by Susie Gayle
“She had to get out quickly,” Sarah muses.
“Or…”
“No, we’re not entertaining any ‘or.’ She’s out there somewhere, and she’s fine,” Sarah declares adamantly.
“Okay.” I scratch Pookie behind the ear. “Then let’s go find her… hey, wait a sec.” I look closer. Dangling from Pookie’s red collar is a rabies tag, a small round piece of steel engraved with her name, and…
“It’s a key.” I unclasp Pookie’s collar and hold it up for Sarah to see.
“What do you think it’s for?”
“I don’t know.” It’s just a nondescript silver key; it looks like a copy made at a hardware store or somewhere similar. One side is flat, and the other side is ridged—meaning it’s likely for a door lock and not a car. “There’s no label or anything.”
“She left that for us to find.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Come on, Will. People don’t just leave keys on their cats. She knew someone was coming and that we’d find Pookie. This is a clue. Maybe it’s to unlock wherever she’s hiding.”
I sigh. “Maybe.” Leave it to Karen to make things difficult. She could have just left a note with the cat or something.
I unhook the key and then put the collar back on Pookie. Just in case, I try the key in the door to Karen’s apartment, but it’s not a fit. That would’ve been too easy. I slip the key into my pocket.
“Can we at least agree, no cops for now?” I ask.
Sarah hesitates, but she nods.
“Okay. Then let’s go find her.”
CHAPTER 7
* * *
I’m not an “I told you so” kind of guy. But the first thing I’m going to say when we find Karen—and I’m staying positive and convincing myself that we will find her—is going to be a big, fat, loud, exuberant, “I told you so.”
I asked her nicely not to meddle. I told her something could happen. She misconstrued that as a threat, and in true Karen fashion continued to do the thing I asked her not to do.
And now she’s gone.
Sarah and I spend a few quick minutes tidying up Karen’s place as much as we can, and then we make sure that Pookie has food and water before leaving the apartment, careful to lock the door on our way out.
“We should divide and conquer on this,” I tell her once we’re back in the car heading toward downtown. “You take the boys back to the shop, and then check out Karen’s usual haunts. I’ll go talk to—”
“No,” Sarah says sharply. “What part of ‘together’ do you not understand? Besides, it’s not like Karen’s just going to be hanging out at Better Latte Than Never. If she ran, she’s hiding.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t want your help. I do. But… I mean, obviously something happened to her. Things could get dangerous for us.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and stares ahead. “I’m coming with you.”
I sigh. Sarah’s best traits—her compassion and her strong will—can sometimes equally be her worst traits, in the forms of pity and stubbornness.
“Fine,” I tell her. “But if you go and get yourself kidnapped or something like that, rescuing you is going on the bottom of my to-do list.”
She snorts. “Please. If anything, I’d be the one rescuing you.”
Despite everything, I chuckle a little; mostly because she’s probably right.
“So where do we start?” she asks.
“We’re going to go do what Karen told us to do in the first place.”
***
While we were enjoying our time in North Carolina, Karen had called Sarah and given her a not-so-enigmatic message that when I returned, I needed to “see the accountant.” I knew immediately that she wasn’t referring to my actual accountant, the woman who handles the pet shop’s finances, but rather the town councilwoman and certified public accountant Rachel Stein.
Before we go to see Stein, we swing by the Pet Shop Stop and drop off Rowdy and Basket. Sarah and I both agree that since we don’t really know what we’re getting into, it’s best to make sure they’re safe. Rowdy whines a little, but I pet him on the chin and tell him to keep an eye on the kitten.
Before we go, I peer into Petunia’s empty cage. Funny how just this morning I thought that finding the snake would be the bigger of my two problems—but it’s still a problem that needs solving.
I’m about to tell Sarah the same when behind me, she starts talking first. I turn to see her phone to her ear. “Karen, it’s Sarah. Will and I have been to your place; we saw the mess. If you can call us, please do. Otherwise… we’ll find you.” She hangs up, and then to me she says, “I figured it couldn’t hurt to leave her a voicemail, just in case.” She sets her phone down on the counter and looks inside Petunia’s habitat. I can tell she’s thinking the same thing I was a moment ago.
“Come on,” I say gently. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Maybe someday we’ll be able to open the shop again,” she says with a small smirk as she follows me out.
Stein’s office is on the first floor of a small brick building on Main Street in downtown Seaview Rock, about a half a block from our favorite Chinese place, Wok This Way. I park in front of the restaurant, cut the engine, and we sit there for a moment to plan.
“How are we going to play this?” Sarah asks.
“Well, this is for Karen, so… I say we play it Karen’s way. Follow my lead.” I reach for the door handle, but Sarah puts her hand on mine.
“Will, wait. I want one condition. If we don’t find Karen by tonight—and I mean we find no clues, no evidence of where she could be—we get the police involved.”
I hesitate for probably longer than I should. Despite Karen being my ex-wife, and despite the fact that she put me through the ringer once upon a time, she’s still a person and, honestly, a friend.
“Agreed. Let’s give ourselves a deadline. If we don’t turn up anything by nine p.m., the very next call I make is to Patty Mayhew.” Even as I say it, I feel a knot in my stomach; involving Patty, the chief of police of Seaview Rock, will involve questions—the answers to which could very well implicate me, Sammy, and possibly even Sarah.
“Agreed.” Sarah says it quietly. I can tell she’s thinking the same thing.
CHAPTER 8
* * *
Stein’s office is one large space, about the size of my living room, with a long L-shaped desk and three guest chairs. Off to one side is a doorway that I assume is a bathroom. I stride in confidently, pushing the door open harder than I intended, Sarah on my heels.
Rachel Stein looks up from her computer, seemingly not at all surprised to see me. She’s around her mid-fifties, a bit plump, with a big bubble of obviously dyed blonde hair. She glances from me to Sarah and then back to me with a forced, tight-lipped smile.
“Mr. Sullivan,” she says. “I was wondering when you’d come see me.” There’s no warmth in her voice.
“Where’s Karen Bear?” I demand.
Stein stares blankly at me and blinks a few times. “I don’t know who that is.”
“Small woman, about five-four, dirty blonde hair, big mouth?”
“Ah,” says Stein knowingly. “That one.”
“Yeah, that one. Where is she?”
Stein makes a big show of glancing over her shoulder and then under her desk. “Well, she’s not here, so I would have to say I don’t know.”
“Cut the crap, Stein. We’ve been to her place. It’s a wreck. Someone came looking for her, and I’d bet everything I have that you had something to do with it.”
“That would be a very poor bet, Mr. Sullivan.” Stein says with her tight smile. She rolls her eyes and sighs. “The woman you’re describing came to see me last week. She started throwing around accusations like confetti. It was obvious she didn’t know much, but she knew enough to think she could threaten me.”
In my mind, I wonder if someone out there sells one of those word-a-day calendar
s with three hundred and sixty-five synonyms for “discretion,” because it would make the perfect gift for Karen.
“Then what?” I ask.
“She gave me an ultimatum. She said that I could either tell her everything right now, or she’d continue to investigate and go public with whatever she found.” Stein shrugs. “Naturally I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about. Eventually she got frustrated and left. As soon as she did, I contacted our associates.”
“You mean Tom Savage?”
“And your barber friend, Mr. Barstow.”
Right. Sammy called me while I was on vacation to warn me that Karen was knocking down doors.
“And she went to see them too?” I ask.
“She did. We agreed to all take the same tactic.”
“Hmm. And now she’s gone,” I say casually. Then I lean forward and put both my hands flat on her desk. “Karen might not have known much, but I do. If you don’t tell me what’s happened to her, I’ll go public.”
Stein narrows her eyes at me. “You wouldn’t dare. You’d have just as much to lose.”
“We’re talking about a missing person here. Try me.”
She holds my gaze, unblinking. “Mr. Sullivan, please believe me—under your terribly reckless threat of exposure—I have no idea where your ex-wife is.”
Beside me, Sarah crosses her arms. “I don’t believe her,” she says.
Stein cocks her head at Sarah and smiles her tight smirk. “And who are you, exactly? Mr. Sullivan, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were content to cut the entire town in on our deal, one person at a time.”
“She doesn’t know anything,” I say.
“And yet here we are discussing it,” Stein retorts.
I shake my head in disgust. “Come on, let’s go.”
Sarah follows me out. As soon as we get back in my SUV, she flashes a grin. “She messed up.”
“She sure did.” I know exactly what she means; Stein claimed not to know who Karen is, but called her my ex-wife, which implies that the accountant knows more than she let on.
“Where do we go from here?” Sarah asks.
“Well, she called my bluff; she knows we can’t afford to go public, and since I really don’t know what they’re being blackmailed for, we have nothing to threaten her with. I guess we’ll have to go talk to the next likely suspect—Tom Savage. You can bet the two of them are on the phone together right now, getting their story straight. But Savage is a bit more skittish than Stein is. Maybe… maybe we can go in and claim Stein told us something she didn’t. If Savage gets nervous, we might be able to catch him in a lie and get an answer out of him.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Sarah agrees. “If he thinks Stein told us more than she told him, he might even think there’s dissension between them.”
“Sarah Cummings, that is sneaky and underhanded. I like it.”
As I pull away from the curb, she rifles through her purse and says, “Wait, can we make a quick pit stop? I think I left my phone back at the shop.”
“Sure thing.” I go around the block and in the opposite direction toward Center Street, parking just outside the Pet Shop Stop. “I’ll grab it.” I hop out and stick the key in the lock and turn.
Nothing happens.
“Sarah?” I call out.
“What is it?” She gets out of the car and joins me.
“Are you certain we locked the door when we left?” I ask her.
“Yeah, I saw you do it.”
“It’s unlocked right now. I mean, it was unlocked. Just now.” I peer closer. “Look.”
On the shiny metal surface around the tumbler are small, thin scratch marks, strikingly similar to those we found on Karen’s door.
“Do you think someone’s in there?” Sarah whispers, her eyes wide.
“I don’t know. Stay here.” I cautiously pull the door open and peer inside. The shop appears to be empty. I take a step inside and my breath catches in my throat.
The first thing I notice is the blood on the floor—several drops leading from the door to the counter, like a trail.
The second thing I notice is the sound of a throaty growl, so deep and fierce it sends a shiver up my spine. Rowdy comes around the corner, every single one of his white teeth gleaming and the hair between his shoulder blades bristled straight up.
CHAPTER 9
* * *
As soon as he realizes it’s me, the tension eases from Rowdy’s shoulders and he wags his tail. I rush over and kneel beside him, both hands exploring his back, legs and belly for any signs of injury.
“Is he okay? He’s not hurt, is he?” Sarah asks, her voice lilting in fear.
“No. He looks okay.” I rub my hand against his chin and come away with a small smear of blood. “It’s not his. He bit someone.”
“Basket!” Sarah rushes around the counter frantically and scoops up the tiny teetering kitten. Then she hurries over to the other animals, the dogs in the kennels and the smaller ones in their respective cages, and does a quick inspection to make sure everyone is alright and accounted for.
“Who was it?” I ask Rowdy quietly. He licks my hand in response. I stand and run my hands through my hair. “Okay. Someone picked the lock and broke into the shop—just like at Karen’s. But they weren’t looking for us. They probably knew we weren’t here.”
“Which means they probably weren’t looking for Karen when they broke into her apartment.” Sarah shakes her head. “So, what were they looking for?”
“I don’t know, but it’s too much of a coincidence that it was Karen and then us.” I pet Rowdy, brave defender of the Pet Shop Stop, behind the ears and add, “They might have known we weren’t here, but they must not have realized we left him behind.”
Sarah stares at the drops of blood leading a trail from the counter to the door. “Whoever it was, they’re injured, at least a little.”
“Yup. And we know it wasn’t Stein, because we were with her—”
“But we don’t know that it wasn’t someone working with Stein. Being in the same room with us is pretty much the best alibi she could have. Savage, maybe?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy that would pick locks and sulk around.”
“So, there’s someone else, likely.”
I nod. “And Savage is still our best lead. Come on; we need to go see a man about a horse.”
“Huh?”
“It’s an expression. Never mind. Grab your phone and let’s go see him.”
Sarah frowns. “It’s missing.” She surveys the counter and then peers over the other side, searching. “I left it right here, I know it.”
“Sarah,” I say as she continues to root around. “Sarah, they took it. Whoever it was that broke in here must have grabbed it before Rowdy bit them.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they thought it was mine?”
“But why would they want your phone…?” She scrunches her nose, thinking. “And if Karen doesn’t have her phone either… Aha! They want to see who you’ve been calling.”
“It’s likely. They know Karen is involved now, and possibly even you. Maybe they want to see who else might know.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Karen’s missing. Someone broke into the pet shop. And Stein’s playing dumb. This is bad, Will.”
“I know.” I hug her tightly and we stand that way for a long moment.
Eventually she looks up at me and asks, “You do have your phone, right?”
“Yeah.” I pull it out of my pocket and show her. “Remind me not to leave it anywhere.”
As I’m holding it, the phone chimes—a text message. I check it and my eyes widen.
“What? What is it?”
“It’s from Karen,” I tell her. “I think she just told us where to find her.”
***
We stow Rowdy and Basket in the backseat—there’s no
way we’re leaving them behind, just in case our new friend comes back. I pull a tire-screeching U-turn in the middle of Center Street. Karen’s text message was only three words: Ninth and Main.
The intersection in question is at the other end of downtown and I hit three red lights on the way, groaning in exasperation each time.
“Oh, come on!” I shout at the traffic signal.
“Hey, calm down. We need to be thinking clearly.” Sarah puts her hand on mine. “What’s at the corner of Ninth and Main? There’s Miller’s…”
“Right.” I take a deep breath, in and out through my nose. “And the deli.”
“Across the street is the social club…”
“And across from that is the parking deck.” We exchange a glance. “Best bet?”
“I’d imagine.”
The person behind me blares their horn. I hadn’t even noticed the light turned green. “Sheesh, I’m going.”
Two minutes later I pull into the parking deck at the corner Karen texted me. It’s not particularly large, a three-story concrete structure built to accommodate tourists and the patrons of a handful of bars and restaurants on this side of downtown.
It’s not even noon on a weekday, so there are barely any cars on the first level. I don’t spot Karen or her car, so I head up to the second level.
“Will, over there!” Sarah sees it at the same time I do—parked in the center of the deck is a familiar blue sedan, Karen’s car.
I pull into a spot about three spaces away from hers and cut the engine. We watch for a short while, both expecting her to get out, ideally with a smile on her face and a jubilant explanation of how she eluded whoever broke into her apartment and hid…
But nothing happens.
“What should we do?” I ask.
“Try to call her.”
I dial her number and wait. It rings twice—and then someone answers. And it’s not Karen.
“I see you,” says a male voice. “I see her, too. What are you trying to pull?”