by Darien Gee
It’s a thinly veiled insult. Yvonne can’t believe she’s hearing this.
“Given what’s happened, I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” he continues, as if he’s doing her some kind of favor. “I didn’t mean for it to get this complicated. I’m thinking we should end it now.”
“Don’t give yourself too much credit, Hugh,” Yvonne retorts. “I have a feeling thinking isn’t exactly high on your list of to-do items.”
He glares at her, abruptly letting go of the toolbox. The unexpected weight causes the handle to slip from Yvonne’s fingers, and the toolbox crashes onto the porch, bursting open and scattering wrenches and nuts and bolts everywhere. Hugh jumps back as a copper pipe cutter lands dangerously close to his bare feet.
“Hey!” he yells, as if she’d done it on purpose. For a second Yvonne almost wishes she had. Jerk.
She bends down and begins to gather everything, refusing to look at him. All dates should start this way, she thinks, with the arguments and disagreements. Forget the courtship and the butterflies—she’d rather see a person’s true colors up front. It would save everybody time and heartbreak.
Hugh doesn’t offer to help, just waits impatiently. When Yvonne finally snaps her toolbox closed, there’s the sound of a pickup truck coming up the road. Two men are sitting in the front, serious looks on their faces. Even from a distance Yvonne can see that the brothers do in fact share the same nose and chin as Hugh and his mother. “Oh look,” she says. “Company.”
“Just go,” Hugh says, squaring his shoulders as the pickup rolls to a stop. The men jump out, slamming their doors with an air of importance. They’re about the same height as Hugh, but brawnier. Their faces are set as they saunter up the walk. Joan Hill is standing on the other side of the window, phone in hand.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Yvonne says. She looks at her hands, which are spotted with small grease stains. “Just let me wipe my hands before I go. You won’t be needing this, will you? Thanks.”
And she yanks the towel from around Hugh’s waist as she heads down the walkway to her truck.
Connie comes down the stairs, silver bracelets running up and down her arm. Hannah is in the foyer, talking earnestly with Madeline.
Hannah again. Normally she’d be put out but at the moment Connie doesn’t mind. She just wants to get on her way.
“I have to go and get Serena from the vet,” she tells them. “I won’t be too long.” She checks herself in the mirror, rubs her lips together to make sure her lip gloss still looks good. She’s about to walk out the door when she sees that Madeline and Hannah are looking at her funny. “What’s up?”
“Well,” Madeline begins, casting a nervous look at Hannah. “It looks like all your goat found posters are gone. Someone must have decided to help you out and put them up around town. Hannah saw one at the pharmacy.”
“Clyde Thomas put it right up in the front window,” Hannah says. “You can’t miss it. And I heard people talking and laughing about it at the Pick and Save.” She quickly adds, “In a good way, I mean.”
Connie feels as if she’s been doused with cold water. “Oh,” she says. She looks to the empty spot where the flyers used to be.
“Sweetheart, it was probably going to happen sooner or later,” Madeline says, striding forward and putting an arm around Connie’s shoulder. “We have to find Serena’s owner. We’re not equipped to take care of a goat.”
Connie jerks her head up and down. “Yeah, I know.” But she feels like crying.
“Hannah and I can cover today, so why don’t you get Serena and maybe see if there have been any leads?”
“What if we can’t find her owner?” Connie asks. “Or her owner doesn’t want her?”
Madeline nods, the thought having crossed her mind as well. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “We won’t be able to keep Serena here, though. Walter Lassiter is going to file a formal complaint next week. Dolores told me this morning. She feels bad, but he has his mind made up. Apparently he’s been keeping notes and building a case against us, or against Serena at least. Even if it turns out we’re free to keep Serena, I’m not so sure she could stay here. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
On the way to the vet’s office, Connie tries to look at the bright side of things, but she can’t.
In all the years that Connie has been on her own, she’s never asked the question that she’s asking herself now. Why her? Why her and not someone else? Why was she the one who had to lose her parents, who had to go to foster homes, who had to work harder than anyone else for the same basic rights for life—food, shelter, freedom—while people all around her never thought twice about it? She’s never begrudged anyone but suddenly she resents everyone, even Madeline.
If Madeline loves Connie like she says she does, she wouldn’t be asking her to give Serena up, would she? She’d try to find a way. How is Serena all that much different than a dog? Like Eli says, there are dogs that are bigger than her.
The vet’s office is crowded when Connie finally walks in. There’s a boy with his turtle, a man with a Jack Russell terrier, and a woman with a cat in a carrier.
The receptionist, Della, frowns when she sees Connie. “Hmmph,” she says with a sniff. “I’ll let Dr. Ballard know you’re here.” She gets up from her chair and marches into one of the examination rooms.
Eli will understand what she’s going through. Connie knows her feelings for Serena don’t make sense to people like Madeline or Hannah or Walter Lassiter, but veterinary medicine is Eli’s field of choice. He knows animals, he loves animals, he’s even had goats. Just like Connie.
Eli sticks his head out of the room. She gives him a bright smile, anxious to see a friendly face, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Come on back, Connie.”
When Connie steps into the room, Eli is sitting on a stool, looking grim. Serena is nowhere to be seen. Connie feels a flash of apprehension.
“Where’s Serena?” she asks. “Is she okay?”
“Oh, she’s fine,” Eli says. “She’s in the back.” He holds up a piece of paper. “This showed up in the office this morning.”
It’s her flyer. Connie swallows. “I made those to see if I could find her owner. I found her wandering around in the park one morning.”
Eli doesn’t say anything, just waits.
“I was coming back from the farmer’s market and there she was, eating some grass by a tree,” Connie continues uneasily. “She followed me home.”
Eli looks at her. “Anything else?”
“She had, uh, a rope tied around her neck, but she had chewed through it.” Connie squirms, discomfited.
“A runaway goat?” Eli suggests wryly.
Why is he looking at her so suspiciously? “Yes,” Connie says. “Something like that. I mean, that’s what I assume.”
“But no one keeps goats in town,” Eli points out. “How did she end up in the park?”
Connie shrugs. “I don’t know. I found her there.”
“You’ve had her since early August?”
“Yes,” Connie says, then she frowns. “How did you know?”
Eli continues as if he hasn’t heard her. “Have you heard of Doherty Farms?”
It sounds familiar, but Connie shakes her head.
“It’s a working farm about forty minutes south of Avalon. They have a petting zoo that’s open to the public, and they do hayrides, birthday parties, that sort of thing. They’ve been around for ages. I used to go there as a kid.”
“That’s nice …” Connie begins, but Eli holds up his hand. He’s not finished.
“Apparently two months ago someone broke into the pens one night and took off with one of the Nubians. Broke some fencing in order to get her.” The look on his face is stern.
Connie stares back at him. “Are you saying that I stole her? From a farm? Why would I do that?”
Eli’s gaze is steady on her. “I don’t know. Did you take her, Connie?”
“No!” Connie c
an’t believe this. Who would steal a goat, for Pete’s sake? “I made up those signs, after all! Why would I have done that if I’d stolen her?” Her cheeks are hot with indignation.
Eli’s shoulders drop and he looks relieved. “That’s what I told Rayna. She’s pretty upset, though. Serena’s pregnant, you see, and—”
Connie gasps. “Pregnant?”
“She was six weeks when she was taken, so she still has a ways to go—the normal gestation period for a goat is about one hundred fifty days. Still, Rayna was worried.”
“Is she sure Serena is her goat?” Connie asks. “I mean, this is Illinois and there are lots of farms outside of Avalon.”
“Rayna chips all her animals,” Eli says. “So I checked. Found it right by her tailbone, in the tail web. It’s Rayna’s goat, all right. She goes by the name Daffodil.”
“Daffodil?” Connie makes a face. She can’t picture Serena as a Daffodil.
Eli laughs. “I like Serena better, too.”
“So is she okay? Was there anything wrong?”
Eli shakes his head. “No, I think she was just homesick. Goats are herd animals, they’re sociable. They need to be around other goats.”
Connie feels guilty. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been hearing. So she was lonely.”
He nods. Then he adds, “But she checked out fine otherwise. Pregnancy is fine, too. But listen, Connie, you may be in a bit of trouble.”
Connie feels herself getting anxious again. “Why? I didn’t take her.”
“I know, but the fact of the matter is that Serena was taken and right now you’re the only person who knows anything about it. Can anyone verify your story?”
“Yes,” Connie says, nodding vigorously. “My employer, Madeline Davis. She was there when I brought Serena home. And she knows I never go anywhere. She’ll be able to verify that I was home the night before.”
“Just tell that to the police officer and I’m sure they’ll get it straightened out,” Eli says, standing up.
“The police?”
At that moment Della opens the door and points an accusing finger at Connie. “There she is, Officer.”
Officer Joey Daniels steps into the office, followed by a woman wearing jeans and a pale pink button-up shirt, boots. Her gray hair is pulled back in a bun. Her cheeks are sun-chapped. She takes in Connie’s all-black attire, her spiky hair.
“I want to press charges,” she says in a faint voice.
“But I didn’t take her!” Connie protests. “I found her. I’m the one who made up the signs!”
“You had her for almost eight weeks!” the woman cries. “Nobody saw these signs until today! You only brought her in because you thought she was sick. Fun’s over, huh?”
Connie looks at Eli in disbelief. “You believe me, right?”
“Rayna, let’s calm down,” Eli says. “Everyone’s worked up and I do believe Connie. She has no reason to lie about this. I think she’s sincerely concerned about Serena’s—I mean Daffodil’s—welfare.”
“I don’t care,” Rayna says. “I have been worried sick about Daffodil, and to think that something might have happened to her …” She shakes her head.
“I’m going to have to ask you some questions, Connie,” Officer Daniels says. “And there was some property damage to the Dohertys’ farm. Can you come down to the station?”
Connie nods, numb. She’s never been in any kind of trouble, even when she was in all those foster homes. “Can I at least see Serena before I go?”
“No!” Rayna is livid. “I don’t want you near her, ever.” She turns to Officer Daniels. “I want to file a restraining order against this woman.”
“Mrs. Doherty, let me talk to her first,” Officer Daniels says. “This may be a big misunderstanding.”
“Yes,” says Eli.
“Doubtful,” sniffs Della.
“Let’s go, Connie.” Officer Daniels nods to the door. “We’ll sort this out at the police station.”
“May I take Daffodil now?” Rayna asks Eli.
He hesitates, glancing at Connie, then nods. “You can bring your truck round back,” he tells Rayna.
Connie follows Officer Daniels out the door and through the busy waiting area. Animals and humans alike turn to look at her, their faces curious. Officer Daniel’s squad car is out front, and everyone up and down the street is watching them.
“Do I go with you or follow in my car?” Connie asks in a small voice.
Officer Daniels turns to Connie. “You’re not under arrest,” he says. “But don’t take any detours, okay?”
Connie’s hands are shaking as she fumbles for her keys. Officer Daniels flips on the lights to the squad car. The siren blares as she follows him to the police station.
Chapter Fifteen
Ava sits on the hard bench, her face twisted with worry.
“I have to pick up my son from preschool,” she tries to tell a passing officer, but the officer keeps walking.
“Excuse me,” she calls to another officer but the officer shakes his head.
Ava glances anxiously at the clock. There’s a scuffle as the double doors burst open and a pretty blond woman is escorted in, her hands also in cuffs, a triumphant look on her face. After a second Ava recognizes her as Yvonne, Isabel’s friend, the woman she met at the scrapbooking meeting.
The officer seats Yvonne next to Ava on the booking bench with a stern reprimand. Yvonne looks at Ava in surprise, notes the cuffs around Ava’s wrists as well. “Oh, hey,” Yvonne says. “Ava, right?”
Ava nods. “What are you in for?”
“Disturbing the peace. You?”
“Destruction of property.”
Yvonne nods. They watch as two officers confer between the desks, glancing at the two women.
The doors swing open again and Madeline bursts through, a worried look on her face. “Sergeant Overby!” she calls out, and then stops when she sees the women sitting on the booking bench. “What in the world?”
Ava and Yvonne offer guilty smiles. “Hi, Madeline,” they say.
“Goodness, what are the two of you doing here?” she asks, when Sergeant Robert Overby emerges from a room in the back of the small station.
“Are you here about Connie?” he asks Madeline.
Madeline nods. “Where is she?”
Sergeant Overby comes over. “She’s in the debriefing room—she’ll be done soon. What do you know about that goat of hers? She said you were there when she brought her home.”
“Yes,” Madeline says. “She’d gone to the farmer’s market and found her there.”
“Did she say what her intentions were? Apparently some flyers went up today, but why did it take her so long before notifying anybody about the goat’s whereabouts?”
Madeline knits her brows. “Is Connie in some kind of trouble?” she asks.
Sergeant Overby looks grim. “She’s in some kind of trouble, all right. She’s been accused of theft—goat-napping, to be precise.”
“But that’s ridiculous!” Madeline exclaims. She’s about to push past Sergeant Overby when he holds up his hands and shakes his head.
“I’m afraid not, Madeline. Rayna Doherty is pressing charges. Someone broke into the petting zoo about eight weeks ago. There were skid marks everywhere—a busted fence and trough—and they took off with one of Rayna’s goats. This one was pregnant, too. Did it in the middle of the night, scared everyone.”
“I can assure you that Connie would never do such a thing,” Madeline says vehemently.
“Can you vouch for her whereabouts the night before?”
“Of course.” Madeline casts an anxious look at Ava and Yvonne. “She was home, with me.”
“Are you a light sleeper?”
Madeline stiffens. “Average, I’d say. Bumps in the night wake me up.”
Sergeant Overby nods. “Early to bed?” he asks.
Madeline’s face is a blank.
Sergeant Overby sighs. “No offense, Madeline, but this happened
just after midnight. Connie could have easily slipped out, gone to the Dohertys’ farm, stashed the goat, then brought her around in the morning. You wouldn’t be any the wiser.”
“If there were skid marks everywhere, couldn’t you match the tire tracks with Connie’s car?” Yvonne asks. Everyone turns to look at her in surprise. “That would resolve it once and for all, wouldn’t it?”
“This is Avalon, Ms. Tate. We don’t plaster tracks unless foul play is suspected.”
“You didn’t suspect it then but you suspect it now?” Ava asks. She looks at Yvonne for support. “I mean, tire tracks and a broken fence sound like foul play to me.”
Yvonne and Madeline are nodding while Sergeant Overby looks flummoxed.
“So if there’s no way to match up the tire treads,” Yvonne continues, considering this aloud. “What about checking her car for any damage? Even if she had it fixed up you’d be able to tell, right?”
“Yes!” Madeline says. “Her car is right there on the curb and I know it hasn’t been in any sort of incident, ever. Connie is a very conscientious driver.”
Connie emerges from the debriefing room looking shaken. Officer Juanita Tripp is behind her. When Connie sees Madeline she rushes forward.
“They didn’t even let me say goodbye!” she cries as Madeline puts her arms around her. “They think I stole her!”
“Connie, we’re going to inspect your car now,” Sergeant Overby says. Connie sniffs and nods. They watch as Officer Tripp goes outside.
Sergeant Overby looks at Ava and Yvonne with a shake of his head. “Please tell me you weren’t planning on booking these women,” he says to Officer Daniels with a sigh. “Get those cuffs off of them, for Pete’s sake.”
Officer Daniels looks up with a frown. “Sergeant, Ms. Catalina dumped a trash bag full of diningware into a convertible sports car without provocation,” he reports. “Pots, pans, plates, bowls, glassware, forks, spoons, and knives.” He lingers on the last word, eyebrows raised knowingly.
