I remember how Mark and I let our coffee go tepid the morning we made love. A smile twitches on my lips. Mark. He’s who I should be dreaming about.
Not a room full of people with blood eyes.
I wish he were here. He never answered my text about Claudia’s mom. I wish I could tell Mark everything I’ve learned. I wish I could hear his voice. Even a text from him would be enough right now. So many days with no contact feels like three years. I know we’re still together and he’s gone just for work. My rational brain understands.
My emotional center weeps with each passing hour.
My phone rings suddenly.
I scream, spilling coffee all over my arm. The burn makes me freak out and I shove my arm away from me further, spilling more all over my bed spread. I rush to put the half-full mug on the shelf behind my head and paw at my body, trying to find my phone.
It’s under my ass.
Waving my burned arm, I answer just in time. The number just says, “UNLISTED.”
“Hello?”
“Carrie?”
It’s Mark.
“Mark! Mark!” My burnt hand suddenly feels fine. “Oh, God, I miss you.”
“Miss you too,” he says in a clipped voice. No nonsense. All business. “Sorry to call so early.”
It’s 4:54 a.m.
“I was up.”
“You were?” His voice goes sharp. “Is everything okay?”
“I had a nightmare.”
“Oh.” That simple sound has compassion in it. “I wish I were there,” he says in a whisper. His tone makes me feel blanketed by protectiveness. If he were here, he’d hold me. He’d let me tell the story of the nightmare. We’d talk about it and try to understand its meaning.
I know that. I know that now. I know he’s mine and I’m his.
“I wish you were, too. When are you coming home?”
“Tomorrow.”
Disappointment makes my stomach drop. “Another day?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t help it.” I try not to sound sad.
“You sound like your puppy died,” he says in a joking voice.
Puppy. Dog. Dean Landau and Claudia at the shelter. I want to tell him the story, and start to say something, especially about the picture of Claudia’s mother I found in the dean’s office, but then:
“I have to go, honey. I just wanted to take a minute to call. I love you,” he says, his voice so low I can barely hear the words.
I feel them, though.
“I love you, too, Mark.”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll find you.” Click.
And just like that, he’s gone.
Chapter Forty-Four
I set down my phone and look at the mess. My forearm is turning a nasty pink, and it stings. It isn’t a deep burn, though. I stand and cross to the kitchen sink, where I fill the tiny little bowl with cool water and immerse my forearm.
Within a few minutes it feels better. There’s coffee all over my sheets and cover, so I strip the bed, making a pile of laundry for later.
The rest of my coffee has cooled down enough to drink. I sit on the bed, gulp it down and make a second cup.
So many questions run through my mind. Why did Mark call now? Four days without contact was hard. This tiny little call will have to be enough to pull me through until tomorrow. Why the secrecy? The quiet?
There’s so much I don’t know about him.
Another cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal later, I grab a change of clothes and a towel and head to Elaine and Brian’s house to shower. This early in the morning, the only person I ever see is Elaine.
Sure enough, she’s sitting on the back porch with the tabby in her lap and a black cat on her shoulder.
“Carrie! Heard from Mark?”
“Yes. Just this morning. He’s coming home tomorrow.”
Elaine makes a sad face. “I’m so sorry about his father.”
His father? Why is she—oh. That’s right. Mark’s cover story.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to lie well. “It’s a shame.” That’s not a lie, right? The truth about his biological father is a shame.
“How are you doing? Has your mail started coming?”
I hesitate. How much should I share? I’m bursting inside with loneliness and with wanting to talk about my dad’s letter with someone. Anyone. It’s killing me not to. If Amy or Mark were here, I’d spill my guts to them.
Elaine will have to do.
“I got a letter from my dad.”
Elaine jumps with shock, making the two cats run away. “What? How?”
“He sent it right before he died. It went to my place in Oklahoma City. My roommate forwarded it. Got it last night.”
“Oh, Carrie,” she says. “How bittersweet.”
“Yeah.”
“Anything helpful? New?” Her gaze cuts away as soon as she asks the question.
I reach in my back pocket where I’ve put the letter and hand it to her. She unfolds it, her eyes racing over the page like mine did the first time I saw it.
“They blacked out so much!”
“I know.”
“But it seems like he’s warning you about a man?” Her eyes are wide with worry.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
I wave irritably at the paper. “The prison people made it so I have no idea!” I bark out a sick laugh. “Dad’s final message to me before he died and he can’t even help protect me because someone took a Sharpie and acted like a four-year-old.”
She sighs and gets up, offering me a hug. I take it, inhaling her homey scent. She’s warm and inviting, motherly and loving. I have to fight against the tears that want to come out.
“Oh, honey,” she says. “You’re all alone. Joe never wanted this.”
“I know.”
“Well,” she says, as if rethinking. “You do have Mark now.”
I wipe an escaped tear off my cheek. “Yes.”
“Except he’s still gone.”
I nod and sniff.
“He’ll be back soon, and maybe he’ll have some ideas about this letter. Have you taken it to Chief Cummings?”
I shake my head.
“Does anyone else know about the letter?”
I shake my head.
She hands it back to me. “Then maybe it’s a good idea to just wait until Mark gets back and show it to him. He’ll know whether it’s worth taking up the chief’s time.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
She nods and gives me another hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Proud?”
“You’re making all the right decisions, Carrie. You’re back, you’re with Mark again, you have a great job, and you’re helping at the animal shelter while Minnie is out. You’re just as terrified as everyone else about poor Amy’s disappearance, but you’re not falling apart. You’re a strong woman.”
“I could do with a little less strength and a little more sleep,” I say.
She laughs.
I’m not joking.
“That which does not kill you makes you stronger,” she intones.
I hate that phrase. Hate it so, so much. But I just give her a smile. It’s not her fault I hate that saying.
“Now go take your shower and get to work. You have stuff to do.”
I follow her orders. It’s so much easier than thinking for myself.
* * *
The day at work goes by like a blur. No Claudia. Effie’s out at a doctor appointment all day, so I don’t see her. No sign of Eric, but when I check the professors’ office hours, he doesn’t have any today. Dean landau is in some big budget meeting.
Just a quiet, boring day at the office for once.
I could get used to more days like this.
I head straight for the animal shelter after work, knowing Cindy will need more help. If I go back to the trailer I’ll just sit there and wallow in missing Mark. Staying busy is better.
Five minutes after
I walk into the shelter, I’m covered in kittens. The “catio”, an outdoor cat patio that some students at the local vocational high school built, is overrun with nine fluff balls of perfection. I’m playing with string and cat toys, sitting on the ground and having a blast, when Cindy interrupts.
“Hey, Carrie. Phone. For you.”
“For me?” Who on earth would call me on the animal shelter’s main office phone?
“It’s Ignatio Landau. Says he wants to talk to you about his pit bull adoption.” She shrugs, like she’s apologizing or something.
All sense of fun drains out of me. The kittens scatter, like they can smell the change on my skin.
“Okay. Be right there.” I stand and pry one little kitty’s claws out of the hem of my shirt, then leave the kittens to their fun.
Marny’s on the phone, talking to a vet about calling in some antibiotics for a sick dog. She just points to the other phone.
“Hello?” I say in a professional tone that, I hope, masks my dread. I work for the guy. I spend forty hours a week in the office where he can reach me if needed. Why is he invading my personal time?
“Ah, Carrie! So good to speak with you. How are you, my dear?” The smoky, accented tone of Dean Landau’s voice makes women peel their pants off and hump lamp posts.
It just makes my gut tighten.
“I’m fine, Dean Landau. How are you?”
“I will be so much better after you deliver what I need most to me, Carrie.”
My veins fill with icy slush. “Excuse me?”
“My dog. Wizard. He is cleared now to be delivered to me, and I would very much appreciate having you bring him to my home. I have already discussed donating a sizable sum to the shelter in return for this act of kindness on your part.”
Say what? The man wants me to deliver his pit bull to his home?
“Excuse me, Dean Landau. Just a moment.” I put him on hold and quickly find Cindy at a desk in the next rom.
“Landau wants me to deliver the pit bull he adopted,” I say to her, outraged.
She shrugs again. Apologetic. “I know. We never do this, but he’s giving us a pile of money and says it’s important.”
“Can’t Marny deliver the dog? Or you?”
She frowns. “Nope. We need you to do it. We are all booked with Brownie Troops or supply deliveries.”
“I’ll handle the rugrats.”
“Carrie,” she laughs. “He’s your boss. He doesn’t bite.”
I’m not so sure about that.
“If you’re that worried, just text me when you get there. Then text me twenty minutes later. If you don’t text, I’ll send someone there.” She gives me the side eye. “But I really think you’re overreacting. The guy’s a pillar of the community. He wouldn’t do anything…” Her voice drops off as she frowns. “Has he done something inappropriate with you? Is that why you’re acting like this?”
“No, no,” I say quickly. Yates is a small town. I don’t want some stupid rumor to start because some volunteer overheard the wrong thing. “Nothing like that.” I give her a sarcastic smile. “It’s just, you know. He’s my boss. I have to work with him during the week. Wouldn’t mind a break from seeing his face on the weekend, you know?”
She snickers. “Gotcha. And normally, I wouldn’t ask, but…”
“It’s fine,” I say, resigned to it. Besides, how dangerous could it be? Mark’s words flash through my mind. I know he wants me to stay away from Claudia and Dean Landau but this is fine. Safe. The man is adopting a stray animal, for goodness sake.
“Carrie? You need to take him off hold,” Cindy urges.
I stare at the blinking red light.
“Dean Landau?” I say in a breathy voice that is way, way too chipper. “My boss says I can be there in a few minutes. She needs me back immediately. We can do this as a special accommodation this one time.”
He chuckles so softly. It makes the hair on my arms stand up.
“Aren’t you popular?” he asks.
I am tongue-tied.
“See you soon.”
Click.
I frown at the phone like it’s anthropomorphized. It’s like it might bite me.
Then I shiver.
“Cold?” Cindy asks, as I set the receiver in the cradle.
“No. Just, you know…a random chill.”
She quirks one eyebrow but says nothing. “You okay? I know that Amy is your best friend…”
I’m grateful she says is and not was.
“Let’s just get Wizard ready,” I say.
Cindy helps me cage up Wizard and get him into the back of my car. We belt the cage in so he’s secure, and give him a travel dish of water. It’s only a fifteen minute drive to the neighborhood where I know the Landaus live. I’ve never been to their house, but when you grow up in a small town, everyone knows where everyone else lives.
On the drive over there, Wizard is silent. “Hey, buddy,” I tell him in my most soothing voice. “You are going to your forever home with your new daddy and one heck of a bitch.”
I hear his tail move against the cage. Thump thump thump. He’s happy.
Oh, to have such a simple life.
The GPS Cindy lent me takes me to one of those neighborhoods in southern California that makes environmentalists want to picket the home owners. Lush, green carpets of gorgeous grass cover every square inch of the yards. So much water must be wasted to make things beautiful. This is a gated community, and I have to pull up to a small hut where a security guard sits. When I explain my errand, he lets me through. I hear him push a button and talk into a box.
The Landau’s address leads me to a long driveway, the house up on a hill and hidden slightly. As we pull in and I stop my junker car, Wizard’s tail starts to thump faster.
Like my heart.
I text Cindy quickly.
We’re here. Will text again in twenty.
She texts back immediately:
Okay. Have fun.
Have fun? Have fun? The last thing I’m doing is having fun.
A woman in a maid’s uniform comes out to the driveway. She looks polite, but not friendly.
“You’re delivering the dog,” she says in a flat tone, giving Wizard a look of appraisal.
I leash him, then pull him out gently, offering the end of the leash to the woman.
She doesn’t move.
Oh, great, I think to myself, struggling to hold on to Wizard, who starts to pull hard to try to escape and chase a bird that’s landed on a water fountain in the middle of the circular driveway. I have one hand on the cage and am trying to undo the seatbelt, and another hand gripping Wizard’s leash.
“Let me help you, Girlie Girl,” says a man’s pinched voice.
Chapter Forty-Five
Strong, muscled arms covered in amateur tattoos come through the other side of the backseat and in seconds he has the cage outside, on the ground. I pay my attention to Wizard, stroking his head and helping him to calm down.
The man comes around to my side of the car. Short, compact, wiry guy a little older than Mark. He’s got an angry face and he’s dark. Swarthy. A tattoo that says “1%” stands out on his upper arm.
“Hey,” he says, looking me up and down like he’s examining merchandise he plans to own. “If I’d known the animal shelter sent out sweet pieces of ass like you, I’d start adopting pets every week.”
My entire body starts to shake from the inside. My feet and hands go cold. All the blood rushes to my arms and legs. My eyes feel like they’re floating.
I’m in danger around this man. Big danger. Massive danger. If Mark thought Eric was a threat, compared to this guy Eric is a Boy Scout.
“Uh,” is all I can say.
“Leave her alone, Frenchie,” Claudia snaps from behind him, walking toward us and giving the dog a glare. She’s wearing five-inch high heels again, a silk dress that clings to her like papier-mâché, and her hair is in hot rollers.
Why is Claudia helping me?
That dangerous feeling grows exponentially.
“I don’t got to leave anyone alone, especially someone ripe as that. What’s your name, Girlie Girl?” he asks. The guy actually makes eye contact with me and licks his lips.
Ewww.
Frenchie’s phone buzzes. He grabs it, looks at the screen, and turns around without another word.
“Who is that guy?” I ask Claudia as Wizard tries to sniff her crotch.
“Do I look like a fucking information booth?” she snaps at me.
“No, you look like you’re getting ready for your client, though. How much do you charge for a blow job?”
Wizard jumps eagerly.
“Now, now, girls. Please don’t use that kind of language around my new little puppy,” says an accented voice from behind my car.
We both turn to see Dean Landau standing there, watching us both.
With cold, hard eyes like pieces of volcanic rock.
“Ah, my little doggy.” He gives Wizard a pat. Wizard is friendly and eager to please, but the dean is no match for Claudia’s crotch.
“They’re so misunderstood. Pit bulls. The world thinks these magnificent creatures are vicious killers. At heart, though, they just want to be loved. Isn’t that what everyone wants?” the dean says in his professor’s voice.
Before I can answer, a huge commotion ends our conversation. The sound of a group of dogs fighting becomes louder and louder, from around the house.
“FUCK!” a man screams. I’m guessing that was Frenchie? “YOU PIECE OF SHIT DOGS!”
The dean scratches his cheek casually and rolls his eyes. He smells like tobacco and cherries. Does he smoke a pipe? As always, he’s dressed perfectly, in an expensive suit without a single wrinkle. How do regular people do that?
I take in the mansion we’re standing in front of.
Regular people don’t.
Frenchie comes jogging from around the corner, his face twisted in an angry grimace. “Fucking dogs don’t know how to fight right.”
The dean’s eyes cut over to me, then Frenchie. “Fight? You were training them to be show dogs, yes?” the dean says in a pointed tone.
Dangerous To Love Page 188
