Chapter 3

Thursday morning Ora Dell parked in front of the cinder-block shelter on County Road 14 and went in through the front door like somebody who had business there, because she did.

Lurlene was at the intake desk with the book open. When she saw Ora Dell she closed it.

"I need to see the page," Ora Dell said.

"I can't."

"You just told me I could."

The back door banged. Marlon came in from the kennel row with a clipboard and a catch pole in his other hand, and when he saw her he stopped walking, then kept walking, slower.

"Miss Ora Dell."

"I want to see the intake record for my dog."

He looked at Lurlene. Lurlene looked at the book. Then he smiled, set the pole against the wall, and opened the book himself, turning pages with his thumb until he found it, and spun it around so she could read.

Ora Dell put her glasses on.

Brown hound, male. Intake: Monday, 3:10 p.m. Found: County Road 9. No collar. No chip. No owner. Stray box checked. Owner line blank. And every word of it in Marlon Teague's handwriting - she knew it the way you know a neighbor's hand on an envelope.

"Three-ten," she said.

"That's right."

"Erlene Whitfield watched your truck pull out of my yard at twenty of twelve. She was on her porch with her coffee."

"People misremember."

"And County Road 9 is eight miles from my house."

Marlon shrugged one shoulder. "That's where the officer wrote it."

Ora Dell looked past him, at the counter behind the desk. The scanner sat there where it always sat, gray and scuffed, the battery cover held on with a strip of black tape.

"Run that on him."

"That thing's broken."

"It's sitting right there."

"It's dead. Has been six months." He picked the scanner up and set it down again, flat, the way you'd move a paperweight. "Anyway. There's nothing to run it on. That dog's gone."

"He's out at Delbert Yancey's place on Cutler Bend and you know it."

Something moved behind Marlon's eyes, quick, and then was gone. He turned the book back around and closed it.

"All right," he said. "Let's settle this." He pulled a folded paper out of the clipboard and laid it on the counter and smoothed it flat with the heel of his hand. "Statement of Kaylee Dunn, part-time kennel attendant. Says she was standing right here on March fourth when you came in and signed Duke over. Says you told her you couldn't manage him anymore."

Ora Dell read the name at the bottom. She had never met Kaylee Dunn in her life. On March fourth she had been in Marlow, at the clinic, getting her blood pressure checked.

"I never signed anything."

"That's your privilege." Marlon folded the statement and put it back under the clip. "It goes in the appeal file. They'll read it out Monday night in front of the commission, if you want to keep going."

He picked his catch pole back up and walked toward the kennel row, and at the doorway he turned.

"Miss Ora Dell. The county can take back an animal that got placed without a rabies certificate. I'd hate to have to send an officer out to Cutler Bend for him."

The back door banged shut behind him.