“Lenny.” I raised my voice to just above a whisper.
“Yip.” I heard off in the distance.
“Where are you, little Lenster?” The grass whipped around my boots, the wind blowing through the juniper like so much wheat on the plains. I made a misstep and nearly turned my ankle on a rock. “Ouch,” I cried, and immediately wanted to slap myself for being too loud. I kicked the rock for good measure, and a rattler set his rattles going.
“Yip, yip, yip.” Lenny appeared just beyond the edge of my beam. My dear little friend was trying to protect me.
“No!” I threw the stapler at the snake’s head just as it struck . . . and missed. To my right, I spotted another rock and slammed it down on the pointy head before I could doubt my abilities.
I gave the snake carcass a wide berth and scooped Lenny into my arms, thrusting the clipboard under my arm. “Oh, Lenster, I’m so glad to see you,” I whispered fervently, kissing his tiny head and checking him for bites.
In return, he licked my face and his tiny body shook with joy. I walked slowly back to the cruiser, wondering where Lightfoot and Frank had disappeared to. Should I call it in? Had Lightfoot already called it in with his portable radio? And wouldn’t I have heard it? I found his radio and turned up the volume from its low setting. Lenny continued to shiver as I opened the passenger door and slid inside. I placed his tiny body under my shirt; only his head remained outside, as if I’d given birth to a creature from an alien canine planet. A low growl vibrated from his throat, shaking his body with even greater force, his gaze riveted to the right of the cruiser, beyond what I could see.
“What’s wrong?” I rubbed his ears and scratched under his chin.
A coyote muzzle appeared near the Prius, its owner panting and smiling as if to convince us to lower our guard. My heart leapt nearly out of my chest.
“Grrrr. Yip, yip, yip.” Lenny was no longer frightened. He was downright mad. “Yip, yip. Grrrr.”
Closer, maybe six feet to my right, another coyote appeared. Head low to the ground, taking small steps toward us. Don’t worry about me, he seemed to say from his posture. I wouldn’t hurt you.
Suddenly my brain unfroze and I slammed the cruiser door. The two coyote brothers met in the front of the cruiser as if discussing a second plan of attack. They must really be desperately hungry if they hadn’t run away from a human. I remembered the two coyotes from the parking lot. My gut told me these were the same ones. But were they as friendly as they seemed? I racked my brain for more information on coyotes. Just as I checked my phone for a signal so I could search how to get rid of coyotes, the radio crackled to life.
“Josie.” Lightfoot’s voice, faint and weak, came over the radio.
I grabbed the radio and couldn’t figure out how to answer.
“Yip.”
“You’re right, Lenster. It’s great to hear his voice.” I took a deep breath and tried again. I removed the headlamp and positioned it so that the beam shone on the radio, but not out the window. After a bit of experimenting, I located the button to talk. “Lightfoot. Where are you?”
“I’m about a hundred yards to your east in the brush.”
“Want me to call for backup?”
“I already did.”
“That’s great. Guess who I found?”
“Be quiet. Fillmore is headed your way. He’s got a knife and a stun gun, and God knows what else.”
“I’m locked in the car.” My gaze darted left and right, trying to remember which way was east. “You said the cavalry is on their way.”
“Look, I don’t know where he is or if he’s coming back. Get down in the floorboard, lock the doors, and make sure you can’t be seen or heard.”
I slid onto the floorboard, taking Lenny with me, forcing him behind my legs. All but my face fit beneath the dash.
“Are you sure the cavalry will be here any minute?”
Silence. “Yes, they’re on their way. No, I think it will take longer than a minute for them to get to you.”
“Oh.” I calmed myself. “Are you all right? How’s your leg?”
“Gotta get off this line. Quiet now. You can do it.”
The line went dead. Do what? I laid my head on the seat. I could just make out the sky and the hills beyond through the driver’s window. If the cavalry—read “two deputies”—was on its way, why wasn’t I hearing any other radio activity? I reached out and turned a knob on the radio, and the thing screeched loud enough to deafen me in that ear for at least until the cows came home. I’d never owned cows, so that wasn’t such a good analogy.
I turned it off, laying my head once again on the seat.
Behind me, Lenny made a little sighing noise and settled himself on top of my legs. I yawned. A sliver of moon slowly crept from behind a cloud, shyly peeking out just the corner of her face. A thought entered my head and bloomed into a fear. Had Frank heard the screeching radio? Had the sound carried beyond the cruiser? Maybe good ole Frank had run for the
