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Rollie Tyler yawned and blinked his eyes, trying to keep awake. It was a long drive from Caribou, Maine to New York City, over six hundred miles, but at least he was almost home. He'd crossed into Connecticut not quite an hour ago. Just a little over a hundred miles to go. Not for the first time, he wished Angie was there to spell him and to take away some of the boredom. The windshield wipers could easily be hypnotic when he was this tired. He supposed he should stop, and yet, he was almost home. He took the off ramp from I-84 on to State Route 51. Angie had flown home that morning so she could get a jump on the computer animation for their latest movie, "Whispering Souls". Soule Free Studios was anxious to get the computer effects "in the can", now that the live shots had been wrapped. He chuckled to himself, amused by the deliberate mis-spelling in their name. The things Tanya Prathers thought up! The name of her new studio was just the latest in a long line of oddities. Bump... bump... bump... Ah, bloody hell, the Aussie thought, as he carefully pulled the large van off to the side of the road. Why did he have to get a flat tire now?!? It figured, just after ten at night, raining and he just had to get a flat. He climbed out of the FX van, muttering to himself as he shone his flashlight on the tire. Flat as a pancake, he knelt down and carefully felt the rubber. Yep, he'd have to change it, it would never hold air, not with that hole in it.

The special effects expert supposed he should count his blessings. There wasn't much traffic on the road at this time at night, so a speeder wasn't liable to run into him. A big plus was the fact the flat tire was on the side away from the road. He zipped his jacket closed against the cool, wet night air before he lowered the jacks to lift the large truck van. And at least it wasn't raining cats and dogs, just a steady drizzle. A soft sound reached his ears and he lifted his head, listening. ... Whimper ... Curious, he turned and shone the flashlight into the trees lining the highway. What was it? ... Whimper ... Well, that certainly sounded like a dog, maybe it had rained cats and dogs earlier. Unable to resist a cry in distress, even an animal's, Rollie pushed his way into the underbrush, looking for the source. Something reflected back the light and he steadied his flash in that direction. Bloody hell! Who would do such a thing?

A small dog crouched under a tree, wet and miserable, unable to even lie down because the chain around its neck was fastened too tightly to the limb over its head. "Easy there," Rollie spoke softly as he slowly approached the frightened animal. "Ol' Rol won't hurt you. Easy." He sank to his knees and offered the back of his hand to the dog to smell. This close, the Australian could see it wasn't much more than a pup. The dog pulled back a little, trying to get away from the large man and his large hand. "Easy, baby, easy." Rollie began to croon wordlessly to the animal, trying to soothe its fears. Finally, giving up its attempt to flee, it huddled there, resigned to whatever fate awaited. The Aussie moved cautiously, not interested in getting bitten by a terrified animal. It took time for him to work the chain off, it was much too tight around the pup's neck. While he did, he found out it was a she. "It's a wonder, you didn't choke, luv, yes it is." Rollie stroked the top of her head and scratched behind her ear. He gathered the dog up into his arms and stood. "Well, you're certainly my blue dog," he crooned, reverting to the Oz slang of calling a dog with red fur, blue. "Poor little luv. It's okay, luv. Rollie will take care of you." He talked to the shivering animal all the way back to the van.

"Now, lets see what we've got, eh, sweetie?" He flipped on the van's interior lights with his elbow and settled to the floor, anxious to examine the dog more closely. The special effects expert managed to maintain a grip on the wet, dirty dog while he pulled a towel out of one of the lockers. Gently, crooning soothingly, he rubbed the dog down, removing as much water and dirt as he could without a bath. He grew angrier as he found signs of bumps and bruises under her fur, but his croon, like his hands, remained loving and gentle. Finished, Rollie sat back a bit to take a better look. "What?" Rollie stared at the red dog with white paws. "Well, you're certainly a surprise, sweetie. That's my luv." His hands expertly stroked and scratched in all the right places that a dog enjoyed most. If his eyes weren't deceiving him, the little thing had a bit of dingo in it, strange this far from his homeland and considering the small size. It obviously had several smaller breeds intermixed with the dingo, but the "look" was unmistakably there. He was pleased when the dog gave one of his hands a tentative lick. She began "talking" to him, making odd little whining/howling noises as her fear eased. She wasn't really that small, compared to some breeds, but the dog wasn't that big either. Certainly not as big as most dingo crosses. The pup couldn't have been much more than fifteen pounds sopping wet.

Both the dog and Rollie were startled by the knocking at the van's side door. Rollie looking up, noticed the flashing lights. Apparently, he'd attracted attention pulled over on the side of the road. He petted the pup one last time, before standing up and moving to the door.

"Sir? Is everything okay?" The young, black state trooper asked as the Aussie opened the door.

"Yeah, except for a flat and a dog." Rollie smiled at the younger man.

The flat tire, the officer understood, but... "A dog, sir?"

"Yeah," Rollie pointed over his shoulder. "When I was changing the tire, I heard something and found her. Someone abandoned her off in the woods."

The trooper peeked around the man and blinked. The dog had moved to the other end of the truck and lay there, panting. It looked basically okay to him, but he wasn't an expert on dogs, far from it. The truck, if it was a truck, was certainly odd though and held an awful lot of equipment.

"Actually, I didn't finish with that tire, so if you wouldn't mind..." Rollie trailed off, waiting hopefully.

"Uh, I can stay while you take care of it. Maybe give you a hand?"

The Australian special effects expert grinned. "Perfect." Protected by the flashing lights of the state trooper, he would be even less likely to be hit by some idiot. The trooper obligingly pointed his heavy duty flashlight where Rollie asked. With the added light from the patrol car's headlights, it helped tremendously and it didn't take the Aussie much longer to finish replacing the tire. "Thanks," he told the trooper gratefully. "I don't suppose you know where I could find a veterinarian or an animal hospital that's close by and open?" He looked up inquisitively as he raised the truck's jacks, setting it back on its wheels.

"A vet? I think there's one a couple of miles off the next ramp, but I don't know if it's open this late."

Rollie got the directions from him and decided to give it a try. He really wanted to get the dog checked out, make sure she was fine. As soon as the other man was gone, the pup joined him up front. He had to drive carefully, because she insisted on resting her head on his left foot. Unable to dissuade her and since it was such a short distance, he just drove with slow caution. Fortunately, there was a light on at the small animal clinic. The sign said it was closed, but he banged on the door anyway. It was hard to knock politely when you had an armful of dog. He heard sounds of movement inside and sighed in relief. "We'll just get you checked out, luv," he mummered into her nearest ear.  Both dog and man blinked at the light that streamed out of the now open door. "Um, excuse me, I found this little lady and I was wondering if the Doc'd check her out." He looked down at the petite woman who opened the door, a pretty honey blonde with warm brown eyes.

"Of course, I'll be glad to check her," Doctor Alexi Saunders assured the tall, brown haired man. Her eyes were appreciative as she took in the sight. This guy was definitely easy on the eyes and that voice was doing things to her spine. She was an absolute sucker for an unusual accent. She reached out and gently touched the dog that was trying to bury her nose between the man's body and his arm. "Come on, baby, let's just see what's wrong." She coaxed the dog away from the man and reached up to lift her from his arms. The little dog started shivering and the man frowned with worry.

"Maybe I better come with you, she's already learned to accept me some."

Alexi nodded acceptance, her patient's owners frequently came back with their pets. "Sure, this way, please." And just keep on talking with that glorious accent, she thought to herself with a slight smile.

The Australian followed the vet back to the examination room. He gently placed the little dog on the table. "Oh, I'm Rollie. Rollie Tyler."

"Alexi Saunders, most just call me Alex, Rollie." She smiled as she began to examine the dog with gentle, probing fingers. "How did you find your little friend?"

"I was driving down from Maine back home to New York City. Got a flat tire and while I was changing it, I heard something off in the woods. I went back to check and found her." His eyes grew stormy with fury. "She'd been chained to a limb. It was so tight, she couldn't even lay down, poor thing." His hands scratched the pup's ears and rubbed her neck, distracting her from the vet's examination. He caught a look of matching anger in the vet's eyes.

"I'll never understand how someone could be so cruel to a helpless animal. Probably decided to get rid of her because she's no longer 'puppy cute'."

"Maybe," Rollie stroked a single finger down the young dog's nose, "or maybe this little one proved to be more troublesome than they expected."

"What do you mean?" Alex looked up curiously and caught a distant look in the man's eyes.

Rollie returned to scratching behind her ears. "Well, she looks to be part dingo. They're clever animals and so are the crosses." He reached down and gently spread the toes on one of her paws. "They use their paws much the same as cats and curiosity drives them into just about everything. Intelligent and independent, they're not exactly easy pets to keep. They are fiercely loyal and most of them form lifetime commitments to their families. They don't take easily or kindly to new owners."

"Well, she seems to have taken to you, Rollie." The vet smiled as the dog licked one of the stranger's big hands. "You're Australian." She was pleased to know where the accent originated. She'd been surprisingly disappointed when he'd identified New York as home, it was much too mundane.

"Well, aye, I'm Aussie." Rollie smiled and it lit up his face. "I probably should find some time to go visit home again."

"Not too much wrong with this little lady. Bruises and such. She needs food and water mostly."

Rollie frowned, unhappily. "Can you keep her? Find her a new home?" He knew his life didn't leave much room for a dog, a real dog. That was why he made Blue. He could leave Blue at home or take him with him and not have to worry about things like food, water, how much time he had for attention and such. He didn't feel guilty if he left Blue alone for weeks at a time.

Alex sighed deeply. "Not really. I don't have much room here. There's barely enough room for my patients." She steeled herself, this was the part she hated most. Why did it always have to come to this? "I can take her to the Humane Society in the morning."

Rollie looked sadly at the little pup. The Humane Society? If she wasn't adopted, she'd be put to "sleep". He hated the thought, hated the term. She'd hardly started living and to put her so close to death. He shook himself, his feelings rolling in turmoil. It wasn't fair. "Life isn't," an inner voice whispered. "I can't keep her," he argued back silently. "Maybe I can find some one who can take her in." He didn't realize he'd said the last out loud until he was rewarded with a smile from the vet.

"Should I give her, her shots?" Alex asked, pleased Rollie didn't like taking her to the shelter any more than she did. "After all, we don't know what's she's had and hasn't had."

Rollie nodded. Having all her shots would make her more attractive to a potential owner. He frowned in thought. "Has she, um, has she been 'fixed'?" That would help too.

"No," the vet told him over her shoulder as she prepared the rabies vaccination, worm shot and just to be safe, puppy shots. "That should wait until these bruises have healed and she's fitter."

"So you don't recognize her at all?" Rollie asked wistfully. It would be nice if someone could get on to the "owner's" case for cruelty. He wouldn't mind leaving the owner out in the woods over night, tied up like that. Wouldn't bother him at all.

"No, I'd remember if I had. She's certainly different from most of the dogs around here." She expertly delivered the series of shots. The little dog shivered a bit and "talked" to Rollie while she did it. "She's so pretty." Gently, Alex stroked the red fur. It was so soft. If she didn't already have three dogs and two cats...

"How much do I owe you?" Rollie asked as he accepted the leash Alex had found for his new friend. Leash, collar, tags with the date of her vaccinations, some antibiotics, a small bag of dry dog food, shots and the late night exam.

Alex named a figure and Rollie wrote out a check for the amount. "Have you decided on a name, yet?"

Rollie looked blank for a moment. "Sweet Angel" popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"That's a pretty name for such a pretty dog." Alexi Saunders gave the dog a final stroke and pat. She wrote the name on the dog's records with satisfaction.

"Um, yeah. Bye, Doc!" Rollie's brow puckered a bit as he tried to figure out how to tell Angie he'd named a dog for her. Well, it wasn't like he could name her Blue. He already had his Bluey. And she was a real sweetie. She'd been a very good, obedient, little dog... so far. Angie! Uh oh! Damn, he was in trouble. He should have been home hours ago. Angie had probably been waiting for him to arrive and he hadn't called her. She'd been worried about him driving down alone. Bloody hell, too late now. Even if she was still at the loft, she had to be asleep by now. Somehow Rollie convinced himself it would be worse if he woke his friend up. He filled a bowl with bottled water and another with a little of the dog food. While Angel drank and ate, he pulled out one of the equipment cases and emptied it. Lined with blankets, it made a credible doggie bed. He picked up Sweet Angel and settled her in, hoping she'd stay there. It would be very awkward driving the rest of the way with her head on his foot. "You be good, Angel, and get some sleep." Rollie told her, stroking her head. "We've still got a ways to go."

The special effects artist had just pulled on to the state highway when a dark pickup passed him, almost clipping his bumper. He braked slightly not wanting to be near the recklessly driven vehicle. It slewed to a stop a few yards ahead, blocking the road. With no way around it, Rollie braked to a halt. He eyed the pickup cautiously, the driver was bound to be drunk. He decided to play it safe and started to back up, intent on turning around, when another pickup stopped behind him, blocking that way as well. "Looks like trouble, Angel." Not sure why this was happening, Rollie reached for his cell phone, meaning to call 911. He didn't finish when a man, in his late thirties/early forties, pointed a shotgun threatenly at him through the side window. Damn, damn, damn and bloody hell! Why did these things keep happening to him? Another man, older than the first, appeared at the doorway. He shouted something, obviously wanting the Aussie to open up. With another peek at the shotgun, Rollie opened the door.

"Right smart, sonny boy." The man growled at Rollie. He was in his late forties/early fifties. His hair, what there was visible under the baseball cap, tended toward gray. "Where's the mutt?"

"What?" Rollie couldn't believe this. This was about Sweet Angel? They couldn't still want her, not after tieing her up so cruelly.

"I said... WHERE ... IS ... THE ... MUTT?" The man practically shouted the words, speaking slowly as if to someone who was too dumb to understand the words.

"What mutt?" Rollie asked, trying to appear puzzled. Please, let her stay in the equipment case. Unless they searched, she wouldn't be obvious there.

The man poked a hand gun in his face. "I want that mutt. We saw you take it. Now where is it?"

Rollie licked his lips and lied through his teeth. "I, uh, I dropped her off. Don't have time to be taking care of a dog."

"At the vet's?"

Not wanting to get Alexi Saunders caught up in this, he shook his head. "No, the state troopers outpost." Hopefully, they hadn't followed him all the way. He remembered a sign pointing to an outpost further up the road the animal clinic was on. Please, let it be believable. Angie would be incredibly mad if he got himself shot again.

The man growled angrily and pushed the gun against Rollie's stomach. "Why'd you go do a fool thing like that for? Troopers don't care about dumb mutts."

Rollie's mind raced, trying to keep the lie convincing. "Well, the vet suggested the animal shelter, but it wasn't open this late at night. Doc said the troopers would drop the dog off for me."

"Damn. Jase, this fool says he dropped the dog off with the troopers to take to the animal shelter."

Jase scratched his head as moved to stand behind the older man. "That means we can get it in the morning right, Trent?"

"Maybe," the older man eyed Rollie with a gleam in his eye. "Need to get rid of this one though. Can't have him reporting us."

Not good, definitely not good. Rollie tried to think of something, anything to distract this pair from him.

"Want me to blow him away with the shotgun?" Jase asked. "They'd have a hard time identifying him after that." He aimed the gun at Rollie's head.

"Yeah, but this truck's too noticeable. We'll need to get rid of it. The old quarry's full of water. We'll dump it and him, there."

Rollie gulped as the other man's finger tightened on the trigger. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for oblivion when a growl and cry of pain reached his ears. The shotgun went off, the spray hitting the roof of the van. Immediately, he was moving, his leg kicking out toward the older man. He caught the hand holding the gun and it went flying. He threw a punch at his face, but didn't pause. The other one still had the shotgun. The shotgun came up and slammed down into Sweet Angel, who yelped loudly, then went still. With an angry cry, Rollie pounced on top of him, wrestling for the gun. He pulled one hand back and punched the man in the face, over and over, trying to knock him out. Suddenly, pain exploded in his head and darkness swelled up, swallowing awareness.
 
 

The Aussie woke to a tongue rasping against his cheek. He groaned, forcing his eyes open and blinked as he stared at a black nose and warm brown eyes. A soft whine reached his ears. He tried to reach his hands up to hold his throbbing head, but they wouldn't move. What? Damn, he was tied up tight, hand and foot. He looked at Sweet Angel, she was leashed tightly to the guard rail at the door, just barely able to reach him. He wiggled a bit, trying to loosen the ropes binding him. If they'd used cuffs, he'd have been out in seconds. He just didn't have the knack where ropes were concerned. Rollie promised himself that if he got out of this, whatever it was, he'd practice until he could escape ropes as well as cuffs. Angie was going to be furious with him, when she found out. He groaned again as fresh pain stabbed his head. Sweet Angel growled, her hackles coming up.

"Awake, huh?"

Rollie's head snapped around to the back of the van. The guy with the shotgun was there. It was pointed steadily at his head.

"Shouldn't have lied to Trent, sport. Of course, it doesn't matter, you'll both end up at the bottom of the quarry." The man seemed happy at thought. He fingered his bruised face. "Yep, bottom of the quarry, but first... I got a score to settle." With that, he pulled back, then slammed the stock of the gun against Rollie's side as hard as he could.

Rollie gasped as the air went out of his lungs. He tried to curl into a ball as the man slammed him in the ribs again. Angel growled furiously and tried to get loose, tried to reach the large man with gentle hands and protect him. Several more blows were delivered, leaving Rollie quivering in pain. His side felt like it was on fire, surely a rib had broken under the abuse.

"Yep, shouldn't have lied. Should've just come clean."

"Why?" Rollie managed to gasp out, his eyes full of pain and bewilderment. "Why, if you're just going to kill her?"

"Why? Easy, sport. She's got something in her that we sell. Make a tidy sum of money off of it, too." He pulled on some heavy leather gloves, then moved around the helpless man and slammed a large hand against the young dog's head. Dazed, she couldn't fight as the man roughly picked her up by her collar. He chuckled softly as he expertly forced a couple of fingers down her throat. Gagging, she threw up and he scooped up a small plastic bag from the vomit.

Rollie watched in shock, then understanding dawned. They were using Sweet Angel as a "drug mule", feeding her the stuff in plastic bags. It was sick! Suddenly, the pain in his head surged up. He twisted around slightly and threw up.  The pain in his side merged with the one in his head and he passed out.

Once more the special effects artist woke up to an aching head and body, this time with a bundle of fur shivering against his side, growling softly. He opened one eye carefully, not wanting to alert their captors to the fact he was awake.  The men were doing something at the front of the van, Rollie tried to puzzle out exactly what. He finally realized they were preparing to send the FX van, with Sweet Angel and him in it, to the bottom of the quarry like they had planned. He had to get loose and stop them... somehow. He felt a tug on his ropes and glanced at the young dog in surprise. Still growling, she was pulling on the ropes around his hands. Hope sent fresh strength through his body. If she kept working at it, maybe she could chew through the ropes. He sent up a silent prayer and kept a close eye on the men up front. Hurry, sweetie, my pretty little luv. Hurry! Rollie beamed encouraging thoughts to the little dog.

Finally! Rollie felt a slight give to the ropes tying his hands together. He tugged gently, trying to hide the movement. They gave a bit more. His hands were free! He still had to get out of the ropes tying his feet though. How? How could he do it and not get caught? How to do it in time to stop these prats from dumping them into the quarry? His innovative mind raced, seeking an answer. He needed something that could cut or burn through the ropes quickly, but silently. He didn't want to attract attention. Not yet, not until he was ready. The special effects artist mentally scanned the shelves just behind him. Something... something to cut or burn... The acid! Carefully, Rollie reached one hand back, feeling for the padded box containing a small vial of sulfuric acid. Carefully, he shifted his position, folding even more into himself. He stifled a gasp as his ribs screamed with pain. There! He grasped the heavy box. Long, clever fingers worked the catch, then sought the vial inside. He found the cork and popped it out. Praying he wouldn't drop any on unprotected skin, thankful for his heavy hiking boots, he measured out four drops where he estimated the ropes to be.

Rollie sighed in silent relief as he felt the ropes around his ankles part. There. Cautiously, he stood up. One of the men glanced back just in time to see the Aussie launch himself across the length of the van. He slammed into the two men as hard as he could. The older man, Trent, hit his head on the steering wheel and was stunned. Rollie ignored the pain in his head and side as he grappled with Jase. The two men fell outside and fought desperately. Adrenaline kept Rollie going. Jase tried to punch Rollie in the side. Rollie twisted away and the two men circled each other. Trent stumbled out of the van and now the pair faced Rollie. Alone, he tried to think of a way to take out both men. Trent reached back to pull the gun from his belt. Unable to think of anything else, Rollie charged the men again. This time, his attack took them both over the edge of the cliff and into the quarry.

Rollie, unable to stop himself, fell with them. He gasped as he hit the cold, murky waters. Foul water filled him and he panicked for a second. Survival instincts kicked in and he held what little breath he had left. The special effects expert tried to swim in the direction he hoped was up. His hiking boots and jacket were pulling him down. He fought his way out of his coat, then bent down, trying to remove his boots. Unable to untie the laces in the cold water, Rollie tried once more to reach the surface. Suddenly, he felt a cold wind on his face and he gasped, retching, throwing up the water he'd swallowed. The cold numbed him and he breathed deeply, refilling his depleted lungs.

There was thrashing to his left and Rollie squinted, trying to see in the dark.

"Help! Help! I can't swim!" A terrified voice cried.

Just bloody great! It was Trent. Resigned, Rollie swam toward the sound. He bumped into the other man and Trent's terrified arms wrapped around his neck. Now fighting the weight of his soaked clothes, shoes and the drowning man, Rollie felt himself starting to go back under. He reached an arm back and hit the other man as hard as he could on the jaw. Stunned, Trent's grip eased a bit and the Aussie tried to move him around to where he could support the man. Trent starting thrashing again and Rollie shouted. "Calm down! You'll drown both of us, if you don't! Easy! I've got you." Slowly it sifted into the older man's brain that he wasn't going down into the water and he stilled uneasily under Rollie's hold.

Rollie sighed as he treaded water. How long could he do this for the two of them? The cold was already draining his small supply of energy. He strained to listen, wondering where Jase was. "Jase?" Rollie called the name, tentatively. A cry behind him answered and Rollie twisted around to try and see. "Where are you? You okay?"

A strangled laugh was his only answer. The moon came out from behind the rain clouds and Rollie spotted a pale face over by the edge of the cliff. The man seemed to be holding on to the rock face. As good a spot as any, Rollie thought, resigned. He just hoped that Trent and Jase wouldn't try to drown him now. He swam slowly toward the cliff, a bit below his other attacker, trailing Trent behind him. Reaching it, Rollie ran a hand over the rough face until he found a hand hold. Trent reached desperately for the solid bulk and grabbed a hold for himself.

Jase made a move as if to get Rollie, but Trent sputtered and called. "Don't. Forget it, Jase. There's no point anymore." He hesitated for a moment. "Besides, this sport saved my life." He said it in wonder, unable to believe the man they'd tried to kill had actually done it.

"Rollie. My name is Rollie, not sport!" The Aussie shivered in the cold water. They wouldn't last long, he knew that. He tried to see if there was some way to climb out of the dark, cold bottom of the quarry. A rock shelf, a boulder... Something! Anything.

"We were going to kill you. Why'd you save Trent?" Jase asked.

Rollie closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm not you. I don't just let people die. I can't!"

"Oh."

The response was so small, Rollie almost lost it in the sounds of the water sloshing against the wall they clung to. He sighed again. The eerie sound of a dingo howling reached his ears. Sweet Angel had realized she was alone and wanted the big man with the gentle hands to come back and free her. The howl rose and fell over and over, filling the night with sound as Rollie felt his fingers go numb in the cold and slowly started to lose his life-saving grip.

The Aussie gasped as he pulled himself back up from the murky water. He was shaking from head to toe with cold and completely numb. His exhausted brain was confused as Angel's howl got unnaturally loud in his ears. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on holding tight... on clinging to his precarious grip.
 
 

Rollie never heard the shouts from the top of the quarry wall. He didn't notice his assailants yelling back, calling for help. A rope dropped beside Trent, hitting the water and the man hesitated. The older man looked at the exhausted, injured man who saved his life. He glanced over the Aussie's head at Jase. The two men exchanged uncertain looks, then Trent shrugged. He dragged himself along the wall to Rollie's side. Carefully, he tied the rope around the shivering man and they yelled for the people up top to pull. The special effects expert gasped as he felt the strain on his aching body, but he relaxed into the rope. State troopers grabbed his arms and pulled him over the edge. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. A woman asked his name and what had happened. Rollie stared blearily at her face and shook harder. Suddenly Sweet Angel was there, pressed against his side, licking his face and hands. Her tail was going a mile a minute.

An EMT squatted beside him and examined the Australian. He shook his head when his careful fingers made the cold man jump. Cutting away the man's soaked shirt, he hissed at the sight of the growing bruises. He finished stripping Rollie out of his wet clothes and coaxed him on to a gurney. The small dog followed anxiously as it was moved to the ambulance. He piled some more blankets over his cold patient and closed the doors. The warmth of the emergency vehicle eased Rollie's shivering and he started to take notice of his surroundings. Sweet Angel lay on the floor, beside him, whimpering eagerly.

"Hey, sweetie. How you doing?" Rollie whispered.

The dog stood and licked his hand, whining and howling softly. Rollie smiled at the little dingo crossbreed.

The doors opened and the woman state trooper looked at him. "I'm Faye Laumer with the Connecticut State Police. What's your name, sir?"

The special effects expert blinked. "Rollie Tyler," he croaked. His voice almost gone from cold and exhaustion.

Laumer nodded. They'd found that name all over inside the large black van. "Mister Tyler, can you tell me what happened?"

Rollie sighed silently and closed his eyes. Slowly, he explained the events of the long night. Before he could finish, there were more shouts and he pushed himself up a bit, trying to see what was happening.

Laumer looked over her shoulder and saw that they had both of the other men up topside. One, the younger one, tried to run away, but his legs gave out before he went two feet. Her partner, a burly sergeant named Joe Olsen, hauled him to his feet. The man tried to kick Joe and when he did something fell from his pocket. Olsen scooped it up and examined it with shrewd eyes. He shook his head in weary worldliness.

The young brunette frowned in puzzlement. "Excuse me a moment, Mister Tyler."

Rollie laid back down and closed his eyes.

"What's up, Sarge?" She asked as she approached her excited colleagues.

"Drugs." Olsen answered bluntly. "Looks like cocaine."

"Drugs?" She glanced back toward the ambulance. The man in there was cute, but if he was involved in drugs... Well, he wasn't that cute!

"Yeah." Sergeant Olsen looked at the two men, blankets around their shoulders, being held by his small group of troopers. The call about a dog howling an awful racket had led to quite a catch. He read the pair of suspects their rights, then asked. "You want to talk or do you want your lawyers?"

Trent closed his eyes in resignation. "No, we don't want to talk. Not without a lawyer, at any rate."

Olsen nodded and turned to Faye. "Better go read that other fellow his rights. We'll book him after Sam's done with him."

Trent raised his head a bit. "He's got nothing to do with this."

Olsen cocked his head curiously. "Oh, is that so?"

Trent nodded his head. He glanced uneasily at his partner who looked back and nodded slightly. "We... Um, we were afraid he saw something, when he picked up that stupid dog. We thought we'd better find out. By the time we realized he didn't know anything...." The older man shrugged.

The sergeant looked warily at the two suspects. "Oh? So why'd you put the rope around him first? He might not have made it otherwise."

Trent looked at the ambulance in wonder. "He saved my life. I... We threatened him and he risked his life to save mine anyway. How can somebody do that? Why would someone do it?"

"If you have to ask, you'll never understand." Sergeant Olsen answered. "They need any more doctoring, Tony?"

The EMT shook his head. "No, they'll be fine. Just need to warm up and rest."

"What about that other fellow Sam's with?"

"Tyler, he said his name was Rollie Tyler." Faye piped in. "The van belongs to him."

Sam smiled at the woman. "I need to take him to the clinic, let the Doc check him out. He may have a broken rib. Don't know if there's anything else yet."

Olsen nodded, eyeing his young protégé with amusement. "What makes you think that truck is his?"

She smiled and her cheeks dimpled. "His name is all over inside. There's stickers everywhere with it. Rollie Tyler, FX."

Sergeant Olsen scratched his head. "Rollie Tyler, FX. Okay, but let's identify him and make sure. Okay, Trooper?"

"Sure thing, Sarge."

Sergeant Olsen dispatched his troopers efficiently, sending the two suspects to the county lockup. Tony headed for the ambulance to take Tyler to the Wapping Emergency Clinic. Faye went with him to finish questioning his patient on the way in. Joe decided he'd drive the truck in behind the ambulance. It sure was a big sucker. He had someone else follow with their patrol car.

Rollie finished describing events to Faye Laumer just as they reached the clinic. Sergeant Olsen read what she'd recorded on the way in and eyed the small dog curled quietly in one corner of the clinic reception area. He looked at the young trooper and then carefully, marked one line out of her notepad. Faye looked at her superior in surprise, then checked what he'd marked out.

"That little dog's a real hero. Those three would have drowned if she hadn't howled so loudly and long. That pair didn't mention her. I suspect Mister Tyler was hallucinating to think he saw that. Probably has a concussion. Too small to be a drug mule, like he thought."

Faye nodded thoughtfully. As long as the other men didn't mention her, there wasn't much point in reporting the victim's belief. Wouldn't help the case against them and might hurt her. She really was a good pup. "Yes sir, I suspect you're right. He did say he was unconscious for a while. Sweet Angel. Pretty name. Fits her real well."

Olsen bent over the dog and scratched behind her ears. "You be a good girl and live up to your name." He glanced at Laumer. "Did you check Tyler's identification?"

"Yes sir, his driver's license looked fine. New York state, like the van's tag." She paused and thought a moment. "I'll go call it in and make sure he's clean." She waited, then hurried out to call it in at Olsen's nod of approval. It didn't take long to verify Rollie's record. Satisfied, Joe sent Faye to type up his statement. She delivered it to the nurse for him to sign when he woke up.

"Ange?" Rollie's words was rough and hoarse. He sounded on the verge of losing his voice all together.

Angie's heart leaped into her throat, then her eyes narrowed in anger. "Rollie? Are you okay? Where are you? Why didn't you call me?!? I've been waiting since..."

"Angela."

One word, just her name, but somehow it stopped Angie. "Yeah?"

"I'm at the emergency clinic in..." Rollie paused, "Wapping, Connecticut. Can you come up? I'm sorry, sweetie, but I don't think I should be driving."

Emergency clinic. Angie swallowed, her anger vanishing as worry increased and overwhelmed it. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Long story, Ange. I'll tell you... later. Okay?" Rollie croaked out. "Come get us?" He pleaded. The exhaustion was evident in his voice.

Us? Angie mouthed the word, then shook herself. "I'll need directions..."

"Here's the nurse, Mrs. Stafford. She'll tell you where."

Angie listened intently to the woman's directions, scribbling them down on a pad from Rollie's desk. She repeated them back, then wrote down the phone number for the clinic just in case she got turned around and needed more. "Is he okay?" She asked anxiously.

"Mister Tyler will be fine. He has a mild concussion, broken rib, a couple of cracked ribs, extensive bruising, a touch of hypothermia and exhaustion. I know it sounds like a lot, but Doctor Stafford says he should be fine. And, yes, before you ask, the doctor is my husband."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stafford." Angie glanced at her watch. "I should be there in two or three hours."

"Mister Tyler and his friend will be here, Ms. Ramirez." The nurse sounded amused. "And they'll be ready to go. Oh, one thing. Please make sure he visits his own doctor in a day or two. You know men, they're so macho, but they're such babies when it comes to visiting the doctor."

Angie giggled at the words. "Rollie will go see his doctor, Mrs. Stafford. Promise." Rollie was always reluctant to visit the medical profession, but when it was necessary he did it with surprisingly little bucking. She hung up the phone and looked around. The blonde grabbed her coat, checked the directions again, then grabbing the keys to the pickup, headed out the door and off to the wilds of Connecticut. Friend, Angie wondered. What friend? Something was going on. She knew it! She also knew she'd find out when she got there.

Angie shivered in the crisp autumn air as she hurried inside the small emergency clinic in Wapping. On her way in, she spotted the FX van, so she knew this was the right place. She glanced around and headed for the nurse at the front desk. "Mrs. Stafford?"

"Ms. Ramirez. You made good time." The nurse smiled at her. "Mister Tyler can leave when he wakes up again. He's right this way." The older woman led her back to one of the small rooms in the back of the clinic. "Well, here we are. I'll get back to my desk. If you need anything, just give a shout."

"Thank you, Mrs. Stafford." Angie responded as she entered his room alone. She looked at the bed where Rollie lay sound asleep. All she could see was his hair sticking out from under the covers. He was completely cocooned in a pile of at least three blankets. She smiled at the sight. Just like Rollie. The blonde started as something moved under his bed. A small head poked out of the shadows and bright eyes looked up at her. She heard the sound of something beating softly on the floor. A dog was watching her curiously, her tail wagging. Angie approached carefully. "Well, and what have we here? Huh? What are you doing here?" Angie reached her hand down for the dog to sniff her fingers. The dog checked her with delicate precision, then licked her fingers. The woman smiled in realization. "You must be Rollie's new friend."

Sweet Angel looked up at the new stranger happily. This one carried the smell of the big man with her, so she must be a friend. The young dog stood up and joined Angie as she sat in the chair by the man's bed. Putting her head against the woman's leg, her nose pointing toward her gentle face, Angel began making soft howls and whines, telling the newcomer about their adventures. Angie smiled and stroked the dog's soft, red fur, before turning to look at her partner. She managed to uncover one hand and holding it in hers, began to patiently wait for Rollie to wake up so she could take him and his new friend home.

Two hours later, Angie felt Rollie's fingers curl around hers and she knew he was finally waking up. Standing up, she stroked his soft hair and waited. The blankets shifted a bit and Rollie finally poked his head out. His face was pale and he looked exhausted still, but his eyes smiled warmly up into hers when they opened. "Angie." Rollie spoke softly, his voice rougher than when he'd called. "Hi." He frowned slightly as memory slipped back. "When'd you get here?"

"Couple of hours ago, boss. How do you feel?"

Sweet Angel hearing the man's voice, stood up, putting her paws on the side of the bed and "talked" to the big, gentle man.

"Hey, Sweet Angel." Rollie called to the young dog. "Are you suppose to be here, pretty girl?"

"She was here when I got here, so I guess so. Sweet Angel?"

Rollie winced as he shifted and looked up at Angie with wide, brown eyes. "Yeah, it just sort of fit." He shrugged and froze.

"How do you feel, Rollie? Truth now."

Rollie sighed deeply. "Stiff and sore." He considered it a moment. "Add a very to both of those. How long do I have to stay?" He asked, resigned to his fate.

Angie smiled at him. "Mrs. Stafford said you could go when you woke up. So, while you take care of getting checked out. I'll go hook the pickup to the back of the van. Okay?"

Rollie smiled and nodded. "Sounds great. Uh, Angie, I'll need a change of clothes."

Angie looked slightly puzzled, but nodded. "I'll bring your bag from the van. Back in two shakes." True to her word, she was back with the bag and the doctor.

Doctor Stafford took the bag and shooed her out. "And take that dog with you, young lady." His eyes twinkled as he said it.

Angie nodded. "Come on, Sweet Angel. Let's give Rollie some privacy while he changes." The dog obediently followed her. The blonde headed outside to get ready to leave.

Twenty minutes later, Rollie walked out of the clinic. He was moving slowly and carefully, obviously feeling every ache, bump and bruise. "Can we go home now?" The Aussie appealed to his partner.

Angie smiled and took the small bag from his hand. "Sure thing. Settle down in the back and go back to sleep. We'll be home in a couple of hours." She looked at her watch and frowned. "Make that a bit longer. We're going to hit rush hour on the way back."

"Lovely," Rollie sighed. "I'm sorry, Ange. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

"Rollie, I know you didn't. I don't know what happened yet, but I bet it has something to do with your little friend there." Angie pointed to the back of the van, where bright eyes were watching Rollie faithfully from the case he'd set up as a bed for her.

"Yeah, it does. Look, I'll explain the whole thing... tomorrow. Today... I'm just beat. Okay?"

"Sure thing." Angie watched as Rollie settled into the make up chair, leaning it back a bit, so he could go back to sleep. She frowned when he shivered. "Where's your coat, boss?"

"Bottom of a quarry." Rollie mumbled, as he shivered again.

Angie sighed and shook her head. She dug out a couple of blankets and wrapped them snugly around the cold Australian. She dropped a light kiss on his forehead. "Get back to sleep, Rol. If you're lucky, you'll sleep through rush hour." She looked over at the small dog, troubled. "Rol... What are you going to do with her?"

"Have to find her a new home, luv. Can't keep her. We... I don't have time to take care of a dog properly. It wouldn't be fair to her. First, she needs to get better though."

Yeah, time for her to worm her way deeper into your heart, you mean. It's going to break when you give her up, but you'll never admit it. And I'll never tell you I know. Angie stared thoughtfully at the Australian. "First, you need to get some more sleep, boss." Angie spoke briskly, checking the blankets again. "Then we'll worry about finding her a home. Why Sweet Angel?"

Rollie yawned. He shrugged expressively. "I don't know. It just came out."

"Well, get some sleep. You need it. I'll wake you when we get home." She watched Rollie drift off to sleep. "Sweet dreams, boss." Angie whispered to herself. Time to break Sweet Angel's heart too? The dog seemed quite taken with the man, as much as the man was with the dog.

Angie hummed to herself in time to the tune on the radio she had turned on low volume. She watched the wipers sweep away the drizzle and thought about nothing in particular. Sweet Angel slept, dreaming doggie dreams. Rollie slept deeply, exhausted and worn by the events of the night and the long hours of the movie they'd just finished. A soft snoring sound made her smile. It was impossible to tell if it came from the man or the dog. The remaining miles flew past once she pulled onto the interstate heading for New York City. Rush hour slowed her down in the city, but she didn't mind terribly. They were almost home.

An hour later, the familiar beeps of the van backing inside, filled the loft. Blue barked happily when Rollie stepped down carefully, pleased to see his master. Sweet Angel whirled and looked over toward the sound. Rollie's eyes were concerned as he and Angie watched her trot over to Blue and sniff eagerly. She was obviously puzzled by the soft growl from something that sounded like a dog, but didn't smell like one. The little dog whined and went back to Rollie, sitting up to beg at the tall man. She made funny little noises as she seemed to talk to him. "That's okay, Angel. I know Bluey is different. It's okay." Rollie bent carefully over, just enough to stroke the little dog's head.

"Go to bed, Rollie." Angie ordered, taking her coat off.

Rollie looked defiant for a moment, then sighed. "Okay."

"Night, Rollie. I'll set out Angel some food and water and head home. I'll finish up the computer graphics in the morning. All right?"

"Yeah, in the morning." Rollie made a move toward the van.

"What do you want Rollie? I'll get it."

"The blanket for Sweet Angel. It's hers now."

"I'll get it and bring it upstairs. Go on. Go to bed!"

Rollie obediently obeyed, Sweet Angel trotting at his heel. She wanted to explore this new place, but she was more concerned about keeping the man in her sight. Angie smiled softly, maybe they should have gotten a dog sooner. Made a good example for a certain stubborn Australian.

Angie arrived early the next morning. She peeked upstairs and almost laughed at the sight of Rollie burrowed under his blankets. Once more, his hair was the only visible part. Sweet Angel stirred from her blanket nest and looked at the woman. Recognizing her, the dog wagged her tail and looked at the man.

"Come on, Angel. I'll take you for a walk." Angie didn't want Rollie trying to clean up if the small dog had an accident inside. Angel obediently padded after Angie. It didn't take long for her to take care of her business. Angie carefully did the "stoop and scoop" boogie and they headed back for the loft. Inside, she freed Angel from her leash. The dog immediately bounded back upstairs. Angie froze, afraid the dog would wake up Rollie, but when all remained still, she relaxed again. She wanted Rollie to sleep himself out. The blonde followed the red dog more slowly and checked on them both. Sure enough, Sweet Angel was once more laying in her bed, patiently waiting on her larger friend to wake. Angie smiled at the sight, then headed back downstairs. It might be Saturday, but she had a lot of work to do.

Three hours later, the knock was a welcome interruption to Angie Ramirez. She stood up from her workstation and stretched. "Blue, open."

Francis Gatti, NYPD detective and father of three, entered the building, looking like he'd lost his best friend.

"Frank? What's wrong?" Angie desperately hoped Francis wasn't here to enlist Tyler FX in yet another police case. Rollie was in no condition for any more excitement for a while, not after the other night.

The short Italian American sat on the couch and sighed deeply, his head in his hands. "The girls want a dog."

"A dog?" Angie smiled and mentally whispered some thanks. It wasn't a case, it was his daughters.

"Yeah, and Sarah agrees with them."

"Well, a dog is nice."

"I don't know anything about dogs, Angie. Do you know anything about dogs?" He looked hopefully at the blonde.

"Well, no, I have a cat. I never had any pets growing up."

Frank sighed and went back to staring at the floor dejectedly. "How am I suppose to pick out a dog?"
He was interrupted by a cheerful call from Rollie Tyler, Australian special effects artist. "Then have I got something for you, Frankie!"

"Rollie, I don't think a robot dog is what they have in mind." Frank realized what he just said, and hoping he hadn't hurt his friend's feelings, tried to work his way out of the hole he'd accidentally dug. "Not that Blue isn't nice and all..."

Rollie laughed carefully, mindful of his ribs and sore side. He shook his head as he went to pour a cup of coffee. "No, not like Bluey, I mean her." He pointed to the little red dog with white paws standing on the steps, her tail wagging happily.

Frank stared in amazement. When had Rollie gotten a dog? She was a pretty thing, not too big and not too small. But what did he know about dogs? What did his girls know? Nothing. They'd never had experience with dogs, except to occasionally pet one and see them on TV or in the movies. "She's pretty," he blurted out the first thing he thought to say.

"Yes she is and smart too!" Rollie spoke proudly. "Come here, Sweet Angel. Come on, girl."

"Sweet Angel?" Francis glanced over at Angie, who shrugged.

"Yeah, that's what I named her. Of course, the girls could give her another name. It's not like she had it all that long." The tall man stood hopefully in front of Frank. "Want some coffee?" He added it as an afterthought.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Frank responded absently, still looking at the dog.

Angie smiled, "I'll get it," and went to get some coffee for both of them.

"Where did you get her?" The short man asked curiously as the little dog smelled his feet and legs.

Rollie launched into the tale, explaining his adventure of the other night. Angie listened closely as she poured cups for her and Frank. It was the first time she'd heard the entire story. Poor Rollie! Work or no work, she should never let him drive home alone. Only he could get in that much trouble from a flat!

Frank sighed as he sipped the coffee Angie handed him. "How can people be so cruel? Never mind. Don't answer that. Do you think she'd be good with the girls?"

"Yeah, I think so. She still kind of young herself, barely out of puppy hood. She'll love the girls!"

"You'll have to help. Sarah and I don't know a thing about dogs." Frank thought it best to warn his friend up front. If it was anything like raising kids, there might be some odd phone calls as they learned... and a few panicked ones as well.

"No problem at all, mate!" Rollie responded warmly. "Anything I can do to help, I'll be glad to do." He really wanted the Gattis to take the little dingo cross. Not just because it would be a good home for her either, but because he could still see her from time to time. A lot of people wouldn't have thought about letting the Aussie visit the little dog, but the Gattis wouldn't mind a bit. It was as close as he could get to a perfect solution to the problem of Sweet Angel. He waited hopefully for the answer.

"Is she house broken?" Frank remembered that was one thing about dogs, they had to be taught to not "go" inside.

Rollie shrugged. "Seems to be. She's been on her best behavior since I found her. Only went outside. If she needs some, uh, reinforcement, I'll help you."

"Oh," Frank thought about it, unconsciously petting the dog's head.

"She hasn't been fixed yet, but she's had all her shots. I'll pay for it." Rollie added, hoping Frank would agree. He thought hard, wondering if he could say anything else to help convince his friend. "I'll help build her a doghouse too." The Gattis already had a fenced yard, so that was good.

Francis looked into his friend's anxious brown eyes. Rollie really seemed to want him to take in the dog. Why? He glanced at Angie questioningly. Angie nodded her head fractionally, trying to get Frank to agree as well. "Well, the girls should have a say about her."

"Of course! I'll get her things and we'll introduce them." Rollie headed up the stairs, excited to find a home for Sweet Angel so quickly.

"What's with Rollie, Angie?" Francis whispered the words the instant Rollie was out of ear shot.

"He's fallen head over heels for that dog, Frank, but he can't keep her. He said it himself, it wouldn't be fair to her. But if you take her, he can still visit her. Don't you see?" Angie whispered back, her eyes pleading with him. "It'll break his heart if he has to give her up entirely."

Francis nodded thoughtfully. "I understand, Angie, but if the girls don't like her..." He shrugged helplessly.

"They will," Angie assured him, having already recognized the dog's sweet disposition.

"Here we go!" Rollie called gaily. Mindful of his injuries, he sat down on the steps to fasten Sweet Angel's leash to her collar. "You be a good girl, little luv." He whispered in her ear. It didn't take long to transfer the dog's food, bowls and blanket to Frank's car. Rollie knew that she already had the smell of it and that would help her in a new place. Almost as an afterthought, Angie added the case Rollie had used for a doggie bed in the van. The blonde followed them in Rollie's red sports car. The dog sat happily in Rollie's lap watching the scenery.

Francis kept glancing at her, uncertain about the wisdom of getting a dog, but excited as well. Every kid in the world wanted a pet and he'd been no exception. He pondered the coincidences that brought the dog into his life. It seemed odd. Just yesterday evening, the declaration for a dog had been made in the Gatti household and almost immediately before Rollie Tyler found a dog that needed a home. He couldn't get over it and paused before getting out of the car at his home. "Well, here goes everything." He smiled at his friend's excited face.

Rollie nodded and popped the door open, holding tight to the leash so Sweet Angel couldn't run off and get lost. Almost immediately, he was hit by a tidal wave of girls, excited to see the dog. For an instant, the pup cringed against the tall man's legs, uncertain. Then with an excited yip, she bounded into the midst of the three Gatti daughters, licking hands and faces. Sarah watched, bemused from the tiny porch. The girls squealed at the licks and their hands patted and stroked the friendly dog.

"Come on, let's take her inside." Frank told his daughters.

"Yes, Daddy!" Bettye, the oldest, solemnly accepted the leash from the tall Australian. "Thank you, Uncle Rollie."

"You're all very welcome, sweetie." Rollie beamed in delight. His new friend had a fine new home and, best of all, he'd be a welcome visitor. He watched Kelsey and Lynn tumble along with their sister, still stroking the excited dog's back. Her tail was going a mile a minute.

"So Rollie pulls another rabbit, or in this case, dog, out of his bag of tricks," Sarah said with a smile.

"I found her the other night. When Frank showed up this morning, I knew it was right." Rollie grinned back at his friend's wife. "I'll help fix her a dog house." He hastened to add, hoping to get Sarah to agree.

Sarah laughed softly as she hugged him. She pulled back when the man winced. "Are you all right, Rollie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I, um, I broke a rib."

"You don't have to bribe me, Rollie Tyler. She's perfect. Come on in and tell us about her. You too, Angie," speaking to the neglected half of Tyler FX.

"Thanks, Sarah. This just proves the old show biz adage, boss. Don't act with young children or animals, they'll steal the show."

"What?" Rollie looked at her, totally confused. His confusion just deepened as Sarah and Angie laughed. Oh well, it didn't matter. Sweet Angel had a home, that was what counted.