Now, given the fact that I had recently been in a house with a murderer and not known it, you'd think that at that point I'd step back, call the cops, and let them enter the house, right? Seems logical?
And I agree that that would have been the smart choice to make.
But, as you've probably figured out by now, I am not always smart.
In my defense, my friend was missing, there was blood on the back door of her house, and every second could count. So…
I compromised.
I took a picture of the door with my phone—so they'd know what it looked like when I'd arrived—and then…
I went in.
Chapter Twenty-One
"Greta?" I called as I pushed the door open, almost jumping out of my skin when it banged against the far wall.
No response. Not even the scurry of a cat or a dog.
I closed my eyes for a moment. The lack of response was either a very good sign that she'd already left and was safe…
Or a very bad one.
I shivered as I made my way through the gorgeous kitchen that could've come straight off the pages of any top design magazine and into a large living room with fifteen foot ceilings and wall-to-wall bookcases that were currently empty.
(Such a waste. Think of all the books they could've had on display…)
"Greta?" I called again, but still nothing.
And then I heard it.
A whimper. A soft whine.
I ran towards the sound, not even thinking anymore that someone might be there and might hurt me. All I could think was someone was hurt and needed my help.
I froze when I reached the foyer, stopping just on the threshold of the room. It was…bad.
Bloody.
I had my phone in my hand and was dialing 9-1-1 before I'd even thought to do so.
"9-1-1. What's your emergency?"
"I'm at the VanVeldenstein residence. Send an ambulance. And cops. There's been…Please, just send the cops."
I hung up. I know you're not supposed to. But…
Hans was trying to crawl his way towards me, leaving a streak of blood in his wake, his back legs dragging behind him as he scrambled on the tile floor with his front legs. I couldn't let him do that, the poor thing.
I ran to his side. "It's okay, boy, it's okay." I stroked his head and he licked my hand, whimpering. I felt such rage in that moment. That someone would hurt a poor, innocent creature like that. And that after all that Hans would still try to reach me.
"Where's Greta, boy?" I asked.
But he just licked my hand again and stared at me with his sad brown eyes.
I reached for my phone again.
Matt answered on the second ring. "Maggie. What is it now?" He sounded even more stressed than before, but he was the only one I wanted there.
"I'm at Greta's. Please come." My voice shook with the tears I wasn't ready to shed.
"Why? What's happened?"
I finally let myself look at the rest of the room. "Friedrich. He's dead. And Greta…I don't know where she is. But there's so much blood. And Hans…Please. I need you. Help."
"I'm on my way."
After he hung up I forced myself to push aside what I was seeing and figure out what needed to happen. I took a couple pictures from where I was sitting. I'd already messed things up by running to Hans, but at least I could keep from messing things up more.
Friedrich was obviously dead. No question there. If I had to guess I'd say someone had beat him with the statue lying on the ground next to him. It wasn't…tidy.
But there were also some holes in the wall, like someone had used a gun. I suspected that's what had happened to Hans. No gun in sight, though.
I didn't know when everything had happened, but it definitely wasn't recent. The blood told me that. I stroked Hans's head and murmured to him as I waited for help to arrive. Poor guy, lying there all that time alone, waiting for help to arrive, Greta gone, Friedrich dead.
Whoever had done this had Greta's phone, too. They'd told everyone to stay away. They'd sent those texts.
It made me ill with anger to think how they'd condemned Hans to slowly bleeding out all alone in that room of horrors. I felt the knee of my jeans turn sticky and looked down to see that he'd started bleeding again and the blood was oozing along the floor, bright red.
"Stay." I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a pristine white kitchen towel—my only option—and brought it back to staunch his wound, but before I returned to his side I carefully stepped my way to the front door and opened it. (Might as well make it easy for the cops when they arrived. Whenever that was.)
Hans had tried to follow me when I left him, but whatever had happened to him had damaged his legs, so he'd only managed to drag himself about a foot farther. I knelt by his side and rested my hands on his shoulders. "Shhh. Stay. It's okay."
He panted heavily, his eyes glazed with pain.
"Shh. Shh. It's okay," I told him again even though I didn't believe it myself.
I so desperately did not want to be there, but he needed me. So that's what I focused on. I pressed the towel against his wound and prayed that help would arrive soon.
I tried not to think about anything while I waited. I'd done what I could and now I needed the cavalry to arrive so I could collapse in a corner and cry.
Friedrich's wasn't the first dead body I'd seen, obviously, but something about the level of violence and knowing it had happened inside my friend's home shook me to my core.
(That and the terrified thought that Greta could've been the one who did it. Had I really misjudged her so badly?)
I shivered as I looked around that beautiful home. It reminded me that none of us are ever truly safe. All it takes is someone deciding you should die and…
But no. It wasn't that simple. How many episodes of I Survived had I watched? How many times had I seen someone who'd been burned or stabbed or shot and left for dead who was still there to tell their tale? Yeah, we were all vulnerable. If someone wanted to hurt you badly enough they could. But that didn't mean they could kill you.
I had to believe that. For Hans's sake. And Greta's, too.
Hans licked my hand and I stroked his head. "It's okay, boy. We'll get you help soon."
I so wanted to cry, but I held back for his sake.
I know. He was just a dog, what would he care? But I did it anyway. I like to think he appreciated it.
When I finally heard the sirens and the sound of cars screeching to a halt outside I was so happy. Two cops barged through the door, guns drawn. One immediately turned back around and I heard him retching in the bushes. So much for thinking they'd be better equipped to handle things than I was.
The other approached, his gun shaky but pointed right at me. "Ma'am. I need you to put your hands up."
"I can't. He's bleeding. Get me a medic."
"Ma'am."
"Get me a medic!" No way was I taking the pressure off that wound to put my hands in the air. Honestly. Some people.
"Ma'am," he said more harshly than before, "I need you to put your hands up. Now."
"Get me a medic and I will. Don't you have frickin' eyes? Can't you see what I'm doing?"
A medic peeked around the doorframe, her eyes going wide with shock at what she saw.
I fixed my gaze on her, ignoring the stupid cop. "You. Come here. Please. He's been shot or something."
She focused on me. "We don't treat dogs."
"What the…?" (I may have used an inappropriate word or two at that point. Actually, I may have used an entire string of inappropriate words. I mean, seriously, you'd rather huddle in the doorway than save the one victim that can actually be saved because he's a frickin' dog?)
I glared at her. "If you hadn't noticed, that man is dead. You can't do a thing for him. But you could save this dog who was probably injured trying to defend his owner. Get over here and help him. Now!"
I don't know if it was my cussing and screaming or my impeccable logic that got through to her, but she fi
nally made her way to my side, another medic trailing along after her, his brown eyes trying to look anywhere but at the dead man on the floor. I didn't blame him. I'm sure most of his days were spent dealing with heart attacks and altitude sickness, not brutally beaten bodies.
I stayed with Hans while they worked on getting him stabilized. I figured he was probably in enough pain to bite, so I put myself between his head and where they were working and held him in place with a firm hand to the neck.
I've gotta say, he was a champ about the whole thing. He twitched a little, but he kept calm and steady throughout.
Finally, the medics stood up. "That's all we can do for him," the woman said.
"You're not going to take him to the emergency vet?"
She shook her head. "Can't. Sorry. We shouldn't have even done what we did."
I stared at her. What the frick good was it going to do if they'd stabilized him but I couldn't get him to the vet? He'd still die, it would just take more time. Not like I couldn't carry him to my van. Not without reopening his wound. That's if I could carry him at all.
What was wrong with these people?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thankfully for my arrest record, Matt arrived just then.
"Maggie?"
Seeing the fear in his eyes, I realized how awful I must look, covered in Hans's blood in the midst of that horrible scene.
"Matt. I'm so glad you're here."
"Maggie!" He ran to my side and knelt down, gripping my shoulders. "Are you okay?" He pushed my hair back from my face and looked me over for any sign of injury.
I'm not proud of it, but I burst out crying. We all have our limits and I'd finally hit mine.
There I was, feet away from a brutally beaten man I'd met just a few days before, a gravely injured dog I didn't know how to save at my feet, my friend missing, covered in blood that wasn't mine, looking into the worried eyes of the man I'd fallen in love with but couldn't be with, and I just lost it.
To Matt's credit he pulled me close and held me as I sobbed all over him, giving me the time I needed to get myself back under control.
When I finally wiped away the last tear, he pushed the hair back from my face once more. "Are you okay now?"
I nodded. "But Hans. We have to get him to the vet. And they won't take him. I don't know what to do. I can't…"
The medics were standing off to the side, looking incredibly awkward. Matt waved the man over. "Can you transport the dog?"
"No. Regulations. If we get a call and someone is hurt but we can't go to the call because we're transporting the dog…We'd get sued, man."
I snorted in disgust. It seemed to me Hans deserved more care than some random person who was probably just having a panic attack.
"What about moving the dog to the van outside? Can you do that? Please."
The man hesitated, but then nodded. "Yeah, we can do that. But if a call comes in…"
"Understood. Let's move fast so that doesn't happen."
I leaned against Matt as the medics went to grab their carry board, and he squeezed my shoulders and pulled me closer. I wondered if he was ever going to let me go again. I didn't really want him to. It felt very safe to be held there under his arm, especially in the midst of that horrible, awful scene.
We separated, reluctantly, when the medics returned so I could comfort Hans as they loaded him up and carried him to the back of my van. Thankfully all I have back there is just one giant dog bed, so it was a perfect place to put him.
I was halfway to the driver's side door before Matt stopped me. "You can't drive, Maggie."
"What are you talking about? Of course I can."
He shook his head. "I can't let you."
"Don't be ridiculous. I have to get Hans to the vet."
"And we will." He put his hands on my shoulders. "But I can't let you drive in the state you're in. Not to mention, you were a witness. You need to give a statement."
I might have made a less than appropriate comment about how useless giving a statement was compared to saving Hans's life, but Matt just squeezed my shoulders. "Trust me, please?"
I crossed my arms and frowned, but I waited as he went over to the officer who'd tried to get me to put my hands up. They had a back and forth conversation and then Matt nodded and came back to me. "Give me the keys."
I grudgingly handed them over, still not quite sure what was going to happen next.
As Matt started for the driver's side I continued to watch him, frowning. He paused before he opened the door. "Well, are you coming or what? I told Officer Nelson I'd bring you in for a statement after we got Hans taken care of. And found you a change of clothes."
"Oh. Yeah. Definitely." I ran to the passenger's side of the van and got in before he could change his mind.
The drive to the emergency vet was uneventful. I wish we could've driven faster, but we were driving my van so we couldn't flash lights and sirens or anything like that and, as you know by now, Matt has this annoying belief in obeying the speed limit.
The vet and his staff took Hans back to surgery immediately. I wanted to go with him, but they gently told me to stay out of it, and Matt steered me back to the van. "Alright, Maggie. We better get you home and cleaned up and in for that interview."
"Right. Of course." I let him nudge me into the passenger's seat and fasten the seat belt for me like I was still a little kid.
As he was walking around to the driver's side, my phone rang. It was the barkery. I stared at the display for a long moment, wondering who was calling and why. What did they want? Couldn't the world just leave me alone for a couple hours?
But it was work, so I answered. "Hello?"
"Maggie? It's Betty. Are you going to be back soon? I need to get home. I'm having my son over for dinner tonight."
"Oh, right. Yeah. Go ahead and lock up. You have a key, right?"
There was a slight pause and then she asked, "Maggie, are you okay?"
"Of course. Why do you ask?"
She spoke slowly, enunciating every word. "Because Fancy's still here. You don't want me to just leave her here alone, do you?"
I gasped. Fancy. I'd completely forgotten about her. How do you just completely forget about your…child? (Not that she was my child. I'm not delusional. But she was the closest thing I had to a child and I'd just completely forgotten about her. I felt horrible.)
"Oh gosh. Right. I’m so sorry. Of course. I…I forgot. We'll be right there."
Matt raised an eyebrow in question as I hung up the phone.
"I left Fancy at the barkery with Betty. I completely forgot. How could I do that?"
He squeezed my shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up about it, Maggie. It's been a rough couple of hours. Come on. Let's go get Fancy and get you home."
As Matt drove to the barkery, my mind went into overdrive. The back of the van was a complete mess. Even with the efforts of the medics, Hans's wound had continued to bleed, so the dog bed and blanket were covered in blood. We'd have to swap that out when we reached the barkery. And I'd have to call the vet later to see how Hans was doing. The vet had sounded pretty optimistic, but you never know. I mean, how often do pets get shot? Probably more often in the mountains than in the city, but not often enough for a vet to know how to handle something like that. Did they? And where was Greta? Was she okay? If we didn't find her soon I'd need to arrange for someone to watch Hans. Maybe my grandpa? Would he do that? They had sort of similar personalities, but I wasn't sure that was really a good thing. But maybe it was? And what had happened back there? Was Greta a victim? Or the perpetrator? And, oh my gosh, the way Friedrich had been beaten. Ugh.
"Maggie." Matt shook my arm.
I stared at him. "What?"
"We're here. Come on. Let's get Fancy."
Already? I let him lead me inside, still half-dazed and distracted.
Fancy did not know what to do with me. She cried her little head off the minute she caught sight of me covered in all that blood. Can't say I bl
amed her. I was a hot mess. And, her being a dog, she might've even been able to tell who the blood came from. That would freak me out, too.
Even though Matt swapped out the dog bed in the back of the van for the one at the barkery, when I leashed her up and tried to lead her out to the van, she was having none of it.
Not even Matt could get her to budge.
"It's the blood. I have to change," I told him. But there was nothing to change into.
Jamie lived right around the corner, but as I'd learned already she was very unlikely to have anything that even came close to fitting me. Plus, I didn't feel like ruining her day off by showing up on her doorstep covered in blood. Knowing my luck (or Mason's) he'd be over there getting ready to propose and I'd ruin it all.
We rummaged around the kitchen, but there were no good options there either, just your standard washrags and hand towels.
Matt frowned at me. "I have a plan, but you're not going to like it."
"What's your plan?"
He grabbed a trash bag and some hand towels. "Come on. Let's go to the van."
I followed after him, reluctantly. "What are those for?"
He stopped next to the passenger door. "Put your clothes in the bag and then use the hand towels to cover yourself."
I laughed. "Are you serious?"
"The only other option I can see is to have a cop car take you to the station while I drive Fancy home."
I held up one of the hand towels. It was not big enough. Not at all. I mean, yeah, sure, it would cover the basics, but no more than the basics. No way I could wrap it around myself like a normal towel.
"Matt…"
"It'll cover the essentials."
"Barely."
"You could just sit there in your underwear."
"No. I don't think so."
He shrugged. "Your call. You want me to get a patrol car to pick you up?"
"Did they find that guy yet?"
He shook his head.
I looked through the barkery window to where Fancy stood watching us. I didn't want to leave her alone, even with Matt. And I certainly didn't want to ride in the back of a cop car, especially not one that should be out looking for a child molester instead of catering to my fragile ego.
A Buried Body and Barkery Bites Page 9