Cut and Run

“Looks part Afghan.”

“That’s the hound dog: Saluki is the breed.”

Neville passed the pup to Hope, who then cuddled it and brought the dog’s nose to her face, and was generously licked. She laughed and the dog licked some more.

“Meet Cairo,” Larson said.

Hope looked up with tears in her eyes.

Neville handed Larson several copies each of the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and the Detroit Free Press, and Larson thanked him.

“Covers the past four days,” Neville informed him. He brought up a large bag of Puppy Chow and several shopping bags of accessories including two books on dog training.

There was no mail to be delivered, even for Larson. For all the world, he’d disappeared after that night north of Seattle. Even Hampton and Stubblefield did not know his whereabouts.

“See you Thursday,” Neville said as Larson untied first the bow- and then the sternline.

Larson pushed the stern away from the dock, and the boat’s motor gurgled. Larson offered a small wave of thanks. Neville mocked a salute, and the launch motored off.

Larson left the food, but got the bags.

“She’s going to flip out,” Hope said.

“I hope so.”

Larson switched hands with the bags and threw an arm around Hope. He was going to hate leaving this place, though not what it represented. He pla

“Isn’t she cute?” Hope bubbled.

Larson held her just a little bit closer. “Yes, she is,” he said.

And the two walked back up the trail toward the cabin.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ridley Pearson is the author of more than twenty crime novels and several books for younger readers. He and Dave Barry cowrote the award-wi