Play Dead by Leslie O'Kane

dead. Call the police.” It felt as though my voice was coming from
some distant tunnel—not really me speaking, not my words, none of this
was really happening. I turned Beth over just in case there were signs of life,
knowing full well this was senseless. So was everything that had happened to
her since she’d gotten Sage.
    Sage circled Beth and me as I knelt beside
her. My mind was a torrent of thoughts and unanswerable questions, penetrated
by Sage’s childlike whimpers. How, in a town of Boulder’s size, had someone
managed to stab Beth Gleason in broad daylight with, apparently, no witnesses?
Why hadn’t anybody been around to help her? Even now, a steady stream of
traffic passed by. Though my view of cars was blocked by the fence, the hum of
engines and tires on asphalt was ever present.
    I deserted my pretense of attempting
lifesaving measures. I took off my jacket, draped it over Beth’s face, and sat
on the hard ground hugging my knees to my chest while I shivered
uncontrollably. Sage came over to me and sat down beside me, pressing his body
against mine. As I stroked his fur, I realized how hard I was fighting against
breaking down.
    Sirens in the distance grew louder. The
police would soon be here. I would have to explain. How could I?
    What did I even know about Beth? That she
was too young to die and didn’t deserve this fate. That she was supported by a
trust fund, and that she seemingly had little common sense and atrocious taste
in men. Yet she was wise enough to recognize the soul of a truly fine dog when
she met him.
    And what of Sage? My heart ached for him.
I felt sure he’d been a voiceless witness to two violent deaths. Worse, both
victims had been his owners. Could this dog identify the killer? How could I
find out?
    Police cars pulled up, their shapes
visible through the slits in the fence. Sage rose, watching the approaching
officers on the other side of the fence, then turned and looked at me in a plea
for protection. I hugged him and whispered, “We’ll get the bastard who did
this. I don’t know how, but we’ll get him.”
    I heard the footfalls of the officers
heading up the front walk of the house and called, “She’s back here.” I noticed
the gate for the first time, which was within ten yards of where Beth had
fallen. “She’s been stabbed.”
    The officers entered through the gate,
eyeing the collie and me as if primed to aim their guns at us if we moved. Sage
barked wildly at them. The first officer said, “Do you live here, ma’am?”
    “No, I—”
    “The paramedics are on their way,” the
second officer told me. He gestured for me to come toward him. “Let’s give my
partner some room, okay?”
    “She’s already dead,” I murmured, but got
up and did as I was told. “The leash.” I glanced back and saw where it lay on
the lawn, equidistant between me and the fence. I started to head back to grab
it.
    “Stop right there,” the officer commanded.
    I looked up at him in confusion and
realized both officers were poised to pull their guns at me. “The dog needs to
be on a leash,” I explained. “I dropped it back there in the grass.”
    “Just leave it where it is, ma’am, and
step towards me.”
    I did as I was told, realizing the
policemen were afraid I was about to retrieve a weapon. The first officer
pushed his cap back on his forehead as he knelt by Beth. He tossed my jacket
aside and felt her carotid artery. Sage’s frantic barks turned to growls; he
might go on the offensive to protect his owner from these strange men.
    “Sage, come.” He followed my instruction,
but continued to bark. Sage was almost as frantic as he’d been in the PetsMart
parking lot. I had to get him out of here.
    The officer, an average-looking,
middle-aged man with a receding hairline, led us to the sidewalk in front of
the house. I glanced back at Beth, just as the grim-faced officer beside her
slowly shook his head at his partner.
    The officer introduced himself, but