Wayne gave a terse nod, squared his shoulders. The Sinclair County Sheriff ’s badge on his belt caught the light and glinted. “The focus has shifted from the cause of the Patterson woman’s death to ID’ing her distributor and finding her boss.”
His words riled me. “You don’t care what happened to Mandy?”
“She isn’t our top priority, but you may follow up on something else for me. You ready for a new assignment?”
“Sure.” I infused my voice with cheer despite the anger churning in my gut. “What do you need?”
“Swing by the animal shelter and check on those abandoned animals. The ones in our backburner case.”
“The shelter?” The words were out of my mouth before I connected the dots. According to Doodle, his pot bellied pigs were stashed at the animal shelter. Was Wayne doing an end-run around Mr. Perfect?
“Yeah. You’re good with animals. Take a good look around the pet pokey. Maybe you’ll notice something the others have missed.”
“They weren’t present at the time of the incident,” I reminded him.
I didn’t miss the disbelief or the sneer from Burnell Escoe. He couldn’t wait to be rid of me and my loosey-goosey ways. I couldn’t wait to prove him wrong.
“I wouldn’t have a consultant on my staff that couldn’t take orders,” Escoe said.
“Do it,” Wayne said. “Something’s due to break on that other case soon.”
His sharp tone aggravated me, but his eyes told a different story. He seemed to be laughing silently. At me or Escoe?
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mayes was still laughing when we returned to my truck. “Not funny,” I said, holding my hand out for the keys after he opened the driver’s door. “I can’t help it if I’m good with animals.”
“I never thought of you as a pig whisperer, that’s all. Your boss is too funny.”
We clicked our seatbelts and rolled out of the lot. “He’s a riot, all right.”
Mayes studied me across the console. “You two have a history, don’t you?”
He seemed to be holding his breath. My answer mattered to him, a lot. I went for casual, unwilling to reveal the layers of my history with Wayne. “I’ve known him for a long time, if that’s what you mean. Why?”
“He knows about us.”
Gravel crunched under my tires as we entered the access lane to the animal shelter. I didn’t want Wayne to know I’d had sex with Mayes in the Observation Room. My gut clenched. “He couldn’t possibly.”
“He does. The knowledge blazed in his eyes just now in the evidence room. For someone who’s in the slow lane career-wise, he’s good at reading people.”
I didn’t want the sheriff knowing our private business. Best to steer the conversation in another direction. “Don’t underestimate Wayne. He used to lull his opponents into complacency on the football field, then he’d strike with touchdown passes. He has a talent for reading situations and strategizing.”
“Were you two together then?” Mayes asked.
The chained gate across the road halted our forward motion. Floyd’s sign, OUT ON AN ANIMAL CALL, hung beside the lock. I could maneuver around this physical roadblock, but I wasn’t sure I could work around this question. Best to quit hedging or Mayes would think I was hiding something. I sighed. “We’ve never been together, and we never will be. He’s not competition, if that’s what you’re worried about. He views me as a departmental asset. That’s the disconnect you’re feeling.”
His face clouded. “Not buying it, but as long as Wayne doesn’t try to drive a wedge between us, I’m happy with the status quo.”
My scalp felt tight, as if my head might blow off. Was Mayes calling me a liar? Was he calling my morals into question? Suddenly, the situation overwhelmed me. Brooding men. Dead people. Sex. God, just thinking about having sex at the police station had my hand shaking. Rose and her bright ideas could go jump off a sand dune. My fingers coiled into a fist. “Wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”
His gaze narrowed. “What’s with the attitude?”
“I can’t quite get my equilibrium around you, and it irritates me to be off- balance.”
He grinned. “Great sex does that.” “Knock it off. I mean it.”
My voice sounded sharper than I’d intended. Mayes clammed up, and I felt awful, like I’d kicked a puppy. My emotions were bouncing all over the place. I had to do better. I genuinely liked Mayes. Even though I was annoyed with him, I preferred his company to anyone else’s. He grounded me, except when he didn’t.
Like now.
“I apologize,” I began slowly. “Sex keeps creeping into our conversation. Are you doing that on purpose to keep me off guard?”
“Not my intent, but look at it from my perspective. The woman of my dreams fulfilled my fantasies today. That experience tops everything in my personal highlight reel.”
Woman of his dreams? I’d never been that to anyone, not even Roland. Though my husband said he put me first, the military was his first love. I’d been an accessory. Odd, I’d never realized that until this minute, until I experienced what it felt like to have a guy put you first.
“You’re not tricking me into another discussion of sex.” I cut the motor and opened my door. “Think pigs. Big, hairy, grunting pigs. Think of them stomping on Escoe’s head.”
He followed me down the fence line. “I thought these were those cute little piglet-looking pigs.”
“They get big.”
“How big?” he asked.
“Big enough that you can’t believe people keep them in their homes.”
“Big enough to eat.”
We edged through the narrow opening between the fence post and a tree; then it was smooth sailing to the shelter. However, our goal was the fenced pump-house structure beyond the shelter, directly ahead of us.
“People who own these pigs would shoot you for even thinking that,” I said. “To them, these animals rank the same as other people’s pets.”
“Duly noted.”
Mayes caught my hand and clasped my fingers in his. The world slid more clearly into place. The hue of daylight softened. My worries eased, until I realized Mayes had caused the mood change. “How’d you do that? How is this synchronicity possible?”
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, assuring me he knew I’d registered the change in scenery, inside and out. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Like coming home.”
He’d spoken out loud, but in truth, he could’ve said it in my head. I’d felt his thoughts along the virtual border I’d erected in my mind. It was petty of me to keep him out, but I needed that space to be private.
But coming home . That described the rightness of it. I nodded. “Good description.”
His thumb rubbed over the back of my hand, and the remaining tension eased from my body. I could get used to feeling treasured. I so could get used to it. If only I had some idea about my husband’s true circumstances ….
Best not to worry over a matter I couldn’t resolve. Best to stick to concrete questions I could answer, like the fate of these pot bellied pigs.
This area was designed so neutered cats could come and go on the property at will. The external feeding station created a safe haven to re-home feral cats that were unwelcome where they’d been trapped.
I didn’t see any sign of Petunia or Patches. Instead, I saw a pig-sized bowed-out section of fence wire around the cat house. I called both their names a few times as I scanned the vicinity. Nothing moved in any direction across the lawn.
“Jail break,” Mayes said. “They’re long gone.”
I eyed the back of the shelter. Petunia loved dog food. The feral cat shelter had no food or water right now. With her keen nose, Petunia would smell the shelter’s dog food.
“Not necessarily. Let’s check the shelter.” I studied the dog runs and the exercise yard behind the main building as we approached. No dogs outside. No grunting pigs on the grounds either. No breaks in the chai
n-link fence, though the gate was open. “Well, well, well.”
We entered the gate and latched it behind us. Inside the shelter, dogs barked at our approach. A few darted out in their runs to yap at us. Cats perched atop cages on the back porch, watching us intently. I felt a wave of cold on my leg. Oliver, my ghost-dog companion. He wanted me to know he was present.
“Oliver?” Mayes asked.
“Yes. You feel him too?”
“I do.” With his other hand, Mayes pointed to the back door. It gaped open. “Smart pig.”
“Doodle said the pigs could get out of their trailer. Guess one of them figured out how to work a doorknob with its snout. They must be inside somewhere. I never thought I’d say this, but I wish Virg was here with his stun gun. I have a feeling this pig won’t let us get between her and her dog-food stash.”
“I’ll protect you,” Mayes said.
I glared at him. “No shooting the pigs. We’re not eating them.”
We walked through a laundry area in the back, then a big cleaning station. “Quarantine wing’s off to the right; the main kennel’s to the left. The cattery is directly ahead. Bulk food storage is in the admin area between the cattery and the quarantine wing.”
“Sounds like you’ve been here a time or two.”
“I’ve leash-trained some dogs to give them a better chance of adoption. I haven’t been out here in a while. Just too busy with police work to even keep my Pets and Plants business going full blast.” We rounded a corner. I heard grunts. “We found them.”
Big trashcan bins of dog food lay on their sides, and pellets of dog food littered the floor. Two fat pigs—one mostly black, the other speckled—lay on the heap.
The animals looked up warily. I didn’t trust the militant gleam in the dark pig’s eyes. I tried calling her name. “Petunia. Come here.” Nothing. I tried the other pig’s name. “Patches. Come.” Nothing. I approached slowly, still tethered to Mayes by our joined hands. The frequency and pitch of pig grunts went through the roof. We retreated, and the noise level dropped.
Both pigs wore body harnesses that would accommodate a leash clip. To move these chow hounds, I needed to get these hulks leashed up and escorted to the backyard. “Go to the wash area and grab two leashes, please,” I said to Mayes.
When he departed, the noise level dropped to nothing. Hmm. Were they responding to human interference or to Mayes in particular? I circled around until I stood opposite the door. Mayes returned, and the pigs squealed like banshees.
“They don’t like you very much,” I observed.
“I’ve hunted many of their brethren,” he said, tossing me a leash. “Maybe they sense I’m a predator.”
I clipped a leash on Patches. He barely spared me a glance. Mayes had his complete attention. “We need to move the pigs outside to the exercise yard. They’ll get sick if they keep eating this dog food. Too bad we don’t have Doodle’s phone number. We could let him know what’s going on.”
“His contact information is probably listed in the office, since he volunteers here,” Mayes said. “I’ll find it once we relocate the pigs.”
“Good idea.” Leash in hand, I reached for Petunia’s harness and plunged headlong into a dreamwalk.
Chapter Eighteen
The familiar dreamwalking sensation of tumbling through a dark void eased slowly. I became aware of my inky surroundings and the continued presence of Oliver, the black Great Dane who’d befriended me on a spirit walk a few months ago. I knelt to pet my favorite ghost dog. He licked my face and barked happily.
“You need to find a spirit over here,” I told him. “Someone who loves animals and has plenty of time for you.”
I straightened and noticed a glow to my left. Oliver and I headed toward the faint light. The mist thinned, and long shadows stretched before me. At first glance, they appeared to be writhing, but then I realized the sense of movement was a byproduct of a whirling ceiling fan suspended beneath a weak light.
Reassured, I took another step forward. “Hello? Anybody here?”
The tableau filled in before my eyes. Tabletops bore glassware, tubing, cold-tablet packages, and boxy equipment I didn’t recognize. Jugs of paint thinner, gasoline, and drain cleaner lined the baseboards, alongside discarded packaging. Pinpricks of light showed through a wall. I studied the oddity closer, realizing the light came from edges of cardboard taped over a window. A flat-screen monitor with a picture of a yard dominated one wall. The image flickered, and another outdoor vantage point displayed on the screen. Security cameras?
There was an odor. My nose wrinkled at the acrid scent. Sulfury, like eggs gone bad. A figure wearing a respirator over a bandana-covered head moved around the room doing repetitive tasks. I’d never set foot inside a meth lab, but I had a sinking feeling that’s where I’d landed. Even though I was here in spirit form and this wasn’t real time, merely a memory this spirit wanted me to see, I instinctively covered my nose with the hem of my T-shirt and retreated to the doorway.
The spirit wore pink gloves, same as the heavy-duty ones I cleaned with at home. I’d purchased the pink color because I was tired of the sameness of the yellow ones.
“Mandy?” I asked. “Is that you? Is this your lab?” The person continued her tasks.
Drat . The downside of static dreamwalks was the lack of interaction. I wanted answers so that I could get justice for Mandy. I didn’t like the guesswork of figuring out why this scene mattered to her.
Since I’d accessed this dream through touching Petunia the pig, this had to be Mandy’s lab. Though her house had been orderly, this room would never win her a homemaker-of-the-year award. Too dark, too cluttered, too dangerous.
Why would she turn her house into a meth lab? Why would she put her life and her son’s at risk? If he’d been home during the explosion, he’d be dead too.
A noise sounded. Thumping, on the door. The masked figure glanced at the monitor and saw a vehicle approaching. She hurried to the door, stepped across the threshold, and turned to triple-lock the door behind her. She removed her respirator, bandana, and gloves. Her blonde hair and her face matched Mandy Patterson’s driver’s-license photo.
At the sound of grunting, I glanced down at Mandy’s feet. A smaller version of Petunia wagged her tail happily. Mandy made cooing sounds and told Petunia she was the best pig ever. Petunia was a watch pig? Had she sensed the school bus coming down the road?
Mandy hurried to her front stoop and waved at the bus driver. A young boy sprinted off the bus and raced toward her. She knelt and gathered him in a big hug.
“You’re all stinky again,” the boy said, hugging her and Petunia, “and wet.”
“Don’t worry about it, hon. I’ll shower in a bit. Come inside and tell me about your day at school. Did your teacher like your essay?”
“She did! She used my story about why I want to go to the moon as an example for the whole class. She said I had real potential. What’s ‘potential,’ Mom?”
Mandy handed Doodle a juice box and some pretzels. “It means you’re smart. That you can make something of yourself.”
“Like what?”
“Like anything.” Mandy filled a glass of water for herself from the tap and sat down at the table with her son. “You could be an astronaut, a doctor, a lawyer, anything.”
“What if I just want to be a little boy?”
“You can be that too, but when you get older, you could go to college and learn about everything. I’ve been putting money aside for you, saving toward that goal. One day you’ll live in a big white house.”
“With a picket fence and lots of grass and flowers, like Joe Joe’s house in town?”
“That’s right.”
“And kids won’t make fun of my shoes anymore?”
Mandy’s head snapped back as if she’d been punched. “Is someone bothering you at school, Doodle?”
He glanced down. “The mean boys. They say I’m poor. They call me names.”
“What names?”
“Bustard. They say I’m a bad name ’cause I got no daddy. One boy calls me Nappy. Why don’t they like my curly hair, Mom?”
Mandy blanched and leaned forward. “Did you tell your teacher about the name-calling?”
“No. That makes it worse. Last time I told on them for pushing me on the playground, they dunked my head in the toilet.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? What are their names? Is that Hutto boy behind this? He’s bad news, I know that for a fact because his daddy is a miserable excuse for a person.”
“I thought you liked Mr. Hutto.”
“I worked with him once. I don’t like him.”
“Why don’t you work with people you like?”
“You’ll understand one day. Adults work to pay bills and to set money aside, for important things like college.”
“You’re going to college?”
“No, silly. You are. You’re the one with potential. I’m just a mom.”
The scene blurred. I fought the fade, wanting to see more, wanting to know more about Mandy Patterson, but she’d finished with me and returned me to my world. I came to my senses, a hand on Petunia’s portly flesh. The pig eyed me uneasily, as if she knew something weird had happened.
“Welcome back,” Mayes said from the doorway.
I blinked at the brightness of the room. After the shadowy world of the Other Side, illumination of any kind was blinding. My mouth was dry. No sign of Oliver.
“Was I gone long?” I asked. “Five minutes, tops.”
“Felt like longer.”
“I have a water bottle for you. I’d hand it to you, but the pigs don’t like me.”
“Keep the bottle for now. I’ve got to move these pigs outside.” Figuring Petunia was the ring leader, I led her, and sure enough, Patches followed, fat bellies on both pigs swinging with every grunting step.
After the pigs were outdoors, and we locked the back door, I grabbed a broom to corral the spilled food. Mayes stopped me. “Leave it. Write a note to the Animal Control officer and let’s get going.”
“It won’t take long to clean up the mess.”
“Yeah, but there are probably rules for sanitizing the room. The food may all have to be thrown out. You don’t want to get mired in Doodle’s mistake.”
Confound It Page 8
