Take a Chance
Page 17
Jamie shot her a skeptical look. “Like what exactly?”
“I’ll…I’ll return to a life of crime…just park anywhere at any time of day. I’ll be so devastated that I might just stop in the middle of Main Street and wander off with my big old truck blocking everybody.”
Jamie shook her head. “I don’t guess we can let that happen.”
Trip’s heart soared. “Awesome. Pick you up at six thirty?”
“Make it seven so I have time to change out of my uniform.”
Dani had returned and was putting some instruments back in the veterinary truck. Trip decided she should leave before Jamie had a chance to change her mind. She started toward the truck walking backward so Jamie could see her grin. “See you and Petunia at seven then.”
* * *
Jamie watched Trip’s veterinary truck lumber down the street toward her. Trip had called a few moments ago to say she had an emergency, but it sounded like a quick stitch and bandage, and the location was on the way to their dinner destination. Jamie loathed to admit it, but she was a little excited about the chance to see Trip in her work environment. Sure, she’d seen Trip earlier at Big Earl’s, but Trip had let Dani run the show. She’d seen her work with Petunia and instruct students at the vet school, but this was Trip’s regular work in Pine Cone.
The passenger window slid down as the truck rolled to a stop.
“Hey, hop in,” Trip said. “The bucket seats are pretty big, so Petunia can sit with you or she can sit in the back…whatever you prefer.”
“Her feet are wet because MJ just watered the grass. If you have an old towel or something, I’ll put her in the back on it.”
Petunia, tail wagging, hopped onto the truck’s narrow running board and in the front floorboard. Jamie reached to stop her next jump into the passenger seat. “Hey, you shouldn’t be jumping yet. Stay down there.”
“Jamie.” Eyes as blue as the Caribbean sparkled with amusement. “This is my work truck. I’ve had a pygmy goat and a pig ride in that seat, and a miniature pony and giant rabbit ride in the back seat. A small dog with wet feet isn’t going to hurt my upholstery.”
“Okay.” She gathered up Petunia, then climbed into the truck. Trip was right. The seat was comfortable enough for both of them. Jamie scratched behind Petunia’s ears as Trip turned the truck toward the highway.
“So, how was the rest of your day?” Trip asked.
Jamie stared out at the road ahead and the houses slipping by—at anything but Trip in leg-hugging jeans and a dark green polo shirt that stretched tight over her tanned biceps and broad but still slender shoulders. “Routine.”
“I guess Pine Cone is a bit boring after the places you’ve been and the things you’ve seen.”
Jamie was surprised at the trace of sadness, the hint of vulnerability in Trip’s words. “Are you kidding? Pine Cone might seem like a sleepy little town on the surface, but there is so much going on under its cute tourist town veneer. I’ve made the biggest drug bust of my career, assisted in a kidnapping case, rescued an orangutan, and found worthwhile volunteer work at the Boys and Girls Club. Oh, I shouldn’t leave out that I already hold the Pine Cone record for writing parking tickets, thanks to you.”
Trip laughed, her posture and grip on the steering wheel relaxing. “Glad I could help in some way.”
Jamie warmed and her tension eased. It was so easy to slip back into the easy camaraderie they’d established in college. It had been as if they’d known each other in another life and their souls instantly recognized each other. They fit together like pancakes and syrup, like biscuits and gravy, like cornbread and butter. But could she trust Trip? And why would anyone want a relationship with someone with a sometime tenuous grip on their sanity? That was the fly in the soup.
An awkward silence filled the truck until Trip cleared her throat.
“Uh, I have to ask a special favor, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”
Jamie took a deep breath. Here it was already. The fly swimming in the soup.
“What is it?”
“This is one of my biggest clients. Vetting her show horses is probably thirty percent or more of my large animal receipts.”
“What’s the catch?”
“She’s married, but only when her husband is within eyesight, if you get my drift.”
“That’s a problem for you?” Jamie didn’t try to rein in her sarcasm.
Trip scowled, her eyes fixed on the road. “I’m a veterinarian, not a call girl. She doesn’t seem to understand that.”
Whoa. Jamie had definitely poked a sensitive area. She softened her tone. “Okay. What’s the favor?”
Trip turned down a long drive, then shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “Um, well, just follow my lead. If Virginia behaves, it might be nothing. If she gets too friendly, I might need for you to, um, pretend us having dinner tonight is a, well, um, a date.”
Jamie had never seen Trip so…so unsure of herself. Her stumbling speech and flushed face was kind of cute. “Date?”
Trip shrugged, stopping the truck in front of a very impressive barn. “She gets very handsy. I almost stuck myself with a needle last time she decided to grab my butt when I had my hands full.”
It was Jamie’s turn to laugh as Trip’s frown turned into a disgusted pout. “Okay. I’ll play along.”
* * *
Trip wasn’t surprised when Virginia Hathaway emerged in a form-hugging latex tank top and skintight riding breeches to crosstie the raven black stallion at the barn’s entrance. She was surprised that Jamie possessively tucked her hand into the crook of Trip’s elbow when Virginia undressed Trip with her eyes. “Hi, Virginia. This is Jamie Grant, and that’s Petunia at her heels. We were on our way to dinner when the service let me know you called. Your new stallion causing trouble already?”
Virginia’s face darkened and her eyes raked over Jamie’s striking contrast of hazel eyes against her Hispanic coloring. “It’s that man you made me hire. He let Cirino into his paddock while Beltran was also out.”
Trip examined the bite on Beltran’s jaw, then the three-inch rip and hanging skin on his shoulder. “That shouldn’t have been a problem. There’s an empty paddock between them and the fences are five boards high. They’re both Friesians, not jumper breeds.”
“Edmundo let Cirino get through the gate, and he went straight for Beltran’s paddock. I ought to fire him.”
“I’ll talk to Edmundo about what happened before we leave. The bite isn’t bad. It’ll heal if it’s kept clean, but the shoulder will need to be stitched so it won’t leave a bad scar.” Trip glanced toward her truck, then held out the shiny steel bucket to Virginia. “Can you get a couple of clean towels and fill this about a third full of warm water?”
Virginia took the bucket, frowned at Jamie, and sashayed into the barn for Trip’s benefit.
Jamie stared after her. “What a piece of ass. And I don’t mean that in a good way.”
Trip grinned. “A pain in the ass is more like it.” She wasn’t going to elaborate by recounting her last encounter with Virginia. “But a lucrative pain in the ass.” She led Jamie to the back of the truck where Edmundo was waiting. “Edmundo. It’s good to see you, my friend.” She said this in Spanish, then switched to English. “May I introduce you to another friend, Jamie Grant, and her dog, Petunia.”
Jamie offered her hand. “Que tal, Edmundo?”
Trip’s ears heated. “Sorry. I don’t know how I forgot that Spanish is your mother’s first language.”
Edmundo smiled. “I am fine, thank you, Jamie. My English is fine, too. Dr. Beaumont and I speak in my native tongue when she visits to help her keep up her skills.”
Trip grinned and switched back to Spanish. “And because Virginia can’t understand a word we’re saying.” She began gathering supplies and handing them to Jamie. “So, Mundo, tell me what happened.”
Edmundo snorted and shook his head. “The new stallion was restless and unhappy when he a
rrived. He called out night and day, so I phoned his old groom. The man said their studs are always raised with a companion animal since they can’t be let in with mares or other stallions. Most pair off with a goat or a barn cat, but this horse took up with a dog that protected the barn. He said the dog ate and slept with Cirino, but it was old and died a few months before Cirino was sold and shipped here. I talked to the mistress about this, but she said it was ridiculous, that the horse would settle soon. And he did. Not long after he settled, I discovered a skinny beagle bitch hanging around Cirino’s paddock. She had squeezed under the fence and he was licking her from head to tail. I began to leave food and a water bowl for her in his paddock shed. Yesterday, Miss Virginia found the dog and took her to the county pound. Cirino immediately began to run the fence, and when I went to check on him this afternoon, he ran me over as I opened the gate and searched all between the barns and paddocks, calling for the dog. When he couldn’t find her, he challenged Beltran through the fence.”
“Do I need to look over Cirino after I stitch up Beltran?”
“No. I checked him good, then saddled him for a long ride to wear him out. He’s tired and back in his paddock, but still staring into the woods, looking for his dog.”
“I’ll take care of this.” Trip patted his shoulder. “Stay out of Virginia’s sight, then come take Beltran to the stallion barn when I signal you. He’ll need to stay in the barn for a few days until the skin begins to knit. I don’t need to tell you the rest, but I will. Start with a few hours and increase his time out each day until you take the stitches out in ten days. Call me if you see any problems at all.”
Edmundo nodded and disappeared around the barn.
Trip sighed and looked at the ground. “This isn’t working out like I planned.” Hope flickered and caught when she looked up to find Jamie’s expression soft and curious. She gathered her courage. “I hope you aren’t starving, because we need to go to the shelter from here and find Cirino’s beagle.”
“The shelter closes at six.”
“I have a key.”
“Of course you do.” Jamie smiled. “If you’re going to play Supergirl swooping in for the rescue, I get to be Wonder Woman.”
Trip laughed. “Deal.”
* * *
The small beagle was anesthetized and sprawled on the table. But before Trip neutered her, she scanned her for a microchip. She grimaced when the scanner produced a number.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Jamie hovered over her shoulder.
“It might mean we’ll have to see if Cirino will bond with another dog. Depends on whether the number traces back to an actual owner.” Trip went to a computer sitting on the lab bench along the wall and pulled up the website to check.
Virginia had pouted, but caved when Trip insisted the stallion absolutely must have his dog returned, then they’d easily located the beagle at the shelter and Trip left the necessary paperwork registering the dog to herself on the director’s desk. When they arrived back at the vet clinic, Trip’s kennel help, George, was still taking out trash and cleaning floors, so he offered to give the pup a bath while they scrounged for food at Trip’s house.
Essie had shooed them away from the fridge and toward the butcher block kitchen table while she filled two plates with mouth-watering country fried steak, rice and gravy, green beans, and a huge fluffy biscuit each. When they shoved their empty plates away, she handed Trip a paper grocery bag packed with a third plate for George.
“Shit.” Trip swore at the address the chip number produced. She braced her hands on the operating table and stared at her patient, anesthetized, intubated, and hooked to an IV. Was this dog worth what she was about to risk? Her career, her fragile second chance with Jamie? The beagle’s ribs showed through her skin. Her sagging teats were typical of an overbred female. Her coat was dull and thin. Before her bath, she was crawling with fleas, her ears filled with ticks. Yes. Dogs and kids didn’t get to pick their owners or their parents.
“Did you see the address on the screen?” Trip didn’t lift her gaze from the dog.
“Yeah.” Jamie’s answer was cautious.
“Without looking again, can you recall it?”
Jamie recited it perfectly.
“That’s unfortunate.” Trip closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and turned to Jamie. “Because I am about to commit a crime, and if you stay, you will be a witness. If I’m caught, you’re already subject to subpoena for the claimant.”
Jamie’s gaze bored into hers while Trip held her breath. “And what do you risk?” Her question was soft and unexpected.
“A lawsuit, a fine, my veterinary license suspended or revoked.” Trip’s throat tightened, and her traitorous eyes teared. She blinked several times and cleared her throat “And I could lose a very valuable friend I’d just found again.”
Jamie cocked her head. “Why would you risk all that?”
Trip looked to the table again, clamped her jaw down on the venom she wanted to spew about the man to whom the dog was registered. She spoke only after she’d thought out her answer. “Because I’ve seen how the man who owns this dog treats his animals. He overbreeds to sell packs of beagles to hunters who want to run deer—something honorable sportsmen won’t do—and to supply medical labs. He feeds a poor quality of food, keeps them in cramped pens, forgets to feed and water them when he’s drunk, and shoots them when they get sick rather than call a vet. I’ve been sent out there a dozen times to investigate complaints about him beating dogs and shooting old ones. But he knows how to walk right on the legal line without crossing it so I can’t shut him down.”
Jamie’s expression turned as grim as Trip felt inside. “The shelter might have already checked for a chip and let him know that they have her.”
“They know about him, too. If they checked, then they’ve called Brenda to leave a message for me to come get the dog.”
“So, you’ve conspired with county employees to do this on previous occasions?”
“I plead the fifth.”
Jamie’s jaw tightened. “I can’t be a witness.”
Trip nodded, despite her disappointment. “I understand you’re a sworn police officer and have to leave.” She stared at the floor because she couldn’t bring herself to see what might be in Jamie’s eyes. “Or maybe you have to turn me in. But I’m asking that you wait until tomorrow. Give this dog a chance for a better life like you did Petunia.”
“You didn’t let me finish. Could you use an accomplice instead?”
Trip’s brain froze. What did she say? She searched Jamie’s face. “Accomplice?”
“Don’t you need someone to hand you instruments? Don’t you normally have a vet tech to suction and stuff?”
Trip swallowed. “Uh, yeah. You won’t get queasy when I cut her open?”
Jamie looked away, like she didn’t want Trip to see in her eyes what she held inside. “It can’t be worse than seeing your lieutenant’s intestines hanging out of his belly or your buddy’s head on the ground three feet away from his body.”
Trip went to her without thinking, curling her hand around Jamie’s nape to draw their bodies close and press their cheeks together. She wanted so badly to kiss her, to say that horrible images from the past couldn’t be erased, but she wanted the chance to fill Jamie’s head, her dreams, with new, beautiful memories.
Jamie brushed her lips against Trip’s cheek as she withdrew gently. “We have a patient on the table, Doctor.”
Trip smiled. “Yes, we do.”
As in everything else, they worked together seamlessly, removing the dog’s puppy-making parts and changing out the microchip in her neck. Then Trip tucked her into a pen to sleep for the night and entered a file for her as “female beagle, owner Edmundo Vegas.”
They found Petunia in Essie’s suite. The TV was turned down low and Essie was snoring in one end of her reclining loveseat. Petunia sprawled across the other half of the loveseat with her head in Essie’s lap.
Jamie’s hug tightened. “Rescuing the little amiga was a perfect evening.”
“I think you just named her,” Trip whispered. “Amiga. I like that.”
Jamie pulled back and smiled as she nodded. “Amiga.” She signaled a few silent commands to Petunia, who was awake now and watching them. Then Jamie waved as the two departed quietly down the hallway.
Chapter Sixteen
“Grace, you in there?” Trip pounded on the door to Grace’s cottage again. This had better be good. She’d just sat down to one of Essie’s pecan waffles and thick, crispy bacon when Clay had stormed in, shouting about Grace being missing. To make things worse, she snagged Trip’s second waffle and half her bacon to make a waffle rollup and ate it while Trip drove.
“Come on, Gracie, stop fooling around and open up.” Clay sounded a little scared, so Trip decided to forgive the waffle theft.
“Grace, open the door or we’re coming in.” Mary Jane joined the chorus. “I left plarn weaving to check on you, so let us in.”
Trip looked at Clay, then they both looked at MJ. “What the hell is plarn weaving?” Trip asked.
MJ just shook her head at them and yelled at the door again. “Gracie, honey, this is your last warning.” When no response came, MJ dug into her pocket for a key and unlocked the door.
Clay and Trip shoved to be the first to get through the door after her, then stopped cold at the foot of Grace’s bed.