s mind or Anya’s, but I was thinking: we’re dealing with a guy named Guy on this job? That couldn’t be good.
    We drove into green mountains, tall trees unlike any I’d known standing by the side of the road. A fast-flowing creek also appeared at times, the water frothing over shining rocks and looking delicious.
    “Has Guy ever been violent with you?” Bernie said after a while.
    “Not really,” Anya said.
    “I’ll take that for a yes,” said Bernie.
    Anya gazed at the back of his head. From the way I was sitting in the shotgun seat—where I belonged—angled and facing Bernie, I could easily watch both of them without turning my head. Humans have to turn their heads much more than we do, in the nation within, to keep their eye on things.
    “You’re a smart man,” Anya said. “Autumn mentioned that.”
    Bernie looked surprised but didn’t say anything.
    “He pushed me, but just once,” Anya said. “That was the night I made up my mind to separate. There’s a line, you know? Especially with someone the size of Guy.”
    “Does he carry a gun?” Bernie said.
    “I don’t know about now, but back when we were together, no,” Anya said. After a silence she said, “I notice you didn’t ask how big he is.”
    Bernie shrugged.
    “Wouldn’t most men in your position?”
    “What position is that?”
    “My—air quotes—friend,” said Anya, kind of losing me.
    Bernie shrugged again. This was about the size of the guy named Guy? Who cared about