Home Is Where the Bark Is

by Kandy Shepherd

She was fast but Nick was faster. He got to the two little dogs a stride before she did and shooed the big dog away. All in a few, masterful moments.

  “You’ve got a knack with dogs,” she said when he came back to her. As aftermath of the kiss her heart was still racing and her breath coming too fast, so it was an effort to make her voice sound normal. “They like you.”

  “I like them,” he said. “As dogs, not—”

  “Dog-kids, I know.”

  He was a heck of a lot more competent than some of the people she’d interviewed for positions at Paws-A-While. The dogs sensed the strength in him, the alpha confidence.

  They trusted him.

  She had to trust him, too.

  Accept that he had misrepresented the truth in the interests of his job. Believe the evidence of his ID card and the sincerity in his voice. It might be the only way she could keep Paws-A-While in business.

  She had to help him in any way she could. “Nick . . . I . . . I want to tell you what happened with the stalker. If there’s a chance he’s involved and it will help me save Paws-A-While.”

  Nick’s brow creased in concern. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

  “Just hear me out without too many questions.” She swallowed hard. “It started with an email through my Serena St. James website. It seemed harmless enough. I emailed the standard ‘thank you for your interest’ type of email. He emailed some more. I ignored them. After about twenty I asked him not to email again.”

  “Bad mistake.”

  She nodded. “He saw that as a sign of interest. He was in love with me, therefore I had to be in love with him. I blocked his emails.”

  “That didn’t stop him?”

  “The letters started then. Every day there was a letter.”

  “Did you go to the police?”

  “He didn’t make any threats. I thought I could handle it myself.”

  “But he knew where you lived.”

  “Not then, he didn’t. They were sent to my post office box.”

  “Did you ever see him?”

  “Would you believe he sent me photos of himself? The thing was, he was okay-looking. He could have got a girlfriend of his own.”

  “But not Serena St. James.”

  “No. He was totally into the fantasy of me in the tub of chocolate.” She shuddered. “Then he sent me chocolate bars. Hundreds of them. I threw them out. But more would come every day.”

  Thank heaven Nick didn’t laugh. She couldn’t stand it if he laughed. “Tell me you went to the police then,” he said. “There are stalking laws.”

  She remembered how unhelpful the police had been—that one officer in particular. “People thought the chocolate bar thing was funny. They asked me to give him their address so he could send them some.”

  Nick made a sound of disgust. “You should have hired someone like me.”

  “I . . . I didn’t know you then. Anyway, I honestly thought he was more of a nuisance than a danger. Then it stopped. I heard nothing. The police said he had moved on to someone else.”

  “But of course he hadn’t,” said Nick, his face a study in grim.

  “I lived in the Mission then, a cute remodeled Victorian. It was a good part of the Mission; I always felt safe there. I had a roommate, Kim, a chef friend of Maddy’s.”

  She stopped. Cleared her throat. This was the part she found difficult.

  “Just take it as it comes.” How could that deep, deep voice sound so soothing?

  “I was studying part time. One night I got home from college late and . . . and found him in my bathroom. I thought I was going to die of shock and fear. He . . . he had somehow got buckets of chocolate sauce in there and was tipping them into the tub.”

  “Wanting to re-create the fantasy for himself.”

  “He . . . told me loved me. I was gagging on fear and the smell of the sauce. I told him he couldn’t love me, he didn’t know me.”

  “Not what he wanted to hear.”

  “I soon realized that. I tried to keep him talking while my mind raced to figure out what to do. I placated him, pretended to be friends. But he didn’t buy it.” Her voice rose as she remembered her fear. “He got nasty. If . . . if he couldn’t have me, nobody could.”

  Nick growled a wordless protest.

  The faster she spoke, the faster the recounting of this ordeal would be over. She felt she was babbling now. “He ordered me to strip. I refused. He pulled a knife. Then Kim came home, Maddy with her. I heard the door open, but he was too busy describing what was going to happen to me after I was in the tub of chocolate to hear. Thank God they realized something was wrong and crept up the stairs. Maddy had a huge fry pan in her hand, Kim a marble rolling pin.

  “He heard something and looked away from me. I grabbed the hair dryer and whacked his hand with it. He dropped the knife. I kicked it out of his reach. The girls threatened him with their weapons.” She took a huge, steadying breath.

  “What happened then?”

  “He started to cry. Like a thwarted little boy.” She felt the familiar contempt. “We locked the door and called the police. He was convicted of stalking and committed to a high-security psychiatric hospital. I try never to think of him.”

  “But we have to consider him as a suspect who might wish you harm.”

  Serena appreciated that while she was recounting her ordeal, Nick had the sensitivity not to touch her. Now she was through it, she felt able to touch. She placed her hand on his arm. “You investigate him. I want nothing to do with it. It will only feed his fantasy if he thinks I have any interest in him whatsoever.”

  “Right,” he said.

  She thought about what he had said about hiring someone like him to protect her. Words formed before she’d really thought out her strategy. But immediately they made sense. “I want you to work for me,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No can do. The insurance company has retained us for this investigation. That would be a conflict of interest.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I can’t afford to pay you, anyway. Not now. You should come on staff as a dog carer. Go undercover—that’s the right term, isn’t it? That way you can see exactly what might be going on at Paws-A-While.”

  And she would get to see him every day.

  Thirteen

  Nick grumbled to himself under his breath as he unwrapped packs of conical, dog-sized party hats. The hats were red with a pattern of paw prints, trimmed at the base with blue feathers and topped with a blue pompon. In its own separate pack was a single black hat, with gold trim and pompons, and the words “Birthday Boy” picked out in gold.

  Wouldn’t you know it, his first shift on staff at Paws-A-While just had to be the day of Brutus’s birthday?

  Two days after Serena had proposed the idea, and after Adam had proved Serena was a genuine victim of identity theft, he was on board as a dog carer. The satisfaction of actually being undercover and getting access to all areas—including those collars—was marred by the prospect of having to feign excitement at the prospect of a full-on canine birthday party.

  Worse, he was expected to act as a waiter at the feast. Doggy day care was one thing. Dog parties another. His years of special agent training had prepared him to expect the unexpected—but nothing like this had come up in any training session at Quantico.

  Party hats unpacked, his first job was to fence off an area at the far end of the playroom. There the millionaire mutt, his “wife,” “daughter,” and a select group of Brutus’s puppy pals would be served a gourmet dog food lunch and be given party favors to take home afterward.

  Putting up the fence was easier said than done with curious dogs intent on monitoring his every move. He was constantly interrupted by butting heads and wet noses and little whimpers of excitement. Thankfully once inside the security of the fence, free from canine companionship, it got easier. He helped Kylie lay a large, heavy, plastic picnic cloth on the floor. It was embellished with cartoon drawings of frolicking dogs.<
br />
  He made an effort to sound enthusiastic about the just-so placing of the doggy hats but Kylie had overheard his grumbling.

  “You’re just not into it, are you?” she asked, as he knelt near her on the floor to help her lay the party table. His job was to put food and water bowls and a conical hat at each place. Kylie had to arrange a stack of rubber chew balls as a centerpiece and scatter some dog-safe streamers and novelties around for decoration.

  As if the dogs could give a damn.

  Kylie’s friendly attitude toward him had done a complete turnaround when Serena had informed her that Nick was joining the staff. When he’d turned up this morning dressed in jeans and an official Paws-A-While shirt (made originally for Tom O’Brien and a tad tight across the shoulders) Kylie had been more hostile than hospitable.

  Nick decided it was best not to answer with a lie. Kylie would sniff the rat of a sudden change in attitude. “You’re right. Party hats and birthday cake for a pack of pooches. It’s a sad reflection on our priorities,” he said.

  Under his guardianship there would be no birthday parties for Mack. Ever. Mack, who right now would be undergoing his surgery. He hoped—no, he prayed—that all would go well for the big black dog.

  “Our priorities at Paws-A-While are to care for every dog here as if it were our own.” There was a note of reprimand to Kylie’s voice that he didn’t miss.

  “I get that,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t get why you’re here. What’s your game, Nick?” asked Kylie, with a noticeable lack of dimples.

  “I told you. The company I worked for downsized. As I was last in, I was first to go. Serena offered me this role and I grabbed it.”

  “Yeah. Right. As if a big, strong guy like you couldn’t have got work somewhere other than a doggy day-care center.” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t fool me for a minute. I know why you’re really here.”

  Inwardly, Nick cursed. Had Adam said something to her in the time he’d spent alone with Kylie? Had Serena accidentally alerted her to his undercover investigator status? Or was his game slipping?

  “You do?” he said, forcing his voice into neutral.

  “Yeah. I know you’ve got the hots for Serena. Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask her out? Who do you think you’re fooling with this charade of yours?”

  He couldn’t let his relief let him miss a beat. “Obviously not you.”

  “I know you’ve only taken this job to get close to her.”

  “A man wouldn’t be human if he didn’t admire Serena. But . . . I don’t think dating in the workplace is a great idea. Especially when I have a dog as a guest here.”

  “Huh! You should be so lucky! I haven’t seen Serena date any guys since I’ve been on staff and I’ve been here since day one.”

  “Is that so?” he said, studiously neutral, in spite of his very real interest.

  “Yeah. She had a boyfriend in the navy who turned out to be a real jerk.”

  He’d got Dave’s details from Serena and checked on him. He might be a jerk, but he had an exemplary record with the navy. “Maybe she might be ready for someone who’s not such a jerk.”

  “Meaning you?”

  He shrugged.

  “Don’t play that game with me,” she said, sitting back on her haunches. “I know what guys like you are like. First you take the backseat and you’re ‘yes, ma’am, no, ma’am, what can I do to help, ma’am.’ Then when you start boinking the boss suddenly you’re throwing your weight around and lording it over people like me.”

  Nick forgave her the crudity because of the flash of fear he saw in her eyes. “I’m not after your job, Kylie,” he said.

  “Then what are you after? Serena?”

  There was no use denying his attraction to Serena. Kylie seemed to pick up the signals of man-woman chemistry with radar-like precision. “I like her.Yeah. I’d like to get to know her better.”

  “Well, do something about it—like ask her on a date. Leave the jobs here to professional dog people.”

  He didn’t want Kylie to feel her job was under threat. Unless, of course, she turned out to be a fraudster.

  “Look, Kylie, Serena told me you needed some muscle around the place. Said she’d been thinking of putting on a guy to help with the heavy work, walk the bigger, more boisterous dogs. I’m your guy. Use me. I won’t be here forever and Serena knows that. Obviously this isn’t a career move for me.”

  “Hmph,” said Kylie, but she did appear placated. “It didn’t start that way for me, either. I used to work at a bank before I got into dog care. When I started here I thought it would be something temporary. But the job grew on me. Now I love it and I intend to stay for as long as Serena needs me.”

  “I get that, too.”

  Kylie had worked at a bank? That had not showed up on the job application he’d glimpsed on Serena’s computer last week.

  Kylie paused, a bunch of cheerful streamers in her hand. “You know the newbie always gets put on potty cleanup?”

  Nick blanched. “But that fancy latrine outside flushes. Serena showed me.”

  Kylie laughed. “Yeah, when the dogs make it to the outside. With this many of ’em there are sometimes accidents. When the call goes out for mop and bucket you’ll be the one answering it.”

  “Right,” he said.

  “Still keen to work here?” Now Kylie was enjoying herself. There were worse undercover assignments. He was just having trouble thinking what they were right now. “Absolutely,” he replied.

  He got up from the floor as Kylie gave the table setting a final once-over. In the end it looked as good as it would for a table load of toddlers. His sister back home would kill for a table setting as cute as this for his nephew’s birthdays.

  Kylie stood up and stretched out her back. “Talking of muscles, how’s that friend of yours, Adam?”

  “Adam’s good.”

  “He’s a nice guy,” said Kylie.

  Nick had to suppress a grin. “He asked after you, too.”

  That was no lie. With Nick full time now at Paws-A-While, Adam had taken over the background checking of the Paws-A-While staff—starting with Kylie. He’d thrown himself into the assignment rather more enthusiastically than the job called for, Nick thought. But then, the entire staff of Paws-A-While was young and female.

  “Did he, now?” said Kylie, dimpling. “Well, the next time he asks after me, you just remind him he’s got my number.”

  “He does?” Nick couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. Adam was taking his information-pumping activities with Kylie very seriously.

  “And I just might be free on Friday night when Finn has a sleepover at his buddy’s house,” she said.

  “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

  What the hell was going on here? Nick felt a twinge of unease. Serena had told him Kylie was an inveterate matchmaker and loved fixing people up. But she didn’t date much herself as her priority was her son. For all her smart mouth she was vulnerable. Nick knew misrepresenting oneself was part of this job. But he would warn Adam to take it easy with Kylie.

  Kylie stretched her back out again. “We’re running on time; the other guests should arrive soon.”

  “Other guests?”

  “Apparently Brutus’s mom, Maddy, is remodeling her Pacific Heights mansion, so they can’t have a party at home. They had a picnic last weekend for his doggy family. This is his celebration with the pals in his day-care pack. Tinkerbelle, his daughter, is already here, as you know. His son Tyson is coming to join the party, too. Coco will be thrilled to have another of her babies here.”

  “You think Coco recognizes the puppies as her babies?” Nick tried to keep the skepticism from his voice. He knew what happened with farm animals; their offspring became just another animal no different to any other of their species.

  Kylie shrugged. “Coco licks them and grooms them as if they’re her puppies. She doesn’t do that to any of the other dogs. That says mommy to me.”

 
“And Brutus? Wouldn’t Tyson be a rival?”

  “Maybe. They get on. As Serena says, the dogs soon find their place in their pack. Besides they’ve all been fixed, so that solves a few problems with male aggression.”

  “Who are the other guests? The, uh, humans, I mean?”

  “Maddy and Tom, of course, Brutus’s parents.”

  “Of course,” Nick echoed. He had to force himself from cringing every time Kylie used the term “parent” to refer to dog owners.

  “Maddy and Tom are good friends of Serena’s. Tom’s mom is coming, too; she’s a nice lady. Tyson is her dog.”

  All this fuss for a dog. “How old is Brutus?”

  “No one knows. He came from a shelter. But his first guardian—the old man who died and left him all the money—celebrated on the anniversary of the day he was adopted. He always had a party for him. Maddy told me she continues the celebration in the old man’s honor.”

  “So that’s it for visitors?” His initial research had virtually ruled out Maddy Cartwright and Tom O’Brien as suspects. But Tom’s mom was an unknown quantity.

  “Oh and Jenna, too. You know, Serena’s other good friend.”

  “Organic-dog-treats Jenna?”

  Kylie nodded. “That’s right. She’s made organic dog biscuits in the shape of a B for Brutus for party favors. Every dog at Paws-A-While will get one to take home.”

  “But they’re not all invited to the party?”

  “Ohmigod, no! Can you imagine the logistics of it? All the dogs here get a special treat on their birthdays. If their parents want to host a special party, that’s up to them. Brutus is our top VIP client; not all the parties are as lavish as this.”

  “Right,” said Nick.

  Jenna was on the list of regular suppliers Serena had given him. Initial checks found Jenna to be everything Serena had told him. Grew up in the Bay Area and stayed there. Now doing her postgraduate degree at Berkeley. One clever lady by the looks of it. And with not so much as a parking ticket on record.

  The woman who supplied the organic dog shampoos and conditioners had also checked clear. There were a surprising number of suppliers still to go. He found it amazing how many people supplied products of one kind or another to a doggy day-care center.