Here's the next part.
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The car came into view, the bars breaking the crest of the street, black and white shining out. Dusk was approaching, but an hour of sunlight was still waiting. The car headed into the winding driveway and slowed at the curb.
Johnny went out to meet Walt, Bruce at his heel. He was still shaky, his head still pounding. His bad leg was starting to ache now, and he leaned more heavily on his cane when he met Walt on the stairs.
"So, Johnny," Walt said, his voice dry. "Taking animal calls now?"
Bruce gave Walt a dirty look that was hidden by his hair. Johnny knew Walt was teasing, but he still felt odd. Damn, he thought he was over that though.
"Yeah," he said, forcing cheerfulness. "I figure sooner or later I need to start working again."
"Well, you always were the animal lover."
Bruce seemed to have recovered his wit, for he answered, "He's Dr. Dolittle. The dog loved him so much he knocked him flat on the floor and wanted to play 'whoever gets the throat first wins.' It was so touching, seeing the two of them bond like that."
"Johnny is one for animals," Walt agreed.
"He'll end up marrying one someday, they're the only ones who can stand him," Bruce suggested.
"Okay," Johnny interrupted loudly. "We are not a Save the Animals convention."
"Right." Walt's voice had an amazing capability to turn from poking fun to serious. "Well, let's review, Johnny. Tell me what you saw."
Johnny told him about the two visions, the first one at the car, and then the one in the backyard.
"So you already knew about it before you left?" Walt said it like he didn't want to believe it. "Why didn't you say anything, Johnny? That's about three hours with letting a killer getting away!"
Johnny hesitated and glanced at Bruce, who was off rescuing a snail that had gotten trapped between two cracks in the pavement. Poor snail.
"Well . . . it was weird, Walt." He sighed. "It was just weird. It's the second vision from an animal, and this one for a long time, not like the first one."
"First one?" Walt raised an eyebrow.
"Bat in the cave, don't ask, and it was strange." He shook his head in frustration. "It just freaked me out, okay? I mean . . . it wasn't that I didn't think anybody would believe me or anything . . ."
"Fair enough," Walt said, "but Johnny, you know I'd believe you. If you told me I was going to be hit by a truck, I'd believe you. I'd personally lock myself in my room and chain myself to a wall to keep me from going outside."
Johnny was touched by Walt's admission, but he didn't say anything else.
"Okay, Johnny," Walt sighed. "So the dog saw the murder. We found him in the house."
"Meaning the guy must have put him back in," Johnny supplied, watching in agitation Bruce pluck the snail up and put it in Johnny's sanctuary of flowers. "Not too difficult, is it?"
"No." Walt closed his eyes. "The door was locked. We dusted the keys on the girl, but he must have cleaned them. But why would the dog go back with her killer? Why would he even bother to put the dog back? Dogs can't talk." He stopped, then looked at Johnny guiltily. "Well, John, not really."
"I never claimed they could," Johnny answered a bit harshly. "But I do know that Bruce did see the guy."
"Bruce, get over here and quit messing with the bug," Walt told him.
"It's not a bug. It's a snail. And it deserves to be rescued. Some kid could have tortured it, you know? Kids can be really mean sometimes, I know. So now it's safe, it has a nice home-"
"Eating my flowers," Johnny quipped.
"It's not like you take care of them anyway." Bruce waved a hand.
"Bruce, what did you see?" Walt raised his voice, cutting through the banter of the two friends.
Bruce looked at Johnny. "I'm not exactly sure. I remember that I was running that day. I remember the guy pushing through the bushes. It was really sudden. He bumped into me, ran to his car, and drove off like he was crazy. He wore fatigues."
"Army," Johnny said. "No name tag, or at least not one visible. He got in a blue Honda. Half of the license plate said ARK1."
"Jeez, Johnny, you should have been there," Bruce said dryly. Johnny afforded him a tight look.
"Did you get anymore?" Walt asked. "Other than the ARK1? If we had the number, it would be easier."
"No," Johnny said. "But how many blue Hondas with the plate ARK1 can there be?"
"It depends," Walt said grimly. "What kind of plates?"
"I don't know."
"So we don't know. Heck, the guy could be in Canada by now. I know ARK is popular. It could be Noah's ARK, the ARK angel, ARK is god or something. People like using nice words. The one you saw could have been an I or something. There's a lot of things."
"ARK is god?" Bruce frowned. "You hinting at something, Walt?"
"Bruce, go away," Walt said, dismissing him with a hand. "Do you have anything more?"
"No," Johnny said. "I can try the dog again . . . I guess."
"He's afraid of dogs," Bruce piped.
Walt nodded. "I know."
"Okay, that was uncalled for. I think I'll just go inside and lock you out."
Johnny leaned on his cane and started back inside the house determinedly.
"John, are you alright?" Walt's voice came from behind him, concerned. "You look a little wobbly."
"My leg hurts, but I'm fine," he replied. "You just go on talking about my phobia of canines. Heck, talk about my phobia of stuffed ones, figurine ones, glass ones, collectable ones, heck, talk about my phobia of Lassie and how I think she was the one who set Timmy up in the accidents and saved him to make herself look good."
"Johnny?"
"Yes, Walt?"
"You have way too much time to think."
"Thank you, Walt." He continued his limp into the house. He wanted his Advil and then he wanted to sleep. A good sleep would cure him of any ailments he felt. "Guys, I'm going to go and lay down. I don't feel too well."
"Johnny!" Walt raced to catch up with him. He looked uncomfortable and Johnny's heart pitched when he realized what Walt was going to ask him.
"Walt, I thought I said this was over," he sighed. "No more touching police stuff. I know it's only a ploy to spend time with me. They're dates to you."
Walt looked at him.
"Okay, fine. What do you have? Is it at the station?"
Walt looked almost hurt. "Actually, I was wondering if you could touch the dog again, John."
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The car came into view, the bars breaking the crest of the street, black and white shining out. Dusk was approaching, but an hour of sunlight was still waiting. The car headed into the winding driveway and slowed at the curb.
Johnny went out to meet Walt, Bruce at his heel. He was still shaky, his head still pounding. His bad leg was starting to ache now, and he leaned more heavily on his cane when he met Walt on the stairs.
"So, Johnny," Walt said, his voice dry. "Taking animal calls now?"
Bruce gave Walt a dirty look that was hidden by his hair. Johnny knew Walt was teasing, but he still felt odd. Damn, he thought he was over that though.
"Yeah," he said, forcing cheerfulness. "I figure sooner or later I need to start working again."
"Well, you always were the animal lover."
Bruce seemed to have recovered his wit, for he answered, "He's Dr. Dolittle. The dog loved him so much he knocked him flat on the floor and wanted to play 'whoever gets the throat first wins.' It was so touching, seeing the two of them bond like that."
"Johnny is one for animals," Walt agreed.
"He'll end up marrying one someday, they're the only ones who can stand him," Bruce suggested.
"Okay," Johnny interrupted loudly. "We are not a Save the Animals convention."
"Right." Walt's voice had an amazing capability to turn from poking fun to serious. "Well, let's review, Johnny. Tell me what you saw."
Johnny told him about the two visions, the first one at the car, and then the one in the backyard.
"So you already knew about it before you left?" Walt said it like he didn't want to believe it. "Why didn't you say anything, Johnny? That's about three hours with letting a killer getting away!"
Johnny hesitated and glanced at Bruce, who was off rescuing a snail that had gotten trapped between two cracks in the pavement. Poor snail.
"Well . . . it was weird, Walt." He sighed. "It was just weird. It's the second vision from an animal, and this one for a long time, not like the first one."
"First one?" Walt raised an eyebrow.
"Bat in the cave, don't ask, and it was strange." He shook his head in frustration. "It just freaked me out, okay? I mean . . . it wasn't that I didn't think anybody would believe me or anything . . ."
"Fair enough," Walt said, "but Johnny, you know I'd believe you. If you told me I was going to be hit by a truck, I'd believe you. I'd personally lock myself in my room and chain myself to a wall to keep me from going outside."
Johnny was touched by Walt's admission, but he didn't say anything else.
"Okay, Johnny," Walt sighed. "So the dog saw the murder. We found him in the house."
"Meaning the guy must have put him back in," Johnny supplied, watching in agitation Bruce pluck the snail up and put it in Johnny's sanctuary of flowers. "Not too difficult, is it?"
"No." Walt closed his eyes. "The door was locked. We dusted the keys on the girl, but he must have cleaned them. But why would the dog go back with her killer? Why would he even bother to put the dog back? Dogs can't talk." He stopped, then looked at Johnny guiltily. "Well, John, not really."
"I never claimed they could," Johnny answered a bit harshly. "But I do know that Bruce did see the guy."
"Bruce, get over here and quit messing with the bug," Walt told him.
"It's not a bug. It's a snail. And it deserves to be rescued. Some kid could have tortured it, you know? Kids can be really mean sometimes, I know. So now it's safe, it has a nice home-"
"Eating my flowers," Johnny quipped.
"It's not like you take care of them anyway." Bruce waved a hand.
"Bruce, what did you see?" Walt raised his voice, cutting through the banter of the two friends.
Bruce looked at Johnny. "I'm not exactly sure. I remember that I was running that day. I remember the guy pushing through the bushes. It was really sudden. He bumped into me, ran to his car, and drove off like he was crazy. He wore fatigues."
"Army," Johnny said. "No name tag, or at least not one visible. He got in a blue Honda. Half of the license plate said ARK1."
"Jeez, Johnny, you should have been there," Bruce said dryly. Johnny afforded him a tight look.
"Did you get anymore?" Walt asked. "Other than the ARK1? If we had the number, it would be easier."
"No," Johnny said. "But how many blue Hondas with the plate ARK1 can there be?"
"It depends," Walt said grimly. "What kind of plates?"
"I don't know."
"So we don't know. Heck, the guy could be in Canada by now. I know ARK is popular. It could be Noah's ARK, the ARK angel, ARK is god or something. People like using nice words. The one you saw could have been an I or something. There's a lot of things."
"ARK is god?" Bruce frowned. "You hinting at something, Walt?"
"Bruce, go away," Walt said, dismissing him with a hand. "Do you have anything more?"
"No," Johnny said. "I can try the dog again . . . I guess."
"He's afraid of dogs," Bruce piped.
Walt nodded. "I know."
"Okay, that was uncalled for. I think I'll just go inside and lock you out."
Johnny leaned on his cane and started back inside the house determinedly.
"John, are you alright?" Walt's voice came from behind him, concerned. "You look a little wobbly."
"My leg hurts, but I'm fine," he replied. "You just go on talking about my phobia of canines. Heck, talk about my phobia of stuffed ones, figurine ones, glass ones, collectable ones, heck, talk about my phobia of Lassie and how I think she was the one who set Timmy up in the accidents and saved him to make herself look good."
"Johnny?"
"Yes, Walt?"
"You have way too much time to think."
"Thank you, Walt." He continued his limp into the house. He wanted his Advil and then he wanted to sleep. A good sleep would cure him of any ailments he felt. "Guys, I'm going to go and lay down. I don't feel too well."
"Johnny!" Walt raced to catch up with him. He looked uncomfortable and Johnny's heart pitched when he realized what Walt was going to ask him.
"Walt, I thought I said this was over," he sighed. "No more touching police stuff. I know it's only a ploy to spend time with me. They're dates to you."
Walt looked at him.
"Okay, fine. What do you have? Is it at the station?"
Walt looked almost hurt. "Actually, I was wondering if you could touch the dog again, John."