Wolfsbane and Mistletoe Page 0,2

and he clutched the phone hard for a moment. "You still there?"

"Hello, Mona," he said.

"It's Christmas Eve, Sam," she said. "I thought you might like some company."

"I've got company," he said.

"You know what I mean," said Mona. "Dogs don't count."

"Man's best friend," said Lehrmann. "Didn't you know that?"

"Only when the man has no woman," said Mona. "You're in Georgia, Sam. Not Alaska. Georgia. A man in Georgia doesn't need to spend the only Christmas Eve of the year with a bunch of dogs."

"You been drinking, Mona?"

"It's going to be a beautiful night," she continued. "Crisp and clear, with a full moon. A full moon on Christmas Eve, Sam. That doesn't happen that often. Maybe we'll see Santa's sleigh flying across it. Yes, I have been drinking, Sam. I'm alone in Georgia on Christmas Eve, and I'm drinking. Can't I come over? You shouldn't be alone with a bunch of dogs."

"Dogs are loyal, Mona," he said. He wished immediately that he hadn't.

She was silent. He thought for a moment that she had broken the connection, but then he heard her crying.

"How's Nicky?" he asked, awkwardly changing the subject.

"Nicky's a great, big, warm, wonderful pal," she said. "I am going to cuddle with Nicky tonight. I could be with you, roasting marshmallows in the fire . . ."

"I don't have a fireplace," he said.

"Please let me back into your life, Sam," she said softly. "You can't shut me out forever."

"Good night, Mona," he said. "Merry Christmas."

He broke the connection.

The man in the woods checked his watch, then glanced up at the sky. The sun was nearing the horizon. It would be an hour until nightfall. He looked through his binoculars to see Lehrmann sitting disconsolately at the desk, staring at his cell phone, then turning it off.

"Poor Sam," said the watcher. "Full moon and empty arms."

An alarm signal went off, and Carson, a five-year-old German shepherd, looked up.

"Easy, boy," said Lehrmann. "Still got an hour. Plenty of time. Finish your dinner."

The dog went back to his meal, but kept glancing up at the windows.

She was drinking early today, thought Lehrmann. God knows that the holidays will do that to a person. Hell, he was all shook up from a two-minute conversation with her, and he was the sober one.

"Hell of a time to call, Carson," he said, and the dog grimaced sympathetically.

Lehrmann thought back to when she'd first walked through his front door. What was it, three years ago? Three and a month. It was mid-November, and he was training a Rottweiler, a ten-month-old female.

The woman was slim, brunette, and built like a runner. Her clothes were carefully casual in a way only large amounts of money could accomplish. She had ruby drops dangling from each ear, with more strung along a gold necklace that plunged between her breasts.

He was playing tug-of-war with the Rottweiler, using a broomstick wrapped in several layers of cloth. The dog had clamped on tight, and was digging its claws into the mat, trying to pull the broomstick out of Lehrmann's hands. She looked like she might succeed. The woman leaned forward, resting her hands on the wall of the pit, and watched.

"Here!" Lehrmann said suddenly.

The Rottweiler looked up at him, but refused to relinquish the broomstick.

"Here!" Lehrmann commanded her again.

The dog reluctantly let go, and moved to sit by Lehrmann's right foot. She stayed there, a resentful glare on her face.

"Good girl," Lehrmann praised her, and he handed her a small piece of beef. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"If I'm not interrupting," said the woman, smiling. "Is that raw beef?"

"It is," said Lehrmann.

"Then you won't mind if I don't shake hands just yet," she said.

"I have been known to wash them on occasion," said Lehrmann. "Give me a minute. You could shake the dog's paw while you're waiting."

"Will she do that without attacking me?" asked the woman.

"She won't attack unless she's told to," said Lehrmann. "At least, that's how it's supposed to work."

"I'll chance it," said the woman, coming into the pit. She squatted down to face the dog. "Hello. My name is Mona Havelka. What's yours?"

"This is Nicky," said Lehrmann. "Nicky, shake."

The Rottweiler immediately held out a paw, and Mona shook it.

"Very pleased to meet you, Nicky," she said.

"Here, give her this," said Lehrmann, holding up a piece of beef.

Mona took it and held it out for Nicky, who took it carefully from her, then licked her hand.

"No point in standing on ceremony now," said Mona, holding her hand out to Lehrmann. "Are you the