Take a Chance

by D. Jackson Leigh

“I sent the guys to lunch after I got back, but one of them should be back any minute to change that oil. It won’t take long,” Clay said when Jamie emerged from the bay. “I’ll go get the paperwork for you to sign.”

  Clay returned almost immediately with a steel clipboard. Jamie scanned the form and was signing at the bottom when Petunia began to bark from somewhere in the garage.

  Jamie peered into the garage, but she couldn’t see her. “P only barks if she’s found something.” She frowned. It was unusual for Petunia to wander off. The scent she had followed must have been strong.

  “You mean like a mouse?” Clay took the paperwork back from Jamie.

  Seriously? “No, usually something else.” Was Clay that clueless or was she pretending she didn’t know Petunia was a drug detection dog? Jamie headed inside to find Petunia, mindful of Clay following close behind.

  Petunia was in a room with orderly shelves of car parts, tools, filters, hoses, and cans of oil. Clay switched on the overhead light and Petunia wagged her tail, then turned back to alert on an old metal toolbox that was tucked under a shelf and half hidden behind a large metal bucket.

  “Does this toolbox belong to you?” Jamie asked.

  “It’s my grandfather’s garage,” Clay said. “All the tools, just about everything belongs to the business.”

  “Then I have your permission to open it?”

  Clay seemed puzzled as she stared at the box. “Go ahead.”

  Jamie drew a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and donned them before moving the bucket and dragging the box out in the open. She used a flathead screwdriver from a nearby workbench to release the latch and open the lid. Once the lid was open, Petunia sat back and panted cheerfully. Inside the box were small clear bags of pills.

  Clay leaned in for a closer look. “What the hell?”

  “Prescription drugs.” Jamie poked around the toolbox, moving some of the bags aside to look underneath. “Looks like codeine, fentanyl, oxycodone, and probably hydrocodone.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Good girl, P.” Jamie gave her a good ear scratch, then peered up at Clay. Her anger seemed genuine. “All of these are highly addictive opioids.”

  “Well, they don’t belong to me, or my grandpa, or Eddie…but I have a pretty good idea who put them there.”

  “Best not to assume anything until we dust this for prints.” Jamie walked back to the squad car with Clay at her heels. “I’m going to call this in.”

  Jamie radioed Grace while Clay paced.

  * * *

  Trip swung into Cahill’s Garage and stared. Jamie stared back from where she stood next to her patrol car and a grim-faced Clay. A million scenarios ran through Trip’s brain as Clay approached. “What’s going on?” Trip directed the question to Clay but couldn’t take her eyes off Jamie.

  “Jamie’s dog found a toolbox full of prescription drugs in the storage room.”

  “No shit.” No way it could be Clay’s. Trip knew Clay was pretty straightlaced when it came to drugs.

  “Yeah, no shit.” Clay crossed her arms and glared at the large, dark opening of the bay door. “She’s reporting it to Grace.”

  “Oh.” Well, that would be good. Grace wouldn’t go off half-cocked and arrest Clay or her grandfather. And to Jamie’s credit, she hadn’t handcuffed Clay.

  “What’s up with you and Jamie?” Clay peered at her suspiciously.

  “Nothing…yet.” Trip had already forgotten that she’d confessed her feelings for Jamie to Clay and Grace. Clay, however, wasn’t apparently interested in any details. Trip watched her pace back and forth. “What’s up with you? You’re as tense as a rat in a room full of cats. Trip’s joke drew a fierce glare rather than a chuckle.

  “You mean besides finding a bunch of prescription drugs in the garage?” Clay opened her mouth as though to say more, but snapped her jaw shut when Bo’s truck slowed and turned in. Clay took off toward him before the truck could come to a stop. “Hey, I need to talk to you.”

  Bo’s eyes went from Clay to where Jamie stood, and he threw the truck in reverse. His truck roared back, barely missing one of the gas pumps, and then spun gravel as his giant off-road tires bounced back onto the paved road and peeled out.

  “Asshole!” Clay turned back to Jamie. “I know those drugs belong to him.”

  “Who’s he?” Jamie asked.

  “Bo Mathis. He works here…barely.”

  Okay, there was way too much going on here. She didn’t want to get in Jamie’s way. “Listen, I just popped by to tell you I picked up the paintings.”

  “What did you say?” Clay turned slowly, her face an unreadable mix of emotions.

  Trip shifted uneasily, squirming under the intensity of Clay’s unexpected reaction. “The ones you told me a few weeks ago that I could hang in the clinic. I was out that way, so stopped by and got them.”

  “You…what?”

  Weird. Clay was acting like Trip was speaking a different language.

  “Brenda said she’s tired of looking at my poker-playing dogs. I tried to call you, but I think your phone is off, or dead.”

  “I am such an asshole.” Clay covered her face with her hands.

  Whew. Trip had thought she’d done something wrong, considering the look on Clay’s face. She gave Clay a friendly shoulder bump. “I knew that already. But seriously, buddy, what is going on with you?”

  “I’ll explain, but first I need to make a quick call.”

  Jamie and Petunia disappeared into one of the service bays, so Trip sauntered after them to get a drink, then sat on the chest-style antique soda dispenser. She was fascinated as she watched Jamie direct Petunia’s search of the cabinets on the other side of the double bay. They were concluding their search when Grace pulled into the parking lot.

  Grace got out of her squad car and strode purposefully over to Jamie. Trip loved watching Grace in focused “cop mode.” When Jamie gestured to Clay, Grace’s sharp gaze paused only a split second on Trip before going to Clay.

  Clay, wild-eyed, whirled toward Grace, who was instantly at her side. Trip edged closer to them, but without getting in the way.

  “What is it?” Grace asked.

  “Bo, why are you answering River’s phone?” Clay’s fingers were white as she clutched the phone, but she held it out a little so Grace could listen. Trip easily identified Bo’s high-pitched, nasal voice, but the only words she could hear clearly were Clay’s curt responses.

  “Bo, if you hurt one hair on her head I swear—”

  Grace touched Clay’s arm, shaking her head.

  “Where? Where are you?” Clay’s question was more of a demand.

  More mumbled words from Bo.

  “I’ll bring your shit. It’s not like I want it here at the garage anyway. But you better not hurt River. …Bo—”

  Clay lowered the phone and cursed at the apparent disconnection.

  “Where is he?” Grace asked.

  “He’s got River. He wants me to bring the drugs and meet him at the old mill to trade for River.” Clay stomped around. “Damn it all to hell.” She stopped and looked at Grace. “I’m going.”

  “No, you’re not.” Grace was firm.

  “He said for me to come by myself.” Clay squared off in front of Grace. “He specifically told me not to bring you. So I’m going.”

  Grace wasn’t buying it. “You’re staying here with Jamie.” She looked at Jamie. “Call dispatch and tell them we have an active hostage situation and drugs are involved. Who knows if Bo is under the influence of something right now.”

  Clay swept her fingers through her hair. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

  Trip felt for her. “Leave it with Grace, pal.”

  “But he’ll see her and do something stupid. He said no cops.”

  “Clay, I’ve got this.” Grace’s voice was steady. “He’s not going to hurt River.” She strode toward her patrol car, but Clay followed.

  “Aren’t you going to wait for backup? Is
n’t that how this works?”

  For a second, Trip thought she would have to grab Clay to keep her from jumping in the car with Grace.

  “I can handle one redneck,” Grace said, then whipped the cruiser around and onto the street.

  Clay stared after the cruiser for a few seconds, then she held out her hand to Trip. “Give me your keys.”

  Trip shook her head and backed away from Clay. “No way. You can’t just go charging in there.” Even as she said the words, she glanced over at Jamie. How would she feel if Jamie was the one at risk? Would she be able to sit back and trust Jamie’s safety to someone else, even a best friend?

  “Give me your damn keys,” Clay said. “I’m not gonna let Grace go in there by herself, and I’m not taking any chance of losing River. Not now, not ever.”

  Trip could see the desperation and determination in her eyes. Clay’s outstretched hand hovered in the air between them. If she refused, Clay would probably hop on her motorcycle and kill herself trying to catch up to them.

  “I’m driving,” Trip said as she headed for her truck.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Jamie half stood in the door of the squad car, the radio mic in her hand, but Trip waved her off. No time to explain.

  When they reached Mill Road, Trip took a hard right. She could see a faint trail of dust about a quarter-mile ahead and stepped on the gas. They hadn’t gone far before they saw Grace’s cruiser stopped ahead, lights still flashing and the driver’s door open. Trip stomped her brake pedal, and her double rear wheels kicked up a thick cloud of sand and dust that blew forward to envelop them. Clay jumped out before the truck came to a full halt.

  “Clay, wait.” Trip cursed, then offered up a prayer of thanks to any gods who might listen when a figure emerged from the dusty haze.

  River, barefoot and soaked to the skin, was walking toward them. Clay ran forward and swept River up in her arms, lifting her feet off the ground.

  Trip wanted to laugh in hysterical relief, her thoughts running in a stupid loop. What if that were Jamie? What if that were Jamie in danger? Jamie targets big time drug dealers, not small fish like Bo. What if that were Jamie? The thoughts roiled her stomach.

  Even though it wasn’t Jamie, Trip had to do something. She got the light blanket she kept in her truck and walked over to drape it over River’s shoulders. River was shivering—shock, Trip knew, rather than cold.

  “Thanks, pal,” Clay said, tugging the blanket tightly around River to draw her close. She kissed River on the forehead and stroked her back.

  Trip kept walking, partly to check on Grace, but mostly to give Clay and River some privacy as they clung together and said things that should only be between them. A kernel of loneliness swelled in Trip’s chest with each step. Would she and Jamie ever mend fences enough so Trip could hold her like Clay held River? Trip had to try.

  * * *

  Jamie was standing guard while two people wearing dark vests with many pockets and FORENSICS lettered in yellow across the back took photos and collected evidence in the garage.

  Trip didn’t recognize them as local, but she didn’t really care. She was focused on Jamie, who stood with one hand resting on the butt of her service weapon and the other on her utility belt. Heat rose up Trip’s chest and neck, and her belly tightened. Damn, she was sexy in uniform.

  “How’s River?” Jamie asked.

  “Fine. Justice prevails again.” Trip smiled and squatted to give Petunia an ear scratch. “Grace has Bo in custody and is headed to jail.” But Grace had probably already reported that on the radio. “The only casualty was Clay’s truck. I just dropped her and River—unharmed except for maybe a few bruises—off at my place so they could borrow my Jeep.”

  Jamie glanced into the garage. “P and I went over the entire garage and found another stash, marijuana in a sealed metal barrel out back.”

  Trip stood again and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

  Jamie stared at Trip. “Why would I want to have dinner with you?”

  Trip gentled her voice. “Because we once meant something to each other. Because we were very good friends before.”

  Jamie’s lip twitched. “The key word here is ‘were.’”

  “Because we can talk about Petunia after we get those records from your storage and maybe you’ll remember something that could give Dani and me a clue to the root of her problem.”

  “She still won’t eat very much.” Jamie tugged a folded paper from her back pocket. “I already went by and got the information you wanted. I’m going to be late getting off. I have to wait for the state crime lab people to finish, then take Mr. Cahill to the station so he can give a statement. Then I still have my afternoon patrol to make before I can fill out multiple reports concerning this drug bust. You can just text me when you have the trip to the vet school arranged.”

  “Meet me for lunch tomorrow, then.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jamie said, backing away when one of the crime techs called to her from inside the garage. “I have to go. We can talk about P while we’re flying up to Athens.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “A-hunting we will go, a-hunting we will go.” Pete hopped from foot to foot in a weird combination of river dancing and clogging.

  “What are you going to hunt?” Jamie wanted to know if they had guns, even though she couldn’t confiscate them. There were no gun regulations to stop Pete from owning a gun just because he was mentally unstable. He’d have to prove himself a danger or threaten someone first. By then, it was usually too late for the victim.

  “Cats,” Pete said, grinning. “Big cats, little cats. Cats with balls and tomorrow’s mothers. Not the ones with purple ears. Purple ear, steer clear.”

  “What he’s failing to properly explain, Deputy, is that we get paid for humanely trapping feral cats and turning them in to be neutered and vaccinated. The ones with a purple star tattooed in their ear indicate they’ve already been trapped and processed.”

  “That’s great, Toby.” Jamie shaded her eyes from the sun as she watched Pete hop around. “So, someone has shown you how to trap without hurting them?”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Pete is admittedly a bit…well, my old grandmother would say tetched in the head. But he’s amazing with the cats. He feeds two colonies of ferals, so they know him and the young ones will let him pet them. Others, we trap with cages.”

  “Someone helps you do this?”

  “Yep. Jerome sets out the traps and we check and bait them every day, sometimes more often this time of year. Lots of new kittens are born each spring, and ready for neutering by now. I let the doc know when we have a handful to pick up. Then Jerome brings the kitties back after they’re fixed and tattooed, and Pete and I release them back to the colony they came from. We get twenty dollars a cat.”

  “Sounds like a good deal.”

  “It is. Gives us some grocery money, and the doc gives us bags of food for them, too.” The old man peered at Jamie. “I know that folks think homeless folk steal and beg to get food, but I’m not big on taking charity. Pete and I have odd jobs we do for a lot of different people around town. That’s why you find us here at the old rail depot every morning. People know we’ll be here if someone wants to hire us.”

  Jamie nodded, scanning the area while she listened. “Where’s Adder today?”

  Toby shook his head. “He’s not doing so great. When the war gets too loud in his head, he runs a path along the river’s edge. He’s been running a lot and smoking a bit more than usual these past couple of days. He has rough patches. He’ll be okay.”

  “You still have my number, right? In case you guys need help, or you see Adder getting too down?”

  “Sure, sure. You’ll be the first we call.” Toby nodded, pulling a prepaid phone from his pocket and showing it to her. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, then.” Jamie waved to Pete, who waved back. “See you guys around.�
�

  * * *

  Trip jumped when the phone in her pocket vibrated to indicate an incoming call. Too bad the phone wouldn’t vibrate long enough for her to hold it against her crotch. Jamie had filled her thoughts since she’d left Cahill’s, and Trip’s libido was primed for action. The call, however, wasn’t from Jamie. The area code that popped up on her truck’s Sync screen indicated an Athens area code. Trip tapped “accept” on the touch screen. “Hello.”

  “Dr. Beaumont, what a pleasant surprise to get your message.”

  “Professor Harrell, thanks for returning my call.”

  “I’m always happy to speak with one of my best students.”

  “I’m sure you’ve had many good students, but I can really use your assistance on a case.”

  “How can I help?”

  Trip outlined Petunia’s gastric problems and the meager progress she’d made in tracking down the research study in which Petunia had been a test subject.

  “I can clear some time for you tomorrow, but I’m headed out of the country Friday and will be gone two weeks.”

  “We’ll see you tomorrow then. I really appreciate this, Professor. This dog is a highly effective drug and explosives detection dog, and its owner is special to me.”

  “Then it’s imperative that we do everything we can for the pup.”

  “I’ll call when we touch down tomorrow morning to let you know we’re on our way to the vet school. It should be around nine o’clock.”

  After the call disconnected, Trip fist-pumped. “YES!” She summoned her truck’s voice controls with a “Hey, hot stuff.”

  “Say your command,” the disembodied voice responded.

  “Call Joe.”

  Joe answered on the second ring. “Hey, Trip. Do you have a departure day?”

  “I know this is last minute, but I need to fly to Athens tomorrow. We’ll probably be up there all day.”

  “Damn. I need to take Alice to a doctor’s appointment at ten in the morning.”

  “Do you have other flights scheduled later in the day?”