"I think this one far exceeds that weight class." Bo leaned down and gave Coal a once-over. Coal didn't budge from my feet, but he did give Bo's hand a cursory sniff. He then proceeded to give a broken-up growl that sounded less like a threat and more like he was trying to speak. He shoved his head up against Bo's palm and held it there, waiting to be petted.
Bo laughed. "Okay, sis. I can't argue with that. This dog is practically human, and he's obviously attached to you."
I hadn't told Bo that Coal had belonged to a murdered man, and I didn't intend to. Some things were better kept to oneself.
I took Coal around to my section of the house so he could settle in before I had to head out again. Once I opened my door, he hesitantly stepped inside, then proceeded to give everything a good sniffing. I placed some dog treats in a bowl and set out a water dish. Coal seemed to find the place to his liking, plopping down near the couch with what sounded like a contented sigh.
As quickly as possible, I locked up the house, then went around and loaded the shelter dogs in Bo's truck. When I dropped them off, Summer helped me fill out the paperwork for Coal, making me his proper owner for an astoundingly low price.
Flooded with excitement that I finally had a dog to call my own again, I ran into Dollar General to pick up dog food. I got a little distracted by the dog toys and treats and purchased several for Coal, then I managed to snag the last oversized dog pillow from the top shelf.
By the time I got home, Coal was no longer in the living room. When I gave a shout, he trudged down from upstairs, looking sleepy. I jogged up to make sure he hadn't made a mess, only to find a warm area on my bed where he must've burrowed under the quilt I hadn't smoothed out this morning. He'd made himself at home, alright. Had Gerard let the huge dog sleep in his bed? That wouldn't work in my full-sized bed—Coal would take up the majority of it.
I placed his new pillow next to the bed, patting it so he'd come over and try it out. He seemed to consider it a moment, then gave me a look that was so pathetic I couldn't possibly stick to my guns. Instead, I walked downstairs, found my funky orange rubber boots, and called for him so we could take a walk in the garden. We'd figure out the sleeping arrangements later.
Auntie A always prided herself in her perennial flowerbeds, and with good reason. Over the years, she'd accumulated cast-off plants from neighbors and arranged them in ways that made the large back yard look like a paradise. Although the dry grass was blanched now at the end of summer, Bo had kept it mowed down so it formed soft pathways between the flowerbeds.
Coal tumbled out the door after me, anxious to explore the enclosed garden. I pulled a few weeds near the last of the purple phlox of the season, then, just because I could, I plunged my fingers into the rich dirt Auntie A had amended over the years. It felt good to be home.
After nosing into every corner of the garden, Coal tripped his way back to me and sat at my feet, anxious for some attention. I patted his head, then rubbed his chest and neck. He wore a brown leather collar that was quite stylish and, I imagined, quite expensive. How did a humble golf instructor afford such a collar, not to mention purchase a purebred dog like Coal?
I scratched the silky fur under the wide leather band and my finger caught on something protruding from the back of his collar. I unbuckled it and slipped it off his neck for closer inspection.
I was surprised to find an engraved metal tag stitched to the underside of the collar. It didn't appear to be a dog identification tag, since it said "Amber 457301." Coal was obviously not an "Amber."
Why would Gerard go to all that trouble to hide a tag this way? And what on earth did it mean? Maybe it was the phone number for a woman named Amber? No, it was a digit short for that, and even if it was, why bother hiding it so carefully?
I went into Auntie A's gardening shed and found a pair of scissors. After snipping the bothersome tag off, I shoved it into my pocket, then buckled his collar on again. Coal happily lumbered off to sniff out a new adventure, while I sat on a wrought-iron bench and watched yellowed oak leaves drifting toward the ground.
Who was Gerard Fontaine anyway? That Ivy Hill Spiritual Center must be rolling in the dough for him to afford such luxuries, or else he was independently wealthy. But in that case, why would he choose to be a golf instructor?
The air had actually gotten a little nippy, so I sighed and stood. Coal rushed to my side, as if he feared being left alone. I supposed he had been alone for an extended period of time, before Gerard's body was discovered. Had Gerard actually been killed on the golf course, then dumped into the pond?
I looked into Coal's light brown eyes, which seemed to be full of sadness.
Was it possible Gerard had been killed at home, maybe even in front of his Great Dane? It was probably unlikely, but the dog surely acted like he was grieving. He must've been quite close to Gerard. Dogs were capable of such incredible loyalty. I hoped Coal would find me worthy of his trust.
Coal and I stayed up late for an impromptu Le Femme Nikita marathon. I loved the original series with Peta Wilson, and Bo had bought me the first season on DVD this past Christmas. It turned out to be the one highlight of the holiday season Jake had ruined by confessing all his affairs before walking out on me.
The next morning, I managed to sleep in until nine since Jimmy had offered to handle the early morning doggie duties for me at the cafe. Coal woke me by bumping into my arm—he must've crept onto my bed once I'd fallen asleep. A dull knock sounded, and I realized someone was at my back door. Bo had the key, so it couldn't be him.
I yanked one of my dad's old Oxford shirts over my head—they were some of the only mementos Auntie A had kept, maybe because she was proud he'd been a dentist. With Coal at my side, I peeked out the back window and saw a tall blonde woman with a deep tan standing on my doorstep.
She was about to knock again when I opened the door.
"Hello?" It came out a question, my voice scratchy from sleep. Who was this woman and why was she on my doorstep this time in the morning? "Can I help you?" I prodded when she seemed at a loss for words.
She took a step back as if surprised at my gruffness. "Uh, yes. They told me this was your place—you're Macy Hatfield, right?" Her gaze shifted to Coal and she clasped her hands to her chest. "Oh, thank goodness he's here."
"Hold on—who told you this was my place?" Coal pressed against my leg.
"The woman at the shelter. She said you'd adopted Gerard's dog. I'm so glad he's okay."
I was going to have to have a little chat with Summer Adkins, handing out my home address to just anyone. It seemed to me that once a dog was adopted, that kind of thing would be more privileged information.
"Oh, please pardon me for not introducing myself. I'm Katie Givens—the masseuse at the Ivy Hill Spiritual Center for Healing." She teared up and pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes. "Gerard and I were very close, you see. He would've wanted me to take care of his baby boy." She peered around me and made a smoochy sound to Coal. The dog gave a low rumble.
It wasn't a friendly rumble. He clearly didn't like her.
I pulled the door closed a bit more, effectively blocking Coal from her line of sight. "So, you and Blackie here were tight, too," I said, deliberately giving the wrong name for the dog. "Why didn't you keep him when they asked around at Ivy Hill? I heard there were no takers because he was too big."