by Muth, Becky
Kurt watched the man retreat, noticing the mascot for the local community college on the back of the man’s sweater. Glancing at Winters, he raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question. Should we keep him here for questioning?
Winters shook his head in response.
Kurt nodded and imagined his partner saying, Phil is the reason why we’re out here. That other guy doesn’t matter. He’s just small potatoes.
Addressing the men in uniform, Phil asked, “What brings you out to my little corner of the world?”
“Report of suspicious activity. You doing anything that we might think was suspicious?” Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and stared Phil down.
Phil spread his hands to either side and gasped. “You think I would do anything suspicious? Come on. I've got no reason to do anything illegal. Everything’s coming up roses here on easy street.” The man took a step back and a clear plastic bag fell out of his jacket pocket. He started to run, but Winters was quick on his toes and charged forward, as if he was a bull heading at a red flag. Phil’s body slammed against the dumpster with a dull thud. “You’re right. You’re making this real easy for us today.”
Kurt walked over and pulled a multi-tool knife from the pocket of his jeans. Accessing the knife’s tweezers, he used them to avoid getting his fingerprints on the bag as he picked it up by the top corner. “Hey, Snowball, this probably isn’t snow, right?”
Winters chuckled. “You got that right.”
“Gee, what do you think this is?” Kurt feigned innocence, watching Phil squirm.
“I think it’s called a parole violation, K.C.” Winters tightened his grip on the suspect’s arm and warned, “Good thing we brought handcuffs, Phil, because you're getting a free ride to the precinct.”
“You c-can’t prove that’s mine!” Phil stammered and tried to spit in Winters’ direction, but the clear fluid dribbled down his chin instead.
“Idiot,” Winters laughed. “Actually, we can. Possession is nine tenths of the law and you definitely had this in your possession. But if you play nice, I might turn on the siren as we ride through town.” He removed the handcuffs from his belt and twirled them on his finger.
Leaning in close, Kurt wrinkled his nose and sniffed. “Dude, for what it’s worth, you might want to clean up your little corner of the world. It smells like an old urinal cake.”
Phil doubled over in laughter, much to Kurt’s amusement. The hilarity ended when Phil stood and thrust out his arm, his fingers wrapped around the handle of a six-inch blade.
Chapter Seven
Peyton held out a plastic wrapper and gave Gilda several minutes to absorb the scent of its contents. Once the dog began dancing from paw to paw, Peyton pulled her phone from her pocket and pulled up the camera app. Gilda wiggled in place until Peyton hit the button to record and commanded, “Go find.”
The golden retriever’s ears perked up and she zigzagged across the fenced backyard until her nose caught the familiar whiff. Racing back to Peyton, the golden retriever barked and danced a few steps as if to say, Come on! This way! before sitting and waiting for her next command.
“That’s a good girl. Show me.” Peyton smiled as she followed her golden retriever to the hiding place, a fountain on the far side of the yard.
When Peyton reached the fountain, she pulled out the canine treat from beneath the sparkling water. Resembling a long, narrow stick, the rawhide was a little slimy, but Gilda didn’t mind, grabbing hold of the offered reward at once.
Peyton tapped an icon on the phone and the camera flipped to the front view to face herself.
“Hi all, Gilda’s trainer Peyton here. Today we officially begin Gilda’s water training. I made it really easy for her today, but this clip is just a sneak peek at things to come. Until next time, peace, love, and woof!” She tapped the red circle on the bottom of the screen to end the video.
Gilda barked from across the yard and Peyton replied, “Hold on. Let me post this to Reel Life. Your followers haven’t heard from you in days.”
Gilda held the rawhide in her mouth, shook her head, and released the treat mid-shake, sending it flying in the direction of her human. Peyton laughed. She finished updating Gilda’s account on the Reel Life app and returned her phone to her pocket.
“You’re right. I can reply to your followers later.” She grabbed the treat and threw it overhand toward the dog, who caught it in her mouth. Peyton gave chase, following the dog around the yard. Gilda ran ahead, stopped to look over her shoulder, and then sprinted in a different direction.
“Okay. Porch time. Get on up there.” Peyton followed her dog to the back porch where she sank into an Adirondack-style chair while Gilda took her treat to her pillow, falling into the thick cushion with a deep sigh of contentment.
Peyton pulled her phone back out from her pocket and saw she had missed a call from Owen. She called him back, but it went straight to his voicemail. She tried calling him two more times and ended up leaving a brief message. “You called me, now I’ve called you back. Tag! You’re it. Call me when you get a chance.” She pressed the button to end the call.
“That’s weird, Gilda. Your uncle always answers his phone. That thing stays glued to his hip.”
Between the work for her day job and being immersed in researching the available options for training Gilda in aquatic environments, the rest of the world faded into the background. The day after their trip to the state park, Peyton had sent her brother a text message and left him a voicemail, but both went unanswered. It was weird for him not to leave a voicemail. The more Peyton dwelled on it, the more concerned she became.
Something slimy drew across her ankle. She looked down to see that Gilda had crept over to nudge her with the drool-coated rawhide.
“Ew, Gilda. That’s not very ladylike.”
The golden retriever dropped the treat into Peyton’s lap and woofed in response, punctuating the sound with a joyful smile.
Peyton picked the treat up with two fingers and pretended not to know what her dog wanted. “You want me to throw the stick? Is that it? You’re telling me I should throw this slobber-covered stick all the way over there? Okay, here goes.” Firming up her grip, she drew back her arm and launched the treat to the far end of the yard. The dog gave chase, her golden fur bouncing as she bounded across the grass.
Watching her dog’s antics, Peyton found herself sinking deeper into the chair’s lush cushions. The warm mid-morning sun and the sound of the neighbor’s sprinklers clicking into motion, adding to the relaxing ambiance of the backyard.
* * *
Peyton woke up in the lawn chair to see Gilda chasing a butterfly through the backyard. Her hands were on her phone as she blinked away the sleep from her eyelashes. The home screen, free of notifications, stared back at her, showing that it was early afternoon. No word from her brother. Gilda ran to her side and Peyton used her free hand to pat the dog’s head.
“What are we going to do, girl?”
By way of response, the dog snuggled closer and licked Peyton’s fingers.
“You’re right. We can’t lay in the backyard all day, and I’m hungry.” She sat up and stretched her arms over her head before lowering them to her sides. “What we should do is go for a run, but tourists are probably swarming the beach. And the last thing we want is to run into that ungrateful surfer again. Let’s go to the cliff walk instead. How does that sound?”
Gilda barked twice, sealing the decision.
Ten minutes later, Peyton was in the living room tying the laces on her sneakers when her phone blared the song How Much Is That Doggy in the Window. She grabbed the device from the coffee table and swiped her finger across the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Hey there, Peyton. It’s Carla, Owen’s teaching assistant. Is he with you?”
“I’m sorry but he’s not here. Is there a problem?”
A short bit of silence filled the air before the teaching assistant replied. “He’s not been here all week. A
nd no answer at his home. I’m a bit worried, to be honest.”
Peyton felt as if someone dropped a boulder into her stomach. She sank to the couch and replied, “He hasn’t been in class at all?”
“That’s correct, and I need him to sign off on these term papers. The administration wants to release grades to the students, but I need his signature first.”
Peyton forced a smile to cover her jangling nerves. “I’m sure he’s just busy. When I saw him over the weekend, he mentoined working on stuff for a grant.”
“What grant?”
“Uh, he didn’t say exactly.”
Carla snorted. “He got passed over for that grant. I’m not sure who got it, but it wasn’t anyone at this college. He and Professor Mason were fairly upset about it.”
“Oh.” Peyton’s mind drifted for a moment, but the other woman’s voice brought her back. “Sorry, what was that?”
“Would you have time to go by his house? See if he’s there? I’d go except I need to be here to teach his class.”
“It's okay. Gilda and I can go over there now.”
* * *
On the ten-minute drive to Owen’s house, Peyton tried to keep her mind off the horrible things that may or may not have happened to her brother. From slipping and cracking his head open to dropping his electric shaver in the bathtub.
“I know you miss him, Gilda. The last time he did this, Belle missed him so much.” Peyton glanced at the dog, who gazed back in earnest. “But then he came back, which was such a relief. I mean, Belle was relieved. It doesn’t even matter though, because he probably forgot to charge his phone, right?” The simplest and less dramatic reasons are typically the right ones.
Gilda’s jovial bark calmed Peyton’s nerves but only until she pulled into Owen’s driveway and saw that the front door stood ajar. Peyton left her car’s engine running with the air conditioner on for Gilda and walked up to the entrance of her brother’s brick rambler. She didn’t make it to the door before seeing the jamb near the doorknob was splintered.
Someone broke into Owen’s house? What if he’s in there? Peyton rushed back to her car and slid behind the passenger seat. She pulled her door shut and pushed the button to lock all the doors in the same motion. Locating her phone in her purse, she dialed 9-1-1 and waited for the dispatcher to reply.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone broke into my brother’s home and he’s missing.”
“Are you there now?”
“Yes, but I’m not in the home. I ran back to my car and locked my doors.”
“Good. Please stay in your car and keep the doors locked. Is anyone else with you?”
Peyton and the dispatcher went back and forth for nearly fifteen minutes. No, she didn’t know who broke in. No, she didn’t see anyone—at all. No, she didn’t know where her brother would have gone. Impatience had begun creeping into Peyton’s voice when an unmarked car with two police officers in dark blue uniforms arrived.
“The police are here. Thank you. Do you need anything else from me?” Peyton’s aggravation subsided when she realized that the dispatcher was most likely keeping her on the line until they arrived.
“No ma’am. Thank you for the information and good luck with your brother.”
Peyton ended the call and exited the car. Before shutting the door, she glanced at Gilda and commanded, “Wait here, girl. I’ll be back soon.”
The two officers introduced themselves as Detectives Jones and Lopez.
Peyton repeated the same information she gave the dispatcher moments before. “And that’s when I dialed 9-1-1.”
“You did the right thing,” Jones confirmed. She gave Peyton a reassuring smile. “If you don’t mind, please return to your vehicle while we make a quick check of the premises.”
The other officer, Lopez, nodded toward Peyton’s car. He asked, “Is your dog okay in there?”
“She’s fine. I have the air on and the window cracked.”
Lopez pursed his lips before following Jones into Owen’s house.
Peyton returned to her car and stared at the front door, imagining Owen standing there. She’d have told him that Lopez’s head bobbled similar to the golden retriever bobblehead figurine she gave him for his last birthday. A thought struck her. What if Owen isn’t here for his next birthday? Please, God, let him be here for many more birthdays to come.
On her car’s digital clock, the minutes crept past. Peyton’s mind raced with one nightmare scenario after another until the pair emerged through the front door. She exhaled slowly and prepared to brace herself for whatever was responsible for their matching grim expressions.
The one called Jones approached her car and she pressed the button to lower the driver’s side window. “Was he home? Did you find him?”
“Ma’am? It appears no one is currently inside the house, but we’re going to need you to step inside to confirm something for us.”
“Is it okay if I bring my dog?”
Jones shook her head and beckoned with two fingers. "Best to leave her there, where it's safe."
Peyton left the engine running and exited the car without Gilda. Why wouldn't it be safe, she thought as she met the detective at the front door.
“Brace yourself,” Jones warned, but nothing could have prepared Peyton for what she saw.
Chapter Eight
“Hey, hey now. Put that away before your hurt yourself, Phil.” Winters held up both hands as if his palms could shield him from potential danger.
Kurt took a step back and shook his head. “You don’t want to do anything stupid, Phil.”
“Did you call me stupid?” Phil waved the knife at Kurt and swore.
“What? No! I said not to do anything stupid.” Kurt ducked and sidestepped when the suspect lunged forward. “And that’s a good example of doing something stupid. Drop the knife, now!”
“Do what he says, Phil.” Winters drew his gun and took aim. “K.C., if you duck I have a clear shot.”
“Not today you don't!” Phil screamed and twisted his body around, the momentum allowing him to swing his arm in a wide arc toward Kurt.
Although Kurt was quick on his feet, the suspect had the advantage of height and the blade came down through the officer’s forearm. Staring at the blade sticking from his arm, Kurt saw blood oozing from the wound and dripping onto the pavement.
Blood blossomed across the sleeve of his white shirt. He started to grab for the radio on his shoulder, but dark spots in his field of vision created a dense fog that soon overtook his senses. The last thing he heard before his world faded to black was Winters’s voice screaming, “Repeat. Officer down! I need backup and a bus here five minutes ago!”
* * *
Several hours later, Kurt held his left arm close to his body, the sling immobilizing his splinted wrist. He followed Winters up the steps to the front doors of the police station. When his partner held the door open, before entering the station, Kurt paused. “Hey, thanks again for everything. I never would’ve guessed when the day started that I would have wound up in the emergency room of Gold Coast General Hospital.”
“No prob. I’m just glad you’re okay. Never would’ve taken you to be the kind of guy who passes out at the sight of blood, though.”
“Can we agree to never speak of that again?”
Winters chuckled. “Too late. One of the bystanders put the video on Reel Life. Now you’re doubly famous.”
Could things get any worse? Kurt thought with a groan. Stepping into the station proved that they could indeed. The desk clerk held up one finger and exclaimed, “Don't look, K.C.! I got a paper cut! We don't need you passing out on the job!”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny. You didn’t tell me you got a second job as a comedian.”
“Hey, the important thing is that we got the collar,” Winters retorted, defending his partner. “And Phil the Pill is going away for a long time.”
“Like it took brains to find something t
o charge that idiot with.” The clerk snickered. “We should put in a revolving door for those types of perps.”
The Sergeant chose that time to step into the lobby from the staff lounge. He pointed at Kurt and Winters and ordered, “My office. Both of you. Now.”
Ignoring the desk clerk’s follow-up comment, Kurt led the way into his father’s office and stood halfway between the desk and the door, Winters at his side. His vision strayed to the number of plaques, certificates, and other commendations covering the walls—anywhere to avoid looking at his father.
“Close the door, Snowballs.”
Kurt sensed rather than saw his partner wince at the mishandling of the nickname. The moment the door closed, Sergeant Collins barked, “Do you nitwits have any idea what could have happened out there today?”
Winters began, “Sir, with all due respect-”
“Respect? Young man, if you truly have any respect for the Redwood Cove Police Department, you will not interrupt me again,” the Sergeant ordered with an icy stare. Looking at Kurt, he continued, “You’re out there to do a job, and that job is to protect our community. Nowhere in your training did it tell you to engage in a battle of wits with a nitwit like Phil the Pill.”
Kurt frowned. How would he have known anything I said to Phil?
“Did you forget about the dash cam footage?” His father asked.
Ugh. I totally forgot about the dash cam footage. Kurt’s shoulders slumped.
Sergeant Collins continued. “I figured as much. You’ve been getting more and more reckless. Even before that dog dragged you out of the water, you’ve been taking little risks. Maybe you getting hurt was a blessing.” He shoved a paper across this desk. “I’ve signed off on your report about what happened. Now both of you need to sign and date it.”
Kurt motioned for Winters to sign first. After his partner finished, he added his name and grinned. “It’s a good thing I’m right-handed. That’ll probably be useful when I’m on desk duty, right?”
