by Clea Simon
Wallis didn’t comment. Didn’t have to, really. I knew she thought I should have taken Laurel Kroft out of the running weeks before, by any means necessary. She knew I hadn’t, that I didn’t have it in me. Now, as she enjoyed the roast turkey that should have served as both our lunches, I was paying the price.
“I’m going to have to get that dog, you know,” I said, although putting it this way to Wallis might have been a mistake. From what Creighton had told me, Spot sounded distressed, but not frantic. That could mean something as simple as he needed to be walked. It could also mean that he knew something had happened with Laurel, or that she was upset by something before she, presumably, stormed off, forgetting her appointment with the hunky detective. It didn’t sound like he’d witnessed an abduction, or worse. Creighton may not have my sensitivity, but he’s not a complete jerk when it comes to animals. Hell, if he were, he wouldn’t have been so good with women.
“And?” Wallis twined around my ankles, leaning in to let me feel her warm soft body.
“I am not bringing Creighton back here.” I paused. “Not now.” I’d said I’d meet him at Laurel’s, but I had no intention of turning our meet-up into a tryst. For one thing, I was furious at him. He might not believe the worst of me, but he was following his own particular rulebook, and that meant he had to consider what role I was playing in the sudden disappearance of someone who was about to confide in the cops. For another, as much as Wallis might dismiss the notion, I did have a job to do—and a duty to Spot, at least until his primary caregiver returned. And finally, and if I was going to be honest, I might as well admit this reason trumped all the others: I was intrigued. As Creighton had noted, Laurel had called me. Her message, however, had raised more questions than it had answered. Before I would share them with our mutual boyfriend, I wanted a stab at figuring out what my shrink rival had meant.
“Pru, Laurel Kroft here.” Like I could confuse that fake-smooth voice with anyone else I spoke with regularly. “I think I know what you’re getting at, I really do.” There was a pause so long, I was checking to see if the voice mail had cut out, when her voice came back again. “But the hypothesis I’m working with is that it was an accident.” Another pause, in which I could almost hear her constructing her excuses. “A horrible, horrible accident. I’m seeing what I can do about it.”
Well, that was lame. And while I couldn’t see smooth-as-silk Laurel Kroft involved in anything bloody, it didn’t put her in the best light. She was involved, one way or another, and already trying to dig her way out.
That message had made clear she knew I was onto her. And that meant I should step back. I might not like her, but she was smart enough to have read my actions correctly as a threat. If she were that desperately trying to cover something up—an “accident?”—she’d damn herself. And as far as Creighton was involved, it would be better if I weren’t involved. I only had to wait. Didn’t mean I couldn’t wait over at her place, though.
“Suit yourself.” Wallis had clearly followed all of my convoluted reasoning. Not that she agreed with it. “Me, I’d say ‘carpe diem.’ But I’m just a hunter. A simple predator. You’re the one with the…brain.” Before I could retort, she had left the room.
The combination of aggravation, coffee, and last night’s whiskey had left me with a sour stomach and no appetite. I needed my wits, however. Plus, I liked the idea of making Creighton wait, at least a few more minutes. So I made myself a sandwich of what was left of the turkey. As I ate, I thought about going after Wallis. Because of the Kroft situation, I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the sheltie’s bombshell, if that was indeed what it was. I had a feeling she’d get a kick out of my vision of a big cat. Then again, she might just confirm that I was losing it. Start speaking in tongues, or something.
Whatever. I might want to annoy Creighton. I couldn’t afford to really piss him off. And so as I wiped the crumbs off my hands into the sink, I switched my thoughts to what I needed to do—and how I could slip my own agenda into Jim’s.
For starters, it only made sense that I would take the dog. My sometime-beau wanted to question me. He’d made that clear. But if Spot needed to go out, that would buy me at least a temporary reprieve, and maybe help me get to the bottom of the situation. Then…yes, I had it.
“Bye, Wallis!” I called, grabbing for my keys. “Back later!”
“Jealous…” I felt rather than heard her voice, accompanied by a low throb of emotion, more growl than purr. “Doesn’t recognize human nature. Doesn’t recognize anyone’s…
“Jealous and she doesn’t see it.”
“I see it all right,” I muttered to myself as I donned my coat. Let Wallis pick that up, if she wanted. I wasn’t going to let anyone’s snide comments stop me now, not even my cat’s.
“You’re not thinking of every possibility, you know.” Wallis voice reached me, even as I locked the door behind me. “She could be there, when you get there. Then what would you do?”
Count on a cat to have the last word.
Chapter Twenty-seven
She wasn’t, and I took that as good news. I’m not above a little primping, and I’ll confess, I had fluffed my hair a bit, tucked in my shirt, as I made my way up to Laurel Kroft’s door. If she’d been there, I’d already have an edge—our friendly neighborhood detective doesn’t like to be stood up, especially when he’s on the job. I’d already decided that I’d be gracious. A nod and a smile to Creighton. A soft aside about trust. Then I’d take Spot, as if for our regular training session. Maybe I’d even throw in something about how I’d changed my schedule, because of the circumstances. That might be pushing it though. Jim knew I was reliable. Predictable? No, that I never wanted.
But there was no sign of her fancy SUV when I’d parked, and when I rang the bell it was Jim who answered, looking a little red in the face and ruffled.
“Hoping for someone else, Jim?” I only brushed him slightly as I walked past. Wallis couldn’t have done it better. “I did tell you I’d come by.”
“You did.” He wasn’t going to thank me, so I let it go. Instead, I walked over to where Spot sat on his rug. He’d looked up with more longing than my sometime-lover, and so he got the caress as I knelt by his side.
“Want to go out?” I cradled his heavy jaw in my hands. Silently, as I stared into those dark eyes, other questions formed: “What’s going on here? What happened?”
“I don’t think you should leave, Pru.” Creighton was standing behind me. I stood and turned toward him.
“Don’t worry, Jim. I’m not leaving.” He hadn’t backed away, and we were close. I’m tall, almost as tall as he is, but I made myself focus on his eyes. “Not while you want me here.”
He looked down then, and took a step back. Pity.
“I’m on a case, Pru.” He rubbed his hand over his face, and I realized then how tired he was. “That girl was dumped.”
“I know.” I did. “I’m sorry.” I slumped against one of Laurel Kroft’s uncomfortable-looking chairs, no longer on the attack. But something was bothering me. Something Wallis had said. “Jim, how sure are you really that the cause of death was an animal mauling?”
He looked up, eyes tired. “I thought you were the one saying that the whole thing might have been an animal attack? That a wild cat must have moved her?”
I shook my head. “Something about the wounds.” It was hard to think. Creighton’s presence didn’t make it easier. “Cougars don’t—” I stopped, unsure of what exactly was bothering me. “Just seems wrong somehow.” It was the best I could manage, but I could feel Creighton’s eyes on me. He’d heard me stop myself.
“Hey,” I said, after a moment’s pause, “I really should take this dog out. Just for a minute.” I was trying to change the subject. It was also true.
Creighton waited a split second before he nodded, and Spot thumped his tail on his mat. I was back in a moment
with his lead. At my nod, he stood, and I snapped it on. Creighton was watching us, but his mind was elsewhere, I could tell.
“Jim, I’ll be back as soon as Spot has relieved himself.” He nodded. “We’ll talk, okay?”
I needed to work fast, but it was hard to stop thinking about the man inside the house as I walked Spot down to the street. On one level, I believed him: I had a too vivid memory of what had happened to Mariela Gomez to wish her forgotten. At the same time, I didn’t understand why Creighton was so distressed about Laurel Kroft. Well, I had some ideas, but not ones that I liked. As far as I was concerned, the pretty shrink could take care of herself.
“She thought so.” The voice came so strong and so clear, I stopped short.
“Spot?” I looked down. He was sniffing a tree trunk, which he proceeded to water. “Are you talking about Lauren?”
I pictured my rival, focusing on her honey-blonde hair, on that golden shearling coat. I tried to keep my own mixed emotions out of my mind, but some of them must have leached through. What I got back was confused and a little frightened.
“I’m sorry, Spot.” I knelt by his side, putting my hand on the velvety spot right behind his ears. “Let’s try again.” I closed my eyes. Creighton, if he were watching us, wouldn’t likely see that. He’d only see me, the trainer, kneeling beside the dog. Something normal, in other words.
“My job.” He pushed his head against my hand. “Let me work.”
“I’m sorry.” This was a dog who wanted to be exercised. Who needed to keep occupied. Laurel had clearly been leaving him alone too long. At least, she had today. “When did she leave?” I visualized that blonde hair, again. This time, from the back, walking out. Walking through the front door.
“My job. I wanted to do my job.” Yes, of course, he had wanted to go with her. Unless…
“Are you saying she needed you?” A soft whimper. I wasn’t being clear. “Laurel needed you to do your job…with her?”
A little more pressure on my hand, the canine equivalent of a head butt. I cursed Laurel Kroft silently. She’d not only left this dog alone, but she’d gone off to do something that he felt he should be doing with her.
Had she gone to the Haigens? Spot was smart enough to pick up Richard Haigen’s increasing disability. It was possible. It also fit with what I had suspected—that Laurel knew something more than she’d told me or Jim.
“She doesn’t…She wants out.” The words I was hearing were making no sense. Whatever Spot was trying to communicate was beyond his ability to translate. I leaned forward, putting my forehead against Spot’s warm fur.
The improved contact paid off. I saw the gold of Laurel’s hair, or maybe her coat—that sheepskin must have made quite an impression on the shepherd mix. I sensed urgency. Well, she’d blown off Creighton. Me as well, so something had been pressing.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the rest. A visual. Some sense of who else was involved, but all I got was that need to push, to break out. Something had to happen. Something was waiting. And that’s when I felt it, like a wave breaking over a seawall, as golden and lush as Laurel’s blonde locks. Only it wasn’t warm. It wasn’t comforting. There was something wild in the rush and the charge. And something very like fear.
“Pru?” Creighton was standing in the door. I’d been squatting here for several minutes, my thighs as well as the tone of his voice let me know.
“Hold your horses,” I barked back. I’d been locked into something with Spot, and I hadn’t yet plumbed the depths. “We’re coming.”
I looked down at the dog. He looked up, eyes wide and trusting. He’d been scared, scared and strangely exhilarated. He’d also been worried about Laurel; that was a big part of his fear. But the anger? The jealousy? There was too much I didn’t understand, but maybe my attempt had done some good. His big tail swiped a few happy wags as I signaled him to stand and follow me. A burden shared is a burden halved, they say. The fact that I had no idea what the service dog had laid on me didn’t make me feel any better, though. With a shrug and a smile, one for me, one for Spot, I led him back inside.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“I erased it,” I told Creighton for what had to be the third time. “I’m sorry, Jim. I just wasn’t thinking.” I hadn’t been, although in retrospect it had been a smart move. “I did call Laurel a few times, and I gather she called me back while I was with Doc Sharpe in County. She left me a message, but there wasn’t anything of substance in it, and I erased it. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
Jim Creighton has the bluest eyes. Light. Clear. More true than a robin’s egg. More blue, even, than the newish paint job on my GTO. Yet, despite their cool color, they can be surprisingly warm—the blue spark revealing the heat inside the cop exterior. I’m a dark girl, in more ways than one, but I’d grown fond of those eyes. Susceptible, even, when they looked at me a certain way, the skin crinkling around them in a wicked smile.
They weren’t smiling now, and I was reminded just how cold blue can be. Cold and maybe a little sad. Jim Creighton was disappointed in me, and I felt a twinge of something that might be called regret.
“What?” I heard the snark in my voice. I don’t like feeling vulnerable. “You think if you stare at me long enough, I’ll change my story?” He opened his mouth to speak. I felt a wave of dread. This was it. Something final. Something bad. “So your new girl stood you up, is that it? And you’ve got to blame someone, so you’re looking at me.”
It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t smart. Wallis could have told me that I’d lose it at some point. From the look on Creighton’s face, I just had.
“You think that’s what this is about, Pru? Really?” There was no softness in his voice. No sympathy. “You think that everything I do revolves around…” He closed his mouth, the muscles in his jaw working. Usually, I see that, I want to get close. Not right now. “This side of you worries me,” he said finally. “Professionally.”
“Wait, what?” This wasn’t what I’d expected. “You think I did something out of—what—jealousy?” I could hear my voice ramping up, the pitch climbing. “You think I’ve got her tied up in my attic? Wanna check it out?”
For a moment, there, I saw a flash of a smile. Jim knew my shambling old house well by now. He knew my attic, too. A hot flush climbed to my face as I remembered the day he’d helped me reshingle a northside eave, and how we’d celebrated in an impromptu manner while waiting for the plaster inside to dry. That was back when we still talked and laughed during our nights together. Before our trysts became both silent and single-minded.
“I’m not trying to drag you back.” Now it was my pride that was hurt, as much as anything. I’ve never been good at talking, and I seemed to have lost whatever knack I’d once had. “I didn’t mean…” It was hopeless. I waved off the rest of the sentence.
His face softened. “I don’t believe you’ve intended harm to Laurel. To Dr. Kroft.” I kept my face neutral as he corrected himself. That slip said it all. “I do know you well enough to know you’re hiding something from me, Pru. Trust me on that.”
We were standing, back in the blond-on-blond living room. He’d had me crate Spot, which wasn’t necessary. Then again, maybe it was just as well. I was still getting those strange signals from Spot, and I could sense his intense curiosity about our little drama. Neither of us needed the distraction.
“I’m not hiding anything.” My voice broke as I said it, and I looked to Spot.
“Go?” Yeah, well, I’d have loved to. He must have caught some of that, because he whined, ever so softly. Jim, meanwhile, was picking up on other signals.
“Pru.” He’d stepped closer to me, took my arm. Spot whined again, a little louder, and I felt my eyes begin to sting. “Come on.”
It was pity. Pity or—I had a flash of Wallis, her green eyes glittering—tactics. I couldn’t let myself forget: Creighton was a c
op. I was a suspect. I stepped back.
“Forget it, Jim.” I pushed my hair back from my face. Blinked to clear my sight. “Look, if you want to charge me or anything, you know where to find me. Otherwise, I should take Spot here.” The dog stood at the mention of his name. “Letting him out to pee is not the same as giving him exercise. And I’ve got a job to do, too.”
Laurel Kroft would come back at some point, and I had no desire to witness their reunion. I didn’t even want to question her anymore, but I’d make myself go through with that, as soon as she surfaced. Right now, I just wanted out.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“What the hell…” I was driving too fast, and I knew it. Spot, seated beside me, was looking at me instead of the scenery, and I could tell he was trying to make sense of the confused jumble of emotions in my head.
I hit a curve and leaned into it. Second nature for me, but when I heard his claws scrambling for traction on the leather I made myself slow down. No sense in taking out my mood on the one creature innocent of sparking it. Besides, I should be using the drive to for some prep work.
“Sorry, Spot.” I glanced over. Those dark doggy eyes had so much soul. “I know, you didn’t ask for this.” He settled in, and I kept talking. I’d been the one to bring him to Laurel. I’d gotten him involved in all of this. Some of the confusion I had picked up had to be from his divided loyalty. Here I was, training him to devote himself solely to one person. And now I was battling with his caregiver in one of the most basic competitions there could be. “You’ve never fought over a mate, have you?”
Nothing. He’d been neutered as a puppy. I knew that. Still, both Growler and Wallis had taught me not to confuse desire with the ability to procreate. Besides, he had already referenced what I was feeling once before.
“You know ‘jealousy,’” I said now. If I could get it all out, I’d feel better. On top of everything else, I didn’t need to screw up this pooch, too. “You told me…”
