Maxie checked the time on her phone. “Oh shoot! I’ve got to go.” She slapped her thighs, then bounced up. “I hope I helped. Even just a little.”
“You really did. Thanks, Max.”
Quinn was about to follow her in and grab herself a muffin, but her phone rang. It was her mom.
“Hey, Mama, I’m on my way back. Do you want me to pick you up anyth—”
Her mother was panicked. “Something’s wrong with RBG! You have to come now! I don’t know what’s happening …”
Quinn froze. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with RBG?”
“I don’t know! She’s throwing up, convulsing, out of nowhere!”
Oh God, please don’t let this be happening. “Okay, okay. I’m leaving now.”
“Everything okay?” Maxie asked.
“I don’t know.” Quinn hung up, shoving her phone in her back pocket and bolting out of the lot, down the street, and back to the store. Thank the Lord it wasn’t far, because Quinn was already out of breath by the time she arrived. Her parents were sitting on the pavement next to her dog baby, who had vomited—a lot. She was whining too, the most heart-wrenching sound Quinn had ever heard.
“Oh, thank goodness you got here so quickly.”
Quinn crouched near her RBG, the dog’s chocolate-brown–eyed gaze locking with hers. RBG’s eyes were pleading for help. She was in pain, trying to tuck her usually wet nose under Quinn’s armpit.
“Her nose is dry. That can’t be good,” she mumbled to herself.
“I said the same thing to your mother. Something’s really wrong. Totally out of the blue.”
Stay calm. You can’t help her if you’re a wreck.
RBG started heaving again, her body retching something awful.
“I have never felt so helpless in all my life.”
Adele nodded. “Welcome to motherhood.”
Her dog baby vomited again, and as disgusting as it was, Quinn got a closer look at the mess. One glance at the contents of RBG’s stomach sent off alerts in her brain.
“Wait a second, I didn’t feed her anything that looks like this. Did y’all give her a treat or people food?”
They shook their heads. Quinn darted over to the water bowl, smelling it. It was fine. But that’s when she spotted something. “What’s this?”
Tucked behind one of the potted plants, there was an open plastic bag filled with dog treats. “Is this ours? When did we start providing doggie biscuits?”
“Since never,” her mama said. “That’s not ours.”
“Maybe a customer forgot it after bringing it along for their dog?”
Maybe. Maybe not.
Quinn sniffed the treats, but they didn’t really smell like anything. They were definitely not the kind one could buy in a grocery store. They appeared homemade. It seemed gross, but Quinn picked them up and licked them too, to determine their content. They smelled and tasted like regular dog biscuits to her.
She opened her messenger satchel and dug up a couple of clean doggy bags, the kind she used to pick up her dog’s messes during their walks. She shoved the treats in one bag, and with the other, she picked up a sample of the vomit.
“Dear sweet Jesus, what on earth are you doing, Quinn?”
“Mom, she may be allergic to something in these biscuits, or she could’ve gotten into something else left out here. I’m bringing samples in case the vet asks.”
She thrust both bags inside her messenger bag.
“That’s actually a really good idea. I would’ve never thought of that.”
She adored her mama, but she didn’t have time for this. “Dad, I need you to lift RBG and bring her to the car. We’ve got to get her to the emergency vet.”
Without hesitation, Finn lifted RBG and jogged her over to the family’s station wagon, with Adele hitting the unlock button. Quinn held out her hand.
“Keys.”
“I can drive, honey. You stay in the back with RBG.”
“Mom, you’re slow on a good day. I’m driving.”
Thank Jesus, Moses, and Buddha that she didn’t argue, handing Quinn the car keys before climbing in the back with her dad and the dog. Quinn climbed inside the driver’s side and turned on the ignition, but not before catching a glimpse in her rearview mirror.
RBG was still whining, panting, and starting to convulse again. Quinn closed her eyes for a second, willing herself to keep it together, before she put the car in drive and hauled tail to the animal emergency room.
She prayed the good veterinarians could save RBG in time.
Chapter Twenty
“I wanted to tell her that I was getting better, because that was supposed to be the narrative of illness: It was a hurdle you jumped over, or a battle you won. Illness is a story told in the past tense.”
—John Green, Turtles All the Way Down
They had already waited for what seemed like forever, but no one on staff could give them an update on how RBG was holding up.
After speeding to the other side of town, the three Caines had run into the vet emergency room, describing RBG’s symptoms and handing over the biscuits and the other “goody” bag. The nurses had taken one look at RBG in mid-convulsion and escorted her right in. Quinn and her parents had followed.
In no time, Dr. Eric Cryan had come in the room, all business, examining RBG’s eyes and inside her mouth, and listening for her heartbeat. “Gail, bring those samples to Nruti in the lab. Maybe they’re the key to figuring out what’s causing this reaction. Good call on bringing those in, Quinn.”
She took little comfort in his praise; she just hoped they’d help provide answers for the vet staff. “How long until we know what’s wrong with her?”
Dr. Cryan offered a gentle smile. “I promise to send someone to talk to you as soon as we know something. Are you waiting here, or do you want us to call you at home?”
Quinn didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, we’re not going anywhere.”
That conversation had been over three hours ago.
Since then, her parents had taken over making calls to everyone. Her mom was able to have Sarah cover the store, and Bash promised to come over after his shift at the firehouse. Fortunately, he was at the tail end of his seventy-two hours. He’d be exhausted, but he’d be there. Her dad contacted her cousin, along with Aunt Johanna and Uncle Jerry. They were picking Daria up from the abbey and heading over too.
She was grateful they were contacting everybody, because all Quinn could do was stare at the television in the waiting room. And for the life of her, if someone had asked what she was watching, she wouldn’t have been able to say. It was just white noise. Something to look at without really seeing.
After searching through her messenger bag, she realized she had left her AirPods on her nightstand at home, which was a shame because music would have been the perfect distraction, although … what’s the perfect playlist for when your dog baby is fighting for her life? She just wished she could go to bed. Draw the covers over her head and never come out. All she wanted was for the pain to stop. She didn’t even have one of her funny enamel pins on to make her smile.
She felt a warm hand on top of her head. “Quinn … Quinn?”
The warm hand left, replaced with two fingers caressing her cheek.
“You’re starting to worry me, duck. Do I need to get a doctor for you too?”
It was hearing the nickname “duck” that snapped Quinn out of her stupor-a name he hadn’t used since she refused to get out of the pool during Vienna Woods’ mandatory pool break.
It was Aiden. She craned her neck. He was a mountain of a man when she was standing. He was even more massive when she was the one sitting down.
Never had she seen him gaze at her the way he was now. In those gray eyes, she bore witness to his concern, his warmth, and a gentleness that shattered something deep inside. He was letting her know it was okay to fall apart because he was going to be the one to hold her pain. He knew she was strong, capable; it wasn’
t about her being weak. It was about her allowing herself to show what made her vulnerable.
And that’s what broke her wide open. Quinn let out a sound between a wail and a moan, hot tears running down her cheeks. He immediately bent to his knees and enveloped her in his arms.
“Shh, it’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”
He was warmer than home, stroking her hair as he soothed her.
“She’s young and strong, Quinn,” he said to her, a low, gravelly voice near her ear. She had the other one pressed against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat keeping her grounded.
She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve, making her feel like she was seven years old again. “It’s been over three hours already. And not a word.”
“No news can be good news,” he told her. “If she was taking a turn for the worse, they’d bring you back to say goodbye. That’s not happening, which tells me she’s fighting hard in there.”
Daria came over with a cup of coffee for her.
“Thanks. When did you get here?”
Her cousin shared a look with Aiden. “I’ve been here for over an hour. I came over and said ‘hi,’ but you barely looked away from the TV.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I—I didn’t hear you.”
“I know,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. Is there anything else I can get for you? Are you hungry?”
Quinn made a sour face. “Ugh, the idea of eating … no thanks. But coffee’s always appreciated.”
“I know—I’m not new here.”
“Quinn Caine?” a voice called.
Hope jolted through her. “That’s me.”
Dr. Cryan walked over, his face haggard. Quinn stood, along with Aiden.
“Well, let me start off with the good news: RBG will pull through unless something out of the ordinary occurs. I’ll admit, it was touch-and-go for a little while there, but she’s stabilized now and resting.”
She felt bathed in gratitude. “Oh, thank God.”
Her parents hugged each other and, together with Daria, breathed out a collective sigh of relief.
Aiden was impassive—his cop eyes were back. “Any idea what caused the illness?”
The vet’s face sobered. “Yeah, that’s the bad news I have to share. I’m sorry to tell you, but someone poisoned your dog.”
A sharp buzz pained her left ear, which she ignored. Aiden didn’t even blink.
Her dad’s jaw hardened. “Who would ever want to hurt a dog? That’s unconscionable!”
“I—I can’t believe that,” her mother said, her hand covering her mouth. “Are you absolutely sure?”
The vet removed the surgical hair covering he was wearing and scratched the top of his shaved head. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s a real good thing you brought her in right away, because if you’d waited, she’d be dead. No question.”
Aiden took a small notepad and pen out of his back pocket. He flipped through until he arrived at a clean page. “This is now an investigation. Talk to us, Doc. What do you know so far?”
Dr. Cryan sighed, hands on his hips. “RBG presented with an elevated heartbeat, dehydration due to vomiting, fever, diarrhea, and stiffness in the neck and face. By the time you brought her in, her arms and legs were in spasm. If you had waited—I’m talking a couple of hours, not days—she would have died from asphyxiation or sheer exhaustion from the convulsions.”
Quinn’s throat went dry and tight. “And you’re sure it was poison?”
She knew she’d asked the same thing just seconds before, but it wasn’t sinking in.
Aiden rubbed his hand over his face. “Sounds like strychnine, Dr. Cryan.”
The vet nodded. “Yep, spot on. You know your poisons, Detective.”
“Occupational hazard. Although it’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone intentionally poisoning someone else’s dog.”
For Quinn, the facts weren’t adding up. Everyone loved her dog. “Is it possible RBG could’ve gotten into some rat poison placed around someone else’s house? I mean, I don’t let her wander off-leash, but there’s a doggie door in my farmhouse. The yard is fenced, but maybe there was an opening and she got out when I wasn’t home and—”
Dr. Cryan shook his head, gently interrupting. “Quinn, we found enough strychnine in those dog biscuits to kill five grown adults.”
And that’s when the ground beneath her feet crumbled into a million little pieces. She was still standing. She was taking in what the good doctor told her, but gravity had lost its pull. She was weightless, with lead feet. Blood surged through her ears, deafening her to everything except her own heartbeat.
Aiden was holding her up.
The vet continued explaining. “Treatment for strychnine poisoning consists of removing the drug from the body. We ended up having to go in so we could perform a surgical wash of her colon and digestive tract. And now we are giving her round-the-clock intravenous fluids as well as medications for the convulsions and spasms, as well as administering cooling measures for her high temperature. If all goes well, she’ll be back home by the end of the week.”
Finn Caine shook his hand. “Thank you, Dr. Cryan, for everything you and your staff have done. We are eternally grateful.”
Quinn could barely hear over the whoosh in her ears. “Can I see her?”
Dr. Cryan shook his head. “Come back tomorrow. She’s heavily sedated from surgery. The next twenty-four hours are critical.” He gave her a once-over. “Did you, by chance, touch those biscuits with your bare hands? Did they get on your clothes?”
Her mind was blank, but Adele Caine gasped. “You did. I saw you touch them. Do I remember right? Did you lick them too?”
The doctor’s face grew more determined. “As a precaution, I’d highly recommend you take a thorough Silkwood shower, wash your clothes, maybe go over to either urgent care or the hospital for a round or two of IV fluids.
“A Silkwood shower?” She had never heard of such a thing.
Aunt Johanna cleared her throat. “It’s from the movie Silkwood about a whistle-blowing nuclear power plant worker. When she was exposed to radiation, they had to strip her down and scrub her skin raw. That’s what the doc is talking about—it was God-awful.”
“Sounds awful,” Daria mumbled.
“Again, probably more than you need to do, but you’re a young woman, and I’d rather you be safe than sorry.” The vet took a pad and pen out of his coat. “Unfortunately, I can’t write you a prescription, but I can write you a note, explaining the situation. That should be enough. They can give me a call on my direct line if they have any questions.” He scribbled his directives, then peeled the paper off the pad, handing it to her.
“Okay, I’ll drive over right away.”
Aiden let out a low grunt. “Oh no. I’m going to drive you. After I get you home to shower, I’ll take you over to urgent care myself.”
Daria cleared her throat. “That’s sweet, Aiden, but you’ve got a potential dog assassin to find, along with Tricia’s killer. We’ll take her.”
Aiden didn’t even blink. “Oh, I’ll catch them—and I’m going to apprehend Tricia’s killer too. I won’t rest until I do. But first, I’m taking Quinn to urgent care. You’re her family, so I’m sure she’ll want you there. Right?”
Quinn was struck dumb and nodded.
“Good, then it’s settled.”
Daria started saying something, but Aiden interrupted.
“I know I’m being pushy, but I’d be lying if I said I cared. Because you need to know there’s nothing you’re going to be able to say to change my mind. I’m not letting Quinn out of my sight until I know she’s safe. Nothing hurts her. Not on my watch. Until then, Caine crew, get used to having me around.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.”
—Haruki Murakami, A Wild Sheep Chase
Daria fanned herself with a thousand-year-old People magazine fro
m the urgent care waiting room. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. It has to be said.”
Quinn opened her eyes. She was in a faux-leather chair with a needle in her left arm, an IV bag hanging from a pole next to her. “What needs to be said?”
Daria looked around before saying, “Awful strychnine poisoning aside, that whole speech Aiden gave back at the vet clinic was hawt.” She deepened her voice to sound like him, “‘I’m not letting Quinn out of my sight until I know she’s safe. Nothing hurts her. Not on my watch. Until then, Caine crew, get used to having me around.’ He’s not even my type, and I was almost ready to throw my wimple in the recycling bin after that speech.”
“Cute.”
Daria smacked Quinn’s needle-free arm with the back of her hand. “Don’t you get it? He likes you. And before you say, ‘Oh sure, like a little sister’ or ‘No, Daria, just as a friend,’ trust me when I say that man likes you likes you.”
“See? This is the problem when your best friend joins a convent. Your finely honed man mind-reading skills have gone soft. Way soft. I’m almost embarrassed for you. If wanting to make sure I’m okay after potentially being poisoned is your notion of someone being into me, well then, you must think the guy who helps carry my groceries to my truck is gearing up for a proposal any day.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, Quinn. Don’t listen to me. Maybe I should ask Aunt Adele what she thinks of my little theory.”
Quinn coughed into her free hand. “You are evil, you know that? You’d think you’d be nicer to me after I was accidentally poisoned.”
“You can play that card for the next forty-eight hours. After that, time’s up.”
Even though they were separated from the others in the urgent care bay by a curtain, they heard someone say, “Knock-knock.”
“Come in.”
The curtain pulled back. It was Bash, still in his firefighter gear, soot smeared across his face.
“Well, no need to ask where you’ve been.”
Right behind him was one of the male nurses. “If he’s here with you, that means your friend needs to wait with the others in the lobby. Only one person back here at a time.”
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