At that moment, he finally noticed Mallory lying on his side close to the entry of the house, his big dog body completely still.
Colin had never seen the dog when he at least didn’t thump his tail and he felt something slice through his gut at the sight.
He carefully pulled out of her embrace and, linking his fingers in hers, he guided her over to Mallory. Once there, he crouched down and felt the dog’s chest, noting a strong heartbeat and steady breathing. Other than that, the dog was motionless and, from far away, could even appear dead. Colin couldn’t imagine the shock that Sibyl had when she arrived home.
“Christ,” he muttered as he absently stroked the dog’s head, fury beginning to burn slowly in him.
“They called a vet to have a look at him. He hasn’t moved a muscle in ages. I’m kinda used to Mallory being relatively motionless but this is terrifying,” she told him, her voice still shaky.
Colin made no comment as he watched a police officer come toward them as the other four stayed where they were, pretending to be busy but still staring at Sibyl.
“And who might you be, sir?” the officer asked when he arrived.
“I’m her boyfriend.”
He felt ridiculous saying it but not after he heard Sibyl’s swift intake of breath, noted her quick, round-eyed glance and, most especially, when he caught the look of deep disappointment that passed across the policeman’s face.
“Oh, right.” He made an effort at recovery while Colin straightened, put his arm possessively around Sibyl and pulled her against his side, a gesture which made his role in her life perfectly understood. “There appears to have been a break-in,” the policeman continued.
“I already know that,” Colin informed him.
“And the dog has been shot by a tranquilliser dart.”
“I already know that too,” Colin said, his tone making it crystal clear his patience was quickly ebbing and that was not a good thing. “Can you tell me something I don’t know?”
The policeman shifted uncomfortably under Colin’s irate glare, belatedly, but correctly, assessing that Colin was not someone to be trifled with.
“We just made it to the scene a few minutes ago. We’ve ascertained there’s no threat. We have an officer checking the house now to see if there was anything obviously stolen, forced entry, that kind of thing.”
“Wouldn’t that go faster if all five of the officers standing out here checked the house?” Colin suggested sarcastically, inclining his head to their audience.
“Um… right,” the officer agreed and, after a glance at Sibyl and a brief hesitation, he trotted off to his colleagues who disbursed, some going to their cars, others going into the house.
Colin watched the sudden action and muttered with distracted irritation to Sibyl, “You’re too damned beautiful for your own good.”
When he finally swung his gaze to her, she was staring at him with eyes no longer hazel, but a warm, liquid sherry and her mouth was parted slightly in surprise. Then, as if wishing to hide her response to his comment, she turned in his arm and pressed herself against him, burying her face in his chest.
That was when he felt she was shaking.
“I can’t believe someone shot my dog,” she whispered.
His fury built and spread as his free hand went to her hair and stroked the heavy mass. There was nothing to say, he couldn’t believe it either.
They stood that way for some time. The longer they did so, Colin found the fury flowed out of him and he became rather contented. Sibyl, however, continued to tremble until his hand at her hair stroked the tremors away. Minutes ticked by then another officer exited the house and approached them.
“Seems like it’s just vandals,” he informed them upon his arrival. “We’ll have to ask Miss Godwin to walk through the house but the stereo’s still there, there’s some jewellery sitting on the chest of drawers, untouched. There have been some pillows destroyed, feathers everywhere. Some crockery broken. No real damage.”
“Has this happened before?” Colin asked.
“What, sir?” This officer, more intelligent, was the one who had been checking the house when Colin arrived as Colin hadn’t seen him before.
“This kind of thing at another house in the area, tranquilliser darts, vandalism?” Colin prompted.
“No, nothing,” the officer shook his head, “I’ll need to take Miss Godwin through to see if she can determine if anything’s missing.”
It was then that Mallory made a move, a slight lift of his head then it fell again. Instantly Sibyl dropped to her knees, pulled the dog’s head in her lap and started murmuring comfortingly as she stroked his soft, black and beige head.
Colin crouched beside her and muttered gently, “Sibyl, go with the officer. I’ll look after Mallory.”
She lifted her sherry eyes to him and asked, “You promise not to leave his side?”
He stared directly in her eyes and said quietly, “I promise.”
She nodded and, with obvious reluctance, she left with the policeman. As promised, Colin stayed crouched by the dog who was waking just not very quickly.
While Sibyl was inside, another police car came up to the house, possibly unloading lab men, or, more likely, a new set of groupies called in to have a look at Sibyl. Then another car came up the drive but this was not a police car. Colin watched as it stopped with a dramatic shower of gravel and then Marian Byrne came flying out.
She ran toward Colin, her face a mask of worry. “Where’s Sibyl?” she demanded to know by way of greeting.
“Mrs. Byrne, what are you doing here?” Colin asked, straightening from his crouch.
Mrs. Byrne didn’t answer. Instead, when she took in the dog, she cried, “What’s happened to Mallory?”
“He was shot with a tranquilliser dart,” Colin replied.
Mrs. Byrne gasped, her hand flying to her throat in surprise. “What on earth?” she breathed then asked more forcefully, “For heaven’s sake why?”
“We don’t know.”
“Is he going to be all right? Is Sibyl all right?”
“A vet is coming to look at Mallory,” Colin responded. “Sibyl’s in the house, checking to see if anything was stolen.”
“So she’s fine?” Mrs. Byrne queried, her face still troubled.
“Yes, shaken but fine. What are you doing here?”
“I was…” she looked back at her car then turned to Colin again, “baking for a bake sale. I have a Victoria Sponge. Sibyl loves Victoria Sponge so I made her one especially.” Her tone was odd in the way that any discussion about Victoria Sponge in the presence of a bizarrely tranquillised dog and four police vehicles would be odd.