Chuck nodded and moved to the kitchen as Blaise headed back to the table, having grabbed another pitcher of beer. Sitting down next to Bart’s new wife, Faith, she looked up at him. Feeling her small hand on his arm, he gazed down at her, a questioning expression on his face.
“I can tell you noticed the woman sitting over there. I feel…” shaking her head in confusion for a few seconds, she continued, “danger with her. But mostly a great deal of fear.”
Checking to see that no one else from their group was listening, he said, “Anything else?”
“No. But approach…cautiously.”
Nodding, he smiled at the petite, dark-haired beauty. Faith, while never claiming to be a seer, did get visions at times and had assisted them in a case last fall. In fact, that was how she met Bart. He mouthed, Thanks, and went back to his conversation with Marc. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed as Chuck set a plate down in front of the woman at the bar. The woman’s eyes jerked open wide and it appeared she was about to slide down off her chair. Chuck leaned over and whispered to her before walking away. Good man. Just let her be, and she’ll soon eat.
As her eyes darted around the room he quickly looked away, not wanting her to see him staring back at her. Engaging Chad and Marc again in conversation, he was determined to let her eat in peace. Forcing himself to wait at least five minutes before looking at her again, he watched the seconds crawl by. Finally, shifting his chair slightly, he looked toward the end of the bar.
She was gone. The plate was still there, but the food was gone as well.
Chapter 2
What the fuck? Where the hell did she go? Irritated that he had allowed her to be out of his line of vision, with the crowded bar, she had slipped away unnoticed. Some investigator, I am, he thought angrily.
Standing, he headed back to the bar. Chuck, seeing him scowling as he came over, threw his hands up. “Hey man, I didn’t see where she was going. But the plate was left empty, so she must have eaten.”
“Yeah, all right,” Blaise grumbled, then shook his head. “It’s okay. Her getting some food in her is the most important thing anyway.”
No longer in the mood to join his friends, he moved down the hall past the bar to the men’s room. Finishing there, he decided he needed a breath of fresh air. A door to the back of the bar was located near the restrooms and was the quickest way outside. Pushing open the door, he stepped out and almost tripped over the crouching woman, holding a bite of chicken out to a huge German Shepherd.
The woman, startled, jumped up as the dog placed its body in front of her, its bared teeth and snarl declaring the warning to Blaise. Stunned, he jerked his hands up and took a step back, making sure he let the dog know he was no threat.
The dog continued its low growl but made no threatening approach. The woman reached down, fingers outstretched, and gently touched the animal with her fingertips. The barely-there touch was all that was needed. The dog immediately softened its growl, relaxing its stance slightly.
“I mean you no harm,” Blaise said. “I just came out for some air.” His eyes lingered on her face, entranced now that he obtained a clearer view of her. Dark hair, not dirty, but looking as though it had not been brushed recently, was pulled back into a ponytail with escaping tendrils blowing in the breeze. Her face, cheeks slightly hollow, were clean and her complexion clear. A scar ran across the side of her forehead. Red and angry. It appeared to be fairly recent and had not been treated.
But it was her eyes that captured his attention, rendering him almost speechless. Large, dark, brown—so dark that it was difficult to tell where the iris stopped and the pupil began.
His gaze dropped to the napkin full of food clutched in her hand before moving to the dumpster behind Chuck’s, where he noted a paper plate with rummaged food on it. Jesus, has she been eating out of the garbage?
Her gaze followed his and he watched as her chin lifted in defiance. She did not speak, but her eyes were wary and her body tense, as though ready to take flight.
“I’ll be glad to get you some more food…for your dog,” he hastened to say, catching the flash of fear in her eyes. A furtive shake of her head was her only answer.
His eyes dropped to the beast in front of her. Beautiful dog…well maintained, until recently, he guessed. Very similar to its owner. Perhaps they haven’t been on the street too long. His assessing gaze then noticed the dog favoring one of its back legs.
“Is your dog injured?”
Her eyes barely left his as she quickly glanced down to the animal, but she said nothing.
“I’m a veterinarian,” Blaise explained. “I’ll be glad to take a look for you.”
Once more, a quick shake of her head was all he received.
Frustrated, he continued, “Well, at least let me get you and your beautiful dog some more food that’s…uh…healthier.” At this, he noticed her tongue dart out as she licked her lips. The small nod was the first positive encounter he had, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Grinning, he backed slowly toward the door and said, “If you’re comfortable here, just stay and I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll bring some food and water for you and your dog.”
Quickly turning, he rushed back into Chuck’s, bypassing the bar and heading straight into the kitchen. “Trudi, I’ve got the woman outside and she’s feeding her dog. I told her I’d bring more food.”
“Just like you to pick up a stray!” Trudi said, hustling around, filling another plate with chicken, baked beans, coleslaw, and potato salad. “Here’s a bag of chips as well.” Grabbing a quart of milk from the refrigerator, she shoved it all into his hands.
Hustling back out the door, he said, “I’ve got a feast for you and your dog!”
Only the silence of the night, mixed with the distant noise from inside the bar, greeted him. She…and her dog…were gone.
*
After several minutes running behind Chuck’s looking for her, Blaise gave up, furious that he had not made sure to have her enter with him. Walking back to the table, he saw the silent, curious stares of his entire group of friends. Sitting down heavily, he pursed his lips in anger and, for a moment, considered not saying anything. Quickly realizing that was a stupid reaction, especially if they could help, he looked up and said, “You’re not going to believe it.”
Having everyone’s attention, he related the events of the past hour, captivating them with his story. “So, I guess, I’d just ask that you all be aware and if you see her, call it in to me. She may be hurt…I think her dog may need attention. I…I…just want to make sure she’s okay.”
True to their nature, the group immediately began to brainstorm. “She touch anything?” Jack asked.
Fingerprints! Fuck! “Yeah, the water glass on the bar, but I can see it’s already been put in the tray with all the other glasses to be washed. We won’t be able to tell which one was hers.”
“You said Chuck reported that she had been here before?” Bethany asked hopefully. “Maybe she’ll come back. Maybe we can find her another night.”
“Maybe,” Blaise agreed doubtfully, “but I’ve probably scared her to death.”
“What about the dog?” Cam pondered. “You said it looked well cared for…healthy. A homeless person might not have a pet that nice. Do you think she just found it?”
“The way that dog was guarding her? It had to be hers.”
“Maybe she’s running,” Miriam offered softly. “Maybe from an abusive relationship.”
Luke, the former CIA, computer guru of the Saints, said, “If Chuck’ll give us the security tapes from tonight, I can see if I can get a visual hit on her.”
At that, Blaise’s eyes jumped back to life. “Good idea. I’ll get ‘em.”
The party began to break up, with promises from everyone to keep their eyes open for the woman and her dog. Blaise told Chuck he would swing by the next day and pick up the evening’s security tape. With hugs and kisses in the parking lot, each moved to their vehicles
.
Blaise got in his jeep, but sat for a long time, unable to keep his eyes from roaming over the parking lot, especially into the dark corners. His blood fired with concern…and interest…he knew he would not rest until he could find her again. And next time, you won’t get away until I’m sure you’re okay.
*
The woman hunkered down in the shadows, completely hidden, with the large dog lying on her feet, watching the man from Chuck’s sitting in the jeep. Sucking in her lips, she lovingly moved her hand over the dog, scratching behind its ears and down its long back.
“I wonder who he is, Gypsy.”
He was handsome—almost breathtakingly so. She had noticed his group, sitting around tables pushed together. Laughing, talking. Enjoying each other’s company. Did I use to do that? Did I have friends like that?
There had been an air about the gathering. The men were all good looking and appeared as though they could handle themselves in a fight and, yet, were so gentle with their wives and girlfriends. She sighed. They seemed to be having a fun time.
When the man started his jeep she instinctively moved further back into the shadows, watching as he drove away. “It doesn’t matter who he is, does it, girl? We won’t see him again.” Sucking in a deep breath, she stood and, with the dog faithfully at her side, slid off into the darkness. A few blocks away, she came to the house she had been calling home for over a week. Deserted, it was old, set back off from the road. With no neighbors around, it had been easy to go in through a window the first time. Now she let the two of them in through the back door, quiet as always with no lights to guide their way.
She heard scuttling in another room and hoped the mice…or rats…would keep away. Reaching into a deep pocket of her large jacket, she pulled out the napkin full of food, setting it down on the floor of the kitchen before plopping down cross-legged next to the dog. Gypsy, as always, looked at her with golden brown eyes, not moving…waiting.
Smiling, she said, “Eat,” and the dog immediately began lapping up the food. The woman pulled out some more of the food from her other coat pocket and began nibbling. It was not much, but it was the first real food she had all day.
Sighing, she scrunched up the papers, walking outside with them in her hand and placing them in a trash bag she had found. “We don’t want anymore bugs or rats in our house, do we, Gypsy?” Looking around to make sure they were still alone and hidden, she said, “Go on, do your business.”
Needing to take care of business herself, she nervously walked into the edge of the trees behind the house and relieved herself before quickly heading back inside with her dog. Once back inside the kitchen, she took the old broom and swept the floor clean, making sure to leave no crumbs. Replacing the bare broom in the corner, she wandered through what had been the living room toward one of the tiny bedrooms in the back. This room still had glass in the window, although dust and dirt had mostly obliterated the view. That’s fine with me…keeps peeping eyes from being able to see me!
*
Blaise lay in bed that night, the full moon peeking through the window of his second story bedroom. He left his blinds up, preferring the illumination provided by the moon. Ransom used to sleep on his bed, but these days he preferred a pallet next to him; two cats curled up at the foot of his bed instead. He had checked on the new kitten in the vet room and was pleased to see the food had been eaten and the tiny animal was curled up, safe and sound.
Who are you, Mystery Lady? He was anxious to get the security tapes tomorrow to see if Luke would be able to divine anything. Worry kept sleep at bay. Are you all right? On the streets? In danger? Running? And if so, from what? Abuse? He pondered if she were mentally ill, as many of the homeless are. What’s your story?
The questions continued to plague him as the moon moved across the sky. Something about the woman called to him…her large, guileless eyes, while frightened, were as protective of the dog as it was of her. I’m used to trusting animals…and that dog trusted its mistress.
Finally deciding to spend the weekend staking out Chuck’s and the surrounding areas, he fell into a fitful sleep.
*
A pile of old, but clean, blankets were on the floor and the woman curled up on them, patting the area beside her. She kept her shoes on in case she needed to make a quick getaway but took off her jacket to use as a pillow. Gypsy trotted over, turned around a few times and then settled in, close to her mistress. The moonlight streamed through the grime in the curtain-less window and she knew sleep would not come easily.
Her mind filled with images of the blond man in the alley with her, his hands up in a gesture of conciliation. He was tall, at least a head taller than she. His square jaw, thick muscles barely contained in the tight polo shirt. The baby blue shirt only served to make his blue eyes even brighter. Oh, yeah. He could be right at home standing on the bow of a pirate ship. Chuckling, she wondered where that thought came from.
That must have come from a previous life. The one before…everything went black. Heaving a deep sigh, she curled up tighter with Gypsy. “Thank goodness you have a collar with a nametag girl, or I wouldn’t even know your name,” she whispered. As the dog slept beside her, she watched the moon move across the sky and wished she wore a nametag around her neck as well. Because, maybe, just maybe…I’d remember who I was.
Chapter 3
After a fitful night of non-sleep, Blaise rose from his bed and walked to his window overlooking the kennels. The dogs were waking, beginning to move around and he knew he needed to get out to feed them. A wet nose nuzzled his hand and his fingers absentmindedly rubbed Ransom’s head. Images of the large, protective German Shepherd and its beautiful mistress filled his mind. Huh, not like I didn’t think of them all night.
Sucking in a deep breath, he glanced down at Ransom, saying, “All right, boy. Let’s get the morning going.” Pulling on sweatpants and an old t-shirt, along with boots, he tromped down the stairs, the cats darting ahead of him and Ransom following behind at a slower pace.
Entering the kitchen, he slid a coffee pod into his machine and turned it on. An image of Luke’s complicated coffee maker flitted through his mind. “Luke likes his coffee strong even if it scares the rest of us,” he said. Realizing he talked to his animals as though they were people in the room, he chuckled. Well, I guess I understand animals better.
Making his way into the clinic, he checked on the little kitten, now wide eyed and playing with a toy mouse in its cage. The kitten gave off a tiny hiss and swatted at his hand when he tried to pet it. “Hey, I’m trying to help,” Blaise protested. Filling the dishes with food and clean water, he wiggled his fingers at the tiny tiger.
Twenty minutes later, he had finished feeding the dogs in the kennels outside and walked back into the house. His house was in a constant state of evolvement. He had the clinic and feeding rooms built first, wanting to make sure his animals were taken care of more than his own comfort. Marc and Chad had helped with the kitchen and bathroom upgrades. Other than that, the rest of the house remained very much the same as when he bought the property.
Moving into the kitchen, he grabbed his coffee. Looking down at Ransom, he said, “You wanna share my breakfast?” Indulging the older dog was a morning ritual for them and he quickly plated bacon and eggs for himself and another plate for Ransom. He smiled indulgently as he ate slowly, Ransom lifting his eyes to his master when he had finished before ambling over to his soft bed in the living room as Blaise finished eating.
Glancing at his watch, he hoped Chuck would be up at this hour, unable to wait any longer to get his hands on the security tapes. Locking up, he headed out, arriving at the bar about fifteen minutes later. Walking around to the back, he knew if Chuck were there, it would be to accept deliveries. Sure enough, the owner was there and, surprisingly, so was Trudi.
Chuck’s arms were full of boxes of beer as he unloaded them from a delivery truck, helping the driver. The bulky owner, his shirt slightly pulling at the button at his sto
mach, looked up as Blaise approached. With a head jerk toward the door, he indicated for Blaise to follow.
Trudi, right on their heels, was already asking questions. “What happened last night to that girl? Did you see her again? Do you know where she went?”
“Hold on, Trudi,” Blaise said. “Give me a minute and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Trudi patted her big hair in place, while a pout settled on her expression. “Fine, but don’t take too long!”
Once inside the kitchen storeroom, Chuck set down the box he was carrying and called out to the driver, “I’ve got somethin’ to do. You can bring the rest of it in and put it here.”
Gaining a nod, the driver headed back to his truck. Chuck went into his small office and came out with a disk. “Don’t know what you’ll find, but I reckon you Saints’ll be able to gain some kind of clues.”
Nodding gratefully, Blaise laid the disk down on the counter next to him, his hands resting on either side of it. Shaking his head, he confessed, “Can’t tell you much. I found her out back and she had a big dog with her. She was feeding the dog, as well as herself. And…not just what you had given her. It looked like she had been digging through the garbage to find some food.”
“Fuck!” Chuck growled, at the same time Trudi cried out, “Oh, hell no!” Blaise looked at their faces, seeing anger written on both.
“No fuckin’ way is someone gonna eat my garbage,” Chuck continued. “You think she’ll come back? I could start leaving some food out for her.”
“That girl needs help!” Trudi announced as if no one else had thought of that. “What are you and that group of big men gonna do about it?” she demanded.
“We’re working on it, Trudi. That’s why I had Chuck give me this security disk.”
Trudi huffed as though the men were inefficient. “Well, I’d think a bunch of you trying to find one little woman with a big dog would be able to track her easily. And when you do,” she added, poking a long, red fingernail in his chest, “I want to know. I’ll make sure that girl’s got some clothes and food!”
Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 2