by Lisa Shay
“Kallie,” Gracie whispered, gesturing me to where she and Sam stood. “There’s something like paint on the glass, but it’s peeling on the bottom corner. I can’t see much. It’s pretty dark in there, but I don’t know. Tables? You look.”
Fingers gripping the sill, I peered through a ragged two-inch square and tried to make sense of what I saw. A row of empty tables lined one side, and scattered boxes the size you might get boots in littered the dirt floor. I couldn’t see any higher than the tabletops. The edge of the tinted window didn’t allow more of a view. Letting go, I dropped down. “Yeah. I saw tables and lots of shoe or boot boxes.” I sidestepped to the door and, with care, pulled the handle. It didn’t budge. I yanked harder. Nothing. “Locked from the inside.”
Sam grimaced. “Have they been there awhile? Maybe someone’s storing their stuff.”
I shook my head. “Didn’t look old—no dust or dirt on the tabletops.” I chuffed. “They actually looked really clean. So did the boxes.”
The wind picked up, whistling under the broad eaves of the barn.
I pulled the hood over my head and tucked wind-blown curls up under the soft cloth.
“So what are they doing?” Gracie zipped her coat.
I glanced at the locked door. “Good question.”
“Should we call the police?” Sam crossed her arms and glanced around, focusing on the line of trees and brush twenty or more feet from where we stood.
I considered her suggestion. “And tell them what? We need more information about the other properties before we can prove or even question what R and A is up to here.”
“Yeah. I agree. I mean, tables and boxes? Not much to go on.” Gracie shook her head. Her short dark hair drifted in the breeze, flitting across her wide hazel eyes. She brushed the strands away and tipped her head. “Too bad we can’t get inside.” Frowning, she dashed past the second window and peered around the far corner of the barn. She pulled back and trotted over to us. “No windows or doors there.”
I heard the low rumble of an engine a fraction of a second before Gracie and Sam.
“They’re coming back,” Sam shrieked and ran to the tree line behind the barn.
Gracie and I followed, ducking under low limbs and into shadows.
Two vehicles appeared—the same white truck from earlier and a van, dark blue or maybe black.
Black like the one in the vision I saw at the Whedons’?
They both pulled out of my line of sight to the front of the barn. I side crept through the low branches and brush, trying to get a look.
“Kallie,” Gracie whispered. “What are you doing? Get back here.”
Holding a finger to my lips, I mouthed, “I want to see who they are.”
“Wait for us,” Sam whispered. “We’re coming with you.” She moved one small step at a time, watching the barn between her slow advance toward me.
I checked the route I’d need to get a clear view. A dry ditch about two feet deep and three feet wide and littered with small boulders ran to my right. The sloping banks and at least four feet beyond on both sides were scrubbed clean of brush. To cross, we’d need to follow the tree line down and away from the barn until we could pass without being seen. By the time we’d come back up, hidden among the trees and bushes, they’d be in the barn and out of sight. Waiting until they came out again, if they did emerge any time soon, wasn’t something I was willing to wait for.
Gracie settled in next to me. “Let’s go. We should get out of here and head to the car.”
“Please, Kallie,” Sam pleaded. “I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“Yes. I agree. Follow me.” I headed parallel to the ditch, staying in the trees and crossing when I could no longer see the barn. Scrambling up the opposite bank, I reentered the woods.
“Where are you going?” Gracie asked between breaths. “Can you find your way to the car?”
I looked back, smiled, and nodded. “Easy.” My smile faded. “But we need to hurry. It’s going to get dark fast.” I pushed a pine bough away and froze.
I could hear men’s voices. Loud. Yelling. All talking at once.
Craning her neck, Gracie asked, “What are they saying?”
“I can’t tell.” I frowned. “It’s all jumbled.”
“They’re arguing about a late shipment and money. Someone has to pay for losses?”
Gracie and I both turned to look at Sam.
I stared at her, impressed. “You can understand what they’re yelling about?”
“Yeah. They all have different tones. I just have to separate which I want to listen to and, uh, yeah. Some of it, anyway.”
They started up again, louder and angrier.
I took Sam’s shoulder. “What are they saying?”
Grimacing, Sam tipped her head. “No one wants to explain to Hawk about why the shipment is late.” She wrinkled her nose. “He won’t be happy. His people, the ones he reports to, aren’t exactly the understanding kind.” Shaking her head, she shut her eyes. “Um, something about a product and it going bad?”
The voices faded, and a door slammed.
Sighing, Sam shrugged. “That’s all I got.”
“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” I led the way, and we made it with daylight to spare.
After we got on the highway, Gracie asked, “So what do you think their product is?”
Sam glanced in the rearview mirror. “Drugs?”
“Can that go bad?” Gracie’s phone lit up in the back. “No signal yet.”
Tapping the steering wheel, Sam frowned. “I may have got that part a little mixed up. Maybe they said the product is bad? Can be bad?” She blew out a breath between pursed lips. “Two had accents. Reminded me a little of Arnold Schwarzenegger.” She shook her head. “But not exactly.”
“It doesn’t make sense. What are they doing in such secrecy that doesn’t have to do with drugs?” Gracie tapped my shoulder from behind. “What do you think, Kallie? Did you pick up anything while we were out there?”
“Nothing. It was all quiet. But then, I wasn’t exactly opening myself for the visions of any animals around willing to share.” I looked at Gracie and grinned.
“Are you going to tell Ben?” Sam flipped on the headlights.
“No. Not really anything to tell him.”
Chapter 16
Sam dropped me off at home. Craig had a football game on, the volume low. Ella was again curled up on my pillows, so I took a wiggling Ariel for a long walk. Streetlamps lit long bands of the sidewalk, and soft yellow porchlights shone from front doors like welcoming little beacons. “I think it’s time you, me, and Ella have a chat.”
Snuffling, Ariel looked at me.
The breeze chased dancing leaves across the street. I love this time of year—the scent of rain and soil with just a hint of wood smoke, the crisp air, and warm sunny days.
“I know. You told me a lot already, but maybe there’s more. If we could put our heads together and sort out what you saw ... I don’t know. Maybe there’s nothing. But we should try. And I haven’t talked to Ella yet at all.”
Coming around the last corner, a strange truck pulled away from the curb in front of my house. I stepped back into the shadows of a tree until it drove by.
I hurried into the entry and unhooked the leash.
Closing the refrigerator door, Craig turned with a soda in his hand. “Did you have a nice walk?”
“Yeah.” I frowned. “Who was just here?”
He shook his head. “No one. Why?”
“It’s probably nothing. I saw a truck in front.” I gestured toward the street.
Setting the soda down, Craig said, “Stay here.” He pulled his gun from a shoulder holster and went out through the access to the garage.
I waited, pressed against the kitchen wall.
A
fter ten minutes, the door connecting the laundry-room hall and garage opened. Craig checked all the rooms inside and then returned to the kitchen. His gun back in its holster, he shrugged. “Nothing looks disturbed. No one’s hanging around outside. I think it’s okay.”
“Thanks. Well, see you in the morning.” I started toward my bedroom but turned to Craig once more. “Do you need anything?”
He picked up his soda. “I’m fine. My wife packed an ice chest for me. The pillows and blankets are on the couch, and”—he smiled—“there’s another game in a few minutes. I’m all set.”
“I have a twelve-hour shift tomorrow.” I looked at Ariel, her ears pricked and tail wagging. “I’ll take her with me. Ella will be fine here. She’s pretty independent.”
In my room, Ariel jumped on the bed and snuggled in next to Ella.
Wind sighed along the eaves, the sound calming.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. “Hi, Ben. How’s it going?”
“It’s good. What were you up to today?”
“Me? Nothing much.” My mouth went dry. I cleared the squeak from my voice. “Just hanging out with Sam and Gracie.”
“Sounds like trouble.” He chuckled.
“No trouble.” I squawked out a nervous laugh. “Sam won’t let me.”
“Remind me to thank her.” A chair squeaked. “The department wants to continue our presence at your place a few more days. Is that okay? They’re still hoping someone will show and we can get answers.”
“Sure. I hardly know they’re here.”
“You’re working the next three days, right?”
“Yeah. Three twelves, then off for two.”
“Just do your regular routine. And by the way, Craig loves your big screen.”
This time my laugh was natural. “I’m glad. I do appreciate all they’re doing. Thanks, Ben.”
“Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.”
“Bye.” I tossed my phone on the bed, guilt twisting my expression. Sam, Gracie and I were together, so I hadn’t really lied. Dropping down, I sighed. “Would you have told him if he asked? Of course. But he didn’t. And nothing happened.” Switching on the TV, I searched for something upbeat to watch and settled on a Golden Girls marathon.
Craig let me know that his relief would be there at nine. Grinning, he assured me he’d be back soon. I guess he did really like the TV.
I packed food, treats, toys, and a blanket for Ariel, made sure Ella’s bowls were full and her litter box was empty, and left for work in the dark. A few minutes later, Ariel and I pushed through the front doors of the hospital.
Smiling, Eric came through the little gate separating the waiting area from the office and walked around the front desk. He knelt. “Well, you must be Ariel.”
She responded with face licks, wiggles, and a furious tail wagging.
“She likes me.” He smirked.
“She likes everybody, but yeah, she does seem to really like you.”
He pulled a treat out of his pocket. “Sit.”
Ariel obeyed, stubby tail brushing the floor, eyes fixed on the treat.
“Good girl.” He gave it to her and stood, taking the blanket. “She can hang out with me.”
“Oh, thanks, Eric.” I handed him the rest of her things.
“Come on, girl. Let’s get you set up for the day.”
Ariel followed Eric behind the counter and he latched the short gate.
I headed to the back but only made it a few steps before the first news crew, camera lights glaring, burst through the front doors.
“Dr. Collins. You are Dr. Collins, aren’t you? Can you answer some questions? How long have you had this ability to talk to animals? What have those from the Whedon place told you so far?”
The office manager, Janice Davidson, and Dr. James Whitaker, the owner, rushed from a side hall. Janice took my arm and hurried me to her office.
Ariel barked and Eric picked her up, taking her into the file room.
“Dr. Collins can’t talk with you right now.” Dr. Whitaker strode forward. “The case she’s assisting with is ongoing, and the authorities have requested she not talk to the press. You may call the sheriff’s department instead. Please be respectful to our patients and their families and leave. Thank you.”
I looked back, hesitating for a moment before going inside. Dr. Whitaker turned from the disappointed news crew and followed us, his expression irritated. At me? My throat went dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. Great. Now I’m going to lose my job. I slipped past the open door and stood in front of Janice’s desk. Palms sweating, I bit my lower lip. I listened to Dr. Whitaker’s shoe heels snapping on the clean white tile floor and waited.
He swept into the tiny office, the space almost claustrophobic at that point, and in one smooth motion he closed the door and turned to me.
Here it comes.
“Dr. Collins—”
“Sir, I didn’t … I mean, I’m not sure—”
“Kallie, please listen. This is my fault.” He gestured to the chair. “Please.” He motioned for Janice to take a seat before he did the same to my right. “I am so sorry we got you into this. You are an excellent doctor—no, gifted—and a valued member of our team. I hope what’s happening won’t create any thoughts of leaving us.”
I inhaled through my nose, relief spreading across my humming nerves. “You mean, quitting my job?”
Nodding, he continued. “I realized that when the authorities called several days ago regarding you assisting them, I never talked with you before I agreed. I apologize. If you need time off, just let me or Janice know.” He paused and glanced at Janice. She smiled. “We’ve agreed to put you on administrative leave, with pay, for as long as you need.”
Keeping my jaw tight so my mouth wouldn’t drop open, I nodded. “Sir, I’m fine. I’d like to keep working, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the care of the patients.”
“Good.” He stood, smiling. “Then we’ll let you get back at it. Thank you, Dr. Collins.”
“Thank you.” He opened the door for me, and I half stumbled out.
Eric and Ariel met me at the junction of the front reception area and the hall to the exam rooms. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, still trying to take in what had just happened. My attention on Eric again, I came back to the present. “It’s all good.”
“Excellent. The news crews are gone, and you have a patient waiting.”
Bending, I hugged Ariel, a smile stretching my cheeks. “Well, then, I’d better get busy. And you, my little friend, need to keep an eye on Eric.”
Chapter 17
My first patient, a five-year-old standard poodle named Alexander, trotted into the exam room ahead of a well-dressed older woman. He didn’t appear ill or injured. I made eye contact with his owner. Squatting, I scratched behind his silky ears. “What seems to be Alexander’s problem today?”
“Well,” the woman began, “he’s been depressed.”
“Okay. Why do you think that is? Have there been any big changes, like a move or a death in the family? Anything?”
The woman tipped her head, her eyes narrowing. “No.” She shook her head. “Not that I can think of.”
I straightened and pulled a stethoscope from the drawer. I had a bad feeling about where this was going. Back in a crouch, I listened to Alexander’s lungs and heart. There was nothing wrong there. “What is he doing?” I duckwalked to another drawer and pulled out a thermometer. Alexander cooperated, and in a few seconds, a normal temperature showed on the small display.
“There’s nothing I can pinpoint.” She sat on the short bench seat. “I just know something is going on with my baby.” A pout formed on her red lips. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “Maybe you could talk to him? Make sure everything’s okay? I want to know he’s ha
ppy.”
Patting Alexander, I stood. “He seems fine to me. I could run some blood tests, but I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“Could you ask him, Dr. Collins? I mean, that’s what you do, right?”
“What exactly do you want to know?”
Blushing, she gave me a sideways glance. “Who he likes best—me or my husband.”
I nodded and took a deep breath. “Alexander appears to be a happy, healthy dog. He’s showing no signs of illness or listlessness, here or at home.” I stared at the woman. “Do you think it’s fair to Alexander to ask him? Questioning him may really upset him. You don’t want to do that, do you?”
“Oh, Dr. Collins. I never thought about that. No, I don’t. Never mind. Don’t ask him.” She gathered his leash, her hand on the doorknob. Glancing back at me as she stepped into the hall, she smiled. “Besides, I already know the answer.”
By three, ninety percent of my patients weren’t emergencies or even ill. I’d seen two cats, three dogs, a goat, a parrot, an iguana, and a seven-foot python, their owners all wanting me to connect with their beloved pets. Word about what I could do, thanks to the media, had gotten around fast. With every unnecessary appointment, I had a growing alarm that truly sick or injured animals might be overlooked. The security of my job was another concern. My palms would sweat and my pulse would quicken each time I walked into a room.
Coming out of exam two—newborn lambs born with inverted eyelids, a condition easily fixed—I met Dr. Erickson, in the hall. “Hey, Pete. What are you doing here?”
He offered me an embarrassed grin. “Heard about what’s going on. Dr. Whitaker asked me to help out.”
My stomach did a slow roll. “I’m getting sent home, aren’t I?”
His smile widened. “Maybe?” He took me by my shoulders. “Look, it’s not your fault and in a few days, it’ll all blow over. Turn this situation into a positive. Spend time with your family. Take a trip. Binge-watch TV. Get all your Christmas shopping done two months early. The possibilities are endless.” He spread his arms and chuckled.