by Patti Larsen
“Could be something to help track her history.” I nodded to the doc. “Thanks. This is very helpful.” I wasn’t sure it meant anything, actually, but having him digging for me meant a lot considering the position Robert was in, so close to taking the sheriff’s office as it happened.
Dr. Aberstock shrugged inside his heavy coat. “That was my thought,” he said. “Find out about the accident, maybe about her history with drugs and alcohol. Might create a new avenue to chase down possible motive.”
We seemed to have lots of motive, but yes. I hated leaving stones unturned.
“I’ll look into it,” I said, only then realizing Petunia had been gone long enough, turning to look for her. It wasn’t like her to wander too far. Usually the little brat loved to present me with her deposit with a beaming pug grin. Besides, she hated being overly cold and it was chilly out here, enough so she should have been back at my side already.
“Petunia?” I headed in the direction she’d trotted off, Dr. Aberstock following me. It was dark, but not pitch black, enough light from the street giving my eyes illumination to make out the path ahead.
And the lump of fawn collapsed on her side, twitching violently on the flagstones.
***
Chapter Twenty Nine
I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t move. My body locked up, mind stuttering to a halt as I watched my pug seize there in front of me, thrashing her fat little body before falling still. Dr. Aberstock on the other hand?
He was already moving before Petunia’s fit ended. I watched as if from a great distance as he rushed to her side, crouching and examining her before spinning on me and snapping his fingers at me to get my attention.
“Fiona!” I’d never heard him raise his voice before. That jerked me loose from the shock of the moment and dragged me as though he’d lassoed me, knees wobbling, to land at his side. Petunia was panting, her whole body heaving again while Dr. Aberstock bent to sniff at something. While my eyes locked on what looked like the remains of a bowl of wet dog food on the side of the path.
Why was there food out here? And why was there any left? Petunia would have Hoovered up every last scrap, surely. That was her MO, no matter how full she was. What was wrong with my pug?
Yes. I knew. Deep down inside as my hand pulled free my phone and speed dialed the vet, I understood, even as Dr. Aberstock scooped some of the food into a glove he hand in his pocket (occupational hazard) and someone answered on the line.
“Fiona, tell them it’s antifreeze, and a large dose. Tell them to prep hydrogen peroxide. We’re on our way.”
Did I? Think I did, while my mind went, not so oddly, I guess, to Thea Isaacs and the parallel to her case. That the little minister didn’t make it, and did that mean my pug wouldn’t either?
I don’t remember getting her off the icy ground or carrying her to the car, though I must have. I also don’t recall the drive, though Dr. Aberstock must have been behind the wheel. I have zero recollection of anything, to be honest, until I came into sharp awareness in the front room at the vet’s, Crew bursting in to hug me and hug me while Petunia, taken from me, that much I did recall, fought for her life somewhere past the main desk.
“Someone poisoned her,” I whispered into his chest, not even able to cry just yet.
“We’ll find them,” his growl was deep, furious, vengeful when I couldn’t be, not until I knew if she was going to live. “And we’ll make them pay.”
I already knew who tried to kill my pug. They’d been at my house, torn it to shreds. Destroyed my life and left my whole world in shambles. Who else had access? Who else would use poisoning just like the case we investigated as the ironic kick in the ass it was? It had to be Robert. Rose.
There’d be two more bodies to investigate before too long and I wouldn’t be sorry. Not one little bit.
Dr. Aberstock emerged just as Dad and Mom hurried in, both of them hugging me, my mother weeping, even Dad with tears standing in his eyes. And then, Daisy burst into the office, the tall and gorgeous Emile Ries striding in behind her.
I embraced my bestie while she sobbed, rocking her and pulling away finally, finding my own tears in the face of her grief. “We don’t know anything,” I said, though I was looking at the doc when I said it.
He nodded heavily, but with the faintest of smiles. “She’s not out of the woods,” he said, “but she’s breathing better and we were able to get most of the antifreeze out of her system. So, if she makes it through the night, she’ll be okay.”
I lurched at him, hugged him tight. “You saved her life,” I whispered in his ear. “I’ll never forget it, not ever. Thank you for everything. For being there. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t.”
He hugged me back, the sweet older doctor patting my back with a gentle hand. “I just hope it was enough,” he whispered in return. “Iris was a dear friend, Fee. And I’m rather fond of the pug in question.” The doc blinked, moisture in his own eyes. He’d faced death so many times, as a doctor, as a coroner. I’d never seen any of it phase him.
But he was crying over my dog. And I joined him.
Dr. Fred Miller exited the door to the back and greeted us all with a warm smile. The sandy-haired vet had been Petunia’s go-to since he’d moved here and she adored him. I couldn’t think of anyone—aside from Dr. Aberstock, thanks—I’d trust her with more. “She’s doing much better,” he said, with a wave for the human doc in the room. “Thanks to Lloyd here, she’s got a fighting chance. That was quick thinking and probably saved her life.”
“She’s going to be okay?” I hated to ask that question, especially after what Dr. Aberstock said, but Dr. Miller seemed optimistic.
“We’ll see come morning,” he said, pale green eyes honest behind his gold-rimmed glasses, golf shirt collar askew as if he’d barely had time to change or even get dressed before treating my pug. “But it looks good, Fee. I wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true. Okay?”
I sobbed at last, nodding as I pressed both hands to my face and let out the terror of the last—how long? I had no idea how much time passed. I literally lost however long it had been to the mindless horror of the prospect of losing Petunia. There had been a time I’d wondered why my grandmother loved her farting, fat, bossy little soul. But she was mine and I was hers and if I’d lost her…
I couldn’t lose her.
Dr. Aberstock finally left after another round of thankful hugs. “I’ll check in on her in the morning, if you don’t mind, Fee?”
As if. I kissed his round cheek. “You’re the best. And I’ll make things right for you, I swear.”
“This is the reason I’m a doctor,” he said, cherub face alight with a smile and more tears. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just happy this ending isn’t what I usually have to deal with.”
I let him go, wanting to go back and see Petunia, but knowing I had a confession to make. I dragged Dad and Crew to one side, Liz following us, and whispered what I needed them to know.
“I’m pretty sure Rose and Robert are behind this,” I said. “And it’s not the first attempt they’ve made to hurt me.” I filled them in on the first time, the car swerving to hit me before driving off. And the second, the near accident earlier today, Jill’s expert driving saving us was just another instance, in my opinion.
Dad hesitated while Crew hugged me tight, as if he could protect me from all comers just by holding me. “The brake line was degraded,” he said before shaking his head. “But that can be faked.”
“Easily,” Liz growled. “A drop or two of some kind of acid and it looks natural-like.” She sounded like she had experience with such an occurrence.
“Dad.” I grasped his hand. “This might be about Victor.” His eyes narrowed further. “If Robert knows I remembered what happened…” Did I remember correctly? Or was my cousin just an asshat and this had nothing to do with the day Vivian’s brother drowned?
No way. That darkness that ran through Robert Carlisle? That came from g
uilt so deep and powerful it was born of childhood trauma.
Crew’s deep voice echoed hollow in my ear as he spoke. “We need proof,” he said. “Damn it, I hate to admit it. I wish we could just go string up the both of them. But we need solid evidence to take them down.” He pushed me away just a bit, enough to look into my eyes. “They may have just given us what we need to ruin them both.”
I’d take it. “Go find proof,” I said, shoving against him to set him free. “Find it, Crew. If those assholes—” I choked but when he moved in to hug me again I brushed him off, letting anger feed me. I needed it right now or I’d be collapsing into a heap myself and would likely end up comatose sucking my thumb for comfort. So, anger it was. “Find what we need to nail those bastards to the ground once and for all.”
Crew nodded, grim, as angry as I was, before kissing my forehead, the stubble on his face scraping against my skin before he spun and marched out. Dad and Liz went with him, Mom and Daisy joining me for a hug I barely accepted before pushing them away, too. I nodded to Emile rather than let them pull me into an hysterical spiral of what ifs.
“Nice to see you again,” I said. I gestured at my bestie who flushed. “Don’t let her get away, okay? She’s worth the fight.”
He beamed a smile at me, those stunning eyes locked on Daisy. “If she’ll have me,” he said, deep voice soft with that lilt of old French making him dreamy all over again, broad shouldered body leaning into her under that expensive camel coat, every inch a prince even if he wasn’t officially (as far as I knew but stranger things, right?). “I will love her and care for her like the precious flower she is.”
Daisy, clearly flustered, more than I’d ever seen her, waved both hands at him and giggled. While my mother swooned just a little. Nice to see them both distracted. And to feel a surge of love for my best friend and the future she hopefully would embrace with this man who clearly adored her more than life itself.
I had one of those of my own, so I knew just how precious it was, that gift.
It was harder than I thought to shoo them out, finally begging them to let me stay alone with Petunia. “I have to be here,” I said to Mom, to Daisy. “I can’t leave her alone. But you two should go. Emile, please.” I stepped back from them, gesturing for him to guide them out. “Make sure they get home safe.”
Prince Charming did just that, though my mother looked back over her shoulder the whole time, as if trying to guilt me into letting her stay. Instead, I hardened my heart against her and could almost feel her sigh in my own body as she finally left, Emile holding the door for her.
I turned back when she’d gone, to nod to Dr. Miller. “It’s okay if I stay?” I hadn’t even asked.
He nodded instantly. “We even have a cot,” he said, one hand on my back as he guided me through the doorway and into the recesses of his clinic.
I’d never been back here before, where the cages and sick animals were, where the actual medicine happened. Nothing like a regular hospital. Why was I surprised? I stopped when I spotted her, behind a cage door, at the bottom, near the floor, her fawn body silent. Another sob escaped and Dr. Miller was kind enough not to push me until I was ready.
I closed the distance at last, sitting on the tile floor next to her cage, watching her breath, her triangle ear flapped over one eye. When I looked up for permission Dr. Miller opened the cage door and let me touch her, though I did so hesitantly, smoothing back that velvet ear, fingers sliding over her shoulder, down to one little paw. I needed to trim her claws again. They were getting so long and I’d been neglecting her.
And then, as if that thought opened a floodgate, I bent my head into my hands and wept for my poor little pug.
***
Chapter Thirty
I woke partway through the night, not sure what made me stir. A quick check of Petunia told me she was still out cold. The place wasn’t exactly quiet, a few cages housing animals in various stages of illness and/or recovery like my girl, so likely one of them make enough noise to wake me.
I’d waved off the cot, choosing to sit on the floor next to my dog and watch over her. I hadn’t meant to sleep and, to keep myself awake—not that I needed to for safety, since Dr. Miller locked the place up tight before he left, leaving me secure inside—I fiddled with my phone.
And, on impulse, sent a text to the number of the private detective Dad supplied me. The one who Andrew Isaac had hired to look into Thea.
I quickly introduced myself to Orville Dunning as sheriff of Reading before asking him if it was true he’d stopped investigating after Andrew told him to. Dad hadn’t said otherwise, so I assumed that was the case, but I needed something to distract me. As an afterthought, I sent him the info Dr. Aberstock gave me and asked if he’d uncovered anything about an accident.
He didn’t answer, no surprise there. It was three in the morning, after all. I sighed, setting my phone aside, doing my best not to let my spinning brain have its way with me, and, holding my pug’s paw in one hand, fell asleep again.
I woke when the staff started to arrive, got out of the way when Dr. Miller appeared.
“There’s coffee in the staff room,” he said, one of his nurses gently lifting Petunia out of the cage and carrying her toward an exam table. “I’ll be right with you, okay?” I didn’t want to go, hesitated, but he was still smiling. “She made it through the night, Fee,” he said, pointing at where the nurse was injecting her with something. “I’m waking her up now, to check her vitals. But it’s an excellent sign and I’m sure she’s going to pull through.”
Okay then.
I sipped a hot cup of coffee, feeling like an intruder in the staff room, though everyone was so sweet and two of the nurses stopped in to hug me, tears in their eyes.
“We just love Petunia,” the smaller of the pair said, her petite body shaking with anger. “How anyone could do this to her…”
I didn’t comment, but thanked them both for their kindness. Restless, I finished my cup of java and headed for the entry, my coat, and outside for a breath of fresh air while pent-up fury rose in a ball of fire inside me, giving me a sudden and intense bout of heartburn.
I didn’t even consider the fact that the people in my life would be yelling at me right about then if they knew I was standing outside, alone, unprotected. But it was the morning, bright and sunny and even a little warm, the kind of day that optimism was made of. Surely that meant things had to be turning in my direction, right?
The black sedan pulled up so quickly I felt panic rise, realizing then how stupid I’d been. This could be the car that tried to kill me, to run me over. Though, the moment that thought crossed my mind I knew better. Even more so when the big, tall man in the suit and black sunglasses, wire in his ear and, I was positive, pistol in his jacket, stepped out of the front and opened the back door for me.
Malcolm Murray’s lead bully nodded while the man himself, his silver head poking out the door to greet me, waved for me to join him. “Get in, Fee, lass,” he said.
Did he sound… excited about something?
Damn, I forgot he’d texted. An apology sat on my lips and I almost had enough air in my lungs to let it out, even as I crouched to slide into the back seat next to my godfather, when that same breath exited in a rush at the sight of the beautiful older woman sitting across from him.
And everything stopped.
“Siobhan,” I managed with the last little bit of oxygen left to me.
“Oh, my darling Fiona.” She leaned forward, one gloved hand pressed to my cheek, cupping my face in the soft leather, her pale green eyes glowing, white hair a wreath around her lovely face, lined by age or not. “How utterly divine to see you grown up.”
***
Malcolm had a lake house, who knew? Dad did, I suppose. I, on the other hand, had no idea where he lived, realizing I’d assumed he perched in some kind of seedy apartment over The Orange, his bar. The stunning mix of modern and wood accented home on the shores of Cutter Lake, however? Not at all wh
at I’d been expecting.
Malcolm’s tight grin told me he knew he’d surprised me. “Come in, please,” he said, taking Siobhan’s hand and guiding her steps, her small feet in black leather boots, slim body dressed well in a long, down-filled black coat with a fur collar tucked carefully around her throat. The two of them looked like the sweetest old couple ever, he in his navy pea coat and jeans, hovering next to her as though the barest breeze would knock her over while she batted at his hands and laughed a little breathlessly.
“Malcolm, my love,” she said, cheeks pink from the cold, “I’m fine, sweet boy. Let an old woman be.”
“Never again,” he said, and yes, his voice was thick.
Oh god. I was going to start crying all over again, wasn’t I? For love long lost and somehow recovered.
Because that’s what this was. Love. How could anyone possibly miss the way she looked at him, how he doted on her? Like they were twenty again, and had their whole lives ahead of them. Only the tragedy was they weren’t and while they might have some time, could they possibly make up for all the years they’d lost?
That wasn’t up to me. But didn’t keep me from wanting to hug them both and cry.
Not how I’d expected to spend my morning. I did think ahead far enough to text Dad on my way to the house, to tell him I was fine, that Petunia was going to be okay and ask him to send Mom over because I had to go and—oh god, the guilt—I’d had to leave my pug before she woke up. At least she’ll have someone there she loves, I sent.
Bad pug mom, Fee. Bad.
Malcolm helped Siobhan shed her coat, handing it to his head bully as if the man was a coat rack before guiding her deeper into the house. I relinquished mine and thanked him with a nod when he took it from me. His smile was real, genuine and not for the first time I wondered what his name was.