Expired Refuge

by Lisa Phillips

  “It’s taking too long to bring him down. I can’t pin charges on him just because of what he did. Ed served his time for Mara’s death. This has to be by the book, not just because I hate the guy.”

  “Except that he destroys lives. Apparently, he’s made a career of it.” She looked out the window. “If he knows you’re looking more closely at him now, then he could have set that charge in your car while you were at my dad’s house to try and force you to back off.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “And if he pushes it?”

  “I don’t care. I’ll do what is necessary to bring him down.” He gripped the wheel and turned down Lakeside Lane. “No matter the cost.”

  He pulled up at the curb, right where he’d parked before.

  It seemed kind of hypocritical of him to go after Ed Summers so hard, considering his own culpability in her sister’s death. She should probably be looking at both of them. And would have, if she’d been at full strength.

  Maybe this was all a ruse, a way to play off the fact he worked with—or for—Summers, and Conroy was nothing but a dirty cop. Perhaps by bringing her into it, he could convince his officers that he wasn’t corrupt.

  Could be he even planned on pinning cooperation with Summers on her. After all, with her sister Meena being a part of Summers’s life, there wasn’t a big leap from Mia to the drug trade.

  Mia was in a vulnerable position just by being here. Especially considering she wasn’t on her game.

  Was Conroy playing her?

  “That’s why I need your help.”

  She twisted in her seat, which took the pressure off the back of her shoulder and allowed her to look straight at him instead of twisting her neck. “You’re not entitled to receive anything from me.”

  He winced. “I know that doesn’t sound good. But I promise you, my intentions are good.”

  “Would that all life was measured on good intentions. But it isn’t.” She leaned in on that word. “It’s about results. So if you want to bring Ed Summers in, then find the evidence to get a judge to issue you a warrant for his arrest. I’m not your girl.”

  She grabbed the door handle and was halfway out when he said, “Mia.”

  She climbed out.

  “Mia!”

  She bent to the open door and looked at him. “What?”

  “It’s been good to see you.”

  Really?

  She said, “Because I remind you of Mara?”

  Maybe this was nothing but nostalgia, and he only saw her sister when he looked at her.

  “A little, I guess. But that’s not all of it.”

  She didn’t even know what to say to him or what to make of his soft expression. Mia just slammed the door to her car. Another sigh. How many times would she do that before she got home? This trip to recover was turning out to be more frustrating than her usual work. She was going to call the management company for her apartment building and find out when they were done fumigating.

  Conroy didn’t pull the car away. Instead, she heard the engine shut off and his door open. Creak. It slammed shut.

  “There’s more to say.”

  “Is there?” She strode to the corner of the house. The neighboring family was out, and the kids looked worried. One called out the dog’s name.

  “Plus you need your car keys.”

  She ignored him. “What’s going on?”

  The husband and father, same guy who’d run over to check on Conroy when he was hurt, called back, “The dog got out earlier. Have you seen her?”

  Mia shook her head. “Sorry.”

  Conroy caught up to her while she was distracted. “I also want to make sure you’re safe inside. While I give you your keys.”

  She glanced back at him as the tiny path curved around the corner. He wasn’t waiting inside for his ride. No way.

  “Because it occurred to me that the prowler was here, and my car blew up here. So while you may be right about this not having anything to do with Ed Summers, or Petrov, it might have something to do with you.”

  She was about to argue with him when a brown body, low and moving fast, raced at her across the yard. She shoved Conroy away and braced like she did during dog training with the team’s canine. Except she was usually decked out in protective gear during those times.

  The father yelled, “Daisy!”

  The dog snarled, building even more speed as it raced to her.

  Jumped.

  Teeth sank into the skin of her forearm. One of the kids screamed.

  Then again, maybe that was her.

  Seven

  Mia’s scream echoed in his ears. Even two hours later, it was like his ears got stuck and he couldn’t stop hearing the sound of it.

  Conroy threw the lever into park outside the vet’s office. He leaned his pounding head back against the driver’s seat of Mia’s car. If it didn’t quit that incessant thump, he was going to have to talk to his doctor. Yes, he’d been unconscious for a few minutes this morning, but no one needed to know he was still suffering. Unless, of course, it didn’t quit and then he’d have to let the doc know.

  Right now, the guy was stitching up Mia. And probably giving her a tetanus shot. After everything she’d been through—most could be assumed from the scar on her face and the rest Alvarez had briefed him on—he figured she didn’t need this as well.

  Whatever was going on, he’d figure it out. That was what Conroy did.

  Blessed are the peacemakers.

  Conroy had been given that verse years ago when he was sworn in as a police officer. It was what he tried to do all day, every day. His role in this town was to keep the peace. Keep the residents safe by pouring his life into the job.

  A car explosion. Now a dog attack.

  This kind of targeted, personal vendetta didn’t sit well with him. Regardless if it was directed at him, or at Mia, didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to rest until he got to the bottom of what was going on.

  Conroy finished the drive-thru coffee he’d bought on the way, and then went inside the vet’s office. Mia had insisted they take the dog here—once they’d subdued it. He’d bargained with her since she was bleeding and clearly in considerable pain. The family’s dog had been taken there by the father, and Conroy had driven her to the hospital.

  He hauled the front door open and the father immediately stood up.

  “How is she?”

  Conroy said, “Getting stitched up.”

  He could tell the guy she was a fed. Or that she was strong and could handle this. Truth was, Conroy didn’t have much interest in making the guy feel better about the situation.

  He pulled out his notepad. “Full name?”

  “Nathan Masterson. Nate.”

  “How long have you had the dog?”

  “Maybe four months.”

  “Has she ever done anything like this before?” He had an idea about what had happened, but needed to get the vet’s opinion before he laid down judgment.

  “No. She’s usually so sweet.” Nate ran a hand down his face. “Becca is freaking out. The kids are distraught. They’re all headed over here now.”

  Great.

  Nate continued, “Doctor Filks said he thought she might have been drugged.”

  Conroy nodded. “I was wondering about that.”

  “The kids are freaked.”

  Conroy was about to say something that would have just been him placating the guy. Instead, Filks walked out of his back office and into the waiting area. “Con.”

  Conroy lifted his chin. “Brett.”

  They shook hands. Brett Filks, longtime Last Chance County vet, shook hands with Nate.

  Masterson claimed his wife and his kids were freaked. It seemed to Conroy that he might be the one who was freaked, or at least as much as the rest of his family. He got that. Conroy was a dog person, though he hadn’t had one for years—not since the yellow lab they’d had passed away when he was a kid. That had to have been tenth grade.

  Bret
t glanced aside at Conroy. “You okay?”

  “You can check me for brain injuries later, yeah?”

  Brett shifted half a step closer, staring Conroy in the eyes. “Did you hit your head wrestling the dog down?”

  Nate said, “Should I call an ambulance?”

  Conroy shook his head, then winced. Ouch. “It’s just a headache.”

  Brett slipped a tiny flashlight from his shirt pocket and shone it in Conroy’s eyes. “More like a migraine would be my guess.”

  Conroy shoved at Brett’s wrist. “I’m fine. Mr. Masterson probably wants to know about his dog.” Before his family got there.

  Nate nodded. Conroy was glad to know the guy was aware that a father’s job was to shield his kids from any unnecessary blows. Rich let his girls swing out there, leaving them to carry the weight of life on their own. He’d left them to find their own path, creating two cynical and fiercely independent women. And yet in most ways they were polar opposites.

  Conroy’s dad had been the same as Nate. Determined to at least soften the landing when it became necessary for Conroy to hit the ground. But he did allow Conroy to hit the ground, and afterward he was there with a helping hand. That was what fathers were supposed to do—before they got an RV and went to live their best life in Arizona.

  Brett said, “She was drugged. Daisy is out now, I gave her something to calm her down since she was pretty upset. I ran a panel of tests. When I get answers as to what she was given, I’ll be able to combat that with medicine. Get whatever substance it is out of her system.”

  “And then?”

  “We see how she is after the medicine. When she wakes up.”

  Nate glanced between them, still every inch the worried father. “You aren’t…ordering me to have her put down?”

  “Brett?” Conroy wanted his medical opinion before he went ahead and recommended a decision. Yes, he was the final authority on safety in this town, but Nate needed to make the call on the dog.

  The vet scratched at the late-day stubble on his chin. Conroy had known him since it was brown, back far enough Brett had been the JV quarterback while Conroy was his counterpart on the varsity team. These days it was threaded with gray, like his hair, though he was only pushing thirties like Conroy—who fought that battle in the receding temples, rather than the color of his hair.

  Brett also tended to gravitate more toward jeans and denim shirts. Conroy wore a suit six days a week and sweats on the seventh. The jeans in his closet had dust on them.

  “It all depends on how she is when she wakes up. If the drug is gone, and it seems like she doesn’t even remember what happened, then we can look at seeing how she does with the kids.”

  “Seriously?” Nate’s eyebrows rose. “She could come home?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. It’ll be a long road.” Brett said, “I’ll want to talk to the woman Daisy bit. If she agrees, then Daisy will need to be herself around that woman before she’ll be allowed to see the kids. But if it is what I think it was, then once it’s out of her system, she should be back to normal. Though…”

  “What?” Nate asked.

  “It’s clear she was kicked. Several times. I’m going to do an X-ray, but I’m thinking she has at least a couple of broken ribs. She has some abrasions as well. I’ll also have to thoroughly clean her mouth so there’s no taste of blood when she wakes up.”

  “She could bite someone again, though. Right?”

  Brett nodded in response to Conroy’s question. “I’d argue that any dog can do that at any time. Given the right circumstances.”

  Conroy turned to Brett. “Keep me apprised of how it goes. Every step of the process.” He glanced at Nate. “Anything happens I don’t like, this entire process goes back to the drawing board. My advice? Don’t get your kids’ hopes up. I’d hate for them to get crushed if, or when, it becomes clear Daisy could be a danger.”

  Nate pressed his lips together.

  “I have to get back to work.” Conroy said his goodbyes and got out of there.

  The wife was unloading kids from her van. Becca Masterson spotted Conroy. He was about to lift his chin when she shot him a dirty look and pulled one kid onto her hip. She tugged the other one alongside her to the front door of the vet office with her chin in the air.

  Conroy climbed into his car and drove to the town’s small hospital. It was only two floors and not bigger than most elementary schools.

  He’d just tapped the brakes to head for a parking spot when the doors slid open and Mia walked out.

  He changed directions and flashed headlights.

  She shielded her eyes from the glare of her own headlights. Conroy eased up to her, stopping so the passenger door was right in front of where she stood.

  He leaned over and pulled the handle. She caught the door and tugged it open. “Hop in. I’ll take you home.”

  She waited long enough he wondered if she was trying to formulate a good response.

  “Just get in, Mia.”

  She slid onto the seat. “This is my car.”

  He pulled out, turning and heading for the exit. His stomach rumbled. “Hungry?”

  “I’m actually not.” She laid a hand on her stomach and rubbed side to side. “They gave me a sandwich and some juice, since I lost blood.” Her left arm had a bandage wrapped around it.

  “You okay?”

  She laid her head back and shut her eyes. “I just want to fall asleep. They gave me some good stuff.”

  Conroy figured that was his cue to quit talking. He drove to her father’s house, wondering if he should suggest she sleep somewhere else tonight. The owners of the town’s little motel were always happy to accommodate whoever he brought to them at any time, day or night. Then again, they called it a “ministry” and not work. So he figured being grumpy because you were inconvenienced didn’t fit.

  He needed to get back to the office to check in and finish up his paperwork. Figure out what was happening with Petrov’s charges. See how the chief’s day had gone.

  He roused Mia when they pulled into the driveway of her father’s house and held his hand out for the door key. She placed it into his palm and looked over at the spot where she’d been bitten and shivered. Conroy took her right hand and they circled the house. It was dark. They’d both had a long day. She was hurt, and he still had a raging headache. He figured all that accumulated to the reason she didn’t pull away from his hold on her hand.

  Conroy unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Wait right here for a second, yeah?”

  “I know what you’re doing.” She yawned. “I’m just too tired to object.”

  “Good.” He walked through the house and even checked the shower. Every spot someone who might want to harm her could be hiding.

  He found her in the kitchen. Not exactly waiting by the entryway. “You’re good.”

  She was replacing the lid on a peanut butter jar. “Sandwich.” She slid the plate across the counter toward him.

  She hadn’t wrapped it to go, so he ate standing up while she filled the electric kettle enough for a cup.

  “Thanks.”

  She shrugged one shoulder, flicked up the button on the kettle and turned around. “You helped me out today. And I feel kind of bad you almost got blown up.”

  He swallowed another bite. “Not your fault.”

  “I know. Still…” She didn’t say more.

  Her face was soft. She was wrung out, in pain. Medication had her talking softly. Being nice.

  Conroy said, “Thanks again,” and took a step closer, around the counter. “Though not the way I would’ve chosen to spend the day with you.” It had been a long one, and painful.

  “We haven’t seen each other for years.”

  “Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you.”

  Talked to your dad about you. Asked around after you.

  She lifted her chin slightly. “The only thought I’ve had concerning you, is why you didn’t stop Ed Summers from killing my sister.”


  He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

  “This police lieutenant thing you’ve got going on seems to be working. Fooling everyone in town into believing you’re this knight in a suit. The man for the job. Too bad I know the truth about you.”

  Conroy turned around and walked out.

  Eight

  His plate clattered in the sink. Mia stared at it. She almost wished it had broken, then she’d have something to think about aside from the blow she’d just dealt him. And the fact she actually felt bad about it.

  What was that about?

  She trailed through the house, shutting off lights as she went. It was after midnight. He’d seen her in. Checked the house to make sure no one was hiding anywhere inside. Not only was he a good police lieutenant, he was also a good police lieutenant. Ugh. Of course she couldn’t find fault in him.

  He might seem like a nice enough guy on the surface, or at least the kind of cop who cared about the people he’d sworn to protect. But it could not be denied what he had cost her. The wrong he had done.

  Mia dropped onto the twin bed she’d slept in as a kid and groaned as she stretched out. At least as much as she could stretch. It hadn’t been big enough even back then. Her dad had told her to use his bed since he would be gone, but that was just weird.

  Her arm stung. And ached. The stitches tugged at the skin, which still felt odd. Not painful at the time, but she’d felt each tug of her skin as the doctor pulled the thread through.

  She shivered.

  Would she ever be okay around dogs again? Or would she flinch every time one approached? Intellectually she knew they weren’t all vicious, and they certainly weren’t all drugged. She would meet nice dogs. But she knew she’d hesitate as they approached. At least at first. Maybe forever. She would remember the way Daisy’s teeth had sunk into the flesh of her forearm.

  That hadn’t even been the worst of it.

  They’d been forced to wrestle Daisy to the ground even while she still had that bone-cracking hold on Mia’s arm. Working side by side with Conroy.

  Ed Summers might have been driving the car that crashed, killing her sister. But she blamed Conroy. He’d been her boyfriend at the time, not Ed. Conroy had been responsible for her safety that night. And in the end, Mara, not wearing her seatbelt, had been killed. She’d been thrown through the front windshield. Alive at the scene, Mara had died two days later in the hospital.