Dogs Don't Lie

by Lisa Shay

  Glaring at me, her eyes narrowed. “Are you the animal psychic from the news?”

  “Yes and no. That’s me, but this has nothing to do with psychic abilities. It’s more like empathy, or maybe a—”

  “Kallie,” Gracie whispered and stepped forward. “Hi. I’m Gracie. Could we leave a message with our numbers for Mr. and Mrs. Adams? If they want to talk to us, they can call.”

  “No.” She frowned. “I mean, that won’t work.” Blowing out a long sigh, she tapped at the keys on her computer and glanced at the screen. “There’s no notation saying they can’t have visitors. I’m just glad someone is finally looking into what that Mr. Johnson tried to talk them into.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine a housing development on land so far from town would ever do well. I contacted a distant relative from Washington—DC, not state—though I’m not sure they ever followed up. When Johnson stopped showing up, I assumed the matter was closed.” Her shoulders drooped and she stared at the three of us. “They’re a sweet couple, just … Well, you’ll see. Room two thirty-seven.” Pointing to the elevator, she offered a weak smile. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” I waved at Sam and Gracie to follow me.

  Once inside, the second-floor button pushed, Gracie asked, “Good luck? That doesn’t sound encouraging.”

  “Yeah,” Sam chimed in. “What do you think she meant by that?”

  I shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.” The doors opened and we stepped into a wide, colorful hallway. Turning right, I followed the room numbers on the wall.

  Their room was on the left, and I stood in front of the door, my hand poised in the air.

  “Wait,” Sam squeaked. “What if they’re napping?”

  “I’ll knock quietly.”

  “But if they don’t hear well, they may not know someone’s knocking.” Gracie hitched her purse back over her shoulder, stepped forward, and—

  The door swung open. A white-haired man, at least six feet tall and lean, stood grinning at us. “Are you going to stand out there gabbing at each other all morning, or you coming in?” He motioned us into the apartment, bright sunshine streaming in the large living-area window. “The front desk called. Said you were coming up for a visit. What’s that?” He pointed to the bakery box I held.

  “Oh. We brought you cookies.” I held them out to him. “Hope you like chocolate chip.”

  “Indeed I do. My favorite. Thanks.” He took them and smiled. “Good bakery. Used to go there when I was still driving.” He shuffled to a recliner and lowered himself to the padded seat, groaning out a long sigh. “Eva,” he called. “Our company’s here.” He kept glancing at me, his brow wrinkled. Gesturing toward a long couch, he said, “Sit.” He tossed a wave at a recliner covered by a colorful, flowery throw next to his. “Eva sits here.”

  A scuff, clunk, scuff, clunk sounded from the hall. “What, John?” Eva, ambling behind a walker, entered the living room. “Oh. We have company. Are these Linda’s daughters?”

  So the J was for John.

  “Linda has sons, and they have daughters. So they’d be Linda’s granddaughters.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “But, no, they aren’t Linda’s.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Adams.” I turned to Mr. Adams and as he stared at me, his frown deepened. “My name is Kallie Collins, and these are my friends Sam, uh, Samantha Griffin and Gracie Parker. I’d like to ask some questions about your property off Madrone Canyon Road.”

  Eva pushed her walker to the flowery recliner and settled into the seat. She tipped her head back, eyes closed. “That was left to John by his great uncle over forty years ago. He didn’t have any children of his own.” She sighed and glanced at her husband. “He loved you so much.”

  John nodded slowly. His stare seemed distant, as though he were looking into the past. He straightened, back in the present. “Well, all I can tell you is it’s pretty rural out there. No power, no water—nothing.”

  “No, John. There is a well. But that was a long time ago. Probably dry and filled in by now.” Eva nodded, staring at the carpet.

  “So you still own the land?” I leaned forward, closer to John.

  “Sure do.” He held up a finger. “I did talk to some fella a few months back about grazing rights or the possibility of developing the site for something. He never asked to buy it. Just wanted to help me—well, him and me—make some kind of income off it. Told him I was too old to start a project like that. That young fella kept coming back, trying to talk me into letting them do all the work for me. Said all I’d have to do was cash the checks every month.” He scowled. “I still wasn’t interested. I knew what it would take to make that land livable. Getting power out that far alone would cost more than the land’s worth.”

  “Did you sign anything?” I bit at my lip. “Like any proposals or bids?”

  “No.” His brow wrinkled. “But I did sign some papers allowing the county to give that fella the assessor’s plot maps, boundary lines, and egress points. Since I never heard from him after that, I figured he’d checked into the property and realized the cost wouldn’t be worth his time.”

  My pulse quickened, anger churning. There it was. That’s how R and A got his signature. You don’t need permission for this information. It’s public record. They took advantage of this kind old man’s trust and seized control of property that’s been in his family for generations.

  “Do you remember the man’s name or the company he worked for?” Gracie scooted forward, sitting on the edge of her seat.

  John pursed his lips and gazed at the ceiling. “Hmmm. Let me think.” He chuckled. “You know, if you asked me anything about my life twenty, thirty, even forty years ago, I’d give you an answer in a heartbeat. But honestly, I can’t remember much about the last year or two. I can’t even tell you what I had for breakfast.”

  “That’s okay, Mr. Adams.” I smiled. “Did this man give you any copies or a business card?”

  Staring at me, he shook his head. “Not sure. Maybe. If he did, don’t know what I did with it.” His gaze lingered on me. “You look familiar. Are you Colleen’s daughter?”

  “No. My mother’s name is Bridget. But my grandmother’s name is Colleen.”

  “Colleen O’Shea?”

  “Yes. Did you know her?”

  John turned to Eva and took her hand. “Eva, honey, this young lady is Colleen’s granddaughter.”

  “Colleen?” Eva stared at me and her eyes widened. “Oh my. You look just like her.”

  “That’s what I hear.” Heat rose up my neck and into my cheeks.

  “We met your grandparents right after we got married. They were our neighbors at the first house we bought in town, on Oak Street.” John smiled at the memory.

  “I remember that house, and the big backyard.”

  “We didn’t stay in that place long,” he mused. “But we remained friends with your grandparents for many years.” He glanced at Sam and Gracie. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help. Leave me your number—In case I do remember something. Not promising anything, but you never know.” He tipped his head and grinned.

  I jotted mine on a notepad from a table between their chairs. “Thank you for talking to us.” I followed Gracie and Sam to the door.

  “It was nice to see you again, Colleen.” Eva waved and smiled.

  “Good to see you, too. Goodbye.”

  Breaking the tape on the bakery box, John said, “And thanks for the cookies.”

  In the elevator, we looked at each other.

  “How could anyone take advantage of such nice people?” Sam seethed, her tone low with irritation.

  “Because they are nice—and trusting.” Gracie stared at the floor with her arms crossed, holding back her outrage.

  “Maybe we can do something—get their property back even.” I pressed the lobby button on the elevator panel.

  “H
ow?” Sam frowned and watched the lights showing the floor change as we descended.

  “Yeah. How? We can’t prove Mr. Adams didn’t know he was selling the property.” Gracie shook her head. “He just can’t remember well enough to fight it in court.” She glanced sideways at me. “They knew your grandparents, Kallie. You okay?”

  “I’m fine—mad but fine.” I stared at the floor. “Kinda makes this feel personal for me, though.” With a new resolve, I gathered my emotions. Facing forward, I waited for the elevator doors to slide open. “There are four more names on the list your cousin gave us. We should check them out—get their stories.” A chime sounded and the doors glided apart. “And find out what, if anything, is going on at the property on Madrone Canyon.”

  “You mean actually go there? When?” Sam asked, her voice quivering.

  I shrugged. “Why not right now?”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Sam lumbered out and down the hall behind Gracie and me, mumbling, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  I set the address in my phone’s GPS, and Sam drove. A little over half an hour later, we turned up a gravel road lined by thick brush.

  “Does this look, well, recently used?” Sam peered over the steering wheel.

  Riding shotgun, I looked up from my phone. “Um, yeah. It kinda does. I mean, I didn’t expect gravel. Mud maybe. And the gravel looks recent, like it hasn’t been here long.”

  From the back, Gracie reported, “In spots, there are fresh tire tracks on the muddy shoulder.”

  “Okay. Find a place to pull over. No, wait. According to the GPS, there should be a side road ahead on the left. Turn in there and park so the car isn’t visible from this road. We’ll walk the rest of the way. The property’s only a half mile from the main road turnoff.”

  “Stealth-mode time?” Gracie’s tone buzzed with excitement.

  “I think that might be a good idea. There,” I called, pointing forward and to the left. A narrow dirt trail, just wide enough for a small car, wound into the dense undergrowth and around tall pines and cedars.

  Sam didn’t have to drive far on the path before the gravel road disappeared from view.

  “Perfect. Okay, let’s remember where we hid the car.” I unbuckled and tucked my phone in my pack.

  “Hid?” Sam took her time shutting off the engine.

  From behind, Gracie patted Sam’s shoulder. “Parked, Sam. Right, Kallie?”

  “Oh, yeah. Parked.” I opened the door and climbed out. Bending over, I glanced at Sam through the opening. “It’s all good. Come on. We have a couple hours before the sun drops below the mountains and the light starts to fade.”

  “You mean we could be out here in the dark?” Sam joined me and scanned the forest. “There’s bears up here, and cougars, right?”

  “Don’t worry, Sam. Kallie can talk to them. They’ll leave us alone.” Gracie took her cell phone and held it up. “Okay, everyone. Silence your phone.”

  “Good idea. Nice thinking, Gracie.” I followed her lead.

  “You guys are scaring me.” The expression on Sam’s face would have been comical if the situation wasn’t actually a little scary.

  I walked to the front of the car and pulled Sam’s purple knit cap low over her long blond hair. “It’s okay. Really. We’ll walk in, see the place is abandoned, and walk out. Be back here in an hour—probably less.”

  “Promise?” Sam locked the car and put the keys in her pocket.

  Gracie wound her arm through Sam’s and tugged. “Promise. Let’s go.” She glanced back at me. “Should we walk on the road?”

  Shrugging one shoulder, I nodded. “It’ll be faster. If we hear someone coming, we’ll have plenty of time to get off the road.”

  “To hide?” Sam squeaked.

  I caught up to my friends. “We’re fine, Sam.”

  Beams of sunlight lit our way. Birds chirped in gently swaying branches. The scent of recent rain mixed with the spicy aroma of pine and cedar.

  “Say ‘knock, knock,’ Kallie.” Gracie grinned.

  Rolling my eyes, I groaned. “I don’t know any knock, knock jokes. How’s that going to work?”

  “Just say it,” Gracie pleaded.

  “Fine. Knock, knock.”

  Grinning, Gracie chuckled. “Come in.”

  “Okay, that was kinda funny.” I smiled.

  Sam relaxed, laughing at more of the silly jokes. I think Gracie said them to ease her own nervousness as well.

  The road ahead continued uphill at a gentle slope—an easy walk, with slight turns right and left. Trees crowded the berm, limbs hanging low and brushing the ground with the gentle breeze.

  “Shhhh.” I stopped. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Sam grabbed my arm, her gaze darting down the road.

  Finger to my lips, I listened. Did I hear something?

  Gracie looked up, spinning in a slow circle. “Just the wind in the trees,” she whispered.

  A low rumble sounded from ahead.

  “Okay. That I heard.” Sam’s grasp on my arm tightened.

  “Let’s get off the road.” I started to move right as Gracie headed left.

  Sam squealed. “Which way?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I gripped the sleeve of Sam’s coat and followed Gracie.

  The rumbling grew—a vehicle, probably a truck, moving slow.

  We pushed through brush and low limbs and stood next to the thick trunk of a fir tree, hidden by dense boughs.

  Gravel crunched, and the growl of an approaching engine was unmistakable.

  “Get down,” I whispered in a harsh rasp.

  We hit the ground and peeked through entwined branches of needle leaves.

  From my angle, I couldn’t see any passengers in the big white truck—just wide tires and muddy side panels.

  Staying inside the safety of the trees, we waited until the rumble faded and disappeared.

  Beside me, Sam let out a slow breath. “Can we go home now?”

  “We’re so close.” I frowned and glanced at Gracie. “Do you want to go?”

  “I say we finish this.” Gracie stood, brushing dead needles from her jeans.

  Keeping my voice level, I suggested, “We have no idea who that was. Maybe hunters. It is deer season.”

  Gracie pushed out onto the road. “You’re right. Just because there was a truck out here, in the middle of nowhere, doesn’t mean it has anything to do with the Adamses’ property or R and A or dead bodies or missing people.”

  Hands on hips, I glared at Gracie. “Really?”

  Gracie stared back at me with her eyebrows raised. “Tell me that didn’t freak you out a little.”

  Sam raised her arm and waved her hand. “I’ll admit it.”

  “Okay. Maybe.” I couldn’t stop the grin tugging at my lips. “But also kinda exciting.”

  Grabbing Sam’s hand and then mine, Gracie started forward. “I know.”

  “I repeat, I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam groaned.

  “We’ll be careful now that we know there are people out here.” My grin widened. “Besides, we aren’t doing anything wrong.”

  Gracie chuckled. “Um, didn’t you tell Ben you’d stop playing Nancy Drew? What do you think he’s going to say about this?”

  “Kinsey Millhone,” I mumbled.

  “What?” Gracie stared at me.

  Squaring my shoulders, I said, “Kinsey Millhone, not Nancy Drew. And that was before I met John and Eva Adams. Like I said, this is personal now.”

  Chapter 15

  Gravel crunching under our feet, we trudged up the sloping road.

  “Do you really think they were just hunters?” Sam whispered. Her clutch on my hand had my fingers tingling.

  “Sure.” I nodded. “What else?”


  The chirping in the trees quieted. Wind stilled. An eerie silence accompanied lengthening afternoon shadows.

  “Is it getting dark?” Gracie glanced at the sunlit treetops.

  “No. Sun’s just going below the mountain ridges.” I checked the time. “We still have over two hours before it sets.”

  The road took a sweeping right to a narrow drive. What remained of a small cabin, roof caved in and graying and splintered walls leaning in on each other, stood next to a new barn of unpainted wood and a shiny tin roof. Two wide swinging doors at the front were closed with a padlocked chain through metal handles. Fresh tire tracks lined the mud, but no vehicles were present.

  “That is definitely not abandoned.” Gracie took a few steps toward the side of the road and the closest tree cover.

  “Nope, not deserted,” I agreed.

  From where we stood, a clearing of maybe thirty yards separated us from the barn. I listened. There was nothing—not even birdsong or sigh of wind. “I’m taking a look.” I glanced at Sam and Gracie. “You can stay here if you want.” I got a simultaneous “No” from Gracie and a weak “Okay” from Sam.

  The crack of a rifle in the distance echoed around us. Another sharp report bounced along the canyon walls.

  Sam stared at Gracie. “Well, I’m not staying here alone.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Gracie stepped out of the trees, Sam behind her.

  I ran in a silent half crouch until I flattened myself against the wooden side of the barn, as though I were some kind of special ops soldier on a mission. I watch way too much TV. The scent of freshly sawed wood and churned earth tickled my nostrils.

  Beside me, Sam panted. “What now?”

  “Do you see a window?”

  “No.” Gracie pointed. “Maybe in the back?”

  We shuffled side by side, keeping close to the rough-hewn wood. I peeked around the edge and, seeing no one, nodded. Two small high windows flanked a door in the center of the rear wall.

  I hurried to the farthest and, standing on tiptoes, tried to see inside. A dark tint covered the panes.