Texas Sheriff's Deadly Mission
Page 25
“Fine.” Nella soon followed Scott through the door he’d unlocked to the inner part of the shelter, with Ann close behind him. He locked the door again behind them.
“I’ll show you this first,” Scott said. Nella grinned when he walked them down the wide hallway lined with closed doors, to its end, where, before another door, there were fenced-in enclosures containing dogs. A couple barked at them.
Whatever else it might be, this definitely was an animal shelter.
Each enclosure contained different sizes of dogs. Nearest the door were two small ones. Next was an area with three medium-sized ones, with one larger one toward the back. Nella figured this was mostly to show people coming in, since there were likely to be larger areas containing more dogs, as well as other pets, beyond that door. Of course each enclosure contained water and food bowls and dog beds, and the floors were all tiled like the waiting room, the easier for cleaning, she assumed.
Scott didn’t stop to introduce either Ann or her to the dogs, though. “Thought you’d want to see this, but let’s go back,” he said.
He turned and they followed him nearly to where they had entered the hall.
“Here, Nella.” Scott pushed open a door on the left. “As I said, Ann and I are going to have a little discussion first, but I’ll come back to talk to you here soon.” He gestured for Nella to go inside.
Which she did. She understood what he was up to, or believed she did, but wished she could participate in his initial inquisition of Ann to see what she really wanted, and if she was qualified to be one of the people housed here. Still, since Nella wasn’t yet one of those who helped to take care of those people, and might never be, it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to join them.
Even so, it hurt. But it also added to her desire to do a good job of talking to Scott later.
So for now, she entered a small conference room that had a table surrounded by chairs. She pulled one of the austere chairs out and sat on it. She extracted her phone from her purse, checked for emails and searched to see if there was any more news about the LAPD and the situation that had caused her to leave the job there.
Nothing new. So, she next looked up the Chance Animal Shelter, as she had many times recently, and read once more about the many kudos for the wonderful place up in the mountains near San Luis Obispo that helped to save so many needy animals.
And let her mind wander around to how it also, covertly, apparently saved a lot of needy people.
* * *
Scott couldn’t help feeling a bit perturbed that his interview with Nella had been delayed by the appearance of this clearly distressed woman, Ann. He had been looking forward to talking to the former LAPD officer who had sent in an application for a managerial job at his shelter.
Her credentials looked good. Real good. And he had checked her references, which were excellent, most from other cops he knew of and respected.
The delay wouldn’t affect his impression of her background. But his initial thoughts remained on Nella as he led Ann into another of the interview rooms on the first floor of the Chance Animal Shelter reception building.
He supposed he could add Nella’s response to the wait to the list of things he needed to consider before offering her a job.
“So, here we are,” he said to Ann, gesturing to the obviously stressed woman to sit on a chair at the table in the middle of the compact and stark room. It was a good place to interview potential pet adopters while bringing in the dogs, cats or whatever they’d expressed interest in and watching their mutual reactions. It worked even better for interviewing potential “staff” members—those people who came here not only to be hired to help with the animals, but also to acquire new, safer identities and hide from people who tormented them in their real lives.
Was that the situation with Ann?
She remained standing until he took a seat and again gestured to her to join him. Appearing quite tense, she obeyed, sitting straight in the chair and staring at him with her moist brown eyes.
“So how did you hear about this shelter?” was Scott’s first question, as it often was.
“I... I have a new friend who lived—worked—here for a while. She just moved to near where I live, and—”
“Which is where?” Scott interrupted. He wondered who she was talking about but assumed she would say.
“Santa Maria. And the friend is Edna Short. I figured you’d want to know that.”
“Yes, I do. Thank you.” Scott recalled that Edna Short was the name they had given to Babs Morgan, who had been at the shelter for about a month right after it opened. She’d chosen to leave after her abusive stepfather was arrested in Arizona for assault and battery on another woman, but wanted to stay as far as possible from the guy’s radar as she could for the rest of her life. Hence, the new, retained identity.
Scott would reserve judgment whether to be angry with Edna, and perhaps contact her to warn her not to mention the place ever again, until he had heard Ann’s story and determined whether Edna had merely done an endangered friend a favor by telling her about it.
“Edna,” Ann continued, “well, we met where I worked at a coffee shop. She became a server, too, and was there when my stepson came in a few times and—” her eyes teared up even more “—he hit me there, in front of everyone. My husband was even with him some of the times. I’d tried to stop him, to convince my husband to help, to tell him I wasn’t stealing his money. Even got the police involved, but, but...”
“But you needed more help than you were able to find. I understand. And it was good that Edna suggested us.”
Maybe. But Scott would still contact Edna—carefully, of course—and confirm that Ann was who and what she claimed to be.
“We may be able to offer you a position here,” he continued, choosing not to be overly encouraging until he knew more. “Right now, I’ll send in one of our managers to talk with you and get additional information.”
Which would give him a chance to go talk to Nella, whom he was supposed to be interviewing.
“Thank you.” Ann sounded almost breathless. “And—”
“And?” he encouraged when she stopped talking.
“And—well, could I get to see some of your animals up close?”
Which made Scott smile. Ann just might be a good fit.
“We’ll ask the manager who comes to see you to introduce you to some,” he said, then stood to leave the room.
Copyright © 2021 by Linda O. Johnston
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ISBN-13: 9780369713612
Texas Sheriff’s Deadly Mission
Copyright © 2021 by Karen Whiddon
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