Daisy tried to go to the man, but she was restrained by a cop.

“Is he all right?” she asked. “This is terrible!” She felt the tears gathering behind her eyes.

The man was on his feet, swearing at Daisy. “I’m gonna get you!” he said. “You’re a marked woman. Your life is gone, sister.”

“I’m sorry,” Daisy said. “I didn’t see you…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” the cop told Daisy. “You were going real slow, and there was no way you could have seen him. He ran right into the side of your car. Besides, you’re a hero. He let the little girl go and made a run for it, but we couldn’t get near him what with all these bystanders. We might have lost him if you hadn’t knocked him on his keister.”

“Oh no,” Daisy said. “Are you telling me that man was the gunman?”

The minicam zoomed in on Daisy.

“How does it feel to have captured Barry LeRoy, the Roach?” a woman asked.

“Well, I didn’t exactly capture him,” Daisy said. “I sort of inadvertently ran into him.”

The minicam swung around to record the Roach, handcuffed now, being led to the paddy wagon.

The woman continued the interview. “Are you a police officer?” she asked Daisy, noting the antennae sticking out of her car like porcupine quills.

“No! Goodness. I’m the WZZZ traffic reporter. I was hoping for an interview. I suppose it’s too late for that,” Daisy said, watching the doors clang closed on the police van.

Steve Crow was on his way to the pound to get a dog when he heard the bulletin come over the radio. The Dog Lady of Snore had just run down the Roach, a major dope dealer. Steve made a U-turn and put in a call to the station.

“Who the devil sent her out on an interview?” Steve yelled into his phone.

“I did,” the editor said. “I thought that’s what she was supposed to do. We always use the traffic cars as mobile units.”

“She bakes dog biscuits!” Steve shouted.

“For crying out loud, she gives fashion reports on accident victims.”

“It’s the human interest angle,” the editor said. “People seem to like it.”

Steve slammed the phone into its cradle. He knew people liked it. In fact, he, too, found it pleasant to have the traffic report humanized. What he’d actually been thinking, but didn’t dare say, was that Daisy Adams, despite her cheerful busyness and obvious competency, seemed fragile and vulnerable to him. He wanted to care for her, protect her. He definitely did not want her running around in bad neighborhoods and bagging dope dealers.

He dialed her car phone number and clenched his teeth while he waited. One ring, two rings. “Come on, come on,” he said. When she answered he didn’t bother with hello. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yup. I’m fine.”

“Is it true you ran down Barry LeRoy?”

“Sort of. He kind of bounced off my fender. It was an accident.”

Steve clenched his teeth again and counted to ten. “Okay, where are you now?”

“I’m on my way to the station.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the garage.”

“Do you have Bob?” Daisy asked. “The editor said you went home to get Bob.”

Steve smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Yeah, I have Bob. We’ll both meet you at the garage.”

He made another U-turn. The pound was only a few miles away. He still had time to pick up a dog. It wouldn’t be so bad, he told himself. A dog was man’s best friend. They could go jogging together. And Bob would be waiting for him when he came home each evening. Coming home to an empty house had gotten old lately. This was going to work out fine. In fact, he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t thought to get a dog sooner.

Five minutes later Steve followed a young woman in a blue kennel coat down the rows of cages, checking out the dogs. Small mutt with perky ears; greyhound rescued from a lab; mixed breed with a litter of puppies; fox terrier… and Bob. Steve knew him the moment he laid eyes on him. Bob was a gray-and-white sheepdog. Steve knew he’d be a great pet because he looked just like the nursemaid dog in Peter Pan. He was almost as wide as he was tall. He looked like a big box with hair.

“That’s him,” Steve said. “That’s my dog.”

“He’s just a puppy,” the girl said. “He’ll be a year old next week.”

“Perfect. Wrap him up.” Steve looked at his watch. “I’m running a little late.”

The girl opened the cage door and put a collar around the dog. She clicked on a leash and handed it to Steve. “There are a few forms to fill out.”

The dog bounded from his cage, put his two front paws on Steve’s chest, and barked.

Steve grinned at him. “He likes me,” he told the kennel attendant.

He had his first doubts about Bob when he opened the car door for him and the dog barely fit through. He had more serious doubts when he slid behind the wheel and couldn’t find the gearshift under Bob’s tail. Bob began to pant in the close quarters. A glob of drool plopped onto Steve’s shoulder. The windows fogged. Steve opened the sun roof and Bob tipped his nose up for fresh air.

“This isn’t going to work,” Steve said. “The car is too small.”

He pushed against Bob, trying to get to the cell phone plugged into the consul, but Bob was sitting on it. In truth, he had no place else to sit.

“Okay,” Steve said, “just hang in there. I’m going to fix this. We have to make the best of it for a few miles.” He turned the air-conditioning on full blast and opened the windows, deciding Bob needed a few lessons in personal hygiene.

Ten minutes later Steve and Bob were in a new-car showroom looking at SUVs. “What about this one?” Steve said to Bob. “You like red?”

Bob wagged his tail.

“I’ll take it,” Steve said to the salesman. “I want to trade in that black car in the parking lot. The one with dog drool on the windshield.”

The salesman blinked at the car. “You can’t trade that in. It’s worth at least fifty thousand dollars more than the car you’re buying!”

He was right, Steve realized. The car was almost new. “Okay,” he said, taking out his checkbook. “I’ll pay cash for the Explorer. I’ll leave the black car here and pick it up later… maybe tomorrow.”

He called Daisy while the salesman was completing the paperwork. “I’m going to be a little late,” he said. “Do you mind waiting for me?”

Daisy thought about her schedule. It didn’t include waiting-around time. Then she thought about Steve Crow and his terrific mouth and warm hands and cute butt.

“Okay,” Daisy said. “I’ll wait, I just got here myself.”

“I’m only around the corner. I’ll be there in half an hour tops.”

Steve drove out of the showroom humming happily. This was much better. They’d put the backseat down, and Bob had lots of room to stretch out. He didn’t smell any better, but he’d stopped panting and drooling. And this wasn’t a woman-catcher car, Steve thought. He wouldn’t have to worry about finding panties on his antenna.

His heart beat a little faster when he saw Daisy. She was wearing a black tank top and a white linen skirt that stopped an inch above her knees. “That’s her,” he said to Bob. “That’s Daisy. What do you think? Great legs, huh?”

Bob started panting again.

Steve patted him on top of his head. “I know just how you feel,” he said to Bob. “I feel like panting, too, but you have to learn to control these body functions. Take my word for it, women don’t usually like to be drooled on.” He parked the car next to Daisy and went around to open the door for Bob.

Bob jumped out, happily lunged at Daisy, and pinned her to the WZZZ car, his paws planted on her chest.

Steve studied Bob’s technique and wondered if it’d work for him. Bob even received a hug. Steve pulled the dog off Daisy and encouraged him to sit down. “He’s a tad low on manners,” Steve explained. “He’s a puppy. He hasn’t been to obedience school yet.”

Bob’s mouth fell open, and his eyes widened in alarm.

“I don’t think he likes the idea of obedience school,” Daisy said, fondling Bob’s droopy ears.

“Sure he does. Only the other day he was telling me how he wanted a chance to do some socializing.”

Bob looked at Steve with his head cocked and his eyes narrowed.

“Jeez,” Daisy said, “if I could put that look into words, I’d probably be embarrassed to say them.”

Steve thought he was beginning to understand why Bob had been left at the pound. “He needs food. You know how it is with youngsters, if you don’t keep feeding them, they get cranky.” He leveled a look at Bob that implied neutering might follow obedience school. The warning wasn’t necessary. At the mention of the word food Bob snapped to attention. His mouth tipped up into a smile. His tail thumped the cement floor. His eyes brightened.

“I have just the thing,” Daisy said. “A nice nutritious stir-fry dinner.”

“We’ll follow you home,” Steve said. “I want to make sure nothing else happens to you today.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “That isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. Until today I had an impeccable driving record.”

“Humor me.”

Steve and Bob got back into the Explorer and waited for Daisy. A moment later she drove by and waved to them. The car was yellow and maroon, or at least might have been yellow and maroon when it was new. Steve could barely see for the exhaust. New had been a lot of years ago. Valves clattered, the fan belt squealed, the muffler rattled, and the beast left a trail of oil that reminded Steve of Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs.

Forty-five minutes later Daisy had a mound of food on her chopping block and was waiting for her electric wok to heat up. “It’s my mom’s,” she said to Steve. “She sent over a box full of pots and pans, hoping Kevin wouldn’t starve to death before they returned from Texas.”

Kevin was forlornly staring into an empty bag of chips. “Bob ate all my chips.”