Stepdog

by Nicole Galland

  A quarter hour after that, feeling fully human for the first time in nearly a week, I locked the door behind me and went round to the lobby to ask about nearby restaurants. This hotel had none of its own.

  As I approached the desk, I saw that one of the beige chairs in the beige lobby looked different from all the others, because there was somebody sitting in it.

  Somebody I knew.

  Chapter 27

  I halted as if I’d walked into a Plexiglas wall.

  “Hello, Rory.” It was him.

  For a moment, I could not think. Of anything. I entirely forgot the English language. “How . . . what?” I felt as if a ragged zipper were being pulled up and down, open and close, inside the entire length of my body.

  “You want an explanation of how I’m here?”

  “Eh. Yes. And why. Look—” Since trying to avoid him wasn’t helping, I might as well try to engage him directly. Maybe even talk some sense into him. If that were possible. I was calmer than I had been back in North Carolina, so maybe it was possible. Some dozen people milled about between us, waiting to check in. I brushed through them to get closer to him, still gobsmacked.

  He shook his head a little. “The why should be obvious. I want Cody back. Do you consider me so feckless that one setback would defeat me? Give me a little credit. But I thought you’d be curious how I could find you without the tracker.”

  I tried to sort out my best move. Cody was in my room. Trying to get her back into the car without his interfering was unlikely, as he now seemed capable of anything. She was safest where she was, but somehow I had to keep him away from her. And he was right: of course I was curious.

  “I’m curious,” I admitted.

  Jay, always happy to know more than the rest of us, nodded. “When the tracking device stopped working, I guessed you’d found it and redirected, and Tulsa seemed the easiest place to go in lieu of Oklahoma City.”

  “That gets you to Tulsa, but not to this hotel.”

  He shrugged. “Remember last night in Chattanooga, when you were told somebody had already checked into your hotel room?” I still hadn’t sorted that one out. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of saying so, but he could read my face. “Right, you do remember. That chain came up first in a search for dog-friendly hotels in Tennessee. So I called all the Chattanooga branches saying I wanted to upgrade the Rory O’Connor reservation until I found the one that actually had the Rory O’Connor reservation.”

  “But I had a four-hour lead on you, how did you get there before me?” I demanded.

  He smiled slyly, the old ruined-baron dignity intact. “I didn’t, Rory,” he said, in a tone of mock apology. “I was never there.”

  “But—”

  “Everyone has their price,” he said. “In this modern age, you can bribe somebody over the phone without ever meeting them. The hotel clerk was going off duty and agreed to log my arrival even though I hadn’t arrived.”

  I blinked, confused. Shook my head. “Why, though? Why would you do that?”

  “Because I could,” said Jay, slowly. “Because I want you to understand who you’re dealing with. I’m taking this very seriously, so for your own sake, you should, too.”

  That was the first moment I realized: this bloke must be a sociopath. Nobody goes to such extremes over a dog. Not even Sara would behave as mad as this and I’ve never met anyone as mad about their dog as Sara. “I do know who I’m dealing with,” I said. “I’m dealing with a grown man who is obsessed with somebody else’s pet.”

  “It sounds so tawdry when you put it like that.”

  “When I put it like that? That’s what it fucking is!”

  “You’d think an Irishman would have more reverence for elemental needs,” said Jay, as if I’d disappointed him. “For the primal, the romantic. Anyhow, back to the point: once I knew which hotel chain it was, I knew it would be the same chain here. Sara’s methodical that way. The trick was guessing Tulsa over any other city. Lucky guess. For all of us. As you’ll understand in a moment. You’re going to be very glad I found you, Rory.”

  I stared at him for a moment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the obvious question, but finally relenting: “Why? Why am I going to be glad you found me?”

  Jay smiled and stood up. “I’m starving and I’m sure you are as well. Why don’t we get a bite and talk this whole situation over? We’re working with a bit of a time crunch, but luckily there’s a restaurant within walking distance.”

  So he was going to be infuriating.

  “Let’s talk first,” I suggested, even though my stomach was growling.

  “You need to eat. I need to eat. There’s only one restaurant nearby, and I have more money than you, so you might as well let me buy you dinner.”

  “What’s the trick this time?” I asked.

  “No trick,” he said, a bit too innocently.

  I crossed my arms, lowered my voice so the beige people waiting to check in could not snoop on our conversation. “Bollocks,” I said. “You always have a trick. I’ve learned that much at least.”

  “Well, if you need someone to vouch for me . . .” He took his phone out of his coat pocket and tapped the screen. The lobby hubbub was quiet enough that I could hear the little whooshing noise as he sent a text, I supposed prewritten. He pocketed the phone and gave me a knowing look. “Just hang on for one minute till that goes through. And then do what you like.” His implacable calm—once a panacea—was now his most infuriating quality.

  My phone rang. I took it from my hip pocket. Sara.

  “Answer it,” he suggested, since I was staring at it.

  “Hey, love,” I said cautiously.

  “Go to dinner with him,” she said in a low monotone. She sounded as if somebody were holding a gun to her head.

  I felt the bottom of my stomach drop about a foot. “What?” I said, my gaze reflexively going to Jay’s face. He gave me a Cheshire-cat grin.

  “Do what he says. Go to dinner with him. Give him what he wants.” And then she added, as if it were an effort, “This isn’t your fault.”

  “What isn’t my fault?” I demanded.

  “That you’ll have to give him Cody.”

  “What?” I said harshly, louder than I’d meant to. The lobby quieted abruptly, as if insulted, and Jay, with the air of a kindergarten teacher, made a keep-it-down motion with his hands. God, how I wanted to punch him.

  “He’ll explain,” Sara said, sounding hoarse. “Give him what he wants. I will not blame you. Call me when it’s over.” I heard her voice break on the last word, but she hung up before I could respond.

  I stared in disbelief at my phone. Then I glared up at Jay.

  “Dinner?” he said.

  THE HOTEL SQUATTED in a compound of corporate-headquarter-like office buildings. For blocks around, all was toneless glass-and-concrete buildings, now almost entirely devoid of human presence. These were ringed with overfertilized strips of grass that were in turn bounded by cement sidewalks that were probably almost never trod on. We trod on one now, however, in the dusk, the cool wind tugging at us. We were headed to the only restaurant in sight. It was a gaudy Mexican chain, without one single authentic Mexican anywhere near it. But it was pretty busy, with hotel guests, I s’pose.

  Inside, it was low-lit but full of bright Mexican knickknacks, sombreros, blankets, and the Disney version of indigenous art. There was loud pop music playing, and a baseball game was silently filling four large screens around the room. These were placed so that it was impossible to sit anywhere and not see one.

  A dolled-up blonde wearing a lot of eye makeup and lipstick, and who wanted us to notice her cleavage, led us to a booth and left us with menus and a drinks list. Even the way Jay, in his long, narrow coat, slid into his side of the booth suggested an old-world, old-money grace that belied his actual identity. Everything about this bloke was a smoothly executed fraud. I had no idea who he really was. Or—I was realizing—what he was really capable of.


  “An enchilada would hit the spot right now,” he said, glancing at the menu.

  Despite the ambient noise in the place, our booth seemed to have its own sound buffer; we did not have to yell to hear each other. Which didn’t mean I didn’t want to yell anyhow, but I refrained.

  “Yes, it would,” I said. So when the waitress came to the table a few silent moments later, I ordered what Jay was having: chicken enchiladas with a side of mole. He also ordered a margarita on the rocks. God, I’d’ve killed for a drink, but I ordered a club soda.

  “Still recovering from the moonshine?” he asked.

  “Very funny. Look, Jay, I know Americans are mad about their pets and all, but this is a bit too mad, isn’t it? I know you were upset about losing Sara and Cody, and I know you want Cody back—I know all that, right, but why are you following me, really? Do you think I’m just going to give her back to you?”

  “By the end of this conversation, I’m pretty sure you will,” he said. He unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap.

  “No, mate, I’m not,” I said. “No offense, but you need help. You can’t keep following me. It’ll drive us both mental. I’ll do things we’ll both wish I hadn’t. So we have to come to an understanding now, tonight, because you have to back off.” It was the strongest and most decisive I’d felt in over a week. Good. Thank God some of my Roryness was finally coming back.

  He shifted his weight to slouch against the bench back. “I will definitely back off after tonight, since Sara has finally agreed that I should have Cody.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “Didn’t she say so on the phone?”

  “She was very upset on the phone. She wouldn’t just randomly decide to give you her dog. You said something to scare her into it.”

  “Hmm,” Jay said, as if trying to remember what this might have been. “Probably it was about the rat poison.”

  And with that, we hit a whole new unbelievable level of insanity.

  “What,” I said.

  “I need my dog back,” Jay said, calm as always, but a little more urgent around the eyes. “She is all that’s left of the life I should be leading right now.”

  “So you fed her rat poison. Right, that makes sense.”

  “The interesting thing about rat poison,” said Jay confidingly, leaning in toward me, “or at least, certain kinds of rat poisons, the kind I’m familiar with, is that they take a while to work.”

  “You haven’t been near the dog for a day and a half. You couldn’t have poisoned her,” I said, feeling a rising certainty that somehow, he had poisoned her. Why the fuck would he poison her when he wanted her back so badly?

  He continued calmly, as if I hadn’t interjected. “If an animal, let’s say a dog, eats rat poison, they don’t get sick right away. It takes a while before they’re even symptomatic. The way it works is, the poison prevents blood clotting, and so eventually the animal bleeds to death internally. But not right away. It takes a few days.”

  The booth was bobbing, swaying like a lifeboat on the open sea.

  “You poisoned her again?” I managed to say.

  “Chocolate isn’t poison,” said Jay in a kindly corrective tone. “I had complete control over that situation. She was never in the slightest danger. This time, there are variables. That’s why I was worried when the tracker stopped working. You see how lucky it was that I found you anyhow?”

  “You poisoned Cody.”

  “I think it’s only poisoning when it results in death or sickness. Is Cody sick?”

  “You’re telling me she’s about to be sick. And then dead. You’re telling me that.”

  “Luckily for us all,” said Jay, “there’s an antidote.”

  The booth stopped spinning as I realized this was a mindfuck and not her death sentence.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Hydrogen peroxide again? That’s so unoriginal.”

  He grimaced. “We’re long past hydrogen peroxide. Unless she’d puked it up within an hour, she needs massive doses of vitamin K. Which I have, and you don’t.”

  I stared at him, appalled. “You made her sick on the grounds that only you could make her better? You poisoned her in order to quote-unquote save her? Twice now? That’s twisted.”

  “I neither poisoned her nor saved her with the chocolate cake,” he insisted gently. “She would have felt bad for a while, but she’d have gotten over it on her own. That gambit was entirely to win your trust.”

  “Bollocks,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Well, it worked,” he pointed out. “This is a little different. This time, yes, she needs the antidote.”

  “I can get vitamin K,” I said. “I can find a vet and get some.”

  “In a strange city at eight o’clock at night?”

  “There have to be emergency vet services,” I said.

  “The window is closing. She needs an injection as soon as possible followed by massive oral doses.”

  “You’re full of shite. You never poisoned her. Why the fuck would you poison her? You’re bluffing.”

  He looked briefly affronted by this suggestion. Then he said, all business, “If you think I’m bluffing, then you should not give her vitamin K. Because the amount of vitamin K she’d need to save her life if she has been poisoned will probably kill her from blood clots if she hasn’t been poisoned. How about that? And I’m the only one who knows if she’s been poisoned or not, so don’t make me unhappy.”

  This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not happening. What kind of . . . “You’re bluffing,” I said again, now uncertain. “It’s all a bluff. She’s fine. She doesn’t need any vitamin K, so I won’t be giving her any, and I won’t be giving her to you.”

  He grimaced, looking sad. “If you want to risk taking that position, I can’t force you to believe me, but it will be quite distressing to all of us when she dies.”

  “How could you do that to her?” I said, furiously. “How could you do that to a creature you love? What do you gain from it?”

  He did not quite meet my look. “Leverage,” he said. “If she’d gone with me at the clubhouse, there’d have been no problem. I had hydrogen peroxide waiting in the car, I’d have just made her throw up right away. Then she’d be fine and we’d be on our way back to Boston. In fact, we’d be home by now.”

  “And what were you planning if she didn’t pick you?” I demanded.

  “Exactly this,” he said, gesturing to our booth. “This chat we’re having now, which ends with your giving me the dog so I can give her the antidote. Although I hoped you might join me for a drink first.” He gave me an invitational look. “Perhaps?”

  I scowled.

  He shrugged. “Ah, well.” And back to business: “Look, I gave Sara the choice. Cody alive or Cody dead. She chose Cody alive.”

  “This is mental.”

  “She’d rather have Cody alive and not with her than to have Cody dead. I think that’s a commendable decision. Solomonic, in fact. In fact it’s the only good decision she’s made in the last year and a half.”

  “I can find the vitamin K,” I said. I could not believe this was happening. “I’ll find an emergency vet clinic—right now—” I began to rise. Jay calmly reached out and tugged the sleeve of my sweatshirt, stopping me.

  “As you pointed out,” he said, “there is the slight possibility that I am bluffing, in which case you’d be murdering Cody.” Mock-apologetic smile. “That’s the point of this exercise. Sara grasped that faster than you did. It was a difficult choice, but she made it. Give me my dog.”

  With a shock, I realized I could win this game. But I was so pissed off at him that now I knew I was on top of things, I wanted to play as much as he did. “What if I don’t?” I said.

  “She’ll die,” he said. “Unless I’m bluffing, but no way to know for sure until it’s too late, is there? Assuming I’m not bluffing, she’ll die.”

  I shrugged. “Then what?”

  He blinked. He had
not been expecting that. Good. “She will die a painful and prolonged death,” he said sternly.

  “Hmm,” I said. “That’s a shame. Then what?”

  He stared at me, annoyed. “Then she’s dead. And her blood is on your hands.”

  “Not yours? You’re the one who poisoned her but you’re not responsible for her death?”

  “If you’d like to debate the moral quandary, I’d be happy to,” said Jay, sounding tense. “But meanwhile she will have died.”

  “Right, let’s go back to that part. Cody dies. Then what?”

  He stared at me. “Then . . . Cody is dead.”

  “Right. And then what?” I asked again, ever so fucking politely, cupping my hand around my ear. “Sorry, can’t hear you, so much ambient noise in this place.”

  He was getting angry. “Rory, it’s not your choice to make, it’s not your dog. Sara has given you instructions to turn Cody over to me. I’m sorry I had to resort to such banal manipulation but neither of you was being reasonable about this.”

  “All right, listen,” I said, ignoring that last preposterous statement. “Here’s the thing. Sara’s every bit as stubborn as you are, and as long as Cody is alive, she’ll try to get Cody back. And so this nonsense will continue—my wife will be obsessed with her ex-lover as well as her ex-dog, and that’s not a situation I’m interested in.”

  “Meaning?” said Jay, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

  “That frankly, of all possible outcomes, Cody dying is really the thing that’s in my best interest. In the big picture. You did something inexcusably horrible. And I’m benefiting from it. So thank you for poisoning her. I owe you one. And since she’ll be dead, could you please back the fuck off and stop tailing me across America?”

  He stared at me. With alarm.

  “You’re going to let her die,” he said, in a small, disturbed voice.