SLEEPING DOGS (Animal Instincts Book 6)

by Chloe Kendrick

  The second reason was that the crime had taken place less than two miles from our house, the house where my mother still lived. Even though neither Susan nor I were old enough to drive at the time, two miles was at the outside limit of what we could have traveled by bike. Given the time, it was more likely that a parent would have driven us that far, but my mind reeled at the thought that my parents had known of the disappearance and lied about it for so many years. While I highly suspected that my mother knew more than she was telling, I didn’t think that she could have pulled off the manipulation of lying about the crime so early on. Her grief was too real and raw to be engineered.

  By the time I finished eating and feeding the dogs, it was nearly 10pm. I began to worry about Sheila and wondered what could have happened to her. I dialed her number and waited for an answer.

  On the fifth ring, a man picked up. “Yes?”

  I felt ice in my veins. No one else should have had access to her phone, which she sometimes used for work. “Sheila?” I asked, thinking that my voice didn’t sound like me.

  “Obviously not. What business do you have with her?” the man asked. He was very preemptive, and I guessed that he was probably police. The tone and manner would fit. However, it still did not fit what I knew of Sheila and her habits.

  “I’m dating her. Why are you answering her phone?” Two could be demanding, and I knew that I would end up answering his questions so he should answer mine.

  “There’s been a break-in,” the voice said.

  “At her house? When? Is she okay?” My heart pounded in my chest. In just a few hours after beginning to look at the Frias case, Sheila had been attacked, and likely injured, from an unknown intruder at her home. The similarity was too much to bear.

  “She’s getting checked out by the EMTs right now,” the voice said. “I have some questions for you though.”

  I didn’t bother to respond. I clicked off and stuffed the phone in my pocket. In less than 20 minutes, I was at her house and looking at the kaleidoscope of flashing lights around her home. There were, by my count, six police cars, a fire truck and the EMT unit. I got out of the car and headed to the EMTs first. Sheila was in the back of the vehicle, resting on a gurney.

  “Griff, what the hell are you doing here?” She started to sit up, but the EMT put a restraining arm across her. The left side of her head was bandaged, and blood had seeped through the gauze in a few places. I knew that head wounds bled a lot, but the effect was scary. I couldn’t spot any other injuries on her, but head injuries were bad enough. All of this was made more horrendous by the fact that she’d likely been injured in the course of helping me solve the mystery of my sister’s disappearance.

  “Sir, are you family?” he asked.

  “We’re dating,” I said with more authority than I felt. We’d gone out a few times, kissed a few more, but we’d never really defined the details of our relationship. So putting a label on it was more than I probably should have done, but given my stress, I didn’t care. I found a sister and nearly lost a romantic relationship in the span of a few hours.

  “What happened?” I asked her as I moved closer. The EMT made no moves to throw me out, so I waited for her to respond.

  She rested on the gurney with her eyes closed, but she spoke after a minute. “I came home after stopping at work regarding our errand.” She was vague, so I was being told to talk in less than plain terms. “I came home, got something to eat, and before I knew what hit me, I was attacked by an intruder and knocked out. When I came to, I called for help.”

  “Are you okay?” I felt panicky at the sight of her laying there, head bandaged and eyes closed.

  “I’ll be fine. They’re insisting that I go down to the hospital and get checked out. I bet I have a concussion, but that will be it.”

  “You were lucky,” the EMT said flatly.

  “Luck had nothing to do with it. The guy didn’t want to kill me. He could have done so easily when I was out.” I knew that she couldn’t be too damaged, because she sounded like the same Sheila I’d known for over a year.

  “So what can I do to help?” I felt marginally better knowing that she hadn’t lost her pragmatic view on life. It gave me hope that she’d be okay.

  “I left something in the house that I’ll need later. If you could, go in the house when the cops are getting ready to leave and get it.” She handed me her house keys after taking them from her pocket. “You won’t have any trouble finding it. It’s still there. I looked.”

  So she’d gotten the file, hid it, and then checked the hiding spot when she woke up. I wondered if the police would have found it and wondered what she was doing with the Frias file. That would have made an interesting investigation, given the similarities, but she seemed to think that they wouldn’t find it – and that I would.

  The EMT shooed me out of the ambulance and closed the doors. I watched as it drove off into the night, lights flashing and horns blaring. The fire truck had long gone too. There was only a single police car here now, and I walked up to the patio and went into the house. The two men were talking to each other, but they were done with the scene.

  I’d never been in Sheila’s house before. The effect was odd. We’d gone out to restaurants and had dinner at my place, but never in the course of a year had she invited me back here. If it hadn’t been for the intruder, I wondered when I would have been allowed to see her home. I had often speculated that she hid diamonds here or had a family of seven children that she didn’t want me to meet.

  Instead, the house was refreshingly normal. It hadn’t been decorated too formally. There were pieces of furniture in each room, the things you would expect. However, none of them look like sets or even particularly well matched. The pieces had been picked for comfort or whatever reason without care for color and style. I thought much of the house could have matched my own decorating style, which perhaps was a reason we got along so well.

  I was barely inside the front door, but I’d already taken in so much about Sheila and her personality from the décor and the surroundings. Maybe she was just afraid of being this vulnerable in front of me. Given that I observe and deduce for a living, she may have thought that I would know too much about her if I visited here.

  “What are you doing here?” the one asked me, hand on his holstered gun.

  The other one put a hand on the first’s shoulder. “That’s the boyfriend. She’s on her way to the hospital. You can catch her there.” He turned away from me and started talking to the other officer again.

  I held up the keychain. “She asked me to pick up a few things. She figures she’ll be there overnight, and you know how women are,” I said with a shrug. Actually, I really didn’t have an idea of how women were, but it sounded good.

  I headed off to her bedroom, where I found a small bag under the bed. The room was ridiculously tidy and almost girly. Not what I would have expected from Sheila. The comforter and bed skirt were older, but still in good repair, and I wondered for a moment if they had some special meaning for her, which is why they hadn’t been replaced. However, my mind was spinning too fast for me to give it the thought it deserved.

  I haphazardly stuffed a few items into the bag. I wondered how Sheila would feel about me pawing through her things. It was in the name of a good cause, so I found a set of pajamas as well and then went out to the kitchen.

  The kitchen was modern, more like what I’d expected from Sheila. The appliances were all stainless steel, and the floor was a black and white tile. There were no signs of any personal items out here, so I doubted that what I wanted was in the kitchen.

  The problem was that I had no idea what I was looking for. She had said that I would know it when I saw it. The two cops were out there. I looked around, got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with the water dispenser in the refrigerator door. That gave me a few moments to look around and see if any place looked like a likely hiding spot for a police report, but nothing stuck out at me.

  I w
alked into the living room. A few things had been knocked over in the attacker’s search for papers here. However, nothing looked permanently damaged. The dog crate was turned on to its side and the pillow cushions had been dislodged.

  Maybe it was because I had already suffered through a tough day, but it took me a minute to realize that Sheila didn’t have a dog. The crate, which would be familiar to me, was the clue I was looking for. I put the cushions back on the sofa, watching the two policemen in the other room. They were not interested in me at all as they continued their conversation.

  I walked to the crate and righted it. The crate was a larger one, with a big door in the front and a removable pan underneath the floor. I slid the pan out far enough to see the folder. I shifted to block the view of the crate. I set the bag down next to me. I readjusted the crate, put the newspapers back on the floor of the crate, and then slid the file into the bag.

  I got up to leave, knowing that the attacker would likely visit the house again to see if he could find the file. Now that Sheila was gone and the police would not guard the house all night, he or she could take their time and locate the file. It would have been easy to accomplish if I hadn’t been there to get it first. I didn’t want to be here, and I especially wasn’t keen on people mentioning that I’d spent a lot of time here looking for files.

  I paused to say good-bye to the officers. The younger man took a step towards me. “We’re going to need to see the contents of the bag. You can’t leave here with anything that might be evidence in a crime.” He held out a hand, and I paused, wondering what to do. I wanted to see that file desperately, and did not want to spend time answering questions about why I had the notes from the Frias case.

  The older cop knocked the other’s arm out of the way. “Are you crazy? Green would have your dick whacked off if she found out that you were pawing through her undies.” He looked at me. “Sorry, no offense.”

  I tried to smile at them, being friendly. “No worries. I’ve had my dick whacked off a few times by her. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.” Mentally, I slapped myself for not getting her any underwear. I had a lot to learn about how to deal with women.

  After a second with no demands on me, I walked to the door and left. The night air was cold, and I’d worked up a small sweat from my nerves and the situation. I got in my car and headed to the hospital.

  I tried St. Anne Mercy first, and she was registered as a patient. They wanted to enforce visiting hours, but I showed them the bag, and they let me go to her room.

  When I arrived, she wasn’t in bed. I checked the chart by the bed, and it had her name on it, so I knew I was in the right room. I sat down in the reclining chair and fell asleep.

  I’d been out long enough for my neck to stiffen up when I heard a voice. “Wake up. What type of sentry are you when you fall asleep before the patient?”

  I stretched and looked at her. The size of the bandage had been reduced and the blood was gone. It still looked bad, but not as scary as it had at her house. “Sorry, you weren’t here, so I feel asleep. I’m not used to this much excitement in one day.”

  “Get used to it,” she said with a small smile. “You don’t have to hide out any more. There’s no boogieman to be afraid of.”

  I grimaced at the statement. Changing my perspective on all that I had believed would be a massive undertaking, and one that I was not ready for at this time. I planned on waiting until Susan’s situation was corrected before even starting to work on that.

  “I found the file. Nice touch by the way.” I patted the bag. “I’m not letting this out of my hands for a while.”

  She made a face at me. “I would be careful saying that if I were you. Look where it got me. Go home, and figure out what’s worth attacking a police officer.”

  I shook my head. “Tonight, I’m staying here with you. Tomorrow, I’ll go home and deal with the file. Besides, I figure that Mom and Sergeant Siever will be trying to contact me, and I need some rest before that happens.”

  I made sure that she was comfortable, went for a cup of coffee, and while I was at it, I located a bank of copiers. Although I knew that they were for hospital use, I made the excuse that Sheila had been put in the hospital by these papers. I took the file and made six copies of it. Two sets were put in manila envelopes and mailed to my home and to Sheila’s house as well. This seemed to cover me. I placed two more sets with Sheila’s belongings, and then I sat down to read the file.

  Sheila was out cold, so I felt no need to entertain her. The hospital was quiet, and though visiting hours were over, I felt that they’d probably given me a pass since she was a police officer and I was the boyfriend.

  I wasn’t sure what perks came with dating someone, since Sheila was my first real romantic relationship. When I thought of the things I’d missed out on because of my sister’s disappearance, a lack of practical knowledge of dating was probably near the top of the list. I’d been so focused on not being kidnapped that the thought of allowing someone else into my life who could meet with a terrible fate petrified me. So I’d been alone for too many years. Susan in her own reasons for leaving had probably done all the dating things that I hadn’t, and I found that I resented her for this. Her attitude today had not been in the least repentant, and now that I knew she’d gone willingly and was fine, the anger over what she’d done to the rest of the family was starting to seep through.

  The first thing I saw when I opened the police file was the blood. I’d read that the Frias killing had been gruesome, but nothing shows the extent to which that is true like photos. The first set of photos showed the corpse where the neck had been sliced so far through that the head was bent back at an angle that could never exist in life. Great pools of blood sat on either side of the body, puddling into black circles.

  The next set of photos showed the walls of the room, where Frias had been killed. The blood went far beyond the normal splatter. It almost looked as if it had been smeared across surfaces on purpose. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to come home and find such a level of gore throughout your home. It was impossible to look anywhere without seeing the effects of the murder.

  I felt a bit queasy by the time that I put aside the photos. Between the stress of Sheila’s injuries and the impact of the photos, my stomach was roiling. I decided to stop for a few minutes. I wandered the halls looking for a vending machine. I finally found one of the metal food boxes tucked in an alcove, and I fished out a few quarters for a candy bar. It would have to serve until I got home. I knew that the dogs would be fine until morning and The Countess, my rescue cat, could survive for days on the available cat food and disdain for humans.

  I walked back to the room in silence. The rooms were mostly dark as I walked by them. The few nurses were on computers, checking vitals and recording information about their patients. No one paid much attention to me.

  I ripped open the wrapper and took a bite of the candy bar. The police had interviewed the Gillespie family, parents and children. I read through the reports. All four of them had gone out to dinner. Belinda Frias had been alive and well when they’d left. The alibi was confirmed by the fact that the time of death was later than their departure. The restaurant had also confirmed their arrival and the time of the meal. Not to mention, none of them had arrived soaked in blood.

  When they returned, Mrs. Gillespie and the girl had come in first and discovered the body. Mr. Gillespie and the son had stayed outside to put out the trash for the next morning. Mrs. Gillespie fainted. The girl screamed, and the father and son had come into the house almost at the same moment. No more than a minute had passed since the body had been discovered, which gave all of them a solid alibi for the crime.

  I studied the statement for a while, but I couldn’t see anything that would make me doubt the statement. I was just naturally suspicious, and an airtight alibi was something that I always doubted. Most people could cover part of a day or some of a time period, but a solid, can’t be broken alibi is a rare thing. I
t made me suspect the family immediately.

  Putting that aside, I thought about Susan. If she’d witnessed the crime, then she would have been at the crime scene roughly between 5:45 and 7pm that evening. We were creatures of habit at home, and we ate promptly every night at 6:30. That meant, allowing for time to travel home approximately two miles that she’d have left the Gillespie house no later than 6:10 or so. I was going with the theory that she was on a bicycle, but obviously if she was in a car, the times would be different. So the murder had occurred sometime between 5:45 and 6:10, a much smaller window than originally given by the police.

  However, just like in the case with my sister, the murder had taken place over a decade ago. Practically speaking, I had no way of finding out what my sister had been doing on that particular day at that particular time. No one had noticed, and years had passed. Unless it was tied to a major event or a personal memory, there was just no way of telling where she had been or what she’d been doing. I doubted that my mother would be forthcoming on the information, even if she could.

  I tried to think of a way to learn this information, but without asking my mother or Susan, both of whom would resent the intrusion, I had no way of pinpointing her whereabouts at the time of the murder. It would be difficult for me to learn why she’d been there.

  Since I was having so little luck on finding out the link between Susan and the crime, I decided to just approach the crime as a murder case and see what I could locate. Hopefully, if I could solve the crime and give the police the solution, then Susan would not be worried about returning home or forging a relationship with the rest of the family. While it was not the aspect of the crime that I wanted to focus on, it did give me a way to provide a resolution to the matter.

  Having decided to approach the family, I started looking through the files. The kids would be adults now and wouldn’t still be living at home. So I would have three households to contact in order to get more information. Without the official police permission, I would be asking questions as a civilian, which meant I had to find a way in the door. For me, that had always been pets. So I forced myself to look through the photos again, specifically looking just for pets or pet-related items in the crime scene. Finally in the kitchen photos, I saw a dog bowl.