“Argh!” Something like an animal snarl erupted from him.
“It’s okay.” Jessi moved to help as he dropped with a grunt onto his good knee and began to gather up lipstick, wallet, keys, and the rest of her belongings.
“No, damn it, I made the mess, I’ll clean it up.” His words brooked no refusal, and she backed off.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you.” His tone softened. “You go on to the waterfront. There’s a lookout right over there.” He pointed to the left. “The Tidal Bore is due any minute. I don’t want you to miss it. I’ll gather up your stuff and meet you there.”
“Well…”
“Go, go!” He waved her away. “Go now, or you’ll miss it.”
She hesitated only a second longer before hurrying away.
Jessi joined the group of spectators as the world’s highest tides from the Bay of Fundy rushed in against the current of the Petitcodiac River to create a wave of backlash. Several surfers were actually riding it.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
Entranced by the spectacle, Jessi hadn’t noticed Ross joining her, purse in his hand.
“Wonderful,” she agreed, smiling up at him. “I’m glad you gave me the opportunity to see it. Thanks for staying behind to pick up my stuff.”
She was about to open the bag to check its contents when he caught her by the arm. “Time to go. My doctor’s appointment is in ten minutes. I’ll drop you at the mall next door to his office. You can spend the wait time shopping. I’ll meet you in the coffee shop of the hotel two doors down from the mall at four p.m., okay? If I’m going to be delayed longer, I’ll leave a message for you at the front desk.”
****
Jessi glanced at her watch as she sat in the coffee shop. Three forty-five. Deciding she had time for a latté, she ordered one. As the waiter placed it in front of her, she opened her purse to get her wallet.
Where is it?
Placing the bag on the counter, she began what was at first a routine search, then turned into a downright doggy-dig to its bottom. She hadn’t made any purchases at the mall, so she knew she couldn’t have left it there. Finally she had to admit the truth. The wallet that held her credit cards, cash, and ID was missing.
“Is something wrong?” the young man waiting to be paid asked.
“Yes…no…that is, my wallet with all my cash and credit cards is missing.”
“Did you leave your purse unattended? Robberies can happen pretty darned fast.”
“No.”
“Do you want me to notify the police?”
Jessi saw a folder tucked into a side pocket. It hadn’t been there previously. Gingerly she took it out and examined the contents. Inside was a shuttle pass from the hotel to the Moncton Airport and a one-way first-class ticket on a red-eye that evening to Calgary.
“No, thank you, that won’t be necessary.” She narrowed her eyes. “I know who the perpetrator is, and the law can’t possibly punish him enough!”
****
“I have a one-way, first-class Air Canada ticket to Calgary…cheap.” Jessi fluttered the envelope under the nose of the startled desk clerk in the hotel’s main lobby and tried to contain the fury engulfing her. “Fifty dollars will buy it. I’m in a huge hurry. I have to catch the bus to Carleton, and it’s leaving in fifteen minutes!”
She was seething with volcanic intensity when a pleasant-looking man in his thirties wearing a courier’s uniform approached her.
“Did I hear you say you had a one-way airline ticket to Calgary for sale for fifty dollars?” he asked. “Is it non-refundable?”
She nodded. “For a nine-thirty flight this evening. Do you know of someone who’ll buy it?”
“Well, I can’t actually pay you,” he said slowly. “But maybe we can make a deal.” He took her arm and drew her away from the desk, beyond the hearing of the clerk. “I take it you want to get to Carleton?”
She nodded vehemently. “In the worst way. There’s…something I have to do.” She avoided telling him it was premeditated murder.
“How about this for an idea?” He leaned closer. “I’ll give you a drive to Carleton right now in exchange for that ticket. I have a delivery up there. I’m not supposed to take passengers, but I’m darned near as desperate as you look. My wife’s brother’s been freeloading off us for a month, but he keeps claiming all he really wants is a ticket out west to get a job. Well, thanks to you, he might just get his wish…one way. What do you say?”
“Just a minute,” she said and went back to speak to the desk clerk.
“Do you know that man?” she asked softly.
“Danny?” He looked past her at the uniformed driver. “Sure. A great guy. Wife and three kids. A real family man. He’s been driving for the same company for over ten years.”
“Thanks.” She returned to the man.
“You’ve got a deal,” she told him as a roll of thunder, announcing an approaching storm, echoed through the hotel.
“Give me a minute.” An expression of relieved pleasure enveloping his face, he took the ticket and pulled out his cell. “I’m going to tell my lay-around brother-in-law to start packing. He can pick up the ticket here at the hotel desk. By this time tomorrow he’ll be thousands of miles away.”
Chapter Eight
“Ross Turner?” The driver of the delivery truck peered in through the screen door, clipboard in hand. Ross had barely gotten back inside the house after his trip to Moncton when the man arrived. He’d been about to let Fox out for a run after her hours of confinement, but hearing a vehicle churning down the lane toward the farm, he’d decided to keep her inside until he saw who and what it was.
“Yeah.” Ross looked out at the vehicle parked a few feet from his rear porch. “Why?”
“Delivery for you.” He started back down the steps. “Better keep the little dog out of the way while Harry backs up.”
“What in hell?” Ross stood staring as the burly man returned to the truck and began to wave his arms in directing the driver to back up toward the porch. As he realized the wisdom in the delivery man’s words, he slammed the screen door shut in time to keep Fox inside.
A couple of hours later, he stood staring at the results of the delivery.
Two mattresses and box springs lay on the parlor floor, with a stack of sheets, pillows, and blankets piled on top. In the kitchen, a washer and dryer had been swiftly installed, as well as a four-burner, full-sized electric stove. Before the delivery man left, he’d handed Ross an envelope. Inside was a note that read, “A few things I thought you might need. Love, Mom.”
Damn it, what did Jessi tell you? Laura Turner, you’ll never cease to amaze me…even while you’re busy driving me nuts. God, what a day! I need a beer.
He strode into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator.
“Damn it!” He stared inside at the two remaining bottles. “Cupboard’s almost bare.” He looked down at the little dog looking eagerly up at him. “Guess we’ll have to make a run to Carleton.” He glanced at her freshly emptied bowl. “Had enough to satisfy you?” He’d fed her as soon as the delivery men left. “Want to come along? You had a long day alone here in the house.”
In answer, Fox ran to the door and barked, tail wagging.
“Okay, let’s go.”
As he let the dog jump into the passenger seat, he stopped himself from further conversation with her. Time to stop talking to a dog and get on with his life.
But as he turned the truck down the lane, he passed the spot where pieces of pine branches marked the place where the big tree had blocked the road, and an image of Jessi Wallace crashed across his mind with the force of a mental tsunami. When had she become such a downright beautiful woman? Had he been on the circuit so long he hadn’t had a chance to notice?
Why the hell should I care?
He eased his vehicle over the remaining branches and on down the road.
She’s gone. I got rid of her once and for all. When she arrives back in
Alberta, my mother will realize she’ll have to get up a lot earlier in the morning to outsmart her boy.
In Carleton, he pulled into the liquor store parking lot and got out.
“Cute dog,” a lady passing smiled, looking at Fox in the truck window. “Yours?”
“Thanks. She was a stray.”
“What a shame. She appears to be a purebred Little River Duck Dog.”
“A what?”
“A Little River Duck Dog. The breed originated in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. I lived there a few years ago and got acquainted with them. Absolutely lovely creatures, so clever and sensitive. Are you going to keep her?”
“Yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Oh, how lovely! I’m always happy to hear about a dog getting a good home.”
He continued on into the store. When he returned, carrying the largest box of beer the store had to offer, he saw a pair of scruffy-looking men peering into the truck on the driver’s side. Fox was pressed against the opposite door, teeth bared.
“Something I can do for you?” Ross hefted the beer into the cargo space and turned to them.
“The dog.” One of them dared to confront Ross. “I heard you tellin’ that woman she’s a stray. Well, she’s mine.”
“Yeah?” Ross glanced in at Fox’s snarling reaction before turning back to the man. “She doesn’t seem to like you much.”
“Yeah, well, she can be the right little bitch. I’ll let you have her for fifty bucks, no questions asked.”
“Will you, now?” Ross crossed his arms and drew himself up. The man backed off a couple of steps but repeated, “Fifty bucks and she’s all yours.”
“Okay, well, maybe before I decide whether or not to pay up, we should check out your claim.” Ross reached for the handle and started to open the door. “Call her by name.”
“Hell, don’t do that!” The man and his friend were backing away as Fox advanced across the seat, snarling. “You can keep the damned thing!”
Grinning at their retreating figures, Ross opened the door to get in. Before he could stop her, Fox bolted past him and off in pursuit of the two men who, seeing her coming, broke into a run, heading around behind the liquor store.
“Fox!” Ross slammed the truck door and strode after her. “Fox!”
An hour later, Ross Turner stood outside the bulletproof glass of the reception area of the Carleton Detachment of the RCMP and reported a missing dog.
“I’m sorry, sir,” The officer on duty told him. “We don’t deal with lost pets. You should file a report with the SPCA.”
“I already did, but there were these two guys who tried to blackmail me out of fifty bucks in the liquor store parking lot, claiming to be her rightful owners. She took off after them, and I’m thinking they might have caught her…”
“Blackmailers in the liquor store parking lot?” Ross saw skepticism registered in the officer’s expression and had to struggle to contain his annoyance.
“Look, I wasn’t drinking then and I’m not drinking now. You can step out here and smell my breath or breathalyze me or whatever you want to do. If you can’t take a complaint of a missing dog”—he refused to use the term pet—“I’ll make a report of stolen property. How’s that?”
The officer looked at him for a moment, then heaved a deep breath. “Sorry, sir, there’s nothing more…”
“What seems to be the problem, Constable?” A tall, dark-haired man entered and strode to join Ross in front of the desk. Above a pair of jeans, he was wearing a navy sweatshirt with an image of a grinning Pug dog emblazoned across its front. A caption read “Bruiser.”
“This gentleman has lost his dog, Sergeant.” Sergeant, in that getup? “I’m trying to explain we don’t take lost dog reports, that he should deal with the SPCA.”
“Let me handle this.” The man, who appeared to be in great shape and not exactly ugly, indicated chairs in the waiting area. “Have a seat, Mr.…”
“Turner, Ross Turner. I’m staying out at the old Turner farm on the shore road.”
“Ah, yes. We heard someone new had moved in there. Bull rider from Alberta, right?”
“Right, but how…?”
“We make it our business to investigate new residents who move into remote places and aren’t obviously family people.”
“Aha. Drugs. I get it.”
“Possibly. Now let’s get on with the lost dog report. I’m Sergeant Frasier MacKenzie.” Ross realized the reply meant the man wasn’t about to talk further on the subject.
“Thanks for taking an interest, Sergeant.” Ross felt suddenly embarrassed by bringing a lost dog report to the man. He probably had lots of more serious stuff to deal with.
“Story, please.” But Sergeant MacKenzie wasn’t smiling or scoffing it off.
Ross explained what had happened. When he’d finished, Sergeant MacKenzie told him to wait while he spoke to the officer on duty.
“We’ll put out an all-points bulletin for our patrol vehicles to watch for her,” he said when he returned. “I’ll also alert my wife, Emma. She has a lot of connections in the community, and she’s a devoted dog fancier. She’ll be more than happy to help. Best I can do. Leave your phone number, and any other way you can be reached, with the officer at the desk.”
“Thanks.” Ross stood and held out his hand. “Much appreciated.”
He started toward the desk but turned back. He had to ask.
“Your shirt…” He pointed to it.
“A gift from Emma.” The sergeant grinned. “Last evening was our anniversary. She…we have a Pug named Bruiser. I know, I know. It’s a bit over the top for anyone hoping to command any sort of respect, but I do work undercover most of the time, and who’d suspect anyone wearing something like this of being a police officer? Are you married?”
“No.”
“Ah, well, then you don’t yet understand what a man will sometimes do in the name of love.” He headed toward the reception desk. “Something, hopefully, you’ll learn one day. We’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Nine
Bloody hell! No, it can’t be.
For the second time in less than a week Ross Turner opened his back door to find Jessi Wallace standing in a downpour, soaked to the skin. As he stood staring out at her, a ragged bolt of lightning illuminated both of them with an intensity much greater than the overhead bulb he’d snapped on.
“How did you get here?” The words came on a sharp intake of breath as a boom of thunder all but obliterated them.
“Via a one-way, non-refundable ticket to Calgary.” She pushed past him into the kitchen as lightning again brightened the sky and thunder rolled. “I had to walk from the road. My driver wouldn’t venture down your trail in this weather.”
“Ah, man!” He slammed the door shut behind her, exasperation radiating from every bit of his tone and body. “I thought it was only cats that always came back!”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?” She followed him as he turned and limped toward a cupboard.
“Best I can come up with.” He reached inside and took out a quart of whisky. “You’re back, and you’ll have to stay…at least until morning. I can’t leave you wandering around in a storm.”
“I assure you any wandering around in a storm wasn’t something I planned to do when we left here this morning.” Then, “Wow!” as she gazed around the kitchen at the gleaming electric range and the washer/dryer pair.
“Don’t pretend you’re surprised.” He splashed whisky into two glasses. “You know my mother is behind this, probably after your description of our living conditions. A truck with these appliances and an installation guy arrived shortly after I got home from Moncton. It also brought two mattresses, a couple of box springs, and an assortment of bedding. It’s all in the parlor.” Sarcasm reeked from every word.
“Ross, I didn’t ask your mother to do any of this.” She looked up at him, eyes wide. “She simply asked about the condition of the house, and…”
“And you gave her a
glowing description of how her boy was living like a bum. Here.” He thrust the glass at her, annoyance such as he believed he’d never before experienced gnawing at his gut.
Why did she have to come back? And why does she have to look so damned sexy, soaking wet and hot with anger?
“Drink up.” As she took it, he hoped he sounded disgusted. “It’s the best I can do. No friendly neighbor dropped by with more seafood chowder or even a bowl of chicken soup.”
“I don’t have the time or energy for this.” She swallowed the whisky in a single gulp and choked. He knew he should have patted her on the back, but touching her, under the circumstances, wasn’t something he wanted to risk. “Right now, I need dry clothes and a warm bed…or mattress. I’ll spar with you in the morning.”
“Okay, okay.” He downed his drink and went back to the cupboard to pour himself another. “Good night.”
She started for the front of the house, then stopped.
“Where’s Fox?” she asked, looking around.
“I don’t know.” He uncapped the bottle.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Her words reeked of total exasperation. “She’s your dog, your responsibility! And there’s a vicious storm outside, in case you haven’t noticed!”
“Look, it was an accident, okay?” He swung back to face her. “After I got home from Moncton and digested all this stuff that had arrived courtesy of my mother, I realized I was nearly out of beer, so I headed for Carleton. I took Fox with me.” He went on to tell the story of Fox’s disappearance.
“Oh, Ross, no!”
“Yeah, well…”
“I’m so sorry! Did you contact the RCMP and Animal Control?”
“Of course. I’m lame, not stupid!” God, I’m losing it, snapping at her like that.
He looked down at the second drink cradled in his hand.
Cowboy Confessions Page 8
