Dogs Don't Lie

by Lisa Shay

  I snapped several pictures—more of the three men, vehicles, and the shiny metal containers in the bed of the white truck.

  All three strode to their vehicles and made their way up the winding gravel road. I took more shots, hoping for clear views of their license plates. The low thrum of engines faded soon after the truck, van, and Jeep disappeared into the trees. “I wonder where that road comes out.”

  I sat there listening to the wind whistling in the trees and watched dark clouds race across what was left of the fading blue sky. A sudden gust brought the fresh scent of rain, and an icy chill spider-walked up my spine. I shivered and zipped my coat closed.

  “They won’t be back anytime soon.” I nodded and scanned the canyon walls, my gaze stopping at a downed tree that almost reached the rock-strewn floor. I stood up and trudged through low brush to the exposed root of the poor tree. Limbs, some broken and others bent, stood out like rungs on a ladder. I’d found a way down and back up again. With my phone tucked in a zipped pocket, I climbed up and bounced a few times, checking the fallen tree’s stability. There wasn’t so much as a creak. “So, Kallie, what are you going to do? You promised Gracie and Sam you’d be careful and not take any chances.” I stared at the wooden structure, a mere two hundred yards away, taunting and beckoning me. Taking a deep breath, I made my decision and scurried down the trunk, swinging from one branch to the next like Dr. Grant and Tim in Jurassic Park. Sheesh. I do watch way too much TV. Panting, I reached the bottom and jumped the last two feet to the ground.

  I ducked behind what remained of the tree’s top hanging branches and listened for the growl of engines, the crunch of tires on gravel, or the idle whistling of a watchman. Nothing. After checking the eaves for any surveillance devices or trail cams and seeing none, I raced across the rocky ground to the front. I listened and again heard nothing but the roaring wind so I jiggled the chain held by the padlock. “Note—also bring a lock pick or bolt cutters.” The high chuckle that bubbled out of my throat was near hysteria. I inhaled and willed the butterflies in my stomach to calm down. “Right.”

  I edged around the structure, still seeing no cameras. I glanced toward the top of the gravel road. There was no gate—not even a no-trespassing sign. “They must think being this remote is protection enough. And without gates and signs, they aren’t calling any attention to the property. There’s no one out here to get curious and snoop round—except me.” I giggled, the unmelodious chortle one octave below panic but rapidly approaching terror.

  My attention back on the building, I focused my nervous energy. The generator stood silent below the only window, a grimy three-foot square. With my back pressed to the wall, I sidestepped to it and peered in. The glare off the glass made seeing inside difficult. I turned and pressed against the still-warm side of the generator, cupping my hands to the window and my face.

  Two tables took shape in the dim space. There were no cots with rolled-up sleeping bags, no chairs—nothing that would indicate any full- or even part-time inhabitant. More shoe-size boxes were scattered over the dirt floor. A dozen shiny cylinders lined the back wall, their metal tops hanging from the handles with twine. My eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior. Two heavy hammers—no, rubber mallets—lay on each table. “Bang, bang, bang,” I whispered, my breath fogging the window. Attempts at photographing the inside showed only a bright glare, but I did take a few of the generator and the exterior of the building.

  The first cold drops of rain landed with a soft phifft.

  My thoughts circled around backing my truck down a muddy, slick road of ruts without getting stuck. “Okay. Yeah. Time to go.” I retraced my path. A powerful gust rattled the doors and released a quick whiff of an astringent chemical odor as I came around the corner. I covered my nose and mouth but stopped at the outer edge of the closest door. Pulling with my free hand, I managed to pry the door from the side of the building about an inch before the bottom hung up on rocky, uneven ground. Still covering my mouth and pinching my nose, I peeked inside. There was nothing I hadn’t seen from the window, except that a small liquid puddle, the size of a baseball shimmered white on the dirt just inside where the two doors met. Releasing the door, I stepped forward and searched the ground. Another quarter-size drop glimmered at my feet. “I’m not touching that,” I said, my voice nasal and muted behind my hand. I patted my pockets and found a handful of Kleenex and an empty peanut M&M’s wrapper. I dabbed at the goo, careful not to get any on my skin, wrapped it in another tissue, and stuffed it in the candy wrapper. An odd relief swept over me. “I’ll figure out where to take the goo later and get it analyzed. It could be proof.” I frowned. “Note—exam gloves and specimen cups.”

  I rushed back to the fallen tree, grabbed a low branch, swung my legs to the trunk, and scrambled up. At the top, I jumped off the root ball and into the safety of concealing shadows. The rain tapped on cedar boughs, and wind gusts drove the drops sideways.

  I hurried to my truck while wiping the pitch from my hands onto my pants. It didn’t help. My fingers still stuck together. I glanced around for a patch of dry dirt, which is what we used as kids. We weren’t sure it was the best thing to do, but it stopped the stickiness. I didn’t see any patches around me, though. With my fingers still sticky, I shut myself inside the cab just as the rain began to assault the forest canopy in earnest. I backed up, dodging the trees and bouncing out of ruts. Sliding onto the gravel road, I headed toward the freeway—and cell service. “Okay. Time to call Ben. What are you going to say? Hey, Ben. I found two barns with tables and small boxes in remote properties that have ties to R and A. Drug dealers, right?” I considered the laws regarding empty boxes. “Hmmm. Nope. But wait. There’s more. I’m pretty sure R and A stole the land from people who didn’t understand what they were signing. And, no, I can’t prove it—not yet, anyway.”

  Ten minutes later, side roads with houses set back on the land appeared. I relaxed my sticky hold on the steering wheel and exhaled a long breath, not realizing until then how spooked I’d been out there alone.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’d hear plenty from Gracie and Sam when I told them what I’d found—and about my plan to return that night. I wanted some answers, and the only way I’d get them was if I dug deeper. “They’ll understand. They met John and Eva Adams. Besides, it’s better to tell them than Ben.” I grimaced. “At least for now. We just need more proof before talking to the authorities.”

  Chapter 19

  My stomach growled before I reached town. I patted the emptiness. “It is after one.” I turned into a drive-through, ordered, got back on the freeway, and headed home. Thoughts spinning, I wanted to write this all down, make plans, and call Gracie and Sam.

  Back on duty, Craig stood in the kitchen, a small ice chest on the counter. He pulled a sandwich and a soda from it. “Hi, Doc. I let Ariel out back. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, that’s great. Thank you. I have some work to do, so just make yourself at home.” I handed him the TV remote, hoping I hadn’t gotten any pitch on it, and smiled. “Thank you, really. I mean it.”

  “No problem, Doc.” He smiled and held up the remote. “And thank you.”

  I let Ariel in, who was frantic by that time, yowling and pawing at the patio doors. Taking lunch to my room, I stopped at my office and grabbed a notebook and pen.

  Ella yawned and glanced in my direction before resuming her nap on what was clearly her side of the bed on her pillow.

  In my bathroom, I washed with lots of warm soapy water, getting as much stickiness off as I could. It would take at least one more scrubbing. “Note—next time, wear work gloves.”

  I walked around the bed, dropped my pack on the floor, and put my lunch on the nightstand. After adjusting my pillows, I sat against the headboard. Ariel crawled over me trying to get a closer whiff of whatever fast-food heaven was in the bag. “Not for you, little one. I’ll get you a treat later. First, I have to
get this all down while it’s fresh in my mind.”

  Ariel gave up and settled in with her back to my legs, sighing with a suffering emphasis.

  I opened the pad. Starting with the most recent property, I wrote down every detail—the rutted old path, the downed tree, what I’d seen inside the barn, the photos I’d taken, and, most important, the shiny gooey sample of stuff in the glovebox of my truck. I continued with the Adamses’ property between bites of a warm burrito and sips of icy-cold Dr. Pepper.

  Clouds slipped down the mountain and into town with a whisper. Once settled, fat drops pummeled roofs and slapped against windows. Intermittent gusts moaned under the eaves and broke up the constant drum of rain.

  I turned on the lamp and rummaged in my pack for the phone. After tapping out a message for Sam and Gracie, I hit send. Since I didn’t expect a response for a while, I lay down, just to rest.

  Jerked awake by a vibrating noise followed by my not-so-quiet ringtone, it took me a minute to compute where I was and what woke me. I grabbed my phone. It was Gracie. “Hey. Hi. Didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon.”

  “It’s four thirty.”

  “What?” I sat up, swung my feet to the floor, and glanced at the clock. Unbelievable.

  “Were you asleep? I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “No, that’s okay. I guess my outing this morning took more out of me than I thought.”

  “Exactly. What did you find?”

  “A lot. I can’t wait to tell you and Sam. When does she get off?”

  “Not until seven.”

  “Gracie, I want to go back out there tonight. We can drive in without anyone—”

  “’We’? Wait a minute, Kallie. Hiking around during the day is one thing. But in the dark?”

  “We can do this. I have it all figured out. They’ll never know.” She didn’t respond. “You still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right now, we have nothing to prove that R and A has done anything wrong, even though we know they have. Something is going on at these properties, and it’s not good. We need proof.”

  “You’re right. It’s not good. You’ve got cops living in your house to protect you. People have disappeared. At least one was murdered. Don’t you think it’s time to tell Ben what we know and let him handle it?”

  “I guess so. But just look at what I’ve got before deciding. Okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll be right over. No use freaking Sam out with all this—not yet, anyway.”

  “Great. I’ll make grilled cheese.” My tone melodic, I sang, “And there’s cupcakes.”

  “I said I’m coming.” Gracie paused. “Um, what kind of cupcakes?”

  I made the sandwiches and prepared two plates of apple slices, celery sticks, baby carrots, and broccoli with dip. I invited Craig to join us, and he did. After dinner, I set out the five cupcakes from the fridge, along with the four from Ben—a veritable feast.

  “Thanks, Doc. I love grilled cheese. Great on a rainy night.” Craig retired to the living room, remote in hand, and settled into the recliner.

  Watching him, Gracie nodded. “I like him.”

  “Me too. He kinda reminds me of a younger version of my dad.” I picked up the leftover fruit and veggies, wrapped them up, and set the plates in the fridge, thinking Sam would want to eat when she got there.

  Gracie and I moved into the dining room, and I handed her my notes.

  Settling at the table, she started reading.

  Ariel whined at the patio doors.

  “You sure? It’s wet and cold out there.” I turned on the porch light and watched her race into the back.

  Wind whipped the rain inside.

  Ariel took care of business and flew in through the open door before I had a chance to close it.

  “That was quick. Good girl.”

  I sat next to Gracie and waited while she read, ready to answer any questions.

  After turning the last page, Gracie put her hands on the table and stared at me. Her voice low, she asked, “You climbed down a tree?”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I got it,” Craig called. “It’s Sam,” he said a moment later, poking his head around the corner. He frowned at the papers on the table but didn’t say anything.

  “Thanks.” Sam swept into the room, dropped her bag on the floor, and sat down. She glared at Gracie and me. “What happened today?”

  I motioned for Gracie to pass Sam my notes. “I’ll fix you something to eat.”

  “I’ll help.” Gracie slid the pages to her. “You read.”

  Absorbed in the task Gracie gave her, Sam bent over the notes.

  I finished cooking and set the grilled cheese in front of Sam.

  Sitting back and staring at me, she said, “You climbed a tree?”

  “Shhhh.” I held a finger to my lips and glanced over my shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad. The tree was more at an angle, so, no, not really.” I leaned over the table. “Look. The whole building was new—wooden walls, metal roof, the generator ... The two are almost identical.”

  “Except for the metal cylinders.” Gracie drummed her fingers on the table.

  “And the heavy mallets,” Sam added, her nose wrinkling.

  “Wait, and there wasn’t a generator at the Adamses’.” I pulled the pages toward me and scribbled a note in the margins.

  “What’s this?” Sam pointed at the squiggling lines of a poorly drawn map.

  “Oh. That’s how to get to the downed tree. I was kinda thinking … maybe we could, you know, go check out the inside of the building, uh, tonight.”

  “What?” Sam bellowed.

  Gracie and I both grabbed her arms and made shushing noises.

  “You ladies okay in there?”

  “We’re fine. All good.” I frowned at Sam and lowered my voice. “It’s just a thought.”

  “A bad one. I can’t believe you’d even think about something like that.” Sam switched her glare from me to Gracie. “And you. I assumed you’d know better.”

  Her hands in the air, Gracie sat back. “I know it’s a bad idea. I was trying to talk her out of it.”

  The doorbell chimed.

  “I got it.”

  We heard male voices in the entryway.

  Shrugging, I glanced toward the kitchen. “More cops?”

  Ben came in with a guarded expression, his hands in the pockets of his heavy jacket.

  “Ben?” I pushed the papers away and stood.

  Sam’s head jerked up from her sandwich, her voice muffled with a mouthful of toasty sourdough bread and melty cheese. “Ben?”

  “Hi, Ben,” Gracie called. She shuffled the papers, tidied them, and set the pile to her side.

  “Want grilled cheese?” I said as I smiled, too toothy, too eager.

  He sat down. “Sure. Sounds good. Thanks.”

  Rushing to the kitchen, I mouthed at Sam and Gracie, “Do something.”

  Sam pushed the plates of fruit and veggies to him. “Here. Start with this.”

  “I’d rather start with those.” He pointed to the stack of papers next to Gracie.

  “Oh. Well. Um.” Gracie looked at me, her eyes wide. “Kallie?”

  Spatula in hand, I nodded. “We were going to let him see anyway. Go ahead.”

  Craig edged around the entry into the kitchen and shrugged. “Sorry, Doc. I knew something was up, and, well, Ben told me enough about what was going on with R and A and other things. I just felt I needed to let him know.”

  I smiled. “It’s okay. Like I said, we were going to turn everything over to him.” My shoulders slumped. “At some point.”

  Ben nodded at Craig and then looked at me. “I had a feeling that once you didn’t have work to occupy your curiosity, I’d have to watch that Kinsey side of you.” After skimming th
e pages, Ben looked at me. “You climbed a tree?”

  “What is it with the tree?” I scooped the sandwich from the pan and transferred it to a plate, cheese dripping over the edges of the golden-brown bread. “Is that all you’re getting from my notes?”

  Ben took the plate and thumbed through the pages again. He took a pen from his pocket and started making his own notes. With his other hand, he took a bite of the sandwich. “Whoa, this is good.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. Grilled cheese is kinda hard to mess up.” I grinned at him. “What would you like to drink?”

  Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Ben shifted his gaze back to the papers. “Pepsi?” He glanced at Craig. “Have you seen this?” Motioning him over, Sam gave up her chair so Craig could be next to Ben, and then she settled in by Gracie.

  “Should I make coffee?”

  Passing another page to Craig, Ben grimaced. “That would be great.” His eyes stayed on mine. “Thanks, Kallie.”

  “Hi, Ben. I’m Sam.” She waved, getting his attention.

  “Nice to meet you, Sam. I hear you’re the only one trying to keep this one—he tossed his head in my direction—“out of trouble.”

  “Hey,” Gracie grumbled. “I was totally talking her out of tonight’s adventure.”

  “’Tonight’s’?” Eyes narrowed, Ben stared at me.

  Craig leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and frowned at me. “Doc. Really?”

  “I was only, you know, throwing it out there.” I fumbled with the coffee pods. “For feedback.”

  Tapping his pen, Ben asked, “So these notes like ‘next time bring binoculars,’ or gloves or—oh, and this is my favorite—a lockpick or bolt cutters weren’t part of a plan to return?”

  “The gloves were to keep the pitch off my hands—from the tree.” Biting my lip, I frowned. Wanting to get the focus off me, and the tree, I changed the subject. “Speaking of looking into things, who was the detective that checked on R and A at the planning department a few months ago?” I inhaled. “And who did they talk to?”