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Remi reached out at the same time Sam did. “Maybe we should call an ambulance,” she said.
“No. I’m fine. Just give me a moment.”
“She’s right,” Sam said. “You need to get checked out.”
Nigel smiled, as if to prove he was fine. “What I need is a good stiff drink.”
Sam helped him navigate the uneven terrain to the pedestrian path while Remi stood guard on the other side. As far as Sam could tell, he didn’t look too injured. No blood, just dirt, leaves, and damp hair from being out in the fog.
After they climbed over the cable barrier, Nigel brushed some of the debris from his gray suit, looking somewhat dazed.
Remi cocked her head at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Going to have quite the headache for a while,” he said.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“Not sure. I ended my tour at the warehouse and was going back to meet up with you. Someone came up and told me there were some shady types on South Quay, so I figured I’d take a shortcut through the alley to avoid them. Don’t think I got much farther than this when someone whacked me from behind.”
“Sounds like a robbery,” Sam said.
He patted his pockets, then gave a slight laugh. “Got my wallet. They’re going to be disappointed. Not sure I had more than five pounds on me.”
Sam was about to suggest they call the police when he heard a low growl coming from the direction of the quay. The other two heard it as well, and they all turned as a large, dark dog appeared like some apparition in the mist. It stood there, its head low, its teeth bared as it growled.
Sam put his arm out, moving Remi behind him.
Together, the three backed down the path, Sam keeping an eye not only on the dog but on the silhouette of the broad-shouldered man that appeared behind it.
Forty
Remi?” Sam said quietly. “Do you have—”
She handed him a small canister of pepper spray.
“Run,” he said.
Remi and Nigel turned and ran. Sam aimed the canister, but the dog, as though sensing trouble, backed off. Instead, Sam sprayed a shot toward the man, then ran after the others, not waiting to see if he hit his mark. The dog started barking just before Sam heard the sound of heavy footfalls as someone chased after them. Either he missed the dog handler or the man had an accomplice.
Remi and Nigel were up ahead, racing beneath the same arch they’d gone under earlier in the day, Devil’s Alley.
Aptly named, Sam thought, as he caught up to his wife. He glanced back but couldn’t see anyone in the fog.
“This way,” Nigel said, turning to the right. “The police station isn’t that far.”
In less than five minutes, they were pushing through the door of the police station, then reporting the attack. The officer on duty took Nigel back to an interview room while Sam and Remi waited in the lobby.
Remi took a seat in one of the chairs. “A good thing we happened along when we did.”
Sam paced the room, keeping an eye out the door. “What are the chances the one man we’re waiting to see is robbed?”
“Too much of a coincidence.”
“After everything that’s happened to us so far? Definitely.” He stopped and looked at her. “That whole Black Shuck story from Devil’s Alley . . .”
“You think Fisk or Avery wrangled some old lady to stop and tell us some legend about the Devil’s dog just to set up this whole robbery? That part could be coincidence. But the robbery . . .”
“What good does robbing him do?”