Home Is Where the Bark Is

by Kandy Shepherd

“Yes.”

  “If you’re that sure, then we pull out of Paws-A-While. Concentrate on our other leads.”

  Other leads that so far had not yielded anything of worth, either.

  Nick shook his head. “No. Not yet. I still think we’re on to something at that place. Now that Serena is a victim, too, I’m thinking—”

  “You’re thinking with your—”

  Now Nick swore. “No. Yes. Dammit. I—”

  Adam’s tone was somber. “You can’t get involved with a suspect.”

  “What if she’s not a suspect?”

  “No matter what, she’s still a person of interest and that means hands off. You know that as well as I do, Nick.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No ‘buts.’ I’m going to verify if she really is the victim she claims to be.” Adam paused. “But I see where you’re coming from. She’s not what I thought she’d be.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I didn’t think she’d be so . . . sweet.”

  “Sweet?”

  “I knew she’d be hot and she is. That disguise does nothing to hide what a gorgeous woman she is.”

  Nick growled his protest. From the backseat Mack did his growl-bark thing. Nick smiled. Mack was acting as his wingman already. He leaned over to the backseat and gave him a reassuring pat.

  “Settle down, buddy.” Adam glared at the dog. “Uh, both of you, I mean. That was just observation. The hot thing I mean. I know you’ve got dibs on Serena.”

  “I do not have dibs on her.”

  Adam gave him a “yeah, right” look before he continued. “Serena St. James. I expected this haughty, stuck-up kind of princess. You know, too good for the rest of us. But she’s not that. She’s nice. Smart, too. And she’s sweet . . . The eyes, I think. There’s pain in those eyes. And fear.”

  Adam’s acute insights into people never ceased to amaze Nick. It was one of the reasons he had jumped at the opportunity to work with him in their own business. He had to make this partnership work.

  “Which leads me back to what I was saying,” said Nick. “What if this scam is personal? Aimed at hurting Serena, hurting her business?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “She’s had a stalker after her. Could be something there. A revenge thing.”

  “Or a sex thing.”

  Nick gritted his teeth. That thought was too awful to contemplate. But it might explain a lot about Serena. “Maybe. She hasn’t confided in me. Yet. But this new development might make her more willing to talk.”

  “Get the name of the stalker. Pronto. And see if he’s on any of that webcam footage from the center.”

  “There’s this millionaire mutt there, too. He and his owners could be at risk.”

  “Yeah, I’ve read about him. The guy who tried to kill the dog is locked away in a British jail right now.”

  “That doesn’t mean there’s not another psycho out there coveting the fortune that was bequeathed to a dog.”

  “But for all that, there’s still nothing concrete linking Paws-A-While to this identity fraud, and the clock is ticking, man. We can’t waste weeks on this case unless we’re sure of where we’re going.”

  “Except for the collar. That’s concrete.”

  “Correct. It’s a serious little camera in that collar. You said the owner disappeared?”

  “Serena couldn’t get in touch with him again.”

  “She didn’t have the resources we have to track people down. Get everything you can from Serena about that dog’s owner. We still have to check all the other dog’s collars. But if Serena is genuine, he’s now our prime suspect.”

  “Mack’s old owner,” Nick corrected him. “I’m his owner now.”

  “You mean his ‘daddy,’ don’t you?” Adam rolled his eyes. “That place. Did you see that poster of the damn poodle dyed pink and yellow and clipped like topiary? How can you bear to hang out there?”

  “It’s okay. At least the owners—sorry, they like to be called guardians—are responsible and care about their pets.”

  Adam snorted. “Waste of money.”

  “Maybe. Maybe the beauty parlor stuff. Maybe the Pawlates.”

  Adam gave a strangled sound at the mention of Pawlates. Nick ignored it and continued. “But if you love an animal, you want to look after it. Don’t want it home by itself all day while you’re at work. And that can’t be a bad thing.” He laughed, a short self-conscious laugh, as he realized he’d just sounded like an ad touting the benefits of Paws-A-While.

  From where he sat, he could see people trooping into the vet hospital with cats in carry cages and dogs on leashes. A young woman clutched a terrified-looking rabbit tight to her chest. He thought of the exorbitant amount of dollars he was about to spend on Mack. And of how much he was looking forward to taking Mack back with him to Sausalito.

  A man should have a dog.

  There were other things a man might want, too. A home. A family. All things he’d thought were far in the hazy, nebulous future for him until Serena had brought them into sharp focus.

  Home. Family. Woman.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

  Stay detached. Remain focused. Maintain suspicion.

  Too late.

  He was already involved.

  Eleven

  Who had done this terrible thing to her? After the initial shock of finding that the identity theft really had happened and wasn’t some horrible prank, all Serena could angst over again and again was who? And why? Followed closely by what had she done to deserve this?

  Fussing around with Mack’s new collar had distracted her, but as soon as she’d waved good-bye to the big dog the anxiety surged back. She was back in that snow globe struggling to stay upright, hanging on desperately to those slippery sides while it was turned upside down and shaken and shaken and shaken.

  She paced the paw-print trail in the playroom, to and fro and around the dog beds, and then realized that was a flag to her staff that something was wrong. No way could she keep this terrible worry bottled up inside for much longer. She had to talk to someone about what had happened or she would snap.

  She glanced down at her watch. Nick had been away with Mack for nearly an hour. If he wasn’t back in the next thirty minutes, she would call Maddy. Her friend was testing recipes at home today with Brutus, Coco, and Tinkerbelle for company. Tom was a top attorney; he might be able to help with any legal implications of the fraud.

  Who? Why?

  She had not lost her purse, wallet, or cards. So it was not an opportunistic crime. Someone must have targeted her. Used a skimming device to record the details off of her cards. She shivered with revulsion at the idea. Her stalker? Her first thought went to him. But he was locked away. Dave? No matter how they had parted, he was no criminal. His career in the navy was everything to him.

  But she’d attracted a number of weirdos through the girl-in-the-bathtub-of-chocolate campaign. Could it be someone out for revenge because she had slighted him in some way? Or was it somehow connected to the Godfreys? What about the Paws-A-While dog parents who had pulled out their pets citing financial difficulties. Had the same thing happened to them?

  Was the thief a he or a she? The numerous websites she had trawled after the shock phone call from the bank said that the gender of the thief did not necessarily have to match the victim. Anyone with a forged card and a stolen PIN could take out money at a cash point.

  Her mind was churning so much she could not find distraction even in the company of the dogs she adored. Could not summon the concentration required to get Barry, the chubby little pug, up and moving in a simple game. He just wanted to nap. By contrast Lily, the beautiful border collie who visited Mondays while her owner attended a college course, would play endless commando tunnel for as long as Serena would take part.

  But Serena’s mind was not on anything but the identity theft. Who was walking around town spending her money, destroying her future? And could Nick Whalen re
ally help her?

  There was also the fact that the longer she stayed in the playroom, the longer she was exposed to Kylie’s avid curiosity about Nick. She could not, would not discuss that with her. Not even with Maddy.

  Heck, she hadn’t even allowed herself to think about the implications of that kiss. To take out that memory and play it again in her mind. She had been way too concerned about the implications of the identity theft on Paws-A-While and the future of her staff.

  But ohmigod, the man could kiss. There was no point ignoring it. The harder she tried to forget how it had felt, the more the memory pushed itself to the forefront of her mind. She traced the outline of her mouth with her finger, remembering the surprise of the first gentle touch of his lips and the passionate give-and-take that had flamed so quickly.

  What if the staff saw her doing that? She jammed both hands into the pockets of her jeans. This was crazy. He’d offered comfort. She’d taken it. That was what it had been about.

  Snap out of it, Serena! How old was she? Twenty-eight or fourteen? For heaven’s sake, she’d been kissed before.

  But not like that. Not by him.

  She looked at her watch again, tapped it with her finger to make sure it was still working, as the hands seemed to be crawling forward so slowly. Five more minutes and she’d call Maddy.

  Then, when she next looked up to the doorway, Nick was there with Mack. The big, hunky man walked slowly and patiently beside the big black dog as Mack lurched his way through the doorway and to the gate, just toe-touching with his injured leg.

  A surge of both affection for the dog and of gratitude to the man for the generosity he was showing the animal flowed through her. But the sudden racing of her heart had nothing to do with gratitude and everything to do with the increasing attraction she felt to Nick every time she encountered him. She hurried to open the gate to the playroom.

  Suddenly she felt shy around Nick, unable to meet his gaze, take part in the usual banter about the foibles of the dog-care business. The kiss had changed everything.

  She covered her confusion by making a big fuss over Mack. When she bent down to pet him, he reacted as overenthusiastically as usual, making whimpering sounds of pleasure, nearly knocking her over in his efforts to lick her face. How she loved this dog! She would have given anything to keep him. But the next-best thing was that he went to a good home. And, for all the reservations she had about Nick Whalen, that he would be good to Mack was never in doubt.

  Finally feeling able to face him, she looked up at Nick. “How did it go with the surgeon?”

  Just for a second she saw a flicker of something in his eyes that proved he had been as affected by their encounter in her office as she was. A recognition that it wasn’t something she could just shut the door on. Even if she wanted to.

  “Good. Really good,” he said. “He says it’s a routine surgery, Mack will only need a cast on for a week, and he can be the first patient tomorrow morning, which means Mack won’t have to stay there overnight.”

  Serena hugged Mack around the neck. “That’s excellent news, isn’t it, you big, sweet, gorgeous boy?” She laughed as she bent back to avoid the dog’s wet, overenthusiastic tongue.

  But that was delay enough. She wanted that “we have to talk” moment. And she wanted it ASAP. There were a lot of answers she needed from Nick. She stood up to face him. “No coffee shop. I need to get outside. How about we take Snowball and Bessie for a walk?”

  Suddenly her beloved Paws-A-While seemed oppressive, as if everything around her brought to mind the devastation that would be her lot if she were to lose her business. In her mind’s eye she could see her creditors marching in and stripping her of everything she held dear. This place wasn’t just her job. Rightly or wrongly, she’d made it her life.

  “Sounds good to me,” he said, not giving away anything by his expression.

  As soon as it took to put harnesses and leashes on Snowball and Bessie, Serena was out on the sidewalk with Nick. The two little dogs were ecstatic at the prospect of an extra walk.

  “We usually walk the dogs at Fort Mason,” she said. “Okay with you?”

  “Fort Mason it is.”

  She took a deep breath to take in the fresh air and looked around to appreciate another beautiful fall day. The tight knot in her chest seemed to ease. Or was that because she was with Nick, who said he could help her. Nick, who . . .

  She had to stop thinking about that kiss!

  “Tell me more about what happened at the vet hospital,” she said, paranoid about mentioning the identity theft while they were still anywhere near Paws-A-While. She was careful to keep a no-nudging distance away from him.

  They made a left onto Franklin but it wasn’t until they were waiting to cross at Lombard, several blocks away, that they spoke of anything other than Mack’s knee.

  Serena was first to broach the subject. “You said there are things you need to explain.”

  The lights changed. She had to yank Snowball away from the interesting scents on the nearby hydrant, before maneuvering the little dogs safely across the busy road.

  They were headed through the gates into the park before Nick replied. “Serena, you’ve asked me several times if I’m a cop.”

  “Yes,” she said, looking straight ahead, her heart suddenly thudding and her mouth dry.

  He spoke bluntly. “I’ve never been a uniformed policeman as such, but I was an FBI special agent for most of my career.”

  Serena realized she had been holding her breath and she let it out on a whoosh. Then pulled Snowball to a halt and looked up at Nick. “I knew it,” she said. “I just knew it.”

  She felt like she was in an elevator that had suddenly plunged twenty floors.

  Now all her doubts and suspicions added up. Her instincts had not let her down. She had sensed cop and she had not been wrong. In her book an FBI agent was definitely a kind of a cop—maybe more of a cop than your regular-type SFPD police officer. She felt a tumultuous mix of righteousness, anger, and disappointment.

  Rottweiler. Rottweiler. Rottweiler.

  “I was right all along,” she choked out.

  “In a way, yes.”

  “In a way? What’s ‘in a way’ about being an FBI agent? That says über-cop to me.”

  “I said I was with the FBI—past tense.”

  “Hey, you’re confusing me now.” She found it difficult to keep the edge of anger from her voice. This man had made a fool of her. “So now you’re not a cop?”

  “I’m a private investigator in partnership with Adam, the guy you met today.” That clear blue gaze was steady without a trace of trepidation or apology.

  Her heart thudded so hard it felt like it could bruise her ribs. “So you lied to me?”

  “Withheld information is more how I put it. In the interests of the investigation.”

  “I’ll stick with lie.”

  The word stuck in her throat. She turned away from him and walked onward; she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Nick fell into step with Bessie trotting behind him. To the other people heading into Fort Mason, they must seem like an ordinary couple taking their dogs for a walk on a crisp, fall day. Not a man who was not what he’d said he was and a woman who was reeling at his revelation.

  Keeping the dogs in line, they walked by the old military buildings of the Battery. The irony was not lost on her. There had been a military stronghold at Fort Mason since before the Civil War. Hadn’t she sensed from the get-go that Nick was law enforcement of some kind?

  “You guys lie for a living, don’t you? How do I know you’re not lying now?”

  Without a word, he reached into the inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out not a badge but a credit-card style photo ID stating that Nicolas James Whalen was licensed to practice as a PI in the state of California.

  She stopped and stared at it. So his full name was Nicolas; she’d wondered about that. Even in the tiny ID photo he looked hot. Curse her darn libido fo
r noticing.

  “You told me you were an insurance assessor,” she said, handing the card back to him and resuming the walk.

  “I told you I worked for an insurance company.”

  “Another lie.”

  He shook his head. “Adam and I were retained by an insurance company to investigate a spate of identity theft frauds in the Bay Area and Marin County.”

  “A spate of frauds?”

  “Yes. Enough for the insurance company to be concerned by the amount they were having to pay out on claims. I noticed that quite a few of the victims kept their dogs at Paws-A-While.” He listed the names of her clients, starting with the Godfreys. “Now there’s you . . . the newest victim.”

  Hot color flushed to her cheeks and then drained away again. There was a flurry of flakes in that snow globe and once again the ground beneath her feet was shifting and changing so she could not keep her balance. “You . . . you mean you think there’s a connection?”

  “Could be. Yes.” The harsh angles of his face and the rigid set of his shoulders made him look every inch the cop.

  Nausea rose in her throat. “You think someone at Paws-A-While is responsible?” She struggled to comprehend his words as they hammered into her consciousness.

  “It’s possible. Among the staff or the clients. The police are convinced these particular crimes are linked to a bigger fraud connected to the Russian mafia. My hunch is it’s a local job on a smaller scale.”

  She stopped, too shaken to go on, too shaken to even notice they had reached the grassy hill with one of the best views in San Francisco of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz.

  “One of my staff. One of my friends. It can’t be. I don’t believe it.”

  He didn’t say anything further.

  Then the full implication of his words hit her. She remembered the suspicion she’d seen in his pale blue gaze that first day when he stood with Bessie in his arms at the front desk of Paws-A-While.

  “You . . . you think it could be me. From the time you first booked in to Paws-A-While you thought I was a crook.”

  He did not deny it.

  She had invited this man into her home. Kissed him. Fantasized about making love with him. All the time he thought her capable of stealing from innocent dog lovers, the people who entrusted her with their beloved pets.