Линда Ла Плант: Cold Blood

Lorraine reached out and held him close. ‘Bill, I’m okay, but I appreciate what you just said.’

He stood holding her for a few moments more, then turned abruptly and walked out, the screen door banging shut behind him.

Lorraine slumped down on the sofa bed, which she would now no longer have to sleep on. She would have Rosie’s room all to herself, and she suddenly felt good, looking around the room. Her room. Her apartment. She would start to redecorate the next day, and lay on the old sofa thinking about colour schemes, and drapes, and then she sat up sharpish, swearing. She’d forgotten him, in all the excitement of returning home and banking the million dollars, she’d forgotten him, forgotten her promise.

The kennels were just closing when she arrived. She’d made the promise, and she wouldn’t go back on it, but she began to doubt it when the kennelmaid started saying that he’d been a packet of trouble from the day he’d been left. He had attacked every one of the helpers and every canine they had in residence, and was now kept in solitary confinement.

Tiger didn’t greet her, he sat at the far end of his wire meshing, his blue eyes beady and angry.

‘Hi, kiddo, it’s just me, I’m afraid. Nick’s not gonna be able to take you home.’

He still sat, and then he bared his teeth.

‘Listen, man, it’s up to you, but I am the best bet you got. I walk away and it’s the lethal injection, know what I mean?’

The beady blue eyes froze, and she bent down.

‘Come on, Tiger, they want to close up, and I’m tired.’

Tiger slowly got to his feet, his head hung low as he padded towards her. Then his big bushy tail started to wag slowly.

‘Okay, man, we’re out of here.’