Blending In

by RJ Blain

“I figured you wouldn’t. You like helping people. Animals, too.” Chase made a thoughtful sound in his throat. “Wait here a second.”

  He went to talk to the police, and on his way over, he handed Pupperina to his father along with a stern warning not to lose her. Within a few minutes, he returned, a pleased, smug expression on his face.

  “What did you do?”

  “I lowered the police’s dog relocation problem by two. We’ll have to wait for some paperwork, plus we’ll have to swing by the station because someone—you, to be specific—needs to acknowledge you’re being released without holding and bail and promise to show up for a hearing where you’ll be assigned some form of community service. We’re old hats at this, especially Dad. You can thank Dad later for smoothing the way on that one.”

  “Theft of a pet equates to provocation. Add in the animal abuse laws and the horror show this place is, and any reasonable animal lover would snap when spotting a potential culprit. Slap on the wrist,” his father confirmed. “How are you helping with the dog relocation problem?”

  “I’m going to take Goliath. Miriah is going to look around the cages and pick two puppies to take home with us. I’ll call an emergency clinic, and we’ll drop them off along with rescues in critical need of care while on route to the police station. We’ll go back after we’ve dealt with the legalities. I already got approval from the cops to do it, too.”

  I handed Goliath over before turning in a slow circle, taking in the numerous cages and the dogs trapped within. Given my way, I would’ve taken them all and tried to love them like they deserved. Being able to pick only two hurt. Was I better off picking young puppies? Older dogs? One of each?

  How was I supposed to pick only two?

  I explored the warehouse, watching the animals and approaching each cage to watch the occupant—or occupants. Most were older, but down one of the narrow pathways between cages, I found a trio of puppies alone that looked too young to be separated from their mother.

  I crouched, open the cage, and picked up the first, who whined and wiggled in my hand.

  As I meant to earn a coal mine, I would begin with changing the number of animals I’d rescue from two to three. I scooped up the other puppies, cradled them in my arm, and returned to Chase. “I have a new way of counting,” I announced.

  “Do tell,” Chase replied, arching a brow and counting the puppies I held.

  “One, more than one. These are more than one, and they don’t have a mother. They’re too young to be without a mother.”

  “I can’t win this one, so we’ll go with one, more than one math in this instance. I’ll be right back and inform the police that I’ve helped relocate an extra unexpectedly.”

  Chase’s father chuckled. “Found them together in the same cage?”

  I nodded.

  “It couldn’t be helped. Don’t worry. Chase likes dogs, and if four dogs becomes too much to handle, I’ll talk the wife into taking one of them. She won’t mind. This little girl might come home with me so the litter isn’t separated if that’s the case. She’s weird but cute.”

  “Like hell you’ll take one of my dogs,” I muttered. “And you’re not allowed to take my cat, either.”

  “I see four dogs is not going to become too much to handle, will it?”

  “Over my dead body.”

  “Good to know.”

  I huffed, lifted my chin, and strode to Chase, who worked to secure approval for me to rescue the trio of puppies I couldn’t bear to leave behind.

  The emergency clinic receptionist took one look at my three puppies and the steady stream of crates Chase and his father hauled in, called for the vet immediately, and confiscated my puppies with a promise they’d be ready for us to pick up in a few hours. The other dogs would stay longer, but the woman assured me they’d worked with the police before and would take care of everything. They weren’t the only puppies to join the fray, as the police brought over crates of the ones worse off for emergency treatments. Chase gave them his payment information, paid the basic examination fee before we left, and drove us to the police station for the next stage of our night.

  Goliath and Pupperina tolerated the activity better than I thought, although Chase bought two carriers at the vets to ensure they wouldn’t get lost in the chaos.

  Two hours after arrival, which involved three questioning sessions, more forms than I cared to think about, and a list of charges I’d face at my hearing in a few days. The cops seemed convinced I’d face some form of community service and no permanent mark on my record.

  Nobody liked animal abusers, and the puppy mill operation broke Federal law.

  “They’ll give her thirty days of community service, and my bets are with a restriction to shelters and animal services,” Chase’s father predicted. “They’ll slap me with a few days out of pure spite with no limitations on what I do. You? You’ll walk away without anything because you’re a brat.”

  Chase grinned. “They’ll give me thirty days hoping she’ll teach me better manners and ethics, and they’ll tie my community service work with hers. Look on the bright side, Dad. You didn’t have to pay any bail tonight, and as the most responsible adult currently present, that job would’ve fallen to you.”

  “You think he’s responsible?” I blurted.

  “I also think he dropped me on my head a few times when I was a baby, but what can I say? He is my father, and I try to give him some credit from time to time. It makes him feel important.”

  “I need to feel important at least once a day. If I don’t, I whine.”

  I gave up. “Do whatever you want. Can we leave yet? We have to rescue the puppies from the vet.”

  Chase laughed, confirmed with the police we could leave, and drove us back to the vets, who’d given the three beagles a bath, checked them over, and determined they were somewhere between two to four weeks old, but thanks to malnutrition, the vet wasn’t certain. They still needed milk, which would require an emergency trip to the store to get some as the clinic didn’t have enough in stock with the other puppies in need of care.

  Through it all, Pupperina and Goliath dosed in their new carriers while waiting for us to take them home.

  After paying for everything, Chase looked me in the eyes and announced, “You’re not naming them.”

  I laughed. “So I guess Latte, Tiramisu, and Lasagna are out?”

  “For names of these puppies, yes. For dinner tomorrow, no.”

  I could work with that.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Unsatisfied with Craig’s arrest, which led to Timothy’s arrest following the first questioning session, Chase threw himself into his work, convinced someone else working within his company was still involved with the puppy mill operation and the siphoning of his funds. Worse, he worried the funds might’ve been used to subsidize the puppy mill, something that infuriated him to the breaking point.

  I found it amusing Chase’s frantic work routine involved drinking so much tea he might float away and a tendency to mutter curses under his breath. Each day, from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep, often on his couch still working, he focused on ferreting out the guilty. Sometimes he went to the office, and when he did, the entire circus went with him, and I was given the job of caring for puppies and keeping a close eye on my cat.

  Two days after we’d rescued the three puppies, I coerced Chase into taking the entire circus to my apartment so I could retrieve my regular firearm. While there, I looked Chase in the eyes while I packed my things, including my old desktop, filling every spare inch of space in his car.

  It took three trips to transfer enough of my things to satisfy myself that Chase had no doubt I’d staged a takeover of his home. In a bid to play almost hard to get, I took over a guest bedroom. I’d stage my invasion of his bedroom immediately following the Christmas Eve service, and I’d recruited Tiana to pick me up something a lot slutty with a bow and a collar customized to read ‘Ho, Ho, Ho.’

  I’d even
talked her into picking up a matching leash. She’d found the whole idea hilarious, and she promised she’d show up at the service with a wrapped present for me so I wouldn’t scandalize my son.

  To sweeten the deal, she even planned to think about the purchase a lot to make Gavin uncomfortable.

  I loved my best frenemy.

  Four days before Christmas, I determined if I wanted Chase to stop working in my lifetime, I’d have to solve the mystery for him since he wasn’t having any luck solving it himself. I began with Timothy Gaithers; with his higher position within Chase’s company, I suspected all roads led to him in one fashion or another. Chase kept his search to evidence within his company.

  I looked for motive, and I doubted it would be found within Chase’s business.

  What would drive a man into trying to kill someone to protect a money source? Why join forces with so many in a reeking warehouse full of abused dogs? No sane man would. At last count, the police had apprehended fifty-three accomplices, seven of whom had worked for Chase.

  I believed something drove Timothy into a dive into the deep end. But what?

  Snooping around in Chase’s files after he went to bed classified me as a bad person, but I swore to ignore my guilty conscious and snooped into the former employee’s personal life. On paper, he had everything. His parents, both over a hundred years old, still ran an investment firm, although a note in Chase’s files indicated the pair would retire sometime soon.

  Timothy was second in line to inherit the role of CEO.

  As Chase had wasted a week on dead leads within his company, I decided to give Gaithers Mutual Funds and Investments a thorough looking over. Of all the reasons I might dive off the deep end, family came in number one. While I liked to pretend I was a decent human being, I’d do a lot more than beg, cheat, and steal to protect Caleb.

  I’d raised Caleb to put family first. I’d caught him lying to protect me more than once, although I tried to contain his fibbing to the white lies meant to make people feel better than crueler deceptions. Some days, I wondered how well I succeeded.

  Within twenty minutes of starting my search, I uncovered that Gaithers Mutual Funds and Investments had laid off a quarter of its staff several years ago. Since then, the publicly traded company had suffered from falling stock figures, although it’d stabilized to something I might consider healthy comparatively.

  Frowning, I dug out the reports revealing how much money Chase had lost. If a struggling investment firm needed to pay out portfolios and had run out of money, I could see someone siphoning funds from somewhere else to keep the business afloat long enough for there to be a recovery—or a change of management.

  No one wanted to inherit a sinking ship, and I could see numerous ways an enterprising individual might stage a buyout, especially if he believed he could turn the sinking ship into a thriving business.

  The police had already confirmed Timothy had the talent required to mask the truth in the reports, a talent my eyes could see through.

  No wonder the asshole had wanted me out of the way. He could’ve gotten away with it for months—maybe even years—longer if not for me. The puppy mill operation bothered me, but I suspected Chase had been onto something.

  A little research implied each dog could be worth up to several thousand dollars on the illegal market, and a large-scale pharmaceutical firm would need hundreds of dogs to do their tests. The age of the dog mattered, too. Some firms might need younger dogs, some might need older dogs, and the firms didn’t necessarily need healthy dogs.

  In fact, I suspected some of the firms might want sickly dogs to test cures on them for a variety of ailments.

  On the legal market, a single dog might earn a breeder even more than the illegal dogs, but the requirements for a dog to be suitable for medical testing boggled my mind. The government’s requirements for ethical treatment ensured the animals had a dedicated caretaker, they were given the best conditions possible in a lab setting, and underwent constant evaluations to ensure they were treated in a humane fashion.

  The dogs that survived the trials underwent extensive treatments to ensure the rest of their lives were spent happy and healthy, and they were put up for adoption. The ones who weren’t so lucky were given humane deaths, and their bodies went to schools for education purposes.

  They helped teach doctors and nurses about the diseases humans suffered, and some helped train veterinarians so they could help pets live happy lives.

  I could accept that. I couldn’t accept what I’d seen in the puppy mill.

  If I ever got Timothy alone in a dark alley, one of us wouldn’t be leaving alive, and I’d do my damnedest to make sure his next home was the cemetery. If opportunity allowed, I’d bury him in a pet cemetery so the spirits of the furry dead could torment him for all eternity.

  Fortunately for Timothy, the last time I’d checked, he’d been denied bail along with Craig and Denise. The initial trial would begin sometime after Christmas, and I expected both would be slapped on the wrist and given community service for the majority of their punishment.

  The prison time for any attempted murder charges would be partially covered during their wait in holding for their trial’s completion, which could take a year or longer depending on how complicated the case became. The reality of the situation annoyed Chase far more than it annoyed me.

  No amount of prison time would undo their crimes, and I rather liked the idea of some rich, old fart of a goon being forced to serve others as punishment.

  He’d hate it, and that was good enough for me.

  To gather as much information as I could on Timothy and his family’s business, I made a pot of coffee, tip-toed around the dozing Chase, who kept all five animals company on the couch, and did my best to give him a miracle.

  My reasons were purely selfish in nature, as I’d have no chance of verifying my tramp stamp if Chase worked himself into an early grave.

  In the morning, hopefully after I figured out the missing pieces of the puzzle, he’d be able to do something other than work and sleep for a change.

  At six in the morning, I found several lawsuits buried in the court system accusing Gaithers Mutual Funds and Investments of stealing funds from investment accounts to pay off withdraws and maintain the appearance of being a thriving company. What happened to the funds I couldn’t guess, but I suspected it had something to do with the Gaithers and their excessive family homes with excessive price tags of several million apiece.

  Stealing Chase’s money would allow them to maintain the ruse long enough to survive the court investigation—maybe.

  I suspected Timothy used the money to replenish the money stolen from various accounts at his parents’ firm to cover up the losses while the company was investigated.

  If the numbers matched and they claimed the portfolios hadn’t performed well, a lazy investigator might be fooled.

  When I estimated the value of the dogs and the amount Chase’s business had lost, it made a lot of sense to me. I emailed Chase a copy of the court filings, linked to the performance history of Gaithers Mutual Funds and Investments, and called it a night. A glance at the clock promised I wouldn’t have time to catch a nap, so I made a new cup of coffee and started tea for the morning zombie.

  To my amusement, Chase and his companions all fought waking up, although I had an easier time coaxing the puppies and my kitty to cooperate. Goliath moved like a bat out of hell the instant I opened his can of wet food, and Pupperina barreled over hot on his heels. The trio of babies needed more care from me, and Chase finally got on the move while I had all three on my lap drinking warmed replacer milk from a bottle.

  “You’re too awake for this early in the morning,” he complained on his way to the kitchen. A few grunts, what I suspected was a mumbled thanks, and some slurps later, he returned to the living room. “Why are you still in your clothes from last night?”

  I pointed at his laptop. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Christmas isn’t for
a few more days.”

  “I’m bored of watching you work so I finished your work for you. Merry Christmas.”

  Chase narrowed his eyes. “You did what? How?”

  “I followed the money.” As my answer would likely drive him crazy, I smiled. “That’s what I do. I talk to the numbers, and they talk back. We had a delightful conversation last night while you were sleeping on the couch. Were you aware you have a bed in this house? I’m sure the puppies wouldn’t mind sleeping there, too. You don’t have to sleep on the couch to keep the zoo company.”

  “You followed the money? How?” Chase sat on the couch, set his tea aside, and grabbed his laptop. It amazed me the computer survived through Chase’s careless handling of it. Then again, I rescued it the nights he didn’t find his way to bed. My rescuing likely had a lot to do with his laptop still working. “What did you send me? This is timestamped at six in the morning, Miriah.”

  “Well, it took me until six in the morning to figure it out. I just wanted to know why Timothy would need all that money and need even more money after taking so much from you. Honestly, I’d started with medical research using dogs as my starting point to figure out how much the poor puppies were worth.”

  “What’d you figure out?”

  “The puppies are worth around two grand, and the older dogs can be worth up to five grand, roughly. Maybe more if the dog has a specific ailment they’re looking to treat.” The thought of why Timothy and his accomplices would abuse animals annoyed me into grunting and hunting down another cup of coffee so I wouldn’t take my agitation out on Chase. “The CDC had a page reporting the most they’d found was seven thousand for a specific animal with a specific ailment. Then the pharmaceuticals save tens of thousands because the animal treatment laws require medical testing animals to be treated with upmost care. From my understanding of what I read, it can cost them upwards of thirty to forty thousand in extra expenses per dog for caring for them during testing and afterwards if they survive, and they’re not allowed to kill the dogs if they survive through testing for autopsy. They have to be treated and placed in a good home.”