“My dog…is in jail.”

  Back in the cell Stuart sat hunched down in a corner, head thrown back as he howled mournfully at the ceiling. It was pitiable. It was strung out. And it was very, very loud. As before, the other prisoners kept their distance. Several of them were big enough to break the howling man in half, but they were wary. Nobody knew what the guy was on. It might be some variant of meth or worse, flakka. Heavy dosing on junk like that could give a guy superhuman strength and the ability to ignore pain. Better, they decided, to let him howl away harmlessly in his corner until he ran down. Stuart’s condition was the subject of much discussion among his fellow internees.

  “Man,” one muttered as he stared guardedly at Stuart, “what kinda drugs is this guy on?”

  Pacing the cell floor, another prisoner crossed in front of them, nodding in Stuart’s direction. “I recognize the sound. It’s similar to one I heard as a young boy on the rez. He’s calling out to his wolf pack.” The speaker gives a dead stare to his cell mate.

  There was plenty of parking in the police station lot. Pulling in to a spot, Jen checked the car’s clock. If she had timed it right they should just be opening to the public. Sure enough, as she mounted the steps to the entrance, someone flipped a sign in the window to “Open”. Entering, she walked quickly to the reception counter and the cop seated behind it.

  “I’m here to see Officer Ramos.”

  “Just a minute, ma’m.” The uniformed woman checked to make sure the subject of the visitor’s inquiry had signed in before offering Jen directions. She gave a hasty nod of thanks before hurrying off down the indicated corridor.

  “Jen?” Hector Ramos looked up from his computer to direct his guest to a chair on the opposite side of his desk. She settled into it gratefully.

  “How is he?” He did not have to ask “who”.

  “He’s fine. He eventually quit howling when mealtime came around.” Ramos frowned. “Does he always eat nothing but meat? The evening report said he didn’t touch the bread roll, vegetables, or potatoes.”

  “He’s big on protein,” Jen replied quickly. “Thanks for seeing me. Is there anything you can do to help him out of this? This is all a big misunderstanding.”

  Ramos’s expression was grim. “Jen, I’m afraid there’s not a whole lot I can do. The charges against him….” He broke off, began again. “For starters, he had no identification on him. When the arresting officer asked for his license, he gave him a dog collar. With a dog tag license on it.”

  Jen feigned surprised. “He did?”

  “He did.” Leaning forward slightly, Ramos studied his visitor’s face. “What’s particularly interesting, at least to me, is that the collar had your dog Stuart’s tags attached to it.”

  Jen’s reaction reached new heights of simulated astonishment. “Nooo….”

  “Yes. How did you think Sergent Miranda got your number when he called?” He lowered his voice. “Speaking of your dog Stuart, Jen, where is he? Still on the farm? Maybe we should take a ride out to that farm today and see him? Make sure he’s as ‘okay’ as the Stuart we have in here?”

  It was too much for Jen. She had faked it as long as she could. She broke down in front of her host. Another officer passing in the hall glanced in, caught a look from Ramos, and moved on.

  Jen eventually got ahold of herself, wiping at her eyes. “Hector. Didn’t he help Ringo?”

  Ramos looked pained. The present situation was no less uncomfortable for him than it was for his visitor. “Yes he did, and I will never forget that. But regardless of how I feel there’s only so much I can do for….”

  Jackson, the officer who had taken Stuart into custody the previous night, burst into the office. He spared a quick glance for Jen before sputtering to his colleague.

  “Ramos, you gotta come see this. I’m seeing it and I still don’t believe it. Nobody believes it.”

  “Believes what?” Ramos was taken aback by his fellow officer’s barefaced amazement.

  “Just come and see.” Jackson took note of Jen, added uncertainly. “She’s here for him?” Ramos nodded. “Then I guess she might as well come too.”

  Together, she and Hector followed Officer Jackson deeper into the jail complex until they reached a security door. It was standing ajar. Further in, a number of officers had crowded in front of an individual holding cell. Several were straining to see over the tops of their taller colleagues. Jackson pushed between them while Ramos and Jen followed.

  Intended to contain and restrain one or two prisoners, the cell in question presently held five individuals. Four of them were canid: thick-bodied, muscular specimens any one of which when unleashed were capable of intimidating even hardened criminals. Acting as a pack they would effortlessly have struck fear into the hearts of any number of evildoers. At the moment they were not striking fear into anyone, least of all the person crouching before them. To a one, they were sitting on their haunches, tongues lolling, as they followed the human’s every move. Expecting screams of pain and the sound of ripping flesh, the assembled cops could only look on in astonishment.

  “Ranger, you should say you’re sorry to Ringo.” Less than a yard away from jaws that could crunch bone, Stuart was wagging an admonishing finger at the shepherd in question. Instead of biting the waving finger, the police dog whimpered. “You know that was his milk bone. You ate yours and you ate his. You guys are on the same team. Is that how a friend treats a friend?”

  Pushing out his front paws, the German shepherd laid down and folded his paws over his eyes. Stuart whispered something no one else could hear, then raised his voice.

  “It’s okay. He forgives you.” He reached out to the police dog. “Come here and give me a hug.”

  Rising, the shepherd approached Stuart and raised up. While the prisoner hugged him back, Ringo’s counterpart gave the human face a couple of quick licks. In front of them, the other three dogs barked happily in unison. Outside the cell, a bevy of blue chattered excitedly among themselves. One lanky corporal turned to the man next to him.

  “If I ever left Ranger alone with a perp like that and I wasn’t around to countermand, he’d rip him apart.”

  “Same thing with Samson,” declared another officer. “He won’t let anybody but me so much as touch him.” His voice rose. “Jeezus, look at that!”

  Having induced Ranger and Ringo to make up, Stuart was now rolling around on the floor with all four dogs, the only apparent danger he was in that of being licked to death. One of them grabbed his leg between its jaws and tugged gently, play-biting. Outside the cell, his human partner could only gape at the interaction. Police dogs simply didn’t ‘play bite’. But that was exactly what was happening.

  Putting an arm around Jen’s shoulders, Ramos gently guided her away from the cell and its flabbergasted audience. Getting her off to one side, he kept his voice down.

  “There’s obviously something you’re not telling me, Jen.” He gestured back in the direction of the cell. “What’s going on in there makes no sense. It’s absolutely unprecedented. I was watching you while you were watching it. Anyone whose friend turned up in a cell with four unrestrained police dogs should be freaking out. You didn’t panic, you didn’t let out a shout. You didn’t even look surprised.” Folding his arms, he eyed her sternly. “What’s going on here, Jen?”

  She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I wish I could tell you, Hector, but you’d never believe me.”

  Ramos lowered his voice even more. “Forget about the fact that his only ID was Stuart’s dog collar. Watching him interact with the dogs in the park and now with that quartet of canine cops in there, I’ve managed to forget that none of this makes any sense. But—the world is full of things that don’t make any sense. Cops know that better than most people. That doesn’t make them less real.” He paused a moment. “That’s Stuart in there, isn’t it? Your Stuart. He nodded at the crowd packed in front of the cell. “There’s no Stuart out on a farm is there?.

  She hesitated. Was Ramos being straight with her? Or was he fishing for confirmation of the unbelievable? If she answered in the affirmative, would she find herself in a cell next to Stuart’s? Wrapped up nice and tight in a white shirt with the fasteners in back?

  Shoot, she told herself. At this point what did she have to lose? If Ramos was being honest, it would be a relief to know that she was not the only one aware of what was going on.

  “He’s got me convinced,” she told him bluntly.

  He shook his head. “Crazy. It’s always crazy in here, but this is way, way beyond normal crazy. If there is such a thing as normal crazy.”

  “What about Stuart?”

  Ramos looked apologetic. “At most, I can get you a day or two if you can manage bail. Release him into your custody. You’ll have to sign for him.”

  She almost smiled. “I’ve been signing for him his whole life.”

  “Right. I’ll handle the paperwork.” He started to lead her out, halted abruptly. “Don’t leave town. Either of you.”

  “If we run,” she replied good-naturedly, “I promise I won’t let him drive.”

  Ramos did not laugh.

  Filling out the necessary forms took half an hour. She and Stuart drew some strange looks as they exited the station but no one stopped or questioned them. Ramos had been as good as his word. Glancing down at her purse Jen saw that one end of Stuart’s collar was sticking out and she hurried to cram it down out of sight.

  “Why did you pull me out?” He was complaining as they made their way down the steps outside the station entrance. To look at him or hear him you would have thought nothing untoward had happened. “I was having a great time with those big guys. Did you see the Rott called Samson begging me to chew on his neck?”

  “Yes Stuart.” Her tone was as dry as the Namib. “It was cute. All of it, so cute. You stole a car, ran from the law, ended up in jail without proper identification, and now you want to play with police dogs. What a swell time. I’m so sorry I wasn’t around to enjoy all of it.”

  Her sarcasm flew past him like one of the seagulls that visited the park. “You’re right Jen, but you did wish all this on me.” There was sudden determination in his voice. “You gotta get back to being me.” Jen agreed readily, adding with determination, “Let’s go get your fur back.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Though packed to overflowing with items ripe with charm, it was easy to miss the antique shop’s comparatively narrow storefront. It was situated in a bit of an alcove inside the mall and the sign above was modest for a business where so many tended to the garish. Leading Stuart inside, Jen made a show of inspecting some of the hundreds of baubles and trinkets that crowded glassed-in cabinets, tabletops covered with lace, and shelves of every size and composition. Jewelry gleamed while the faces of wooden dolls competed for attention with carved gargoyles. Squeezed in among stores selling overpriced sneakers and designer sunglasses, the place was a cornucopia of wonders.

  It was also, she noted, very reasonably priced. This made sense. Why would anyone who dealt in miracles need to resort to price gouging?

  “Wow. Look at this.” Reaching onto a table she picked up an angel that had evidently been cut from a single transparent quartz crystal and showed it to Stuart. “Somebody carved this, I guess.” She rubbed a finger across the vitreous surface of one wing. “Must have taken forever. This stuff is hard.” She put it carefully back in its place on the table and moved on.

  The next time she looked back, he had it in his mouth. Exasperated, she took it away from him. She was always taking potential toys away from him, and the potentially tooth-cracking quartz angel was most definitely not a toy.

  “What is it with you and putting stuff in your mouth?” She shook the sculpture at him. “This will break your teeth!”

  It took her a moment to register that he was not looking at her but at something behind her. Turning sharply, she found herself staring at Mrs. Walley, from the park. The woman’s unexpected appearance and proximity gave her a start.

  “Mrs. Walley! You scared me!”

  “Hello, Jen.” Kindly as ever, the younger woman thought. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come up on you like that.” She proffered a motherly smile. “People say I float. That’s just a euphemism, of course. They mean to suggest that I walk softly.”

  Jen collected herself. She and Stuart were not here to swap pleasantries. “We sure bump into each other a lot. What brings you here today?”

  A knowing smile this time. Mrs. Walley struck Jen as something of a cross between a cuddly godmother and one of the biker chicks she occasionally encountered on Pacific Coast Highway.

  “Well, I’ve owned this little shop for quite some time now. I spend a lot more time here since Harold left us.” She heaved a matronly sigh, then added a four-letter word that did much to undo the effect of the sigh. “He helped me with the inventory and such but the store was never really his thing.”

  Jen was sufficiently startled by the unexpected revelation that she neglected to inquire as to what Harold’s thing might have been.

  “This is your place? I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Really dear?” Picking up a feather duster from the lap of a bentwood rocker she began dusting hither and yon, trying to keep the hithers clean without disturbing the yons. “It’s been right here all the time, right under your nose. Of course, the outside is a bit nondescript until you’re right on top of it, so if you were walking fast, or on the other side of the walkway, or hypnotized by a stupid phone like so many of your generation, I suppose it would be easy enough to miss.”

  Favoring her young visitor with a cherubic smile, she walked over to a counter and unscrewed a wide-mouthed jar. Also sitting on the counter was Angel, her Lhasa Apso. As soon as her owner began fiddling with the jar, the dog ambled over to sit nearby, dog out and tail metronoming.

  Handing the cookie to the Lhasa, Mrs. Walley looked to Jen’s companion. “Stuart, would you like a treat?”

  Jen found herself nodding. “So you know.”

  “Know what, dear?” The teasing tone in her voice was all Jen needed for confirmation.

  Off to one side, Stuart had been conversing softly with the Lhasa. Now he returned to whisper into Jen’s ear.

  “Jen, Angel is a real angel.”

  She replied absently. “That’s a very sweet thing to say, Stuart.” “So, Jen, what can I help you with today? A ring, maybe?”

  Probably just a coincidence to offer her that, Jen decided. If it was intended as a joke it was decidedly off-kilter. “Well, I have this locket with me and….”

  Stuart gave her a nudge. “I’m serious. Angel is an angel.”

  Impatient and anxious, she all but barked at him. “Stuart, alright already, stop.”

  Despite the fact that he had kept his voice deliberately low, Mrs. Walley had plainly heard what he had said. “He’s just being truthful, dear.” She gestured at the dog that was sitting on the counter munching on a beef-flavored cookie. “Angel actually is an angel. To be more precise, he’s Harold, my husband.” She gazed fondly at the Lhasa. “Harold did so love his treats.”

  Despite the locket, despite Stuart’s transformation, Jen was not quite—not quite—ready to believe everything someone told her. “Okay. Your dog Angel is your deceased husband Harold. So, what does that make you? An angel’s widow?”

  “Don’t be silly, dear.” That maternal smile again. “Although I have learned a few things in my time, and in my time with Harold. Take that locket, for example. It’s a conduit. That’s the best way I can think of to describe it.”

  Jen raised both hands and turned her head to one side. “Okay, Okay, I get it. Enough of this dream. I am going to wake up now. I’ll be back in my house, in my bed, and we’ll start this day all over again. Not a problem. Wake up, Jen! Wake up!” She closed her eyes and covered them with her palms.

  There followed a silent pause as she stood there. After a moment she patted her face, removed her hands from her eyes and opened them. Mrs. Walley stood there; waiting, patient, everyone’s favorite cookie-baking biker aunt.

  “Good morning, Jen! You awake now?” Leaning forward slightly she peered closely at the younger woman’s face. “Yes, I can see that you are, even if you are a little bit numb. Perhaps that’s just as well. Can I finish?” Jen might have nodded in response, albeit almost imperceptibly.

  “When Harold was getting very ill and all his doctors told us it was only a matter of time, he was in a great deal of pain. We were told that his condition, and his pain, would only grow worse. Eventually he would have slipped into an induced coma ameliorated only by massive doses of painkillers until he passed on. Upon hearing that, a friend of mine—let’s call her ‘spiritual’—gave me this locket and told me to wish for some kind of better outcome. I could not wish Harold’s condition away: the locket is not a healing tool it is a transformation conduit. I had to think of some kind of alternative.” She took a deep breath.

  “So I wished for Harold to become Angel, my companion.” She gestured toward the Lhasa, who gazed back at her in a way that could only be described as devotedly. “He hasn’t a worry in the world because now I can care for him and—he’s happy. Completely happy. And we are together. Not as we once were, but in a way that’s really not that hard to understand. We watch TV together, we eat together, we take walks in the park together.” She smiled. “It’s way better than visiting a gravesite once a week.” She pointed toward Jen’s neck. “Pretty powerful locket, isn’t it?”

  Reaching up, Jen clutched at the locket resting against her upper chest. “So—this locket. Did that.”

  Mrs. Walley nodded sagely. “The one and only. Its power demands the respect it deserves.”

  She nodded. “So, I have the locket now. Why me? Why did Arthur give me something like this?”

  “Well, I kept seeing you and Arthur around town together and I could tell something just wasn’t right. That necessary spark seemed to be missing. And as someone who has experienced their own personal tragedy I felt I had to do something. But I couldn’t think of anything to do—until Arthur came into the store.”