Stolen Secrets

by Nancy Radke

  The puppy continued to lick her arms and try for her face, and Angie finally put down the book. "Keep that up, and I’ll name you “Tongue,” she threatened.

  "Shows subjection," he said. “Dogs lick to show you that you're the boss."

  "So I’d better get used to it, is that what you're saying?"

  "Sort of."

  She laughed, and hugged the dog tighter. Her face shone, her happiness so evident Ryan would gladly have bought her a thousand dogs. He felt the warm glow inside himself, responding to her.

  He needed to bond the pup to him, too, so he reached over for the leash. “Why don’t you finish the chapter while I take “pup” for a walk?”

  “Okay. I won’t ever get done, this way.”

  He snapped the new leash onto the collar and took the puppy outside. She didn’t want to go, preferring to stay in Angie’s lap, and he finally had to carry her outside and close the door before putting her down.

  After a lot of persuasion, he walked her over to the edge of the parking lot, took the leash off and let her run free for a while along the grassy bank. The pup stayed fairly close to him even while busily checking things out. With the bloodlines of working dogs in her, she’d quickly develop her protective instincts.

  He reached down to pet her just as she spied Angie coming toward them. Instead of running along the shore to where the dock started, the pup ran out onto a nearby log, then tried to continue running across the water’s surface, giving a yelp of astonishment as she went under. She resurfaced, tried to dog-paddle towards Angie, then— as Angie ran to the shore— tried to get back onto the log.

  Ryan called her, but the frightened pup pawed vainly at the slippery log, growing more and more desperate. It looked like he’d have to rescue her. He checked the log— it felt firm— and walked out, balancing carefully, then plucked the animal out of the lake.

  The log spun, tossing him and the pup backwards into about two feet of icy water. Angie had stopped on the shore five yards from them, and expressed her concern by doubling over with laughter.

  “I hope you’ve got a name for her,” he sputtered. “She just christened herself in Lake Union, trying to get to you.” He got to his feet, holding the wet puppy up by the scruff, water running from him and the dog.

  “Do I get to name you, too?” she gasped, one hand over her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the sound of her laughter.

  “I’ve got one, thank you.”

  Angie collapsed on the ground. “I’d call her ‘Drippy,’ but I don’t think that sounds very good. How about ‘Union?’”

  “That’s worse than Drippy,” he complained.

  “Then...‘Tagalong.’ She wants to tag along wherever I go.”

  “Tag it is.” He sloshed his way out of the water to where she sat, regarded her collapsed, gasping, dry form, and dropped the wet puppy into her lap. Tag immediately laved Angie’s face with kisses. Ryan wished he could do the same. “You can walk her next time.”

  Angie moved her head from side to side, vainly attempting to dodge Tag’s wet tongue. “I’d keep the leash on.”

  “Actually, now she knows she can’t walk on water, she’ll stay out of the lake.”

  Angie tried to stand up, sat down again. “I haven’t laughed this hard for... for months.”

  “Come on.” He stuck out his hand and pulled her up. “It’s cold out here.”

  They hurried back to the houseboat where Ryan and the dog both had a bath. Ryan came down, dressed in dry clothes, and watched Angie drying off Tag. In bathing the dog, she had become soaked, so left for Grandma Miller’s to get dry.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Tag ran up to it, sat down, and whined. She planted herself there, looking miserable.

  Just like me, Ryan thought, and reached for the phone book to call a carpenter to install a dog door. Then stopped. A dog door would do him no good. This pup would run right out to try to spend the night with Angie— on her bed if she let her.

  Maybe he’d have to get a dog of his own. In the meantime... Pulling down his phone book, he looked up several guard companies, chose one where he knew the owners and arranged to have a guard put on his house. They promised to send out a man every night. From six to six, starting Monday.

  “Good.”

  The pup barked loudly and danced excitedly, letting Ryan know Angie had returned even before she knocked on the door. He hung up, then had to scoop up Tag before opening it, as the pup kept getting in the way.

  “Grandma wants to see her,” Angie said, darting in and closing the door with her back.

  “Here.” He handed Tag to her and followed her to Grandma’s house.

  Once inside, Tag saw the cats and gave chase. Spice tired of this quickly and hissed Tag back to Angie. Angie laughed and excused herself for a moment, but Tag followed her up the stairs.

  Grandma Miller waved Sugar off the couch and plunked herself down. “Some ‘guard’ dog. Maybe she’ll be braver once she grows bigger.”

  “Older. She won’t get much bigger.”

  “It looks like she’s taken up with Angie. She won’t be much help guarding your place.”

  “Ah, yes. Things don’t always go as planned. I don’t care. It’s good to see her so happy.”

  “She has blossomed. And so have you.”

  “Yeah?” He smiled at the elderly lady whom he loved almost as much as his own mother. Certainly more than his grandmother in Florida, whom he saw every other year if possible. “In what ways?”

  “You’ve a lift to your step and your voice that didn’t used to be there. I’m glad it’s Angie who put it there.”

  He chuckled as the pup bounded down the stairs, turning a somersault as it tried to make sure Angie followed close behind. “You could be right. But let’s keep it between us for awhile. Do you mind having another animal?”

  “Not at all.”

  Angie walked down after the dog, barely favoring her ankle. She walked tall, like a fashion model, and he realized it came from her gymnastic training. Like Audrey Hepburn, he thought— hair-style, walk, and the glow of goodness. She had put on fresh lipstick and her pixie beauty struck him anew. He smiled at her and was rewarded by her answering grin.

  * * *

  A cold rain blew in that evening and Ryan put on a heavy coat to meet Patti at the Park and Ride lot. Just in case someone followed her there, he wanted to be early. He opened his front door, almost running into the woman standing outside with her hand raised to knock.

  “Kathleen!” He took a step backward, amazed to see her. She had never come to his place since leaving him for Scott.

  She stepped inside, effective making him move further back.

  “Hi, Sweetheart. Where’re you going?” Her perfume floated over him.

  “To meet someone.” He stepped sideways, annoyed at her presence.

  “This won’t take long. Hmmm. I had forgotten how sexy you looked, till I saw you at the gym.”

  “I must go. She— ”

  “A woman? You’re meeting a woman? You?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s always like that.”

  “Not this time. It’s just Patti.”

  “Scott’s secretary?”

  “Yes. She wanted to meet me.”

  “I wouldn’t think Patti was your type.”

  “She isn’t. This is strictly business.” Turning away, he glanced around the room, seeing the dog’s empty bed— it had refused to leave Angie— and wished Kathleen would go away and leave him in peace. “Why are you here?”

  “You remember that small statue I gave you for your birthday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I know this sounds cheap, but— uh, I have this little nook in my house, and if you didn’t want it— “

  “It’s gone.” It had been one of the first things he got rid of. He had almost thrown it into the lake, but knew it was expensive— all Kathleen’s things were— so had given it away.

  “On,
no, Ryan.”

  “Charity.”

  “You couldn’t have. Say you didn’t.”

  He shrugged, not knowing what to say. How could he know she’d want it someday?

  She moved into the room, taking off her coat. He began to feel irritated. He didn’t want her here, examining his things, picking up and assessing each item. It was a habit of hers, a way to keep her hands busy while she talked, but he wanted her gone. Besides, he had to meet Patti.

  He zipped up his coat, stood by the door, and hoped she’d take the hint. She didn’t. She asked for a cup of coffee, and while he got it, used his phone, wandering around his place, looking at his things. She hung up and talked for a full half-hour before he abandoned his politeness and told her to leave.

  He decided to take Patti’s personnel file with him and retrieved that while he waited for Kathleen to drive away. He locked up when he saw her car start up the lane, carefully setting the alarm system behind him.

  After so many attempted break-ins, he felt uneasy about leaving, so stopped at Brandon’s and asked to borrow their husky for the evening. Brandon tied the dog beside Ryan’s front door, giving a wave as Ryan left.

  He hadn’t brought Tag back home because he didn’t want her to howl for Angie all night. If he wanted Tag for a watchdog, he’d have to bring her and Angie back together. He couldn’t have the one without the other. The idea appealed to him.

  It was raining hard by now, the reflections of the streetlights on the pavement obliterating the lines. Ryan turned his wipers on high. The speed of his car caused the rain to appear horizontal and he slowed down, as did most of the other cars on the freeway.

  Glancing at his watch, he realized he’d be twelve minutes late. He hoped Patti had waited. She had sounded frightened, but her propensity to exaggerate kept him from taking her seriously. Now if it had been Angie, he would’ve been out the door before she hung up.

  Spotting the exit, he turned off and stopped at the light, then took the free right turn. He heard a double pop, two sharp sounds, loud even over the drum of the rain. His military-tuned ear caused him to duck, an automatic reaction to any noise sounding like a gunshot. It sent a warning chill.

  He drove the short distance to the Park and Ride entrance, flipped on his turn signals and started in just as a sports car roared out, barely missing him. Ryan had a vague impression of a man’s white face under a dark, winter-type fur cap.

  Worried, he drove around, checking the few cars left for any sign of Patti. She had parked closer to the entrance than he expected, and he almost missed her.

  18

  Patti lay slumped on the front seat, her white fingers clutching the steering wheel, as if trying to steer away from her attacker. She had been shot in the head and chest, straight on, so she had seen who did it. She had rolled down her window, so might’ve been talking to whoever killed her or— expecting Ryan— could’ve thought it was him.

  Ryan got out, walked over and placed two fingers on her carotid artery. Dead, but still warm.

  Very warm. If he had been one minute earlier, he might’ve saved her. As it was, he knew he had seen her killer— and the man had seen him.

  Ryan had investigated murder as an MP, but it had never involved someone he knew and it hit him hard.

  He bent over and stepped away from Patti’s car, catching his stomach as it heaved, knowing if he hadn’t stopped for the husky— or if Kathleen hadn’t come for her silly little statue, he would’ve been in time to stop the murder.

  He avoided touching her car and used his cell phone to call the Bellevue police. Waited until they came. Told his story and gave them his name and phone number. He described the killer’s car, but knew his description wouldn’t help much. Also, he gave them Eric Hayes’ name.

  “I don’t know if it involves the CDs,” he told the detective in charge. “It might, and it might not. But she called and told me she’d been threatened. I have her personnel file here.” He handed it over. “Her mother’s address is in there. She lives in Renton. Someone will have to tell her.”

  “We will.”

  “There’s Patti’s address and phone number. She worked for me and my partner. We’re in computer security. We had a break-in a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Was it reported?”

  “Yes. Then Patti’s boyfriend died after robbing a jewelry store. He lives out here. I’ve never checked his place. His name and address are in here, also. And his phone number. 425-” He pointed out the information to the detective, who copied down what he needed and handed the file back.

  “We’ll take care of things. You’re free to leave.”

  “Thanks.” He got into his car and started to drive, but Patti’s image stayed with him. The shocked look on her face, frozen in death.

  He had read Ted’s address off to the policeman, and now turned and drove over there, needing something to do. He couldn’t just go home and go to sleep.

  Scott. He needed to know.

  As soon as he thought of it, he called Scott.

  “Murdered?” Scott sounded incredulous.

  “Angie could be right. Maybe Patti did have something to do with the robbery.”

  “I can’t believe it. Patti wasn’t the kind that got into dangerous things. Just a little whacky, not bad. Could it have been random?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “She wanted to give you information, but just about a guy who harassed her. You don’t think...?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m going to check out her boyfriend’s house.”

  “Why?”

  “She said Ted’s bookie threatened her. Maybe he was the one who tried to get into my house.”

  “But Patti didn’t know anything, not even the name of the bookie. And what would a bookie do with MXOIL files?”

  “You got me.”

  “She wouldn’t have known anything about MXOIL, since you handle that account exclusively.”

  “It’s the only thing I can think of. There might be a record of money owed. So I’m going over.”

  “Good luck.”

  “You okay?” Ryan had never heard Scott so unsettled.

  “Yes. Just need time to recover. Get him for Patti, will you? Let me know if there’s anything you want me to do.”

  “Okay.” Scott had never done any investigative work, and Ryan couldn’t think of anything he could do at the present.

  “And tell me when you’re close. I’d like to be in on the arrest.”

  “Will do.”

  Ryan re-examined Patti’s personnel file and located Ted’s Bellevue address. He drove over to a three-story apartment building, with Ted’s apartment on the top floor. After ringing the doorbell several times— Ted could’ve changed addresses and Ryan didn’t want to enter an occupied unit— he took out a lock pick to open the door.

  He didn’t need it. The door was unlocked, the place a shambles, items thrown all over the place. Ryan backed out, reluctant to walk in and destroy evidence. He’d get the police crime unit to check it out. Whoever ransacked it might’ve left some clue to their identity.

  He drove home through the unrelenting rain, untied the patient husky and walked him back to his yard. Next he called the Bellevue police and left a message about the ransacked apartment. Then he called Seattle’s Eric Hayes to update him. Grandfather was striking two when Ryan finally fell into bed, but it tolled three before he slept.

  * * *

  Angie stretched and the warm spot next to her feet erupted into a black, white and gray tornado that swarmed up to her face and got in three good licks before she could lift the covers to protect herself.

  “Umph.” She ducked her head, pulling up the covers, but still received a licking on the back of her neck. She had firmly put Tag on a small rug— on the floor— before going to bed. How could she discipline a dog that waited until she slept before sneaking onto the bed?

  She struggled upright, shoving the pup away from her, scrambled out and got dressed. Tag danced ar
ound her, getting in the way, and successfully licked her whenever she bent over. She skipped doing the splits out of self-defense.

  A quick glance out the window showed a beautiful sunshiny day. A white speedboat went by, slowly, with a man in it. He kept looking toward Ryan’s home and Angie watched as it circled around the end of the next house and out of her line of sight.

  Not wanting puddles on Grandma Miller’s carpets, Angie snapped on the leash and took Tag for a walk. She went down to the end of the dock first, looking for the man and the boat, but he was nowhere in sight.

  Later she hurried through breakfast and the dishes, eager to be back with Ryan. With Tag insistent upon walking between her feet, Angie tripped down the ramp and along the dock to Ryan’s houseboat. Ryan answered her rapid knock, his face bleak, and her high spirits immediately froze.

  “What happened?”

  “Patti’s dead.”

  The shock of his softly spoken words shattered her euphoric mood.

  “What? How?”

  “Someone shot her last night. Just before I met her.”

  She paused to consider his words. “You mean it wasn’t an accident? Someone killed her? Like, murder?”

  “Yes.”

  She sat down abruptly on the deck, her legs refusing to support her. Tag jumped into her lap, her tongue flicking Angie’s face, a worried whine showing the sensitive dog’s correct reading of her mistress’ mood.

  Angie hugged the pup close as she shook her head, denying the reality of his words. Murder? It couldn’t be. She looked at Ryan who knelt beside her, his door still open, the bright sunshine encompassing the three of them. He wore sweats and mismatched socks, and had his T-shirt on inside out.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, clutching the wiggly pup tighter.

  “Someone shot her as she sat in her car at the Park and Ride lot, waiting for me.”

  “Could it’ve anything to do with...? No. Of course it couldn’t.”

  “It might. Patti said something about Ted’s bookie friend.”

  “I remember Patti saying that she wouldn’t do anything else for him... for Ted, so she couldn’t be involved in anything that bad, could she? The CDs wouldn’t lead to murder, would they? Are they that valuable?”