The Dog Lovers

By John B. Dolan

The Dog Lovers, a suspense thriller set in Long Island New York. Amid a record breaking heat wave, Jake and Rose Stillman, in a struggling marriage find themselves straying towards their desires. As the temperature rises, so do tempers and passions. The dogs feed on the frenzy. Animal instincts are unleashed, and the good people of Nags Harbor discover love can be a very, very dangerous thing.

This thriller is a fast-paced read filled with dark desires, pure animal rage, and tragic consequences.

In this fiction novel author John B. Dolan has spun a clever thriller biting with dark humor, panting with suspense. A modern American novel with a powerful climax. Read and you will be barking for more.

The Dog Lovers, Ebook from author John B. Dolan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781794702547

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The Dog Lovers

THE DOG LOVERS

A NOVEL by John B. Dolan

One sizzling summer, the dogs went astray.

This book is a work of fiction.  Any references concerning real people, events, or locations are intended only to offer a sense of authenticity to the fictional work.  All characters, opinions, and statements are provided for entertainment only.

The Dog Lovers Copyright © 2019, All Rights Reserved John B. Dolan, JB Dolan Associates llc.  Photo and Cover Design Copyright © 2019, John B. Dolan. JB Dolan Associates llc. Mississippi HOT Entertainment.

Made in USA.

Copyright Office Registration, Number TX 8-481-607, Effective 12-21-17

Published by LULU with John B. Dolan

Professional Editor, Valarie Andrews of New Orleans, LA

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except for brief quotes for reviews.

For publishing information, to contact author, and/or additional copies, email: [e-mail]

1.

The Dog Lovers

The hot, muggy air poured across the land like magma. Each breath had a gritty taste as the country smoldered in its own fumes.  The world was thick, and there was no escaping the drowning heat of those consuming days in August.  Amanda Binge, 22, her long, bleached-blond hair clipped back off her neck, sat in her stifling, one-bedroom apartment watching the 10 o’clock news on television.

The weathermen hadn’t called for the temperature to rise above 90, but they couldn’t have been more wrong.  Yesterday, the news had predicted seasonable weather for the remainder of the week. Today, they blamed the misguided forecast on a stalled front and a dramatic change to the jet stream they hadn’t anticipated.  A problematic shift such as this was an unusual occurrence, and even with their satellites and computers they failed to see what was to come.

The young woman didn’t understand much regarding the report.  All she knew was it was hot, real hot.  Attempting to get comfortable at the edge of the couch, she fanned herself with a Lucky One Chinese take-out menu.  Dressed in a loose-fitting yellow T-shirt that skirted down to her toned thighs, Amanda considered taking a cold shower just to escape the sweat that beaded her tanned body.

The old-model tube television showed a handsome man in a suit and tie in front of a map of Long Island, New York.  Displayed was an image of the sun representing the intense heat. He predicted in this revised report a record high of 104 degrees Fahrenheit for tomorrow and straight through the week.  To lighten the mood, he offered his attempt at wit. So, expect extreme conditions, hot and muggy, for the next few days.  Where did it come from?  Well, we can’t predict every system, but I promise you this. I’m one hundred percent sure we can get it right some of the time.  If we only knew when.  Stay cool any way you can.  Keep those air conditioners running.

Amanda didn’t find any humor in his words. She grumbled, That’s disgusting, wearing a suit and tie in this heat.  It bothered her mostly because she didn’t have air conditioning.

She wanted a way out of the heat and thought of a young man she’d gone on a date with two weeks prior. He had a place with central air.  Though she didn’t particularly like him, for air conditioning she’d like him a whole lot more.

Her cell phone was already in her hand. She dialed Lionel’s number.  The phone rang twice.  Amanda spoke aloud to the ringing line, Don’t you send me to voice mail.  At her command the call was answered.

Hi, said the soft, male voice of Lionel.

Amanda got bubbly. She said, Hey, Lionel. It’s Amanda.  I was just thinking of you and wanted to call.  How are you?

Amanda.  Hello.  Doing good.  Relaxing. It was a crazy day. 

Hot enough for you?

Oh, yeah. It’s brutal out.  Lionel didn’t think he’d hear back from Amanda when she hadn’t returned his call after their date.  He went on to say, But I’ve got the AC cranking, barricaded myself in for the night.  Got it down to a sweet sixty-nine.

That sounds wonderful.  You know, I had a really nice time when we went out.  That band we saw was fun.

They play there every Wednesday night. We’ll have to go back. 

Sure.  Great.  Hey, what are you up to tonight?

Tonight?

Yeah, it’s not that late.  I’m up anyway. Thought we could get together.

I wasn’t planning on going out.

I could come over.

There is a moment, a pause, as Lionel realized where Amanda was leading.  He said, Sure.  Think I got a few beers in the fridge.  Happy to share my AC with the right girl.

Great.  Let me get ready. I’ll be over.

See you when you get here.

Amanda hung up. She knew it was a slutty thing to do, but what the hell. Why not exchange a little midnight booty call for some cool air to hang out in.  She didn’t mind selling herself cheap to get what she wanted.  It sure wasn’t the first time.

She wanted to take a quick shower before heading out, and she needed to get her dog inside.  Muffin, a long-haired Pekinese, had been let out earlier to roll around on the lawn.  The apartment was on the first floor, and through the sliding glass doors there was access to the fenced backyard.

Amanda went to the screened door and looked out into the hot, dark night.  She called out through the screen, Muffin!  Muffin, time to come in!

On the moonless, breezeless night, the tan-and-white shaggy dog with pink tongue panting stood inches above the grass at the far end of the yard.  The pet had heard his master calling but didn’t come.  He hadn’t ignored the call; something else had his attention. 

The dog smelled a strong scent that drifted slowly in the thick, dark, hot air.  The animal’s keen nostrils flared as he took in the approaching scent.  His brown eyes attentively scanned the edges of the fenced yard, sensing something among the darkness. 

The Pekinese began yelping.

Amanda called, Muffin!  Muffin, come in.  Don’t make me come out.  Muffin, in. Now!

The dog looked toward the dark corner and took in the steamy air, exploring the pungent odor.  The smell was fierce, natural, powerful. It was from another animal.

The small dog moved his short legs, almost hopping as he made his way toward the bushes, toward the unseen intruder.

Within the darkness there was movement.  Muffin now made out a set of deep green eyes, three feet off the ground, that glared toward him.  The small dog fearlessly moved closer.

Amanda, still at the door, wasn’t in the mood to chase after her pet.  She pushed the screened door open and stepped out.  Though the dog couldn’t be seen, she knew where he liked to linger.  Frustrated, she groaned out to the darkness, Muffinnnn, come in.  I’ll get you a treat.  Who wants a tasty treat?  Be a good little shit and get over here.

Amanda stepped onto the brick patio.  She knew her dog was in the far corner, where he delivered his packages.  That’s what she liked to call the crap that littered the grass.  She’d have to risk stepping in a package to go out and get him.

She headed across the yard, spoke softly and clearly as if the dog could understand her.  Boy, where are you?  I’m braving the minefield to come get you.  Come here, boy.  Don’t make Mommy step in one of your surprise packages.

She was halfway across the yard when Muffin ran out of the darkness toward her.

There you are.  You’re hiding on me.  Come on, let’s go.  Inside now.

The dog trotted past Amanda straight to the back door.  At the house the excited dog began to yelp loudly.

Quiet, Amanda hushed in a deep whisper.  What has gotten into you?  You’re a bad little boy.  Bad dog. Quiet.

A deep, steady growl called out from the blackness.  The animal sound was raw and chilling.  Amanda felt naked standing in the yard.  She wrapped her arms around her chest and stepped toward the back door to get in.

Muffin remained at the opened doorway, the light from inside casting a glow behind him.  The dog let out a grunted warning growl.

At the edge of the patio, Amanda called for Muffin to behave. No treats for you.  Bad…. 

She was interrupted.  Without warning, she was struck across the back and flung down.  The young woman’s face first bounced hard onto the brick patio.  Her jaw met the ground, her front tooth broke, and blood poured.   

Amanda didn’t immediately move. Her heart pounded; she was stunned.  Her mind took a moment to recover, unsure if she had tripped or was pushed. 

The young woman swallowed the thick liquid accumulating in her mouth. She tasted her own blood.

Noooo. She simply wanted to be inside. 

A sudden, sharp pain attacked her thigh, holding her in a vice-like grip.  The agony dug through her skin, deep into the muscle.  Pain raced across her body, reaching her lips.  She sent out a high-pitched scream, a pleading cry that wailed into the black night.

Amanda was dragged forcefully back, back a few inches, and then a few more, tugged away from the house.  The thrusts backwards were quick, like a bobber plunging under the water after a big fish takes the bait. 

Struggling on her belly, she grabbed for the ground, dragged her fingers along the brick edge, desperate to hold on.  Spitting blood from her screaming lips, she begged for the strength to keep her in place.  All she wanted was to hold on. 

A few yards away Muffin panted and watched.  The long-haired dog calmly looked on.

At the edge of the patio Amanda felt her leg released.  The pain remained, but she was free.  She quickly reached out for the nearby barbecue grill that stood on the patio and grabbed hold of one of the steel legs.

Trembling, panting for air, the girl held on for life.  Confused, frightened, alone, she checked behind her, hoping to understand what was happening.  In a flash a swift, dark shape grabbed at her throat and held her.  She felt searing pain and gasped, taking in the wet, hot, thick air.  There was no time to scream as her life was snapped away.

Muffin, with tongue panting, stood at the opened doorway.  Without a care, the pet stood witness as the girl disappeared into the night.

2.

The master bedroom was a comfortable 70 degrees, insulated from the heat that lived in the world.  The window air-conditioning unit was humming when the clock alarm rang at 5:22 a.m.  The summer morning came too soon for Jake Stillman, as he woke in bed beside his wife, Rose. 

Jake, 32, with sun-gold hair that casually helmeted his head, lay at the edge of their queen-size bed as his wife rested peacefully, facing away and taking up the center.  Though the woman was only 112 pounds, she managed to monopolize most of the bed. 

Instinctively, he reached over, tapping quiet the buzzer without opening his eyes.  Not attempting to take another five minutes to rest, conditioned to getting his day going, Jake slid away from his wife and grudgingly opened his quiet, gray eyes.  He slipped out from under the thin sheet covering him.

Jake, lean and muscular, wore only his boxers.  He stretched his left arm, waking the sore muscle.  His shoulder bothered him from the 15 years of hard work at his trade, carpentry.  In the dimness of a new day he dressed, knowing where his jeans and shirt were in the dresser.  A morning ritual down pat, the only way for him to manage himself was to keep life the same.

He didn’t offer a kiss to his wife of seven years, telling himself it was because he didn’t want to wake her, but that was only partly true.  He didn’t want to wake her because she would only tell him not to bother her.  She just wasn’t a morning person, especially after she’d been drinking. Last night she’d finished off a bottle and a half of white wine. 

Jake quietly walked out into the dark hall of the modestly decorated, ranch-style home.  He noticed immediately that his dog, a Labrador named Varnish, hadn’t greeted him.  The dog, tail wagging, always met him as he came out.

Varnish, he called out quietly from the living room.  He sat down to put on his work boots, knowing she had to be in the house.  Just hoping the dog hadn’t made a mess.

With boots on, Jake walked out to the long back porch, where he found her laying on the hardwood floor.  The aging golden Labrador’s tail began to wag at the sight of Jake, but still she didn’t get up.  Approaching, Jake checked around the room, expecting the dog to have done something she wasn’t supposed to, like going in the house, eating a pillow, something destructive.  He found nothing out of place.

What is it, girl?  Jake reached down to his friend on the floor.  What’s wrong? he asked, half expecting the dog to tell him.

The dog’s eyes were glossy and bloodshot, and the pet that usually jumped around for attention lay struggling to keep her head up.

Jake put his one hand on the dog’s chest to calm her, letting the animal know she’d be cared for.  He gently rubbed her black nose, finding it cold and dry. 

You’ve got something was his amateur diagnosis.  I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, Jake said as he stood. Let me get my keys. Then we’ll head out.  He figured to stop at the vet’s on his way to the job site.

The dog attempted to get up, but lacked the strength.  Still, she never took her eyes off Jake. 

There were two empty bottles of wine on the table, a reminder of the hollering he’d endured the previous night during Rose’s drinking.  She’d complained that he didn’t earn enough money to support her in the style she deserved.  He had no answer for her.  She knew what he did for a living long before they got married; they had dated for more than four years. 

He grabbed the truck keys and moved back for Varnish.  With the care a parent would afford an infant, Jake picked up the 75-pound dog.

The glowing, intense, orange sun lifted into the sky, announcing the start of the day, and brought a heat that was unyielding across Nags Harbor, the Northeast, seemingly the world.  This quaint bayside village on eastern Long Island already fumed at 94 degrees. Today was going to be every bit as hot and muggy as yesterday.  The sun had a message marked urgent, but few heeded the sign. 

Jake drove, concerned for the moment, focused on the paved street in front of him.  The white 2005 Ford work truck with extended cab rolled down Hampton Street. A magnetic sign on one side advertised Stillman Carpentry & Contracting.  The sign on the other side had been lost long ago.

At a steady pace the truck drove past costly suburban homes that, if located anywhere else in the country, would easily have been valued at half the price.  Along the front yards large, shady trees peacefully closed in the area.  Today there was no breeze to rustle the tree branches, the only movement the few cars that shared the street traveling in the opposite direction.

Jake kept one hand on the wheel and another on the waning Labrador.  The dog, eyes closed, rested facing him.   

The veterinary hospital, East End Animal Clinic, was less than 10 minutes away, but that seemed too far this morning.  Jake lifted his cell phone and dialed the vet, Dr. Ralph Hunt.  He wanted to make sure someone would be there to help them. 

The phone rang and was picked up on the other end.  The recorded voice of a young girl stated the office’s regular business hours were from 8 to 6 o’clock.

Damn machine, Jake said quietly, dropping the phone down on the seat.  He reached across to the dog as she took short, weak breaths. Don’t worry, girl. There’s someone there by now.  There better be someone there.

The streetlight ahead changed to yellow.  Jake wasn’t stopping and sped up.  He usually cursed anyone who blew through red lights, but this was an emergency.  A few moments later, they arrived at the clinic parking lot and pulled directly up to the front entrance of the stand-alone building.  The long, white vehicle came to an abrupt halt. 

Inside, behind the counter, a still-waking redhead, Alicia White, stood with the phone in her hand.  The cute 27-year-old assistant in her casual street clothes turned toward Jake as he entered.

Jake, carrying the dog, pushed through the swinging gate, coming behind the counter.  Upset, he pleaded, Is Doctor Hunt in back?  I’ve got an emergency.

Alicia wanted Jake to get back on the other side of the counter.  She told him, One moment.  You can’t come back here.  Still holding the phone, I’m going to have to call you back.

Where’s the doctor?  Who can help me? Jake demanded.

I’m here, she said. What’s the problem?  What’s wrong?

She’s not well.  I woke up, and she was just lying on the floor.

Alicia pointed through a doorway leading into the back.  Okay.  Take her in, all the way to the back room.  Set her on the table.  I’ll phone the doctor.

How long is he going to be?

Go set the dog down. He’ll be right over.

Jake went into the back as Alicia dialed the vet. 

In the well-lit main examining area there were two tables. Each led to a basin with running water used for bathing.  Jake laid Varnish down on a table as the dog softly panted, gazing out blankly.

Alicia entered.  Jake impatiently asked, When will the doctor get here?

He’s on his way.  The assistant calmly went over and washed her hands in one of the three sinks along the wall.  She knew Jake from his previous visits and asked, Mr. Stillman, has she eaten anything unusual?

I don’t know.  I don’t know what she ate.  I’m not sure.  I woke up and found her.  She’s a dog. She could have eaten anything.

Alicia walked over with a clipboard and handed it to Jake.  She smiled and said, Please fill this out while you wait outside.

What do you think it could be?

Let’s see what the doctor has to say.  Alicia petted the dog and said, "He’ll be here shortly.  Fill out the forms so we can have them ready for him to