Dyer Consequences

by Maggie Sefton

  “Hmmmm. A mysterious boyfriend with no name,” Kelly said, replacing the wire racks onto the cleaned fridge shelves. “Did she talk about her family at all? Maybe they know something.”

  Jennifer gave the last cabinet a parting swipe with her towel before she pulled herself off the floor. “I think she was pretty close to her older sister. I remember her saying how much she missed their phone calls. Apparently her sister works abroad. I can’t remember her name, either. But she seemed to get along with her family all right. She didn’t have any horror stories to tell.”

  “Why don’t you check if your office has her family’s phone number,” Kelly suggested as she closed the fridge door and stood up. “Maybe you can call them and—”

  “And maybe we should let the police do their jobs,” Jennifer said with a smile, leaning against the now-clean counter. “I’m sure they’ll be all over that office first thing tomorrow morning asking questions. And the university will have all Tracy’s personal family information on record.”

  “You’re right, you’re right,” Kelly admitted with a sigh. “The cops will be on it. I can’t help it. I go on automatic sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?” Jennifer arched an amused brow.

  “Maybe that guy she mentioned is the killer.”

  “And maybe he’s not,” Jennifer said quietly. “Maybe that gang of vandals freaked out when they saw Tracy. If they were high on drugs, anything’s possible. Maybe it really happened exactly like the police said. A burglary gone bad.”

  Kelly stared at her friend. What Jennifer said made sense. Why, then, did she have trouble accepting that explanation? “That’s true, Jen, but the police still need to hear about the boyfriend. I’m calling Burt.” She dug her cell phone out of her jeans pocket.

  “I’m getting some coffee. I assume you’ll want some.”

  “You assume right,” Kelly said as she headed out of the kitchen and into the hallway leading to the knitting shop. She could hear voices coming from the yarn rooms.

  Punching in Burt’s number, Kelly stood in the doorway and watched the Lambspun network try to bring order to chaos. They were definitely making progress. The floors appeared clear of fiber and the yarn bins and shelves were filling up with brightly colored yarns—twisted coils, fluffy balls, and plump skeins. There was only one thing missing from the picture. Mimi.

  “How’re you doing, Kelly?” Burt sounded tired.

  “I’m okay, Burt. We’re practically finished at Pete’s, believe it or not, and Megan and the others are making great progress here in the shop. The floors are cleared and they’re sorting everything now. How’s Mimi?”

  “She’s resting. The doctor gave her a sedative, so she’s sleeping right now.”

  Kelly could hear the fatigue in his voice and began to worry. “Sounds like you need to do the same thing, Burt. Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa and take a snooze? You’ve gotta take care of yourself, too.”

  “I can’t sleep, Kelly. I already tried. I keep seeing Tracy.” She heard the sound of whistled breath. “You’d think I’d be immune to that stuff by now. But you never get used to it. I keep thinking how she died. Struggling in the water. Hot water, too, according to Mimi. Hot enough to burn. Damn.”

  That new image caused Kelly’s stomach to churn. What an awful death. “My God, Burt, who would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, Kelly, but I can promise you that Dan and the others are making this their priority. Dan’s reaching out to his informants to see if any have ties to the bunch that’s been working the north of town.”

  “Okay, well, here’s another lead, I think. Jennifer told me that Tracy mentioned she was seeing a guy. Maybe he was her boyfriend. Unfortunately she never told Jennifer his name.”

  “Was he a student in one of her classes?”

  “Tracy never said.”

  “Okay, Kelly, I’ll pass that along to Dan.”

  “I know it’s not much, but it’s something.”

  “Every little bit helps, Kelly. We build a case piece by piece. Tell Jennifer thanks for remembering, okay?”

  “Will do. And you remember to rest. You had a heart attack once, Burt. Remember that.”

  “I’ll rest, I promise. After I call Dan.”

  “Why don’tcha call while you’re lying on the sofa?” she suggested with a laugh. “Either you take care of yourself or we’ll be forced to send Lisa over there to ride herd on you. If you think I’m overbearing, you haven’t seen Lisa in action. She’s positively scary.”

  Eight

  Kelly lengthened her stride as she rounded a turn on the river trail, picking up her pace. She’d cut her run short this morning, and she wasn’t sure why. An unexplained uneasiness suddenly surfaced, tugging at her inside. Whether it concerned her clients or her friends, she didn’t know. But something was bothering her.

  A flutter of wings above caused Kelly to glance upward, and she saw a raven fly off a nearby branch, ebony wings outstretched. Kelly figured she must have been the first runner to disturb the bird this morning. Early sun peeked between the bare limbs but brought no warmth. Icy temperatures had forced Kelly to slather her face in protective cream before running.

  Her breath frosted in cloudy puffs as she left the trail and edged around the golf course, still crusty with snow. Heading toward her cottage, Kelly ran the ugly images of the day before through her mind. The news of Tracy’s horrible death. No wonder she was feeling spooked. Mimi was still at home, unable or unwilling to return to her beloved shop.

  Megan and Lisa would be at Mimi’s this morning, Kelly thought as she approached her backyard. Maybe she could finish her client work early and visit this afternoon. The shop was almost back to normal. Maybe that good news would cheer up Mimi.

  As Kelly neared the back fence, she came to a halt. Carl was across the yard, his head down, face in the grass. He appeared to be vomiting. She’d seen Carl do this at other times, but it only took a few seconds and he stopped. This time, Carl didn’t stop. He kept heaving and choking into the grass.

  “Carl? You all right, boy?” Kelly called out as she walked around the fence, getting closer.

  Carl didn’t respond to her voice. He didn’t even raise his head. Kelly spotted something shiny on the snow-covered yard. Is that foil lying on the ground?

  Kelly swung her long legs over the fence in one fast movement then raced over to Carl. On the ground a few feet away was an opened foil package with what looked like hamburger meat inside. She picked it up and sniffed a sickly sweet smell, and her heart sank. She’d read about dogs being poisoned with antifreeze mixed into meat, and that it was recognizable by its sweet smell.

  Is that antifreeze? Who would do such a hateful, cruel thing? The answer surfaced immediately. The vandals. It had to be them.

  “Carl? Carl?” she cried as she knelt beside him, her heart racing with fear. Carl turned toward her, his eyes red, spittle drooling from his mouth. She had to get him to the vet’s right away.

  Kelly sped into her cottage and grabbed her cell, anxiously searching the directory for the vet’s number. Snatching her keys and bag, she tore out the front door to her car. She could call the vet while she drove. Every minute counted. Carl needed help now. She’d heard how quickly poison could kill a dog.

  Tossing the package of meat onto the passenger seat, Kelly revved the engine and backed her car as close to the fence gate as she could. Just then, Rosa drove up and parked in front of the shop.

  Jerking her car to a stop, Kelly leaned out the window and yelled, “Rosa! Rosa! Carl’s been poisoned! I need help getting him in the car. Please!”

  Rosa paused as she exited her car and stared for a second before racing over. “Oh, no, Kelly, now they’re after your dog!”

  Kelly edged around the waiting room of the university’s veterinary hospital. Completing another lap of the perimeter, she began again. She’d lost track of how many laps she’d done. Circling the rows of chairs in the middle of the large reception area, p
ast the coffee bar, past the oncology doorway, past the long admissions desk filled with hospital staff, past the television, past the kiddie playroom, and past the double doors that led to the emergency room. Where Carl was.

  She glanced at her watch. It had been over an hour since she watched the vet triage team wheel Carl into the ER. Kelly’s frantic call to Carl’s vet while she drove wound up sending her in another direction entirely. The vet agreed that the meat was probably tainted with antifreeze and urged Kelly to get Carl to the vet school—“immediately!” The antifreeze poison destroyed liver cells, and it acted fast. Catching it in time was the only way to save a dog’s life.

  Kelly was so frantic, she ran a red light racing through Fort Connor toward the sprawling vet school campus near the foothills. The ER triage team was waiting outside as she pulled up. Carl staggered like a drunken man when he tried to stand up. Kelly’s heart wrenched, watching the vets carefully lift her big strong Rottweiler onto a metal cart and quickly roll him inside the hospital.

  Kelly shoved her hands into the pockets of her running jacket and started another lap, trying to forget the scary images of her stricken dog. Passing the coffee bar again, she hesitated but kept going. She’d had three cups of the dismally weak coffee already. Vending machine candy bars had been breakfast.

  Where was the vet? she wondered. They said they’d let me know how it was going. It’s been over an hour. How come they haven’t come out? A cold thought crept from the back of her mind. Maybe Carl’s dead. Maybe they just don’t want to tell me. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

  The admissions double doors swung open, and a woman walked in with a shaggy sheepdog. Or, rather, the dog walked in with her. Dragged her, actually. An elderly man entered next, daintily holding the lead of a miniature dachshund as he approached the front desk. The shiny little brown dog took one look at the shaggy sheepdog and started to yap. Playtime.

  Kelly distracted herself with the various animals and owners who entered and left. At ten fifteen in the morning, the waiting room was already filled with people. All of them waiting, like her, for word about their beloved pets.

  After another three laps around the waiting room, Kelly spotted one of the vet team members coming through the emergency room doors. Kelly hurried over to the woman, who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. “How’s Carl?” she asked anxiously. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “We won’t know that for a while yet,” the doctor said, tucking a clipboard under her arm as she swept away strands of reddish hair that escaped her ponytail. “We’re still flushing his system with IV fluids, trying to get the poison out before it kills too many liver cells. Then we’ll inject him with the antidote medication. Carl’s lucky you got him here so fast.” She exhaled a long sigh then shoved her hands into the pockets of her white coat.

  "When . . . when will you know? If he’ll be all right, I mean?” Kelly asked, her voice softer than normal.

  “We’ll know from his blood work. We’ll keep checking his liver values. If we see the liver enzyme stay elevated, that won’t be good news. It means more cells are being destroyed.”

  The cold fist in Kelly’s gut squeezed tighter. “When will you test them again?”

  “In a couple of hours. You can go home if you want. We’ve got your cell phone number. I promise I’ll call you as soon as I see the blood work.”

  “No, no. I want to stay here,” Kelly said. “I’ll be right here. Please come out and tell me as soon as you learn something.”

  The doctor gave her a little smile as she checked the clipboard. “Okay, Kelly. I know where to find you. I’m Dr. Barber.” She handed Kelly a card. “By the way, there’s a snack bar on the third floor, if you’re tired of candy bars. The coffee’s better up there, too. I’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks, doctor,” Kelly said as the young woman walked back toward the ER doors. Staring around the busy waiting area, filled with adults of all ages and children, Kelly headed toward the stairwell. She’d follow up on the vet’s suggestion. Real food and better coffee could help her wait this out.

  Kelly spied Jennifer walking toward her across the waiting room, a familiar fast-food bag in her hand. “Boy, am I glad to see you. The snack bar is closed, and I don’t think I can eat another candy bar.”

  Jennifer dropped the bag into Kelly’s outstretched hands then shed her coat and sat down. “Greasy Burger to the rescue. I ate one on the way over. Couldn’t help myself.”

  Kelly had already torn off the packaging and taken a huge bite. “Ummmm!” was all she could manage.

  “My sentiments exactly. I tell you, Kelly, if things don’t settle down pretty soon, I won’t be able to fit into my jeans. I’ve gained ten pounds this week just worrying about everyone.” She reached into her oversized bag, withdrew the royal blue sweater, and began to knit.

  “Mummph,” Kelly tried, then swallowed. “Just like Megan.”

  “With one big difference. When Megan worries, she knits faster. When I worry, I eat.”

  Kelly polished off the huge drippy burger and sipped the soft drink Jennifer had kindly provided. “That was delicious. Thanks, Jen. That’ll last me for a while.”

  “Any word since those last tests?” Jennifer’s needles picked up speed.

  “Nope. The doc said they’d check the blood work again around six. I’m just praying that liver enzyme starts dropping soon. It went down a little the last time, but not enough.” She ran her hand through her dark shoulder-length hair. Freed of the scrunchy rubber band she wore to run, her hair fell across her face and forehead. Normally, Kelly couldn’t stand that. She barely noticed now.

  “I’d join you in a prayer, but we wouldn’t want the walls to shake,” Jennifer teased.

  Kelly managed a small smile. “I appreciate it, Jennifer. So does Carl.”

  “How much longer are you going to stay? You’re not going to sleep here, are you?”

  “If I have to. I’m not leaving until Carl starts to improve.” She stared at the tiled floor as she willed herself not to think about the alternative. “And... and when he gets better and comes home, he’ll have to stay inside the house during the day. He can only go out when I’m there and can watch him. I . . . I can’t risk anything happening to him again.”

  Jennifer knitted quietly for a few moments. “You know, Kelly, I’ve been thinking about this . . . what happened to Carl and all, and—”

  “I know, I know,” Kelly interrupted as she rubbed her hand across her forehead. A headache was starting right between her eyes. “It’s gotten worse. This isn’t just vandalism anymore. It’s a vendetta, I swear it is. I only wish I knew who could be behind it.”

  Jennifer went quiet again. “I agree with you, Kelly. It has gotten worse. And you’re right, it is a vendetta . . . of sorts.” She emphasized the last two words.

  That caught Kelly’s attention. “What do you mean?”

  “I think there’s a connection between all these things that have been happening at your place. You know, the damage to your house and your car, and even today with Carl. I think it’s related to your purchase of the canyon ranch.”

  Kelly stared at Jennifer. “What? That doesn’t make sense, Jen,” she protested. “What possible connection could there be? Everything’s happened right here.”

  Jennifer released a long sigh before answering. “Bear with me for a moment, okay? Let’s take a look. The first time anything happened was a few days after you started to buy the property. Your tires were slashed. After you signed the contract in January and the place was officially yours, then more stuff started to happen. Worse each time. And now, it’s Carl.”

  Kelly wagged her head. “Sorry, Jennifer. I don’t see the connection at all. I know you’re trying to help, but I really think you’re out in left field with that. Far left field.”

  “Okay, let me bring it closer to home.” Jennifer dropped the needles to her lap and looked up at Kelly. “After I heard about Carl this morning, I contacted the real
estate agent in our office who listed the canyon ranch last December. I remembered her saying something happened in the canyon that spooked the client and scared her into selling.”

  Kelly sat on a plastic chair beside her friend. “Did she say what it was?”

  “Ohhhh, yeah.” Jennifer nodded. “I pulled her aside when she came into the office and told her what’s been happening at your place. Then I told her about Carl, and she went white as a sheet. She told me her client’s dog was killed while the woman was up in the canyon touring the ranch last December. That’s what scared the woman off. Apparently she came back to her car and found her little pekeapoo lying in a bloody pile on the seat, his throat cut.”

  The cold hand inside Kelly’s gut squeezed. “Oh, no!”

  “Oh, yes. The woman totally freaked after that and dumped the property. Understandably.”

  Kelly stared at the pattern on the tile floor. Could Jennifer be right? Was there a connection between her buying the canyon ranch and all these attacks? Her analytical side weighed in with an emphatic no, but her intuitive side wasn’t as easily placated. That little alarm in the back of her head kept ringing.

  “Any chance a mountain lion got into the car?” she suggested, trying to find some other explanation for the chilling picture Jennifer had painted.

  Jennifer shook her head. “According to the agent, there was no sign of entry by man or beast. The woman swore she locked her car door when she left her little dog. And get this: the door was locked when she came back and found him inside the car, dead.”

  “Who would do such a vicious thing?”

  “I think it’s the same person who poisoned Carl.”

  Kelly stared into Jennifer’s dark brown eyes and saw the concern there. “You really think all this is related to the canyon ranch?”

  “Yes, I do. Think about it. Go back to the first time the ranch went on the market. The real estate developer bought it to build a mega mansion up there. Remember what happened to him? His condo project in town was torched and a gas can was left on the ranch porch as a warning.”