It took him about half a minute to find thecellar and less than a second to ascertain that Cousin Dennis wasnot in it.
“Dennis?” Taylor called.
No reply.
“Yo, Dennis. The coast is clear.”
Nothing. The dogs looked at him withinterest. Riley cocking his head, Roxie flicking her ears andlooking around helpfully.
“What the hell?” His voice sounded loud inthe silence.
Dogs on his heels, Taylor conducted a swiftbut thorough search, striding from room to room, checking showers,bathtubs, closets, looking under beds. Cousin Dennis was nowhere inthe house.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
But yes. Way. Cousin Dennis was gone.
Movement outside the small square window tohis left had Taylor crossing the loft and staring out at the greenmeadow and a tiny figure in jeans and a plaid shirt making for thetreeline of the forest of pines carpeting the mountains.
“Why? Why would you do that, youdumbass?”
It was a rhetorical question seeing thatCousin Dennis was too far away to hear — and getting farther by theminute.
Taylor pushed away from the window and toredownstairs, managing to avoid falling over the dogs who thoughtthis was the start of a terrific new game.
Near the bottom of the stairs, he grabbedthe railing and vaulted, landing lightly and running for the backof the house. He banged out through the door and jumped down fromthe deck to the soft, damp earth below.
Dennis was now a speck in the distance.Where did he think he was going? Did he have a plan or was he justrunning blind? Taylor whistled, the high, sharp sound cuttingthrough the cool November air, but if Dennis heard, he gave nosign. The dogs began to circle Taylor, thrilled at whatever thiswas.
“You’ve gotta be kidding.”
If it was a joke, the joke was on him.Taylor took off after Dennis, the dogs loping alongside. His feetpounded the soft earth, the air was sweet and clear. Also thinnerthan he was used to and he had to work a little harder to get up tofull speed. Dennis had a good head start, but Taylor wasn’tworried. He figured he was in a hell of a lot better shape. He sethis pace and quickly closed the distance between them, but not intime to keep Dennis from reaching the trees and vanishing in thegreen and blue shadows.
Oh no you don’t, you bastard. Taylorslowed, stopped and reached for Riley, grabbing his collar andlooking into Riley’s golden-brown eyes. “Find him, Riley. Go gethim. Go get him, Riley!”
Riley was no police dog, but this was a gameWill and Taylor played with him, and he gave Taylor a happy,hopeful look and darted ahead after Dennis.
Roxie followed, tongue lolling, as thoughshe was laughing at them both.
Of course Riley was probably looking forWill, but maybe he would stumble over Dennis while he was atit.
Taylor, bringing up the rear, ducked underthe pine branches, and stopped. He braced his hands on his thighs,catching his breath and listening. He straightened, wiped his dampface on his flannel sleeve and listened harder. The trees seemed toswallow all sound.
No. Not all sound. A couple of yards ahead,he could hear the dogs crashing through the undergrowth — andbeyond that, something that sounded like a moose charging throughthe brush. Of course, maybe it was a moose. Did they havemoose in Oregon?
Hopefully not. He’d seen moose in museumsand those suckers were huge. He really did not want to runinto a moose.
Or a bear.
Taylor began to move again, this timeangling to the east of where he estimated Dennis was headed.
“Dennis, it’s MacAllister,” he called. “Stoprunning. It’s all clear.”
The thrashing sounds stopped.
“Dennis? You hear me? It’s okay. You cancome back to the house.”
Taylor kept working his way forward,clambering over a fallen tree, avoiding a patch of something thatlooked suspiciously like poison ivy. Somewhere to his distant righthe could hear the dogs. Whatever they were chasing now it wasn’tDennis.
It wasn’t Dennis because Dennis was closeby. Taylor could sense him, even if he couldn’t see him yet. Hestopped walking, scanning the gloom.
“Dennis?”
What the hell was this guy so afraid of?
A bird suddenly burst out of the brush,wings flapping, twittering its distress call. Taylor jumped. Therewas movement to his left. He half turned and something swung out ofthe darkness and slammed into his head.
Gusts of dog breath and a rough, warm tonguefrantically licking his face…
Taylor opened his eyes and pushed awayRiley, who ducked under his arm and resumed efforts atresuscitation.
Taylor swore thickly. “Okay, Riley. I’mokay…”
Mostly. His face hurt like hell. His nosefelt like it had exploded and there was warm, coppery, salty sludgeslipping down the back of his throat. He gagged at the taste of hisown blood, rolling onto his side and spitting it out into the pineneedles. “God damn it.”
He cautiously felt his nose. Was it broken?His lip was definitely split. He looked at his hand, focusingblearily on the red smearing his fingers. “Jesus. That’s justgreat.”
How long had he been out? Not more than aminute or two, surely? Plenty of time for Cousin Dennis to makehimself scarce. And what the hell was the guy’s problem? Even if hehadn’t recognized Taylor before he swung at him, he had to knowafter he knocked him down.
Taylor spread his palms and pushed up ontohis knees. He reached for the nearest tree trunk and hauled himselfto his feet. Roxie sat a few feet away, watching him curiously.Riley was much more agitated about recent events and kept dancingin front of Taylor like he was trying to encourage him to takeaction.
The only action Taylor was taking was goingback to the house to call Will to let him know his father’s assholecharge had flipped out and made a run for the hills.
Not. His. Problem.
He wiped his sleeve against his stilltrickling nose, studied the gory results grimly, and startedwalking back to the house.
The sun felt good. He was cold from lying onthe damp ground, cold from the shock of getting knocked out. Notthat he was unused to physical punishment. Taylor knew he wasn’tbadly hurt — although he was going to be seriously pissed off ifhis nose was broken —
