“Sweetie, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I’ve been up for a while, Mom. Are you ready for your trip?”
Her mother answered in her professional, no nonsense mode. “I’m leaving for the airport in a few minutes but wanted you to know how much your dad enjoyed dinner with you.”
“It was great for me, too.”
“Guess who your father ran into at the University Club?”
God, she hoped it wasn’t Peyton Archley, a former college boyfriend. Her mother still clung to the hope that they might take up their romance again. “I’ve no idea.”
“Dean Williamson. Your father had a nice chat with him about your interest in medical school.”
The muscles in her jaw started to tighten. Her mother was fixated on Grayce attending medical school again. Never a good sign. “Mom, I went to vet school.”
“He was quite impressed with your advanced degrees in the sciences and the awards you garnered at Michigan and Cornell. It sounds like your father couldn’t restrain himself from bragging.”
She wasn’t sure whether to scream or laugh. She unclenched her jaw. Her belief that the higher species should be able to moderate their response to adverse stimuli wasn’t working this morning. Knowing her mother was trying to take care of her, she felt like the lowest of worms. “Really?”
“Dean Williamson told your father to have you call him. He’d love to talk about your future in medicine.”
Her mother still hoped that as a “real doctor” no one would discover Grayce’s unconventional gifts. She attributed Grayce’s “quirkiness with animals” to the effects of Cassie’s death.
Grayce had been forced into therapy after that. She had made the mistake of revealing that she continued to feel Cassie’s presence. The psychiatrist had told her parents that Grayce’s “symptoms” were part of the grieving process, a refusal to accept her sister’s death. And in time Grayce’s visions would fade. He had been wrong.
Cassie still came to Grayce in her dreams—a bright energy that wrapped her in love. Many nights after Grayce had helped an injured or dying animal, Cassie would whisper words of comfort to her in her sleep.
“Honey, are you there?”
“I’m here, Mom.” Grayce had learned not to share her visions or her gifts. What did it matter if there were no words, no scientific explanation for her reality?
“I think you shouldn’t let this opportunity pass.”
Grayce stretched her masseter muscle, the highly developed muscle in dogs for biting, opening her mouth wide then moving her jaw back and forth, searching for a response that would soothe her mom.
“Grayce? Do you want his number? I have it right here.”
“Sure, Mom.” What was the Gandhi quote about the path of least resistance? “Have a safe flight. I hope your meetings go well.”
Would she find herself at the age of sixty, still feeling guilty that she couldn’t make up for her mother’s immense grief over Cassie? Grayce had achieved outstanding academic success, excelled in mastering acupuncture skills in China and had established her own practice. All these accomplishments and she still didn’t feel that she had done enough to lessen her mother’s suffering. She couldn’t take away her mother’s pain, but she couldn’t give up trying.
Her mother still worried about her. Grayce still worried about her mother. Her mother wanted her to fit in. She wanted her mother to be happy. There were some days it all seemed impossible.
Chapter Eighteen
Davis sat in front of his computer. He almost lost it on Saturday night when he couldn’t upload the fire scene pictures. He had wanted to get home, and instead he spent an hour looking for the cord to connect the camera to the computer. Finally, he transferred the pictures to his phone.
No one could find the cord this morning either. He emailed the pictures from his phone to the email server and then downloaded them to his work computer. He stood to close the door before calling Grayce.
Tom Vaughn walked by Davis’ office. “Hey Davis, figure out what caused the wharf fire? Dirty rags that combusted?”
Tom had been the officer on call the night of the wharf fire and had been one of the first responders.
Davis stood at the door. “Rags wouldn’t be enough to start that fire, but brake fluid and chlorine would do the job.”
Tom stood with his feet apart, looking up at Davis. “Arson?”
Tom was the smallest man of the department’s brass, but everyone’s favorite. Tom loved to joke, lighten the seriousness of their work.
“Who owns it?” Tom asked.
“Can’t find the owner. I’ve got a PO Box out of Alaska and a disconnected cell phone.”
Davis didn’t explain that the guy fished on the Jupiter, the same boat carrying the crab cases. “The fire had to be lit by a pro with the skill to burn a solid wood shed without burning up the rest of the sheds or the wooden wharf.”
“Got someone in mind?”
“Not yet.” Davis had talked with the men on the list of retired firefighters. Nothing panned out. Every one of them had an alibi for the night of the fire. Benson was the only one he couldn’t find. For twenty thousand dollars—the going payment for arson—Benson could fly in from Las Vegas.
Tom moved down the hall and spoke over his shoulder. “Good luck. I wanna hear how it goes down.”
Davis shut the door before anyone else could talk to him. He couldn’t believe he was this nervous—as if he were a teenager, calling a date for the prom.
After Mitzi’s appointment on Thursday, he didn’t need to see Grayce Walters again. The receptionist put him straight through to Grayce without any dire threats this time.
“Is everything all right? Is Mitzi okay?” Grayce asked.
“Yes, we’re both fine. I was hoping you might have a break in your schedule. I’m headed your way this morning and thought we could get a cup of coffee.”
“I can’t. I’m leaving for the airport in two hours and have lots of fires to put out before I go…sorry, forgive the pun.” She gave a nervous laugh.
It boosted his confidence. He didn’t want to be the only one feeling unsure.
“Are you all right about Friday? You didn’t answer the phone yesterday.”
“I had to get ready for California. I went shopping with James all day.”
He recognized a puny excuse when he heard one. Grayce didn’t seem the type to shop all day. He really didn’t know her. And, obviously, she didn’t want to know him.
“Mitzi didn’t suffer any injuries from Friday?”
“Mitzi’s fine.” He recognized a brush off when he heard it. He had given plenty in his lifetime. But he had never been on the receiving end before.
“Have you heard anything about the man who attacked you?”
“No, I was going to call Lewis and see whether they kept him, but I’ve been too busy.”
“You don’t know if he’s in the hospital?”
“I’m assuming he got admitted for evaluation and will be back on the street once his meds start working or sent to drug rehab for his meth addiction.”
“They’ll just let him go?” He could hear her sharp intake of breath.
“They won’t release him until they’re sure his delusions are manageable.”
Grayce wasn’t going to admit that she was afraid of the guy. “They won’t let him back on the street until he’s safe.” He was going to say until they know he won’t try to stab someone else, but he didn’t want to remind Grayce about Friday night.
“I’m bringing Henny to the fire site today.”
“How is she?
“She hasn’t knocked anyone else down.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
He relaxed, hearing her light laugh. “If you ever would like to watch her and Steve work, I could set it up. But maybe you don’t want to spend your time off meeting dogs? I didn’t mean like bad dates… I meant…you know what I mean.”
She giggled like a young girl. The tension i
n his body uncoiled.
“I guess…well…you know I’ve been on a few dates that might qualify.”
“When you get back from LA, I can make it happen. It is pretty amazing to watch Henny work.”
“I love watching the trusting relationship between handlers and dogs. Oops, here’s Hollie. My client must be here.”
“Have a great time in Hollywood meeting movie stars. I’m so impressed.”
“Don’t be, or you’ll start to sound like James.”
They both laughed.
“Really need to go. Thanks for calling.”
“See you Thursday, Dr. Walters.”
He hung up. He liked the way he had ended the conversation. Impersonal. Who was he kidding? His palms were sweating from holding the phone. He didn’t feel anything impersonal about Grayce Walters. He was intensely drawn to her. A glimpse of a chaotic household, filled with children and stray animals flashed through his mind. He took a deep breath and blew it out in one burst. He had never in his life connected a woman with the idea of children. Definitely off his game. Children were an abstract idea, a someday, just like marriage.
Davis refocused on his computer. He checked whether the fire scene pictures had finished downloading. Download icon still showed 47 percent. He clicked the cancel button with his mouse and nothing happened. Damn, the computer had crashed. Nothing was flowing in this investigation.
His only suspect was nowhere to be found. Benson’s cell was disconnected. The last address he had given the personnel department was a motel on Aurora Avenue. Davis had checked with the motel. Benson hadn’t stayed there in months, not since he had been fired from the department. He was married or had been married, but Davis had had no luck locating his wife.
And he still hadn’t been able to have an off-the-record chat with his friend, Zac, from the FBI. He hoped his friend would have time for coffee since Grayce didn’t. The Federal Bureau of Indolence—FBI agents were never busy.
Chapter Nineteen
The first thing Grayce noticed when she entered Elizabeth Marley’s Malibu Beach house was how cold it was. Like a mausoleum. Icy pinpricks beat a fast tempo up and down her body. Neither the bright sunlight nor the sound of the crashing waves coming through the open French doors could mask the deep gloom.
With her signature blonde hair flowing, the movie star looked exactly like she did on TV. In cutoffs, a white T-shirt and flip flops, she was the epitome of a California girl, not a Hollywood star. Elizabeth’s weariness, etched in the lines of her wan face, showed through her weak smile. A rotund grey schnauzer barked incessantly at her feet.
“Welcome to California. I hope your flight wasn’t too difficult.”
“Thank you. The flight was easy.”
Grayce bent to acknowledge Frank who kept barking and circling Elizabeth. “And you must be Frank.” The dog didn’t approach her, but he had stopped barking. Grayce didn’t try to touch Frank whose pointed dark ears and stubby tail signaled he was on alert.
“I knew he would act all energetic once you got here.” Elizabeth Marley attempted another smile, but failed. The woman was in pain. It was raw and close to the surface and penetrated right into Grayce’s being.
“Frank is trying to protect you.”
“Where do you want to treat him? Do you need a table?”
“Wherever you and Frank are most comfortable. I don’t need a table.”
“I guess that would be the couch. We spend a great deal of time there. Come this way.”
Grayce followed Elizabeth and the dog into a living room lined with expansive windows. The room was designed for the viewer to experience the grandeur of the ocean, but Grayce couldn’t enjoy the beauty. She couldn’t shake the pall that hung in the air. Stark loneliness pervaded the space. “Why don’t we sit on the couch and you can hold Frank on your lap.”
“Can you treat me too?” Elizabeth asked in a joking manner, but there was a hungry edge to the question.
“I’m not good at treating anyone without a tail.”
Elizabeth sat on the pale yellow overstuffed couch. Everything in the space spoke of a calculated style of relaxation and warmth, much like the movie star’s finely honed image as comfortable and unassuming.
“Come Frank.” The small dog jumped into the arms of his owner.
“Tell me more about Frank. How long have you had him?”
Another pained swallow. “Four years.” Elizabeth hung on the four years, the length of her marriage.
“Any health problems?”
“No, he’s never been ill.”
Grayce moved to the couch and sat within easy reach of Frank. The dog watched her take the needles from her pocket, his nose twitching in the air. She presented the needles, still wrapped in their paper package, in front of his moving nose.
“What do you think, Frank?” She used her most soothing voice, a tone that engendered trust. She waited for Frank to become curious. The schnauzer left Elizabeth’s lap and moved closer to the hand with the needles.
“He has a great nose,” Elizabeth said.
Grayce patted the dog’s head. “You are a wonderful dog. What an incredible companion.”
Grayce moved her hand along Frank’s body, allowing him to adjust to her touch. He had tucked himself between his owner and Grayce, still protecting, doing his job. Canine devotion always made her heart lighter. If only Elizabeth Marley’s husband had possessed one ounce of Franks’ loyalty.
“What a faithful critter you are,” Grayce whispered to Frank.
“He hasn’t left my side,” Elizabeth said.
Grayce slowed her breathing, making it synchronous with the sound of the breaking waves. She ran her hand an inch above the dog’s back, concentrating on the depleted energy, assessing the acupuncture points along the dog’s spine—definitely deficient lung points, the organs associated with grief. She continued to touch, connecting from her quiet spot to Frank’s sadness. He was siphoning his owner’s grief, absorbing it into his body. He offered his soul to Elizabeth, healing through his constant devotion.
Grayce visualized harnessing the ocean’s power to fill Frank and renew his lung points. She placed the first needle into the crown of his head. As she expected, he showed no reaction. She then placed a needle at Bai Hui point, the bottom of the spine. She needed to balance Frank’s top-to-bottom energy, the yin-yang, encouraging his stagnant Chi to flow, like the high tide crashing outside his front door.
Grayce heightened her vibrations for Frank’s deficient Lung Chi. She rotated the needles while Frank slept. His black lips curved upward as if smiling. He usually was a happy dog. She had seen this condition many times as devoted pets depleted their chi trying to comfort their owners. Grayce looked up and saw tears in Elizabeth’s eyes.
“I’m amazed you could do this. I’ve had acupuncture. Honestly, I didn’t think Frank would let you. I didn’t know what to do for him.” A sob punctuated her recitation.
More than a husband’s abandonment, a deeper desolation plagued this woman. Her primitive anguish seeped through Grayce’s defenses, stirring up an unexpected wave of grief.
Sorrow pressed on Grayce making it hard to draw air, the same heavy feeling of dread after Cassie’s death; like a boulder that would never budge, a despair that would never end. Why this woman, why her pain?
Grayce repressed the churning emotions and returned to the treatment. Frank needed the lung points to stay longer. She rotated the needles allowing the heat to dissipate. The schnauzer continued to rest between the two women.
“How long will Frank stay relaxed?”
“Once I take out the needles, he’ll wake up. He won’t want to miss any of the action.”
Elizabeth gave a genuine radiant smile, the one that made her one of Hollywood’s most admired actresses. When Grayce had contemplated the trip, she expected this woman to be a narcissistic Hollywood cliché. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Grayce removed the needles. Frank remained asleep, a whisper of a sn
ore vibrating through his soft, relaxed body.
“I’ll plan to come down next week to treat him again.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Frank’s an empath. He’s responding to your stress.”
“You have an amazing gift,” Elizabeth spoke in a low, gravelly voice.
Their eyes met—such a strange bond. She was revisiting the loss of her sister through a famous movie star’s loss. It didn’t make the pain any less or any better.
She removed the last needle. “The acupuncture will lighten the tension and give him back his spunk.”
The schnauzer awoke slowly, looking toward his owner. He licked her hand. Elizabeth Marley rubbed his head. “I love you, boy.”
Frank slowly thumped his tail, making both women smile.
Grayce brushed her hand along the dog’s head. “Frank is going to be fine. His big heart can carry the load.”
The dog stood and stretched.
As was her practice, she acknowledged the hard work Frank was performing. “You’re a loyal companion.”
When they stood, Grayce realized she was taller than the star—an unusual experience since she was usually the shortest person in the room.
The slight woman looked up into Grayce’s eyes. “Your light is strong. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
Hearing the words, the words that Cassie used, was like a kick to her solar plexus. No air moved in or out of her body. She waited for her lungs to start working, her heart to return to beating.
“Thank you for coming to treat Frank.” The actress reached for Grayce’s hands and squeezed them tight. Elizabeth’s soft hands worked like a balm, spreading warmth, soothing Grayce, as if Cassie was there holding her hand.
Leaving the beach house, Grayce gulped the moist air, taking her first deep breath since Elizabeth had spoken Cassie’s message.
She squinted in the bright light and pondered the unplanned instant, the serendipitous moment which can alter one’s life. This California trip to treat a dog was an illusion. Cassie was here, forcing Grayce to peel away another layer of the profound loss she allowed no one to glimpse.
The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series Page 8
