“This is Alaska,” she said to Finn. She allowed herself a proud smile.
Finn knelt down and looked into the dog’s eyes, scratching him behind the ears. Then he stood, ignoring the white fur coating his faded Levi’s. Alaska leaned against his legs. “I’ll take you out in just a minute, buddy,” he said.
He turned to Kate. “I always like to take them out on their own the first time, so we get used to each other before I introduce him to all the other dogs. Where’s his leash?”
“Right here.” She passed it to him, already feeling reassured by this man. He seemed to know instinctively how to handle dogs. She’d quizzed him on the phone about his dog-handling experience and his program, feeling slightly ridiculous about how much reassurance she needed that Alaska would be in good hands.
Finn took the husky out the door. The dog obediently trotted by his side. They walked down the block, around the corner. He had a relaxed but purposeful stride. Alaska obviously had warmed to him. She had, too. Ten minutes later, he was back. She watched them come inside. How in the world had he gotten Alaska so completely under his thumb in ten minutes? “You’re going to have to show me how to do that,” she said with a rueful smile. “He pulls me like a sleigh.”
“You have to let him know who’s the lead dog,” Finn said. “It’s all in the body language. Look at my shoulders. See how relaxed I am?”
Did he realize she’d been looking at his shoulders since he’d gotten out of his car? A flush heated her chest. His shoulders were broad, solid, well developed under his white T-shirt.
Like Randall Barrett’s.
Shit. She was really losing it. There was no question. First Ethan, then Randall, and now one look at Finn and she was suffused with a desire to feel the hard body of a man.
She looked away. “Yes. I can see that.”
He removed Alaska’s leash. “Go get some water, boy.”
The dog went into the kitchen.
“You’ve got a very special dog there,” Finn said.
She smiled, bemused at the effect the dog walker had on Alaska. And on her.
She was being pathetic. You’re just feeling weak and vulnerable, that’s all. The events of the past week had made her doubt everything she’d ever done that was good in her life and forced her to remember everything she regretted.
She’d never felt lonelier.
“I’m so glad you could come tonight.” Then realized how that could sound. She rushed on, “It’s really important to me that Alaska gets some company during the day. I’m at work until at least six…”
Finn responded with an easy smile. The smile prodded her memory again. She could feel it coming into focus. Wait…it was there…teasing her mind…
The funeral.
He looked like the man who’d walked in with her at the funeral. He’d tried to help her when she made her embarrassingly hurried exit, but Ethan had cut him off.
She studied him. He was wearing jeans and a V-necked pullover but in a suit…?
“You look really familiar to me,” she said, then felt a small burn in her cheeks. She was sure he got it from all his single female clients. She didn’t want him to think she was just like all the others.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. They were blue-green. Nice eyes. “Hmmm…you look familiar, too.”
Did he mean it or was he just playing along? She made her tone businesslike. “Were you at Lisa MacAdam’s funeral on Saturday?”
He started. “Yeah. Were you?”
“Yes.”
“It was really awful what happened to her.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Lisa was a nice kid,” he added softly.
It was her turn to be surprised. “You knew her?”
“One of my clients lived on the same floor as she did. She used to come over and visit the dog. She loved dogs.” A light flush tinged his tanned face.
Kate noted it, puzzled. Then she realized why he’d reacted the way he did. It wasn’t just dogs that the fifteen-year-old girl had loved. She’d had a crush on the dog walker. It was only natural, given his rugged blond looks, his way with animals. Probably happened to Finn all the time.
“Did you spend a lot of time with her?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “We were friends. She was a nice kid underneath it all.”
“Underneath what?” She suddenly needed to know what this dead girl had been like. What had driven her to that street corner.
He seemed to understand that. “Underneath the tough skin. You know, the dyed hair, the makeup.” His eyes were haunted. “She tried so hard to be like the other girls, you know, flirting and stuff, but really she was still a kid. She had this tattoo…”
“A tattoo?” That didn’t sound very kidlike.
“It was a dog. One she’d met when she was eight, she told me. She’d loved this dog, wanted one so badly. But her mother wouldn’t let her get one.” He looked away. “It was cruel. I would have taken it for walks for free…” His gaze swung back to Kate. “She was just a kid, you know?”
“I know,” Kate said softly. A kid who never had a chance to be a kid.
Sadness settled between them, drawing them together with the unnatural intimacy of the grief stricken.
“You know what really gets me,” he said suddenly, “was seeing her grandmother put her stuffed dog in the coffin. I’ll never forget that.”
That ragged, dingy dog with one ear. Kate had tried to block the memory. The toy dog had somehow settled itself into the hollow of the dead girl’s neck. Her protector.
Kate blinked away tears. What was happening to her? She was about to fall apart in front of a man she had just met. She flashed him a quick glance. He didn’t look in such great shape himself.
She cleared her throat. “I wanted to thank you, you know, for stepping out to help me at the end of the service…” She trailed off. There was no mistaking the bafflement in Finn’s eyes. “It wasn’t you?”
“No.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
Kate’s mind raced. He looked so familiar. Then again, if you lived in Halifax long enough, half the faces you saw were familiar.
Finn turned to the door. The strange mood was broken. He said with forced briskness, “I’ll pick up Alaska at ten a.m. tomorrow and then again at three-thirty.”
“Great. I wish I could be home by five, but with my job…”
He smiled, a slow, reassuring smile that eased Kate’s guilt. “Don’t feel bad. The dogs enjoy the companionship.”
“Oh. I almost forgot.” She picked up a spare key that she’d left on the hall table and gave it to him. “The lock is very old, so you need to jiggle it a bit…”
“No problem.” He put the key on a ring with about ten others. Kate noticed he had a leather thong wrapped twice around his wrist. It was worn and rugged, sexy against his strong forearm. “Most of my clients live in the south end, and most have old locks. I’m used to them.” He gave Alaska one final scratch. “See you tomorrow, boy.”
“If you have any problems, here’s my work number.” She handed him her card. The embossed letters glimmered in the hall light. “And I’ll leave a check for you under the plant.” She gestured to a geranium that sat on the hall table. It was wilting and needed to be deadheaded. He must think she was incapable of caring for any living thing. And then she wondered why she cared what he thought of her.
He tucked her card in his pocket. “I doubt Alaska will give me any trouble.” He held out his hand. “It was nice meeting you.”
She shook his hand. His fingers were warm and strong around hers. Before her imagination could taunt her with any more images of a man’s hard body comforting hers, she pulled her hand away and held open the door.
She watched him walk toward his truck. He had a cute butt. He had a cute everything. And he loved dogs.
She closed the door. You are so screwed up. Wasn’t it bad enough that you almost threw yourself at your boss? That you almost let Ethan kiss you? Wasn’t that humiliating enoug
h? Now you’re eyeing the dog walker?
But Finn was different. He wasn’t dangerous in the way that Ethan or Randall were. He didn’t threaten the fragile sutures of her lacerated heart.
She leaned against the door. It didn’t matter that Finn was too young for her. Or that she hired him to look after her dog. He had made her feel like she was a woman who was desirable. Physically and emotionally.
She hadn’t felt that way in months.
She fed Alaska and boiled an egg for herself. Half an hour later, she emptied her briefcase onto her kitchen table and got to work. It was time to do what she’d been hired to do.
At 12:08 a.m. she pushed her chair back and stood, stretching. Satisfaction spread through her as she tidied the papers littered on the table. The cases looked promising. Good enough to give TransTissue a solid defense.
Alaska watched her from his vantage point by the kitchen door. His tail thumped encouragingly. He wanted to go to bed and was waiting for her to say the word.
“Okay, boy, time for bed.” He pushed himself to his feet and lumbered down the hall.
She followed him, switching off lights. She had lived in the house for more than three months and still wasn’t used to the noises. Late at night was the worst. Long shadows cloaked the corners of the hall. As she walked toward her bedroom, floorboards creaked, their moans sounding strangely human to her ears.
Ever since the intruder had been in her garden ten days ago, the noises had bothered her. Even Alaska seemed on edge, getting up at night to prowl the house. No wonder she was always tired.
She switched on the overhead light in her room. The light didn’t break through the shadow in the corners, despite the pale blue walls and white trim. Kate had thought the blue would look fresh and modern. Now she regretted her color choice. The room was so cavernous, the cool shade made it look even colder and barren. Her wicker bedroom furniture appeared meager and sticklike under the ten-foot ceilings. Only when she’d snuggled down under the covers did she feel warm.
It was going to be difficult to get out of her bed at 6:00 a.m. for her run. She had stayed up too late and tomorrow she would pay the price.
Alaska was performing his nightly circles on his bed when she crawled under the sheets. Within seconds, she fell asleep.
The howl cut through her dream.
24
Tuesday, May 8, 2:00 a.m.
Her mind hovered between consciousness and sleep.
The second howl brought her straight out of bed.
“Alaska!”
She grabbed her robe and ran down the stairs, shrugging it over her pj’s.
Alaska howled again. He was in the kitchen.
Goose bumps shivered down Kate’s arms. She had only heard Alaska howl once before. That time he had been outside the kitchen door.
She ran into the kitchen. Alaska had scrambled onto the counter and was frantically pawing the window. Kate followed his gaze.
Someone was in the backyard.
She could just make out the hooded form, bent over the ragged garden in the back. The intruder was digging.
Fear prickled along her neck.
Was this Lisa MacAdam’s and Krissie Burns’s killer?
She needed to call the police.
“Be quiet, Alaska,” she hissed. She wanted the intruder caught this time. So far, it seemed that he hadn’t heard Alaska’s unearthly howling.
She pulled the husky off the counter. A movement caught her eye.
Someone walked through the garden gate. It was a woman. Elderly, her back stooped, her white hair glowed in an unearthly halo around her head. She walked slowly, but purposefully, across Kate’s yard.
What was this woman doing? Couldn’t she see there was a killer fifty feet away from her?
The lady walked right by the kitchen porch.
Kate grabbed the mop and threw open the bolt on the kitchen door. She ran onto the porch, wincing as her toe struck an uneven board.
“Jesus!”
The elderly lady stopped in her tracks and shot her a shocked glance.
“Watch out!” Kate leaped down the stairs, holding the mop out in front of her. “There’s someone in my garden!” She gestured over her shoulder. “Quick! Come into the house. I’m going to call the police.”
As she spoke, she had the sensation she was still in the kitchen, watching a wild version of herself waving a mop and ranting. The elderly lady appeared completely unaffected by Kate’s panic.
Kate glanced over her shoulder. The killer remained by the garden. Unmoving.
She slowly lowered the mop. Alaska stood by her knees, his ears pricked defensively, a low growl building in his throat.
“My dear, I am very sorry to disturb you,” the elderly lady said. She glanced nervously at Alaska. “And I am sorry if my sister frightened you.”
“Your sister?” Kate echoed, stunned. That hooded shape in her garden was not a psychopathic killer, but an elderly lady?
The lady nodded. “Yes, that’s my sister.” Kate stared at the intruder. All she could see was her back. From the distance, and in the dark, she could have sworn it was a man, and a large one at that, under the hooded coat.
The lady continued, “We haven’t been introduced. My name is Enid Richardson. I live down the street with Muriel.”
Kate stared at her. The Richardson sisters. Here, in her yard. She hadn’t realized they were still living, let alone in the neighborhood.
Enid Richardson held out her hand. It was pale and translucent in the porch light, but there was a cordlike strength in the tendons. Kate shook it, praying that Enid Richardson wouldn’t remember her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Richardson. My name is Kate…Lange.”
“Kate Lange?” Enid Richardson’s gaze swept over her. Her eyes lingered on Kate’s face. Kate shrank into the worn folds of her bathrobe. “I thought the eyes were familiar.” Enid smiled. “I remember you now. What dear little girls you and your sist—” She stopped abruptly. Sympathy welled in her eyes.
“Yes. Well.” Kate looked desperately around her. Her gaze fell on the hooded figure of Muriel Richardson. She said quickly, “Why does your sister keep coming to my yard, Mrs. Richardson?”
“It’s Miss Richardson,” she said. “But please call me Enid.” She smiled, then looked at Muriel’s kneeling form. “My sister has Alzheimer’s. She used to play at this house as a child. Now she gravitates back to it.” She sighed. “The older I get, the more I see how the mind returns to its childhood. In the case of my sister, her mind is so confused she seeks comfort in simple things.” She gestured around her. “She likes to dig in the garden.”
Sensing that danger had passed, Alaska began sniffing the yard.
“Is your dog friendly?” Enid asked, stepping between Alaska and her sister. Kate quickly followed her to where Muriel Richardson knelt.
Alaska ignored them both. A patch of soggy leaves was proving to be of immense interest.
“Yes. He’s been good so far,” Kate said. She rubbed one foot over the other. The ground was freezing.
“Oh. Is he new?” Enid looked at him with renewed interest.
“I adopted him a few weeks ago.” Pride laced Kate’s voice. He was a beautiful, gentle giant. “His name is Alaska.”
“Did he live here with Margery Thompson?” Enid asked. “I think she had a dog that resembled him.”
Kate nodded. “Yes, he kept coming back to the house after she died, so I kept him.”
Enid pursed her lips. “I never understood why an old lady would get a young frisky dog like him. It didn’t seem fair.” She shrugged. “But I bet he was company.”
Kate smiled. “He is good company. He keeps me on my toes.” She thought of the shredded magazine she had found under the kitchen table this evening. “And he enjoys a good read.”
“Well, I’m sorry we interrupted your sleep, Kate.” Enid smiled apologetically. “We’ll be getting back to our beds.” She walked over to her sister and gently took her arm. “It’s
time to go home, Mil.” Muriel let Enid pull her to her feet. She was tall, surprisingly tall for an elderly lady. Enid looked small and frail next to her.
“Muriel, this is Kate Lange,” Enid said. Muriel didn’t look up. Her gaze was transfixed by a clump of wet earth she held in her hand. Very slowly, she mushed the icy soil between her fingers.
“Hello,” Kate said.
“I want a cup of dirt,” Muriel blurted loudly. She curled her fingers into her palm.
“Yes, dear.” Enid patted her arm. “I’ll make you some when I get home.” She led Muriel slowly toward the gate. “It was nice to meet you again, Kate.” She gave a little smile. “I am sorry we scared you.”
“No problem.” Kate smiled back. “I’m glad you found your sister.”
Enid paused at the gate. “I hope she doesn’t disturb your sleep again. I keep the doors locked, but sometimes Muriel remembers how to unlock them.”
“It’s okay.” Kate’s feet had turned numb. Six a.m. was getting closer and closer. “Nice to meet you.”
“Drop in for a cup of tea sometime, dear,” Enid said, leading Muriel out the gate.
“Thank you.” Kate watched the two ladies leave. The larger sister was being led carefully down the driveway. Despite their height differences, and the fact that Muriel’s mind was no longer whole, they walked in step, obviously used to being together and taking comfort from that fact.
Kate wondered if Imogen would have been taller than she. If they would have remained friends as they grew older. If they would have been companions in old age.
She turned and walked into her house. Her feet were like blocks of ice. She wished the numbness would extend to her heart. Because try as she might, she could never make the pain go away.
Tuesday, May 8, 1:00 p.m.
By lunch, Kate had eleven voice mails waiting to be heard. She’d been out of the office all morning, arguing a motion at family court. She briefed her client, grabbed a take-out salad and an Americano, and took it back to her office to eat. After a few sips of the espresso drink, her energy returned. She’d only gotten about four hours of sleep last night. When she opened the paper this morning, the headlines blared: Rain, Rain, Go Away, Say City’s Women. And in smaller print: Police Advise Women to Stay in on Wet Nights. The police warned that the killer was using the weather to his advantage. Fortunately, the forecast was good for the week. A welcome reprieve for both the police and the city’s soggy residents.
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