Fifteen minutes later, Meg had taken a hasty shower and dressed in the clothes Farrow brought for her to wear. Her hair was still dripping wet, so she draped a towel over her shoulders as she tried to run a wide-toothed comb through it. She got the top layer combed out first. Thanks to the half bottle of conditioner she’d used, she managed to run a comb through the rest of it without too much trouble. Uncoiled, the dark locks hung to her bottom, but the moment the comb let go, it cork-screwed to her midback.
Giving up on towel drying it, Meg just worked on adjusting the too big jeans and top. She made do by tucking in the shirt and wearing a belt. Her feet were hurting from the abuse they suffered on the side of the mountain, but a thick pair of Alik’s socks and a size too large borrowed running shoes from Margo’s suit case helped her walk more comfortably.
“Wouldn’t it be great if Margo needed her shoes back?” Meg made small talk as they drove to the vet with Maze half draped in her lap.
“Yeah, wow. I’m anxious to examine her myself. Her progress seems truly miraculous. But, um…Meg, you may try to get used to calling her ‘Mom.’ I think it would freak her out if you called her ‘Margo’,” Evan suggested gently.
Meg shrugged, but nodded her acceptance for the advice. She may not remember her as ‘Mom,’ but evidently, the lady had earned the title.
The children decided it would be best to split up to accomplish their tasks. Creed, Alik, Farrow and Sloan had already headed to the hospital to see Margo, Theo and Danny.
Meg, Cole and Evan were on their way to a local vet who seemed more curious than concerned about working with an injured hybrid like Maze.
Cole drove carefully so as not to hit any more bumps or potholes than necessary. Maze was looking worse by the minute. They couldn’t get him to eat or drink anything. He wouldn’t even lick the piece of bacon Evan cooked for him.
“We’re here,” he said pulling the SUV into a driveway. When they did, two technicians met them with a dog-sized stretcher. Carefully, Cole lifted the coydog from the back seat and placed him on the sterile, rubber sheet.
Inside, Cole handled the paperwork, Evan paid the initial fees and Meg stayed at her coydog’s side, stroking his fur sometimes but mostly laying her small hand on his shoulder and rubbing gently.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” The vet stood with his white coat wrapped around his ample belly. He reminded Evan of Paulie, bringing back a flood of memories of all the times he’d see the brilliant scientist walking barelegged through the house in his lab coat, surfing trunks underneath and flip-flops smacking his wide feet as he went.
“It’s a long story, sir,” Evan managed.
“But what we can tell you is he was trying to dig his way out of a—room,” Cole offered helpfully.
“What was the floor made of—nails?” The sharp old veterinarian mumbled as he peered into Maze’s eyes with a light then moved to his mouth and pulled back his lips to see his gums. “Damn, I was worried about that,” he said motioning to Maze’s mouth.
“What?” Meg’s eyes flashed as she read his concerned emotion.
“Well, I’ll need to do a sonogram to be sure, but he has all the signs of internal trauma. His gums are pale and his stomach distended. What really happened to him? And don’t tell me the floor fought back.”
“No, sir. We think the guy who trapped him also abused him. This just confirms it.” Evan waved a frustrated hand at the coydog.
“Are you pressing charges?” The vet asked, gently palpitating Maze’s abdomen, but stopping when the coydog let out a painful yelp then growled low and steady.
“We are going to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone or anything again. Yes, sir.” Evan stared at the coydog with revenge in his sharp, honey eyes.
“Well, professionally I must advise you to get the authorities involved in what is obviously an animal abuse case. But off the record—” the vet narrowed his eyes at the young people standing in his office. “Well, you have my blessing. This is one very sick animal.”
“Are you referring to Maze, sir? Or the man who did this to him?” Evan watched the vet’s eyes for the truth behind his words.
“Both,” he answered gruffly.
“Yes, sir.” Evan nodded.
“Let’s get to work, Hilda,” he said to his technician. “I’ll need you to wait out in the lobby, or leave us a good phone number and we’ll call you once we find out what we’re dealing with.”
“I don’t want to leave him,” Meg said immediately.
“Just my opinion here, miss, but you look like you need to rest and eat. I don’t know what happened to you but my medical advice would be to go home.” He reached out and put a grandfatherly hand on Meg’s slender shoulder. To his credit, he didn’t flinch at the rock-hard muscles she had developed over her lifetime of training.
“You’ll be no good to your coydog if you’re too sick to take care of him once he is well enough to come home.” The vet’s tone was sincere, but his optimism about Maze getting better wasn’t. Meg struggled to decide.