Eclipse Bay

beam arced wildly in the darkness as she clutched at him.
    “After this little incident, I’m going to have more gray hair than you do,” she whispered into his wet fur. “What on earth happened here?”
    But Winston had no answers for her.
    She carried him quickly toward the beach. “I’m going to call the police. This is a small town. The chief will know which one of the local punks would pull a vicious trick like this. I’m going to press charges. I swear it.”
    Winston licked her ear.
    She set him down at the water’s edge. “Come on, let’s get you home and dried off. I wonder how long you were out there on that rock? I can’t wait to get my hands on whoever did this. I’ll—”
    Winston interrupted her with a low, startlingly savage growl. She flashed the light down at him and saw that his whole attention was focused on the darkness that cloaked the cliff path. The tension in him was the only warning she got.
    “Winston, no!” She grabbed his collar just as he leaped forward. “No. Winston, stay.”
    He obeyed instantly, but she could feel him quivering with predatory urgency. There was someone in the vicinity of the cliff path. Someone Winston did not like.
    Fear crashed through her. She had to assume that whoever was on the trail was the same person who had caught Winston and set him out on the monolith to drown.
    At the same instant it occurred to her that although she could not see the person watching from the shadows, he could certainly see her. The flashlight in her hand made a very effective beacon.
    She turned off the beam and crouched down beside Winston. “Hush.” She closed her fingers lightly around his muzzle. She did not think his low growls could be heard above the sound of the incoming tide, but if he started barking again, he would give away their location.
    Winston shuddered under her hands. His attention never wavered from the cliff path.
    One thing was certain, Hannah thought as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the new level of darkness. They could not go up the path. They would run straight into whoever waited there. Nor could they just stay here in the cove like sitting ducks.
    Keeping her fingers around Winston’s muzzle, she tugged on his collar to guide him.
    “This way,” she whispered. “Heel, or whatever it is dogs are supposed to do at times like this.”
    If Winston was offended by the command, he was gracious enough not to complain. He paced obediently along beside her. She bent low, not daring to take her fingers off his muzzle as they made their way toward the dense darkness of the cliff caves. She relied on the sighs and splashes of the returning seawater to cloak whatever noise she made as she scrambled over the rocks with Winston.
    The biggest danger would come from tide pools that littered the cove. At night, without a flashlight, each one was a potential trap. Things slipped and slithered under her feet, but Winston detoured safely around the edges of the pools.
    The deeper darkness of a cave entrance loomed in her path. The scent of rotting seaweed enveloped her. But for once Winston showed no interest in the fascinating odors that assailed his nostrils. He was alert and focused. She did not dare release her grip on his muzzle.
    “Hush,” she said again. “Please, hush.”
    He gave a low, almost inaudible whimper and quivered tensely.
    She put out one hand and felt for the wall of the cave. When her palm made contact with the damp rock she started cautiously forward. Winston must have sensed her intention or perhaps he was merely responding to some ancient den-seeking impulse. Whatever the reason, he willingly took the lead as they made their way deeper into the convoluted cavern.
    As soon as they rounded the corner, they lost what little fog-reflected moonlight there was coming through the mouth of the cave. The quality of the darkness took on a deeper, thicker feel. Hannah could see nothing now. She stumbled awkwardly along, blindly following Winston. But after she bumped her head on a rocky outcropping and scraped a knee, she decided to risk the flashlight again.
    She kept the beam pointed straight down toward the rising floor of rock. Winston trotted forward through the sandy rubble that littered the bottom of the cavern. He no longer seemed inclined to bark. Cautiously, she released his muzzle.
    The path led through a series of small, damp chambers. She stumbled over the remains of an old pink-plastic sandal. Probably one that she or her