Keeping Katie

by Stella Quinn

  “Good news, then?” said Anton.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know where Veronica is, so I’m not going to give up searching, but I think—I hope—that I can dial down my worry a little.”

  “The plot thickens. Please, explain.”

  “Apparently Vee and some fancy-pants man—that’s a direct quote from the eighty-three-year-old dominatrix across the hall—were dragging renovation equipment up and down the stairwell last weekend.”

  “Renovation equipment?”

  “Vee flips houses as a side hustle. It is totally in character for her to be carrying ladders and things up and down stairs.”

  “So we’re looking maybe at a planned excursion somewhere, rather than alien abduction?”

  She reached out to thump him in the arm for the alien comment, then quickly withdrew her hand. Focus, Katie, she reminded herself. Don’t overreact, don’t presume this relationship is something it isn’t. You know you always get it wrong.

  She brought her mind back to what she was supposed to be thinking about. “I think so, yes, Anton. I can’t tell you how relieved I feel. It still doesn’t answer the questions of who she is with, or why she’s not answering my calls or emails…but it’s a happier set of facts than all the ones I’ve been imagining.”

  “Cool. Are we relieved enough to indulge in coffee before we hit her workplace for our next clue-busters campaign?”

  “Coffee and cake. I’m buying.”

  She spun her head around to address Rose. “And you’ll be pleased to know, my lamb, that Auntie Veronica’s ladder used up one of that smug cat’s nine lives last weekend.”

  Rose gave a satisfied woof.

  Chapter 16

  He took a photo of the mountains rising up above the town while Katie browsed through the knick-knacks for sale in the quaint café they found on the main street.

  Photo by Anton, he imagined typesetting into his Happy Snaps column, if this photo ever popped up in the Cove to Coast Herald’s Reel Life account. This view makes me happy because it was taken the day I realized I was content, for the first time in months. Content and happy and no longer so focused on regret.

  He took another photo of the trellis in the small park near the café, where he and Rose spent a happy hour while Katie visited the local SantaCal Bank branch and the small police department. A climbing vine covered the trellis with triumphant orange flowers, and at its base, Rose snuffling along contentedly at the end of her lead.

  Photo by Rose the Golden, he thought with a grin. The place where my human’s new friend took this photo rocked. Eight different squirrels musta pooped here, maybe even a raccoon! Heckin’ great. Best. Park. Ever.

  When Katie joined them a little while later, she wasn’t precisely as worry-free as her dog, but she’d lost the drawn look that had accompanied her since he’d first met her.

  She looked…he breathed in, then out, as she walked across the trimmed lawn towards them…beautiful.

  “Any news?” he asked, dragging himself back into the moment.

  “The manager was pretty cagey. She confirmed Veronica was on leave, but I had to show her my driver’s license to prove I was who I said I was. She wouldn’t tell me when she was due back.”

  “So...nothing we don’t already know.”

  “Mmm.”

  The twinkle in Katie’s eye was telling him there was more. “Why are you looking so pleased with yourself.”

  She grinned. “Okay, you know how I’m lousy at games?”

  “I know how you think you’re lousy at games.”

  “Right...well, as I was waiting for the manager to come out of her office, I noticed there was a display rack for all the senior bank employees in the Central Coast region. So-and-so was employee of the month, so-and-so were running in the local half-marathon to raise funds for endangered wildlife and the bank had chipped in a thousand dollars, that sort of thing.”

  He wasn’t sure where this was going, but it was clearly going somewhere.

  Katie pulled a wad of paper from her purse and held them out. “Here. Business cards and pamphlets. We look through these, we may find out more. I spotted Veronica in a photo on the board dressed in the bank’s half-marathon training T-shirt. Worth a shot, right?”

  “Definitely. Let’s find a picnic bench so we can spread these out.”

  An hour later, Katie’s enthusiasm had dropped back a notch. “I never knew how little interest I had in banking until this very moment.”

  “Snap. Check out this guy’s job description,” he said, reading from one of the business cards fanned out across the weathered timber. “Creative Analyst and Marketing Digi-Optimizer. That’s a mouthful to type out every time you need to send an email. Fraser Lopez-Rodgers must be a touch-typing whiz-kid.”

  Katie looked up. “Say his name again.”

  “Fraser Lopez-Rodgers.”

  “I wonder...” Katie broke off and pulled out her phone.

  “You thinking this Fraser guy could be the employee Cath almost mentioned?”

  “Could be, Anton. Didn’t she say his name started with an F and an R? I’m going to see if our guy Mr. Lopez-Rodgers has any public social media accounts.”

  “It doesn’t fit with what we know from Vee’s letter. The mystery F-and-R guy works in Redwood Cove, not here.”

  “Maybe he’s a mobile marketer and digi-whatsit. He could service all the branches in the area, maybe? Secretly adored Vee from afar in, hopefully, a non-creepy way? Aha, gotcha.” Katie swiveled her phone around and showed him a picture. A big guy, dressed in suit and tie, stood holding a golfing trophy. “What do you think?”

  “Right age bracket. Your sister got a type?”

  Katie frowned. “You know, a couple of weeks ago I would have said yes, I totally know the kind of guy my sister would be interested in. But now? Now I’m wondering what else she has kept from me. And why.”

  He kept her phone and swiped through a few more photos of their only candidate so far in the hunt for who Veronica Shields may have gone away with. “Oh. I don’t think this is our guy.”

  “Why? What have you found?”

  He spun the screen so Katie could see the next photo of the same big guy, but this time instead of a golf trophy, his arms were around a tiny woman in a silk kimono, and three scrubbed and pajama-clad youngsters were lined up in a row in front of them. “I think Fraser is already in the family way.”

  “Oh, no. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere.”

  He rested his hand on Katie’s. “You know, we have no reason to believe there’s any foul play going on. Your sister has taken official leave from work, her apartment neighbor saw her willingly carrying equipment up and down stairs with someone who was clearly a friend, not a stranger. Katie…the only reason you’re worrying is that she’s not answering her mobile phone. She could have lost it. She could have forgotten to take her charger.”

  Katie’s shoulders shook, just a little, as she murmured, “But what if I need her?”

  There. That was the clue he’d needed to understand what was really driving Katie to find Veronica. “I know we don’t know each other that well, Katie...but while your sister’s away, if you need someone, you know you can call me, right?”

  She turned her head a little to the side. If she thought he couldn’t see the tears that were fighting to break through, she was wrong.

  She turned her hand over, and her fingers clasped his. After a second, she spoke, and her voice had an upbeat tone to it that rang a little forced. “For a has-been thriller writer, you’re okay, Anton Price. But I’m not…I mean…what I’m trying to say is, I’m not in a position to be calling anyone. A man I mean. I’m not looking for that.”

  He stood up and pulled her to her feet. She was trying to be brave, and he could respect that, even if her words had sent a bolt of fear through his heart. Still, he hadn’t gotten this far in life without learning that sometimes, patience was the best course of action. “Come on, why don’t I drive us home a
nd you can be off duty for a bit. We’ll be home by lunch…maybe you could take the afternoon off from worry and relax a little.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.”

  Chapter 17

  A workout with Prince was exactly what Katie needed, the tougher the better after nearly crying in the park. Relaxing was so not on her agenda.

  Okay, she had tried to relax, but ended up just moping about her house, beating herself up for saying those words to Anton.

  He had been nothing but kind, and she had pushed him away.

  She took the hint when Rose went and retrieved her therapy-dog harness from the laundry and dropped it on her feet.

  Nothing worked so well to get her head out of the blues as working at helping someone else…or in this case, some dog. Rose was right. She could find a better use for her time than lying around on the sofa wondering why Veronica hadn’t shared her plans with her.

  After two hours working with Rose at the refuge, and with Prince growing more and more relaxed and confident, she walked the two of them on their leads up to the container office by the front gate. “I’m taking Prince to the dog park,” she said to Ramon. “Would you mind if Rose kept you company in the office for an hour or so? If he acts up, I’m going to need both my hands free.”

  “Me and Rose? For sure. We’ve a batch of abandoned pups in Row A who are seriously in need of some life lessons in dog behavior. You okay with me taking her into meet them?”

  “They had their shots?”

  “Vaccinated, bathed, dewormed, deflead. The only things these pups have got left to call their own is their appetite.”

  She smiled. “Sure. Rose? Don’t sneak one home. Uncle Roly’s garden beds couldn’t take another four-pawed hole-digger.”

  Prince came through with flying colors.

  She didn’t let him off the lead—she didn’t think he’d ever settle down enough to become an off-leash dog, but he sailed past a dozen dogs without pulling on the lead, he kept his teeth hidden, his hackles down, and remembered how to sit on command even when dogs of all sizes and shapes were bounding around them.

  Even a bumptious pug named Bossy didn’t faze him. Bossy’s owner apologized profusely as she dragged her barking bundle of fun away from Prince’s tail.

  “I’m so sorry. He never comes when I call.”

  Katie nodded. “It’s a good command to work on. You see the yellow ribbon Prince has around his neck?”

  “So pretty,” said the woman. “I love that color on him.”

  Katie smiled. “A yellow ribbon means anxiety. It’s a signal to other owners to keep their dogs away a little, just so Prince can take some time to check out all these experiences at the park without feeling pressured.”

  “I had no idea!”

  “No problem; now you do. Hey, if you’re ever interested in teaching Bossy how to come when he’s called, the Gold Coast Dog Refuge out in the industrial precinct runs classes every now and then. It’s not expensive. Me and a few other volunteer trainers run classes on weekends, and the fees go towards helping the refuge keep operating. I’d love to see you and Bossy there some time.”

  “We would love that. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Bossy was doing his ninja best to wriggle out of his owner’s arms, so Katie judged it a prudent time to head back to the refuge. “Enjoy your walk.”

  “You too.”

  By the time she’d dropped Prince back to his kennel and pulled into the driveway of her home, the rush of achievement in helping the abandoned dog move one step further away from the peril of Heartbreak Row was waning. Rose was first out of the car and had her muzzle full of mail from the mailbox by the time Katie caught up.

  She unlocked the door and pushed it open, and it felt like a big cloud of silence wafted out of the house and dumped itself all over her. She’d left that morning so full of hope for what she might achieve in Maple Ridge—finding Veronica—but now all she had was the uneasy sense that she had deeper trouble than a missing sister who couldn’t contact her. She had a sister who wasn’t missing at all…

  “I should cook some dinner,” she said to Rose, who had scampered down the hall ahead of her and tossed the mail haphazardly over the floor and sofa. “Or we could just bake a cake and eat it out of the pan and let the food pyramid go hang for a night. What do you say?”

  Rose gave a giant huff and settled onto the floor, her back legs crooked backwards, and her front legs crooked forwards, so she looked like a giant golden bear rug. Her eyebrows were doing that frown thing as though she knew exactly what Katie as suggesting and didn’t approve at all.

  “Oh, all right. You win. Meat and greens it is.”

  She picked up the mail that Rose had dropped over the floor. Did she want a new credit card and a case of wine every month? No. Neighborhood watch pamphlets, mayoral election campaigning, a free month at her local gym…no, no, no.

  She tossed the rest back on the table. The blue envelope with the handwritten scrawl that she’d been waiting so long to receive wasn’t there. All that was left to fill her evening was that darned pile of cryptic crosswords that Anton had printed for her. She read the next clue on the list, six across: the rap you sing on the couch.

  What?? If she had to spend even a minute of her evening dissecting that, she was going to follow the lead of that eccentric woman in Vee’s building and have six conniptions.

  Andy was right. She was young, not eighty-three. She was single, she had all her teeth, and she had a job. What was she doing, spending her evenings alone with her dog, waiting for her older sister to send her a keep-busy letter?

  What had Andy suggested? Karaoke was never going to happen, but his other suggestion? Not the baking, as tempting as wallowing in high-carb treats sounded. The other one. She pulled her phone out of her purse before her over-cautious self could intervene. She’d told Anton she wasn’t looking for a man to call, but the words had been a lie. Truth was, she was worried about being hurt by someone else she’d grown close to, and that’s why she had brushed him off.

  Perhaps Anton had been right, too…she should give herself a break from worry.

  He picked up on the second ring.

  “Question. Do you know what a hipster white-wine spritzer is?”

  “No, but I’m in.”

  “Esplanade? Thirty minutes? You know The Orca Bar and Taphouse with the wine barrel tables?”

  “Done.”

  A laugh that was equal parts happiness and hysteria burst out of her when she put down the phone and looked at her dog. “Well, don’t just lie there looking hungry, girlfriend. We’ve got a closet crisis to attend to. I just discovered my sister has a life that doesn’t involve me, then I panicked and invited a hot, successful guy out for a drink, and—kaboom—I have no idea what to wear.”

  Chapter 18

  Ryan Mulligan checked the reception bars on the screen of his phone. No bars. He tapped a finger on the internet app. No service, either. He grinned. Finally, finally, he’d be able to get some peace.

  He tucked his phone into his back pocket, adjusted the holster he wore around his shoulder, and assessed the mounting pile of firewood he’d spent the last hour cutting. A few more, he thought. A storm was galloping in over Mount Shasta if he was reading that black cloud right, and he planned on riding it out by the fire in his newly acquired mountain cabin.

  Alone. Gloriously alone. Just him, the fire, a beer or two—and not a reporter or police uniform in sight. Even the stray dog that had turned up at the cabin a time or two, looking for food and affection, had disappeared.

  He swung the axe down into the log on the block, grunting with satisfaction as it cleaved along the grain. He was beginning to get the hang of this mountain life. Maybe he’d snare a rabbit later—toss it in a pot with some wild greens. He snorted. As if. A steak on the grill and a spud in the microwave was about the limit of his culinary skills.

  Chucking the last of the split logs onto the woodpile, he gathered a handful of kindling a
nd headed over to the cabin’s back porch. He took a glance around before he went in. From habit, mostly...old habits died hard for a cop who spent his on-duty hours hunting down the scum of the earth.

  Anton flexed his fingers. He felt like a guitar player who’d woken from a coma and realized he could no longer play his favorite riff, because all the calluses he’d spent years acquiring had been lost.

  But despite the stiffness, keystroke by keystroke, the words had been coming. Even more exciting had been the ideas. Notepads were sprawled over the dining room table, the kitchen counter, the floor of the old lamp-oil storage room that he’d had converted into a book-lined study.

  And here was the kicker, the epiphany he’d had as he’d driven down the mountain pass that afternoon in Katie’s little hatchback and seen the jewel-blue Pacific Ocean glittering up at him. Tenacity mattered. Not giving up mattered.

  Katie had taught him that.

  The fact that her sister may not even be missing wasn’t the point...the point was that Katie needed answers, for reasons that he was only beginning to understand, and she wasn’t giving up, so neither should he. If he could create a cryptic crossword, he could sure as heck find a way to write a thriller that didn’t end in an apocalypse.

  He looked at his watch. Six p.m. in California made it nine p.m. in New York. He’d be pushing it to find anyone still at work, but hey, wasn’t NYC the city that never slept?

  He hit the numbers and waited while the ring tone buzzed three thousand miles eastward.

  “Wait,” a dry voice said in his ear. “Someone smack me. I must be delirious, because my phone screen is telling me Anton Price, my star recruit, has finally decided to call me.”

  Huh. Looked like his editor, Eduardo, hadn’t lost his love of facetiousness. “Hi.”

  “Hi?” For a one syllable word, Eduardo managed to fling it around a few octaves. “You ignore all my calls and emails for near on a year, and all you can say is hi?”