by Nikki Chase
“You can’t miss the guy. He’s tall, in his early thirties, probably wears business suits all the time. He looks like this.” I prop my phone up on the granite surface of the counter and show her a picture of Caine Foster.
“I apologize. I don’t recognize him. We have many guests coming and going all the time, Sir.”
Motherfucker.
Jessica told me this is the hotel where Caine is staying. I could’ve figured it out myself because this is the best hotel in this small town, and he seems like the kind of guy who travels in style.
And yet, he’s gone. Disappeared like a ghost. It’s like he was never here.
I look around the hotel lobby, hoping to spot him sitting in the corner with an empty box of rat poison.
Yeah, I know that’s not likely, but I don’t know where else to look.
I tried asking Matt for help, but it’s no use. A guy like Caine values his privacy, and he has the money to protect it. There’s nothing I can do to find him.
It’s possible the receptionist is lying to me. I hate being lied to, but maybe it’s hotel policy to never reveal their guests’ details to strangers.
It’s also possible Caine has left town.
Based on Jessica’s story, even though Caine claimed he wanted to talk, he treated it like business. He gave and received information, then left when he was done. Like he was running on a tight schedule. He probably wouldn’t stay in town longer than he has to.
So that leaves Steve.
In the hotel parking lot, I hop onto my Harley Davidson and quickly check his address on my phone. Matt sent it to me when he first looked into the guy, thinking it might come in handy.
It doesn’t take me long to find Steve’s place. He lives in the nice side of the town where all the big houses are.
Well, big by small town standards. It doesn’t have a mile-long driveway or anything like that.
I park on the street and walk right up to the front door.
“Can I help you?” A woman opens the door. She’s probably in her fifties. Steve’s mom, maybe?
“Yes. I’m here to see Steve, Ma’am.” I want to beat the shit out of Steve if it turns out he’s the one responsible for poisoning Max and distressing Jessica, but I can’t be impolite to a lady. Call it a bad habit from my military days.
“Oh, he told me he’s waiting for a friend from Vita-ments.”
“That would be me.” I smile confidently, although I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Come in,” she says, pulling the door open a little wider.
“Oh, no. I’m actually in a bit of a rush, Ma’am. I’d like to see him here if that’s okay.” I don’t want to break this nice lady’s antique vase with a stray punch, or stain her marble tiles with his son’s blood. If we’re going to fight this out, I’d rather do it outside.
“You’re asking so nicely I can’t possibly say no.” She smiles. “Wait here, please. I’ll get him.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
Steve looks exactly like the pictures I got from Matt. Which is to say, he looks nothing like his dating profile pictures. That must’ve been a surprise for Jessica.
“My mom said you were looking for me?” Steve frowns as he approaches the door. He looks apprehensive. People often find me intimidating due to my size, so that alone isn’t strange. He also looks genuinely confused, like he can’t possibly guess why a guy like me would be here looking for him.
“You’re Steve?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Then you’re the guy I’m looking for. Can you tell me where you’ve been all day?”
“Sorry, but what is this about?”
“I’m a private investigator. My client hired me to look into an incident involving her dog,” I say, drawing my inspiration from Matt’s work. If Steve has anything to do with poisoning Max at all, just the mention of a dog should be enough to make him nervous.
“Oh, no. Something happened around here?” Steve looks troubled. If he isn’t actually concerned about the safety of his neighborhood, then he’s a damn good actor.
“I can’t disclose the identity of my client. I hope you understand that. Can you please tell me where you’ve been all day?”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Perhaps you were in the right place at the right time and saw something.”
“I was home all day, working on the new presentation materials for Vita-ments. You can ask my Mom.”
“Vita-what?”
“Vita-ments. They’re supplements that contain vitamins and other good stuff that your body needs. They’re really good for your health. I can see you’re the kind of guy who cares about your health. You probably work out, right? I can tell by all your muscles. But your body could be lacking some nutri—“
“Thank you for your help, Steve. I don’t have any more questions.” I flash him a polite smile in an attempt to end the conversation. I can tell the guy wouldn’t stop unless I cut him off.
“Oh.” His face falls, but he’s not done trying. “Would you like to know more about Vita-ments anyway? You can come inside and we can have some drinks while we talk.”
“No, thanks. I have work to do. Maybe next time. Have a nice evening.” I turn to leave.
“Wait!” Steve grabs a small business card from his pocket and offers it to me. “Here’s my number. Call me whenever you want to chat.”
Damn. This guy is persistent. I take his card and walk away as quickly as I can, before he has a chance to start blabbing again.
On the ride home, I think about how badly I’ve handled this.
Obviously Steve has no fucking clue what that conversation was really about. And Caine? Even though he could still have possibly done it, it’s unlikely.
In other words, I’ve just wasted my time riding all over town, just to confirm all the things Jessica has already told me.
Fuck.
I guess I feel guilty because Max got poisoned under my watch. I should’ve kept an eye on him. I should’ve known something like that could happen.
And if it could happen to Max, it could happen to Jessica.
Obviously Jessica wouldn’t chow down on some weirdly colored mystery meat someone throws over the fence. But if someone could harm Max under my watch, then he could do the same to Jessica. That thought makes me really uncomfortable.
I’ve also been thinking about what Jessica said, about how all these things only started happening since I moved into town.
I wonder if I’m a trigger, if I’m the reason Jessica’s being intimidated. Maybe the guy is jealous of me. Maybe he wants Jessica for himself.
If I’m responsible for putting Jessica in this situation, then I should also be the one to get her out of it.
As soon as I get home, I park my bike in my driveway and walk to Jessica’s place.
Her home is still dark, which means she’s still out, but I can let myself in tonight. In her panic and confusion, Jessica left her house keys on the dining table, and I have them in my pocket now.
As soon as I’m inside, I take my usual spot on the couch and call Jessica, but all I get is her voicemail. I hang up and text her instead.
Jacob: where are you?
I guess I should collect the poisoned meat in the backyard for evidence. Maybe a lab can conduct some tests on it and figure out what really happened.
Or maybe I should just sit here in the dark and fucking think before I do anything.
Jessica: At the vet
Jessica: Not that you’d care, but the vet said Max may recover
Jessica: No thanks to you
Jessica: Where were you?
I hesitate. Jessica doesn’t sound too happy. I have a feeling telling her what I did wouldn’t improve her mood, but lying is not an option. Not if I want Jessica to trust me.
I type the words, stare at them for too long, then press the Send button.
I hope this is the right thing to say.
Jacob: I went to look for Steve and Caine
I wait with bated breath for the screen of my phone to light up with new notifications. I don’t have to wait long.
Jessica: I called the cops, so I don’t need you to do any more investigating
Jessica: Don’t sleep at my place either
Jessica: It’s not like you ever prevented any attacks
Jessica: Thanks anyway
Okay, I definitely did not say the right thing.
Jessica
I breathe softly with one hand over my mouth, afraid to disturb Max’s rest in some way. There are tubes attached to his little body, stabbing into his fur and through his flesh. It looks wrong.
But at least he's alive. At least he's not having seizures anymore. At least he's breathing regularly.
“Everything went well,” the vet says. “But we’ll have to keep him here for now. He’ll need constant monitoring.”
“So he's going to make it?” I look at Sarah in the eyes and hope for a sign of good news.
“I don't want to say he's definitely, one-hundred-percent going to fully recover. I can't really say much right now. We’ll see how he does tomorrow.”
“Oh.” My gaze falls back to Max. I study the pattern of the black, white, and brown fur on his body. I try to remember the way he looks now, as a living, breathing creature. I'm afraid I’ll never see him alive again.
“I know you're worried. But you should go home and rest now. It's been a long night. Save some of your energy for tomorrow. Okay?”
I take a deep breath. I know Sarah is right; I should go home. “Okay,” I say, “call me tomorrow as soon as you have news.”
“I will. Promise.” She smiles as she rubs my arm, then she walks out of the room to let me have some private time with Max. I lightly rub his head and let teardrops fall down my cheeks.
I gently touch Max’s head. The fur feels soft and warm, just like it always has. He must be fine. How can his fur still be so beautiful if he's not fine?
Maybe I’ll get that phone call tomorrow and it’ll be good news after all.
I wipe the tears on my chin with my hand and get a tissue from my bag to blow my nose.
“See you later, Max. Be a good boy and get well for me, okay?” I smile wryly as I pet Max’s head one last time and finally drag myself away.
On the drive home, I mentally make a to-do list for tomorrow. I need to keep myself busy. There’s no use worrying about Max. It’s not like my worry is going to help him recover.
First thing in the morning, the cops are coming. The person at the station who picked up my call said they didn't have anybody who could do it tonight because there weren't enough people on the night shift, but they’d send someone as soon as possible.
If there is some poisoned food in the backyard, then the cops will find it tomorrow. I didn't need Jacob to do it.
I want to find whoever did this, but I couldn't have abandoned Max. Finding the guy could wait, but Max didn't have any time to waste.
The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that I made the right call. Which only makes me angrier at Jacob.
If I had waited for Jacob, Max could've died before we even reached the hospital. Now he has a fighting chance.
Yes, I definitely made the right call.
Jacob never even came to meet me at the clinic, even though I could've used some emotional support. It was only hours later that I got a text from him, asking me where I was.
That reminds me, I haven't checked if he has replied to my texts.
Jesus, I still can't believe he actually went after Steve and Caine. That idiot. Why couldn't he believe me? It’s so infuriating.
At least the fact that he could send me text messages probably means he's alive and hasn't been arrested. I was worried he’d hurt someone—by whom I mean Steve—or get himself hurt in a fight with either Caine’s men or the police.
God, I hope he didn't do anything rash. I’d be mortified if he made wild accusations and crazy threats at them, or if he told them to leave me alone because I belonged to him.
I mean, that line works really well as dirty talk, but not so much as part of normal conversation.
I check my phone when I stop at a traffic light.
Jacob: Sorry
Jacob: No can do
Jacob: I’ll wait at your home
Jacob: It's not safe for you to be alone here
Here? As in, at my home? What gives him the right to be there when I explicitly told him he's no longer welcome?
I'm so not in the mood to see Jacob. I'm exhausted and I need some rest.
Sure, I can probably ignore him and avoid a fight tonight. But what about the tense atmosphere? I'm sure I’ll be able to feel the fight even if we didn’t say a word to each other.
And what about tomorrow? Besides the myriad of tasks I’ll need to do and Max’s condition to worry about, I’ll also have to deal with Jacob? I don't think I’ll even be able to sleep when I know for sure tomorrow’s going to be shit.
If I can't go home, though, where could I go?
I guess I can stay at a hotel, but that would cost me some money. If it turns out that someone's really after me, even if he’s not related to Stan, then I’ll have to move soon. I’ll need a sizeable chunk of savings to survive, if I were to lose the income from teaching.
Besides, I’ve been frugal all my life. The thought of wasting money on a hotel room, when I already have a perfectly nice bedroom at home, offends me on a basic level.
Where can I sleep for free without having to resort to a park bench, though?
Wait. I know the perfect place. It's clean, it's free, and it has everything I need. It's perfect. Besides, I need to go there tomorrow anyway to let the oven repairman in. I'm sure Bertha won't mind.
My car grinds to a halt, a few houses down the street from mine. As I turn off the ignition, I wonder if Jacob can hear and recognize the sound of my car engine.
I try to be quiet as I open and close the car door. I try to walk slowly and quietly. It's silly, considering Jacob probably has the TV on and he doesn't have the hearing range of Superman.
I lift the welcome mat by Bertha's front door and take out the spare key. Just as I stick it into the keyhole, someone grabs me from behind, immobilizing my arms.
Initially, I think it's Jacob because, let’s face it, he has a taste for roughly restraining me. As soon as the hold tightens painfully, I realize it can't possibly be him. It's all wrong. This body is softer, a lot smaller. I start to panic.
Hands wrap over my nose and mouth. I try to scream, but it comes out muted. A few grains of something enter my nostrils as I struggle to breathe.
The hands over my face are small. A woman’s hands?
Before I can come to a conclusion, I lose control over my body and everything goes dark.
Jacob
“Do you remember a woman who came in here, brown hair, green eyes? She would've had a sick Beagle with her,” I say to the young vet tech behind the counter at the animal clinic.
“Oh, Max!” His eyes light up with recognition.
“Yes! Are they still here?” I draw air into my lungs and hold it there in anticipation.
“He is, but she’s gone home.”
“When?”
“Like, three, four hours ago?” The teenager raises his voice at the end of the sentence like it’s a question, when it’s obviously just a statement.
“That long?” I glance at the clock on the wall behind the kid. It’s almost midnight now. Where could Jessica be if she’s not here?
“Yeah.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No. She didn’t say much, really, except for the time she was on the phone. She was really worried about Max.”
“Who did she call?”
“Oh, the vet recommended she call the police and Animal Services to report the incident. Max was poisoned,” he says with sad, puppy-dog eyes.
“How’s Max doing?”
“It’s too soon to say. He�
�s resting. We’ll have to see how he does tomorrow,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I turn around to leave, then walk back to the counter and ask for a pen and paper. I quickly scribble my name and number on it. I slide the note over the counter toward the vet tech. Glancing at his name tag, I say, “Brian, right? Please call me if Jessica comes back. I’m worried about her.”
“You mean, she could be in danger?”
“Yeah,” I say. I can’t be sure how Jessica’s doing, but it’s a possibility and Brian may be more inclined to help if he believes Jessica’s in trouble. “Yeah, she could be, so this is really important, okay? Call me if you see her.”
“I will.” He looks at me with determination in his eyes as he takes the piece of paper I wrote on.
“Thanks.” I nod at him and I open the door. I like Brian. He seems like a good kid.
As I hop back onto my Harley Davidson and cruise the quiet streets of Ashbourne, I wonder where Jessica is. She has stopped replying to my text messages, and she has also been ignoring my phone calls. I must’ve left her at least five voice messages.
She must be furious at me. I don’t blame her. If she had come with me on that wild goose chase, Max may not be alive right now.
I was an idiot for insisting on going after Steve and Caine.
What can I say? I used to be in the Navy SEAL. I’m more comfortable going on the attack, rather than tending to the injured.
That’s not a very good excuse, though. I’m a civilian now—have been for quite a while—and I should unlearn my training and start thinking like normal people.
What would a normal person do when his girlfriend’s dog has been poisoned and she’s missing?
Call the police, I guess.
A part of me wants to go, fuck the police.
After the half-assed way they handled the anonymous letter, I don’t really want to deal with them anymore. They may have more resources than I do, but it doesn’t matter if they don’t do anything with those resources. I was sure I could accomplish more than them just because I put in more effort.
