By His Own Hand by Neal Griffin

Author:Neal Griffin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

TWENTY-ONE

Tia stood over the sink and scraped a plate of grease, corncob, and bits of fat and gristle into a large bowl, all under Ringo’s watchful eye. The dog stood almost as tall as Tia, his front paws on the kitchen counter, his tail smacking the wall with the steady beat of a metronome. The smell of grilled meat lingered in the farmhouse where Connor and Tia had sat at the small dining room table, enjoying their first meal together in nearly a week. Tia had saved a few prime pieces of steak for the dog, and judging by the stream of drool, he had obviously figured out what was coming. She tossed a chunk of meat in his general direction and Ringo snatched the food in midair, practically inhaling it. Just as quickly as the meat disappeared, he stared at Tia, focused and ready for the next bite.

“Atta boy.” She figured this feeling was the closest she’d ever come to maternal pride.

She used her shoulder and upper body to shove the dog back onto all fours. After a few minutes of playful torture, she put the bowl on the kitchen floor.

“There you go, killer. It’s all yours.” He plunged his muzzle into the bowl and Tia knew it would be a while before he looked up.

Standing at the sink, finishing the dishes, Tia was glad to have Ringo for company. Connor had gone to work an extra shift—a double tractor trailer was due in and the store’s shelves had to be fully stocked when the doors opened at 6:00 A.M. The job paid a buck over minimum wage, and the hours of heavy lifting would play hell on his legs, but with the PD’s salary freeze and no overtime pay, there was no convincing Connor to give up his grocery store paycheck. Tonight’s steak dinner had been a luxury, but one they both thought was worth it.

She thought back to their conversation before he’d left for work. They’d been sitting on the bed and she was working on snapping the last buckle on his prosthetics. He had his legs draped across her lap, his voice relaxed and full of contentment. He reached out his hand and stroked her cheek.

“We need to do that more often. Sit, I mean. Together. Talk.”

She’d leaned in and kissed him, then whispered in his ear, “We need to do this more often.”

Tia walked into the living room, stepping around Ringo, who was pushing the empty bowl across the floor with the power of his tongue. “It’s empty, boy. Let it go already.”

Tia was still amped up from her crazy but productive day. The fiasco in the parking lot felt like it happened weeks ago, but it had just been that morning. As tragic as the case might be, working a homicide was a consuming and invigorating experience, a break from the routine of bar fights and the occasional street robbery. She also realized how close she’d come to putting the boy in the ground without concern.

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