Page 112 of Knight
A dirt road led me between fields toward a small farmhouse that had seen better days. Larry had lost his wife a couple of years ago, and he didn’t appear to have any close neighbors. He was near the town of Starr, Nebraska—or what went for a town, at any rate, with only a few houses and one small gas station/market—but it would be a hoof to even get that far. I was guessing Uber was out of the question out here, as were public bus lines.
I pulled up beside his pickup and got out of the car, nerves making my heart jumpy. There was a stillness to the place I didn’t like.
I shook off the sense of dread. I was just being paranoid. He was probably in his recliner like Liliana said, watching the old Westerns he liked. He’d tell me his truck needed work, but he’d get the next county shuttle over to Riverton, and we’d laugh about what worrywarts we were.
I went up the worn porch steps and banged on the door.
There was the barking of a small dog. Nothing else. I knocked again. “Mr. Schumacher! Are you here?”
Bark-bark-bark!
Was I imagining it or did those barks seem anxious? Could a dog really transmit that kind of emotion into their barks? I was losing it.
I knocked again. “It’s Dr. Donovan. Please come to the door so I know you’re okay! Larry?”
The barking went up in pitch. A few whines followed. Okay, I wasn’t imagining it. That dog was upset.
I tried the doorknob. It turned in my hand, unlocked, and I pushed the door open slowly. I wasn’t sure how this dog would react to me coming inside.
The little guy jumped at my legs, a small bundle of frizzy gray hair and floppy ears. He yipped, but showed no signs of aggression. He was hyper or frantic, but not dangerous.
“Okay, Lassie, lead me to the well.”
The dog whirled as if understanding me and ran for the hallway. I followed, casting a glance in the living room as I went. The recliner was empty. So much for that happy image.
I followed the dog to a darkened bedroom. I eased the door open. How embarrassing would it be if old Larry was just having a nap and I barged in?
“Mr. Schumacher?” I called out quietly.
There was a shape in the bed. He wasn’t moving. I rushed over and put two fingers to his carotid artery.
A weak pulse.
Shit. I lifted each of his eyelids. Sunken eyes from dehydration. Dilated pupils. Not fixed yet, so that was something.
I lowered my face to sniff his breath. A sickly sweet odor confirmed my suspicions.
I tugged out my phone and made the call.
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
“I’ve got a fifty-nine-year-old man presenting with DKA. He’s unconscious, most likely entering comatose state. We need an ambulance immediately.”
“Where are you located?”
My mind blanked for a minute and I had to check my phone GPS history to read it off to her.
“All right, we’ve got paramedics en route. If you’ll stay on the phone line?—”
“I’m a doctor, and he needs my attention. Get here fast.”
I hung up and ran out to the car, cursing myself for leaving Liliana’s package of meds on the front passenger seat. The dog followed me, and it belatedly occurred to me that he could run away.
He was barking again, high-pitched and frantic while jumping against my legs. Guess he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I know, buddy. I’m coming back. Promise.”
I grabbed the plastic sack and jogged back inside. I dropped to my knees at Larry’s bedside, rechecking his pulse. Still there, thank god.
