by Hillary Avis
“Willow found him, actually.” Allison smiled down at Willow, who’d finally submitted to the leash once they’d left the woods.
“I wasn’t lost,” Taylor said irritably. Allison tensed, afraid he might bolt, and Crystal seemed to pick up on her fear.
“You know, I just made Nia some lemonade if you want some. Go on in, it’s on the table. There are graham crackers, too.” She nodded toward the front door. Taylor didn’t hesitate, just darted inside, shucking his shoes on the doormat.
Allison chuckled, both hands on Willow’s collar to keep her from following him. “I think he’s hungry. They both are after being out there all night.”
Crystal gasped beside her and reached out to touch the back of Allison’s head with her free hand. “You’re bleeding!”
A wave of pain skittered across Allison’s skull. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she was starting to feel every bump and bruise. She wobbled slightly. “I’m OK—I think.”
“Leroy’s sending the paramedics. I didn’t know what shape Taylor was in so he thought it was best.” Crystal sat down, settled Jaden on her knees in front of her belly, and patted the step beside her. “We’ll just sit here and wait.” Jaden babbled in agreement, reaching out to pull on Crystal’s earring. She expertly twitched it away and distracted him by blowing on his palms, making him giggle. She was a good mom. If anyone could survive and thrive as a single parent of three, it was her. Not exactly single—her husband was deployed with the Army Reserve, not gone forever, and she had Myra to help. But it had to be tough.
Allison sat down gratefully next to them and slipped her shoes off to relieve the blisters that had formed. Willow flopped down on top of her feet—ensuring, maybe, that another of her charges didn’t run off and climb a tree.
“He said she slept all night with him up there.”
Crystal nodded. “Must be why she ran off. Somehow she knew he needed company. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it—makes sense he’d be up there.”
Allison frowned.
“It’s the anniversary,” Crystal explained. When Allison’s confusion was apparent, she added, “Of his parents’ death? They were camping up there on Memorial Day weekend a couple years ago. It was terrible.”
Allison’s hand flew to her mouth.
“You didn’t know?”
“I knew Michelle was raising him, but I didn’t know—I mean, I didn’t realize.” A vague memory of a news article burbled to the surface. A couple found deceased in their tent in the national forest. Allison hadn’t paid much attention because it was right around the time when Paul lost his memories. Her blood chilled.
The timing. Was it a coincidence that the watcher’s son and daughter-in-law died on the same weekend—maybe even the same day—that Elaine tore out Paul’s memories?
“What happened to them? Do you know? Did someone—”
“No, no. It was an accident—a snakebite. Got them both. It must have been in their tent when they went to bed that night. A ranger found them in the morning.” Crystal shook her head sadly. “Poor kid, losing both parents like that. He probably went up there to remember them.”
She wrapped her arms around Jaden and planted a kiss on top of his tight ringlets, her eyes unfocused as she stared toward the woods across the highway. Allison could tell she was thinking about her husband, stationed in Egypt in response to an uprising there. Crystal’s kids could lose a parent in the blink of an eye, too, one of them even before it was born.
“I bet Isaac will be home by Christmas,” Allison said quietly. “He’ll make it back in one piece.”
“He better be, or I’ll kill him myself.” Crystal flashed her a quick smile and then turned her head toward the highway as an ambulance siren rose in the distance, growing louder as it approached. She stood. “They’re here.”
Chapter 14
Allison ended up at Dr. Northrup’s office, waiting for the doctor to drive down from Elkhorn to stitch her up. Everyone fussed over her, from the volunteer EMTs to the nurse who’d been called into work from a backyard barbecue and still had on short cut-offs under her scrub top. The nurse, a woman named Becky, chattered nonstop about how her son knew Taylor from school while she cleaned the pitch off Allison’s hands with rubbing alcohol.
“You must be that boy’s guardian angel,” she gushed.
“It was Willow, really. The dog found him. I just found the dog.”
Becky clucked her tongue. “Two angels at work. What a lucky, lucky child.”
As nice as everyone was being, Allison was eager for it to be over with so she could go home and collapse, but once Dr. Northrup arrived and patched her up, she had to endure a lengthy grilling by Leroy as he painstakingly filled out his report on the bench in front of the aquarium in Dr. Northrup’s waiting room.
“And why did you say you were out looking for the boy instead of joining the organized search party?” He waggled his unkempt eyebrows, slightly yellowed from years of tobacco smoke drifting up from his cigars, under his brimmed uniform hat. Behind him, bright fish drifted back and forth in the tank, giving the appearance that they were swimming in and out of his ears.
“I was looking for the dog,” she repeated. “Willow found Taylor, not me.”
“But you found the boy’s bike last night.” Leroy tapped his pen against his paper. “Also not on the search party roster then. Curious how you’re always finding things you’re not looking for.”
“I joined late, so Kara didn’t write my name down.” She rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. Though her scalp was still numb from the lidocaine, inside, her head was hammering. The Tylenol Dr. Northrup dispensed should be kicking in soon, which would help her crawl home. “I was looking for him then. Michelle asked me to check the creek path.”
“Mhm.” Leroy scribbled on his forms. “How long did you say you’ve known Taylor Robinson?”
“Two weeks. Three,” she amended. “Maybe four. I don’t know—I met him when I moved next door. Not long. How is he? He’s not hurt, is he?”
Leroy ignored her question, sucking in his cheeks. “Why did you leave your dog at the Patterson farm overnight? Did you think Taylor had headed that way?”
“No, I didn’t even know he was gone then! And she’s not my dog. They were adopting her; that’s why I took her over yesterday.”
Leroy frowned, flipped through his papers, and looked back up at her. “But then you went looking for the dog today? That seems unusual to hunt hither and yon for a dog that isn’t yours.”
Allison’s head felt like it was going to explode from frustration. Answering all these stupid questions was more painful than smacking her head on that tree. She’d rather be knocked unconscious than drag this out any longer. “Listen, she ran off and I offered to help. We’re friends. People help out their friends. Where is Willow, anyway?”
“The dog? Animal Control probably has her,” Leroy said absentmindedly. He flipped the clipboard around and pointed to a line at the bottom. “Sign there after you review your statement.”
Allison scanned his scrawls. It was close enough. She added her signature and handed it back to him. “Can I go now?”
He tipped back his hat and licked his lower lip, seeming to consider his response to a question Allison had meant to be rhetorical. “I suppose so.”
“Great,” she said sarcastically. Now she had to figure out how to get Willow out of the pound. Maybe Myra would let her take the truck—no, Myra didn’t even have the truck; Allison had left it at Crystal’s when the ambulance took her to the doctor’s office. That meant Myra was stranded at work, Willow was stranded in doggy jail, and Allison had to make the long walk home with a still-pounding head and blistered feet. On second thought...
“Leroy! Drop me off on your way...wherever you’re going. If you don’t mind.”
He opened his mouth to object, but Allison raised a hand. She had a secret weapon. Mrs. Gauss, Leroy’s eighty-something mother, still ruled her son with a firm hand...
and just so happened to share a pew with Myra at church. “How’s your mother doing? I heard she missed the service last week. I can drop by and visit her if she’s not feeling well.”
Leroy twisted his mouth like he had sucked on a lemon. “She’s fine. No need for a visit. Where’s your place?”
HE MADE HER RIDE IN the back of his SUV, behind the partition meant to keep criminals from trying anything tricky, but she didn’t care. At least she didn’t have to talk to him. Plus, it meant he had to come around and open the door for her when he pulled up in front of her white picket fence on Rosemary Street.
“Give my regards to your mother,” she said sweetly as she exited the vehicle. Leroy just grunted and tipped his hat. Imagine being close to retirement and still afraid of your little old mom. Allison hoped he saw her grinning in his rearview mirror as he pulled out and headed back to the highway.
She pulled out her phone to text Myra about the truck and saw message alerts filling her screen. She scrolled through them and instantly relaxed. Crystal had Willow and Myra and would drop the dog off after the kids had their supper.
Perfect.
Allison yawned so wide her jaw cracked. As she pushed through the gate into her abundant front-yard vegetable garden, she couldn’t help a glance over at the yellow house next door. Taylor’s bike was leaned up on the porch in its usual spot. Michelle was probably busy scrubbing the pitch off his palms and fussing over him like the nurse had over Allison.
Then he could rest, poor kid. He must be exhausted after spending the night up a tree in a dark, lonely forest. Allison was sure people in town would wonder why in the world he’d gone up there—“It’s not like it’ll bring them back!”—but she understood perfectly. She knew better than anyone how shocking it was to have everything you’ve known change in the blink of an eye. When a person you love disappears, some part of you refuses to believe it. Some part of you always keeps looking.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs in the entry, her hand on the newel post. Before she put her head down on the pillow and relinquished consciousness, she had to check one thing to put her mind at ease.
The box of sinister stories was still on the dining room table. She shuffled the books inside until she found the one she was looking for. Slim, tan. Homicides.
She opened it to the table of contents. Five names, in order of surname. All the victims of murder here in Remembrance—at least, the ones people remembered.
Much to her relief, the Robinsons were not on the list. It was just a coincidence that they died that day. A terrible accident.
Chapter 15
Tuesday
“You must have been tired, too. You didn’t wake me even once.” Allison ruffled Willow’s fur affectionately. When she stopped petting the dog to drink her coffee, Willow pawed at her for more, so she scratched her under the chin, combing out the tangles in her thick mane with her fingers. A small cloud of fur drifted to the floor of the porch where they sat and then, picked up by a gentle breeze, flew out into the garden and caught on one of the tomato stakes. Some bird would probably line her nest with it and have a very soft place to incubate her eggs.
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her robe. Rachael from the rescue. She must have heard about Willow’s escape.
“Hi—before you say anything, I’m sorry,” Allison babbled into the phone. “It’s not Myra and Crystal’s fault, it’s mine. I never would have placed Willow there if I thought she’d run off. I promise I’ll find her a better placement, but I understand if you’d rather someone else fostered her.”
Rachael’s laugh tinkled down the line. “Don’t worry about that! I have applications pouring in for her. The Spectator ran a front page story; did you see it?”
Allison stood up and grabbed the still-folded paper off the front walk. Even without opening it, she could read the huge headline: HERO DOG FINDS BOY. She slipped off the rubber band and shook it out to its full length. Under the headline, a photo of Willow’s huge head next to Taylor’s small grubby one filled the page.
She turned the paper toward Willow so she could see. “Look at that, Hero Dog. You’re famous.”
On the phone, Rachael giggled again. “I’m telling you, everyone wants her. I wish all dogs got this kind of coverage. I’m going to screen the applications, then organize a meet-and-greet on Saturday if that works for you.”
Allison’s heart sank. “I can’t be there, sorry. My daughter is visiting from Portland on Saturday. If you want to pick Willow up, that’s fine, though.”
“Sunday, then? I’d love it if you were there to weigh in since you know Willow the best.”
Now it was Allison’s turn to giggle. “I’m not sure you’ll like what I have to say, though! She barks all night, runs off, won’t come when called, paws me to death...”
“No, that’s exactly what I want you to say. Someone’s going to love her, but I don’t want to send her to the wrong home.” Rachael’s voice was warm, but Allison took her meaning. Rachael didn’t want Willow going to the wrong home again. Not that the filbert farm was the wrong home for Willow. It could have been great...it just wasn’t great timing. But Allison still felt guilty for making everyone’s life, even Willow’s, more difficult.
“I won’t make that mistake twice,” she said sheepishly.
“No, I didn’t mean the Pattersons!” Rachael rushed to reassure her. “I meant that old coot Harman. I’m glad you placed her with Crystal or that kid might still be out in the woods. Plus, I’m hoping that the people who lose out on Willow will take a look at my other dogs. You know my kennel is always full.”
It was. Oregon Tails often had to turn away dogs. If this whole debacle meant Taylor was safe and more dogs found good homes, Allison couldn’t hold onto her guilt.
“Willow and I will see you Sunday,” she said. “I know she’ll find the perfect new home.” After she hung up, she was surprised to see Taylor standing at the bottom of the porch steps, Michelle a few steps behind him. Allison wasn’t used to seeing him with two feet on the ground. Usually he was in a tree or on two wheels. He looked better than he had yesterday. Cleaner, anyway. But his expression was horrified.
“You’re giving her away?!” His jaw jutted out accusingly and his fingers tightened on the large bone he clutched in front of him. He must have brought Willow a gift to say thank you for the rescue. The smell of the bone reached Willow’s nose and she thumped her tail on the porch beside Allison.
“I have to find her a forever family,” Allison explained gently.
“How can you just give her away, like she doesn’t even matter?” he exploded. “Don’t you even care about her?”
Allison swallowed. Of course it was hard for a kid to understand. And she couldn’t lie—fostering dogs wasn’t for wimps. It hurt every time she let a dog go, even when she knew it was for the best. “I do care about her, but she’s not mine; I’m just fostering her for Oregon Tails Dog Rescue. Is that for Willow?” She motioned to the bone in his hands, hoping to distract him.
He scowled at her, and Michelle put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “If Willow finds a new home, that means Mrs. Rye can save even more dogs, honey. Go take that bone and give it to her in the yard so she doesn’t make a mess on the porch.”
“Give her a little space while she’s eating,” Allison was quick to add. “She doesn’t like to share.”
With a last pointed glare at Allison, Taylor obeyed his grandmother. Willow trotted after him, then began gleefully gnawing the end of the raw butcher bone while Taylor crouched in the grass a few yards away, watching.
Allison turned to Michelle. “Coffee?”
Michelle nodded and took a seat on the porch while Allison made another cup of pour-over in the kitchen and brought it out to her on a tray with some milk and sugar. Michelle took it from her without breaking her gaze at her grandson and set it on the bench beside her.
“You must be relieved to have him back.”
Michelle nodded, finally dragging her ey
es away from Taylor to doctor her coffee. When it was sweetened to her satisfaction, she took a long sip. “I thought the worst,” she said. “I really did.”
“I can only imagine. After the terrible accident with your son—”
“It was no accident,” Michelle snapped and clanked her mug back on the tray. “Tim and Dara were murdered. I know it for a fact.”
What do you even say to that? Allison bit her lip. She didn’t want to dismiss Michelle’s obvious pain, but she hoped the truth might be comforting. “I’m sorry if this is painful to hear, but I looked them up in the Homicides memory book, and they weren’t there.”
To her surprise, Michelle barked a derisive laugh. “You think just because it’s not in the book, it didn’t happen?”
Allison flushed. “Don’t they record everything?”
“Don’t they record everything?” Michelle mimicked. “Are you seriously asking me that question, Allison Rye?” She emphasized Allison’s last name like she expected her to pick up on a hint, but Allison was just more confused. She took a slug of her lukewarm coffee to hide her embarrassment, and Michelle pursed her lips. “You don’t think it’s strange that my son was killed on the same day Paul went cuckoo?”
“He didn’t go—” Allison broke off as she took in the full meaning of what Michelle had said. After all, she’d had the same suspicion herself. The timing was odd. “But it was a snakebite, wasn’t it?”
“It was snake venom. But they never found the snake, and the tent was zipped up tight.” Michelle sat back on the bench and crossed her arms as though she’d proved her point. But if Michelle was right and someone injected them with venom, it’d definitely be in the homicides book. And it wasn’t. Allison’s skepticism must have shown on her face. “You still don’t believe me?”
Allison sighed. “It just seems like a stretch, that’s all. I get it, though—blame is one of the stages of grief for a reason. But it’s not in the book, Michelle. The snake probably just slithered out a tiny hole that nobody noticed. Otherwise, it’d be recorded.”
