Too quickly, Michelle asked, “You’re looking for a dog like Laylea here?”
As the suit, whose name they still didn’t know, followed Michelle around the reception counter to see Laylea, Sher went on the offensive. She stepped in front of the dog to finally offer her hand. The suit automatically took Sher’s proffered palm even as she stared at Laylea. Sher encased the suit’s hand with hers, waiting for eye contact.
Not until the suit looked in her eyes did she speak. “Laylea can be very temperamental, Ms… Mrs… Miss? I’m sorry, what shall I call you?”
The suit was caught off guard, paying more attention to Laylea’s sudden growling than to her answer. “It’s Dr . . . Jones.”
Michelle trilled. “Like Indiana. I just love Harrison Ford.”
Sher didn’t stop shaking Dr. Jones’ hand. First names worked better but you used whatever self-identifier the subject gave. “Dr. Jones.” She waited again until Jones looked away from Laylea’s low insistent growling, which Sher considered an acceptable replacement for the deep white noise she would use in a formal conditioning. She lowered her own tone to match. “Dr. Jones. Laylea is not the dog you want. You want to go outside now.” She let go of the woman and changed her tone just slightly, turning her head away to look at the front door. She also put a hand down to silence Laylea. “It is such a beautiful day. We’ll see you when you’ve adopted a pet.”
The doctor looked a bit dazed. But she didn’t look at Laylea again. After a moment she followed Sher’s gaze and looked out the door.
Sher prompted. “Thank you.”
“Thank you both so much.” Dr. Jones’ fake smile snapped back into place. She started to reach out to Sher. Sher didn’t move. Dr. Jones seemed to think the better of it and she turned to rub Michelle’s shoulder instead. “Dr. Indiana Jones. Ha ha. I want to go outside…” she hesitated, uncertain, “and enjoy this beautiful day. It’s been very nice meeting you, Michelle.” This she said as her feet took her to the door. With one last smile that ignored Sher and Laylea, she left.
“Bye bye.” Michelle waved a bit as the bells jangled. When the door closed, she lowered the blinds. “I don’t think she’s going to fit in here at all.”
“Nah,” Sher took the magazines back to the bench where they belonged. “She’s just Big City. Foothills will do wonders for her.” And remembering that Foothills was a nice place, not at all like the other worlds she’d lived in, she decided to take a risk. “Michelle, Clark is away tonight and Bailey has band.” She faltered, for some reason uncomfortable at having given out that much personal information. “Shall we go out on the town?”
Michelle goggled. “I’m shocked. Woodford won’t mind?”
“He’ll deal. Would Jim mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll call and tell him he and Kenny can have breakfast for dinner cuz Mama’s got a girls’ night.” She sambaed over to the phone at reception.
Sher pulled Laylea’s leash off the hook on the wall. The sleepy girl stumbled over to her and Sher bent down. “Good instincts, Lee. Something about her irked me too.”
Laylea growled at her, showing her teeth. Then she jumped back and bowed, wagging her butt in air.
The ladies locked up the clinic and walked over to The Witch’s Tit for fine pub fare in the open air, never noticing the scruffy guy in jeans still watching them from behind a local paper.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Um, you only owe four eighty-seven, ma’am.” The pimply faced community college grad tried to hand Trask’s dime and pennies back.
“Yes. I’m giving you a five and twelve cents so that you can return to me a quarter.” Trask kept her hands firmly on the steering wheel. “I’m actually making your life easier.”
“Hold on.” The barista failed to attract someone’s attention inside the coffee shop. “I don’t know if I can take more than you owe.”
“The five dollar bill is more than I owe,” Trask pointed out.
“Uh.”
She shifted to park and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m happy to pay less than I owe.”
“I’m gonna have to get my manager.”
Trask glanced in her rear view mirror at the long line of cars behind her late model Prius. “Sure. You do that.”
The kid blinked. He took off his headset and walked away into the store.
“Trask, just take the pennies.” Walter’s voice issued from the aftermarket blue tooth speaker on her visor. “I will buy them from you with good paper money when I return.”
“No.” She ignored the honking SUV three cars back. “What’s going on? I was expecting you back last week. Have you moved back into your old offices?”
“No. It’s been a very interesting trip. Much more interesting than any other so far.”
Trask smiled at the conversation between the manager and drive-thru cashier. Another car joined the SUV in honking.
“Development of the four hundred series is behind schedule.” She flipped through a file open on the passenger seat beside her. “Your team is not being cooperative.”
“Use Steffan to spread a rumor about raises being dependent on interdepartmental review. She’s the fastest gossip you’ll find in your department. Extremely efficient. We might even see an increase in productivity across all divisions.” Walter’s voice got quiet as he turned to speak with someone on his end of the line. “Thank you, love. Keep the change. Did you hear that, Trask? I told her to keep the change. No math for her. No pennies for me.”
Trask sighed. “Yes, Walter.”
“Is three nine seven still in the field? I think I spotted him yesterday.”
“Three nine seven is dead.” Trask reached out the window to take her soy latte macchiato and a quarter from the barista. She sniffed the drink before securing it in the cup holder and shifting into drive. “Three nine seven A should be in the mountains.”
“Well, it could have been someone else. I’m not terribly adept with faces. I had planned to come home today but I may need to look more deeply into something strange.”
“Is it something I need to be concerned with?” Trask pulled out into the southbound lane despite the clearly posted no left sign.
“I don’t know, Trask, there’s something about Nicole . . . Dr. Jones. She started behaving oddly after the Foothills Vet visit. Thank you.” The call dropped quality as Walter left the hotel restaurant. A brisk wind buffeted his voice and filled the speaker with white noise. “I’m going to go back and check it out myself.”
“Was Jones wired?”
“No. Just one cup of coffee in the morning.”
“Walter.” Trask hit her steering wheel a few times. “Walter, was she wearing a camera or recording device of any kind?”
Walter chuckled quietly at his own oversight. “No.”
“Do you have any network equipment with you?”
“Yes. I can set a sync camera to monitor the front door. And I’ll wire myself up for the revisit.”
“Not too much coffee though.”
“You are amusing but I am a tea drinker, Trask.”
“I’ll keep that in mind come Boxing Day. Do try to remember you’re in the surveillance business now.”
“I am, as always, gratefully surprised by your brilliance, Trask.” A door clicked shut and the audio cleared. “After Steffan has started the rumor, take the red binder from my credenza and walk through the Therian labs. No need to make an excuse or talk to anyone. In fact it would be better if you didn’t talk to anyone. Just walk through.”
A rare smile crossed Trask’s lips. “My team is afraid of the blue clipboard.”
“Lovely. Are you on your way to meet with your friend now?”
“I am. I will pass along your suggestions. Please try to fix Dr. Jones before you return her, will you?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Ta.”
Trask let Walter cut the connection. She pulled a u-turn with no signal and cruised in the northbound lane, away from division headquarters.
/> The Director muted the sound but let the live feed run. Trask didn’t drink coffee. So what had that whole charade been about? Who was this friend she was visiting? He flipped his pen and used the stylus end to shoot Records a note to go through all of Trask’s car footage for the last month. The files in her portable file box didn’t appear to ever leave the car. He might need to suggest she have all current CF soldiers check in at base so that he could have his man do a physical check of the files. He made a note to find some excuse for a force-wide recon. The Board wouldn’t like it if they found out his researchers had secrets.
A swipe of his hand sent the Bio Research monitoring deck back into rotation and randomly arrayed the Southwest Wasteland Project feeds on his screens. The Director leaned back in his ridiculously comfortable chair and prepared to be bored.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Hillen household toed the line at spring cleaning time. Sher woke Clark at the crack of dawn to make banana oatmeal energy bars and start his would-be world famous chili. As in it would be famous if they weren’t hiding from the world. Breakfast and lunch would consist of bars eaten on the run. But if they accomplished everything on Sher’s list, they would feast in the evening on fresh made cornbread and WBWF chili.
If they didn’t finish all their chores, they’d pack chili up for Clark’s spring trip to the hermits. Twice the hermits had gotten WBWF chili. Twice the Hillens had gone to bed hungry. It wasn’t likely to happen again.
Most of the heavy lifting, painting, and repairs were done by lunch. Sher scheduled light chores around lunchtime that allowed for munching as you worked. Clark gathered and located appropriate homes for magazines, books, and papers while scanning the house for tech. Bailey followed behind. He dusted and scrubbed all the newly visible surfaces and everywhere else. Woodford defended them all from squirrels in the backyard, occasionally cleaning the sliding glass door with his nose. Laylea helped by licking the surfaces Bailey dusted. He said it was gross but he laughed every time so she kept helping.
Sher herself had a bucket filled with soapy water out on the front porch. She set it to the side and started by throwing all dog and boy toys into a box. She called the boys to clear the furniture onto the lawn while she swept the big dirt from the porch rug and hauled it over the railing. Done with the furniture, Bailey took the rug from his mother and shook it out onto the driveway while Clark tickled the breath out of Sher. Woodford and Laylea barked and tangled around their legs.
“Stop it! Everyone get back to work.”
“Nope. Son mandated moment of rest.”
Sher sighed. “If you insist.”
She dropped to the porch floor. One hand smacked the porch railing on her way down. Laylea leaped on top of the mom while Woodford tagged her hand. Clark dropped to join them followed by Bailey after he tossed the rug over the railing. Laylea bounded from one to the other, licking the giggles from their faces. Sher hugged Bailey and pulled him over to throw him onto Clark. As they wrestled, she sat up and rescued her hand from Woodford.
“Ow.”
Clark trapped Bailey beneath his legs and sat up. He took the hand and kissed the bruise raising on her pinkie and ring finger knuckles. Sher leaned against him.
“Ooh, sorry baby.”
Bailey blew a raspberry. “Walk it off.”
“I keep telling you not to listen to Thomas’ dad.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry mom. Here.” Bailey knelt up and took Sher’s hand from Clark. He looked at the bruise and then rubbed it lightly like he was brushing away dirt. When he was done, he gave it back to his dad. “There you go.”
Clark rubbed a thumb over the smooth skin where the bruise had been. He locked eyes with Sher.
“Parker. Davis.” Bailey scrambled to his feet. “When did you guys get here?”
“Hey Bailey.” Parker Rucker crossed the lawn to the foot of the stairs. “We just got in this morning. Wondering if you want to come throw a football around with us.”
Davis hopped up the stairs past his big brother.
“I would love to,” Bailey said evenly.
“But,” Sher prompted.
“My mom would kill me.”
Clark pulled himself to his feet using the railing. “Spring cleaning.”
“See ya!” Davis leapt from the third step and ran back to the OLR’s house.
Parker followed, laughing. “Yeah, bye Hillens!”
“Alright, you misfits, back to work.” Sher hustled the boys and Laylea into the house. Woodford trotted down the steps and chased a squirrel to the backyard.
Clark let Bailey go ahead. He took Sher’s hand. “He woogied—”
“We’ll talk later. He doesn’t know what he did.”
Clark nodded and headed inside. Sher stopped him. “But maybe you tell him to clean up the wine stain under the orange couch.”
“Ha! Can’t you do it?”
“I’m not good at things. I’m more of a people person.”
Clark leaned in. “A people witch.”
She kissed him, hard. “Shut up and get back to work.”
Clark went inside and upstairs. Sher shut the door firmly behind him to keep the dirt outside. She picked up a tennis racket from her stack of cleaning supplies and attacked the rug.
She worked up a good rhythm and a good sweat beating the rug. The work was like meditation and she was so focused she didn’t hear the man approach.
“Good Afternoon, Doctor.”
She jumped when she turned to find him standing at the top of the porch steps. “What?”
Clark, clearing old magazines from their bathroom, heard the ice in his wife’s voice. He stepped over to the open window and looked down to see a middle-aged man, dressed in dark designer jeans, a button-down shirt, grey suit vest, and wide rimmed black hat. He could not see the man’s face.
“I’ve heard that you rescued a puppy just a few years back.”
“I’m a vet. I rescue a lot of animals. What’s your name?”
“The dog I mean—“
Sher interrupted him, walking deliberately closer holding the tennis racket ready at her side. “It’s well known in this town that I don’t talk with strangers. You couldn’t have known. But now you do, get off my porch.”
“My apologies, Dr. Hillen. I did hear that you are a deliberate woman with little time for pleasantries. I thought I would come directly to the point.”
“I haven’t heard your name.”
Clark dropped the pile of soaps in his hands. He dashed out of the bathroom and nearly collided with Laylea on his way down the stairs. He looked around the front rooms and saw the vacuum cleaner by the empty coat tree. One of his chores was to wrap electrical tape around the cord where Laylea had chewed through the wires. Clark plugged the vacuum into the entryway outlet and folded the cord, holding it so the wires of the chewed section were exposed about three feet from his hand. He stood by the front door and listened to his more than competent wife handle the stranger.
The man was saying, “So you see, I have many names. If you like, you can call me Walter. And may I call you—“
“What’s your business in the neighborhood, Walter?”
“My wife left me a few years ago. She took our dog and her puppies. That was my dog too and I didn’t think she had a right to take all of the ‘children’ if you will of our union. My lawyers discovered that she had dumped the puppies in various neighborhoods before settling in Boston with the dog who sadly did not survive the trip. You have one of the puppies.”
Clark thought, too many details.
Sher operating on instinct did something she rarely did. She prevaricated quite often. Avoided almost on a daily basis. She would misdirect occasionally. And now and then evade. But she almost never out and out lied. “Our dog is nine years old. I wouldn’t risk his health by bringing a stray into the house.”
Walter slipped past Sher and was opening the front door before she could stop him. He moved so swiftly she wondered if he had a military backgro
und.
“Stop!”
“Hi there. Have you come by to help with spring cleaning? I’m Clark,” chirped Clark. “Is this a patient of yours from the clinic, dear? Well, not a patient, but a client. You know.” He laughed. “I was just gonna vacuum but I heard you outside. Woodford! Leave the squirrels. They’re only trying to drive you mad. Get in here. Come on.”
The stranger covered his nose. “What is that awful smell?”
Clark turned, looking toward the kitchen doorway as if he had not noticed it before. “Accident in the kitchen. We have a son. And a dog. Life is messy. Do you have children?”
The man looked around the few rooms he could see from the entryway. There were some old, battered dog toys lying around and an enormous green bed with one arm chewed up and sewn. But he could only smell some kind of hound dog under the garbage odor. He saw nothing, smelled nothing that might be one of his missing pups. “Could I have something to drink? I’m parched.”
“No, Walter.” Sher stepped in front of the man and put a hand on his chest. “You were not invited in.”
“Are you sure you don’t know a dog named Laylea?”
Sher dropped her tone. “You know nothing.” She began again when she captured his eyes, “you know nothing about us. It’s time for you to go.”
She was about to reinforce the suggestion when two athletic young men stepped in the doorway with a pie. “Hey Hillens.”
Sher took her hand from the stranger’s chest.
“Hi Dr. Hillen, Mr. Hillen. Hey there, Woodford. Who’s a good boy with a smart nose?” Davis crouched down and gave Woodford’s ears some good scratching as the old dog slipped through the door following them.
Parker proffered the pie to Sher. “Grandma sent us over with this. Didn’t know you had company.” He took another step into the house, putting himself awkwardly between Walter and Sher. “We can come back later.”
Walter backed away a step. “It’s time for me to go.” He said it hesitantly though. “Sorry to bother you. I must have bad information.”
Davis stood and stepped out of the way. “Goodbye.” He reached around Walter to shut the door on the man’s back.
WereHuman - The Witch's Daughter: Consortium Battle book 1 (Wyrdos) Page 16
