“I would never divulge the names of those who make a complaint,” Andrea assured her. “Don’t worry, this will be handled in a timely manner. I will use complete discretion.”
“Well, okay,” Simone said. “As long as you don’t tell.”
“I won’t be telling,” Andrea said. “Trust me. It will be taken care of.”
If she was determined then, she was even more determined now. There was no way she was going to let this thing go. She usually tried to avoid conflict, but something about this guy really aggravated her and she didn’t want to wait until Stan was available. It occurred to her that the frat boys didn’t know what she looked like. If Stan couldn’t deliver the letter, she could do it herself. She’d say she was legally representing McGuire Properties. It gave the impression she was with a law firm without technically lying.
She finished out the rest of the workday before grabbing the letter and the keys for the Berkshire property and heading out the door. Doing this felt right, and the sooner the better. They would learn not to screw with McGuire Properties. Or Andrea Keller.
Twenty minutes later she’d arrived at the apartment building on Berkshire Drive. Parking in the university area was always difficult, so she didn’t even bother looking for a space on the street. Instead she pulled around to the small lot in back. This building was one of Tommy’s smaller rentals with only two apartments on each floor. The units were nearly identical except that the upstairs apartments had balconies with a picturesque view of the parking lot. Ironically, except for the frat boys, all of the tenants were college students. There were only six parking spaces in the back lot and Tommy charged extra for the honor of using one. None of them were assigned, so the tenants just pulled into any available spot. Today, three of the spaces were empty. Two, after Andrea parked her car in the space closest to the building.
As she walked up to the door, a small flurry of snow drifted downward. The first of the season. Maybe they’d have snow for Christmas after all. The back door was safety glass, the kind stores used, and it was locked for security reasons. The door opened into the downstairs hallway, a straight shot to the front door, also glass and also locked. From where she stood, she could see all the way to the front door and the street beyond. She held the key ring under the light fixture, trying to find the one for the back door, when she heard a scrabbling noise on the balcony to her left. The frat boys’ balcony, situated right above her parked car.
Andrea took a step back to look and blinked while her eyes adjusted to the dim light and the drifting snow. She held a hand over her eyes and could only make out a charcoal grill, the cover askew. The door that led to the balcony had a glass pane on the upper half and it was dark, like no one was home. She was about to turn back to her keys when she heard a small whimper. “Hello?” she called out, taking yet another step back into the parking lot. More scrabbling. Someone was on that balcony, but they weren’t sitting or standing or they’d be in view. No one would be lying outside in this cold if they could help it, so whoever it was had to have gone out on the balcony and then collapsed. But from what? The frat boys were too young for a heart attack. A drug overdose, maybe? Or else, drunk. That was more likely.
She took off her gloves and fumbled in her purse until she located a small flashlight. “Hello?” she called out, shining the spotlight upward. What she saw made her gasp. Two sad, dark eyes peered down at her. “Anni?” she said. “Is that you?” The dog whined in response. In the light of the flashlight beam she saw that the dog was chained to one of the balcony posts. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Who would leave a dog chained up outside in the cold?
Andrea snapped off the light and located the back door key. Once inside, she walked down the hallway, passing the doorways of the downstairs tenants. The frat boy had been right about the smell of weed coming from the lower apartment, not that she cared all that much. She passed the mailboxes embedded in the wall near the front door and turned to go up the stairs. Her heart pounded as she climbed the steps.
One of the stair treads was broken, the board actually missing, which could only mean that someone had removed it. Under normal circumstances, Andrea would have made a note to have Stan come out to fix it, but she was too angry for that. A broken stair was fine for animal abusers. Too good for them, actually. That poor dog. With her big sad eyes and beaten-down demeanor, the dog looked like one of the pets in the commercial to raise money for an animal rights group. Someone should chain the frat boys to the balcony out in the cold. Then they’d know how it felt.
Andrea rapped on the door three times, waited a few seconds, then pounded with the side of her fist. “Hello!” she shouted. “Anyone there?” No answer. She expected others in the building to come see what was going on, or at the very least, open their doors to listen, but there was no movement in the building as far as she could tell. She tried again, knocking and yelling, “Open up.” But still nothing.
Disappointed, she realized they must not be home. And just when she was ready to tell them off too. Andrea glanced down at the letter. The envelope looked official. She’d made sure of that. She could prop it up against the door or leave it in the mailbox, then contact the authorities to report an abused dog at this address. How long would it take for the crime to be investigated? Soon enough to get Anni out of the cold? It was after office hours: Would that make a difference? Probably, she decided, although she really didn’t know for sure. She looked down again and realized that right in her hand, along with the envelope, was a key ring holding a key for every apartment in the building, each of them labeled in Andrea’s own neat handwriting. Unit number four happened to be right on top. Without making a conscious decision, she inserted the key into the lock and turned it. When she heard a click, she turned the knob and the door swung open. A sign. If she really wasn’t meant to open the door, the frat boys would have installed a dead bolt, and she wouldn’t have been able to get in.
She flipped on the light switch and the living room came into view: sagging couch with a dark-green blanket draped across the top, a coffee table littered with beer cans and assorted snack bags, dirty linoleum floor covered with clothing and what looked like crushed potato chips. Yuck. And the place smelled too, like cigarette smoke and poop. Looking oddly out of place was a whopping big-screen TV, one of the largest Andrea had ever seen. “Hello?” she called out, closing the door behind her.
Being in someone’s apartment without permission felt all kinds of wrong—but it was exhilarating too. What was she doing here? With her back flat against the door, she felt her heart pounding. What would she say if one of them came out of the bedroom right now? She could run, and if they didn’t catch her, they’d have no way of tracing her. Unless they looked out the window and took down her license plate number.
Another possibility—telling them Mr. McGuire had told her to enter the premises to check on the unit. If she were lucky, they wouldn’t know this was illegal and they wouldn’t check with Tommy to confirm her story. They seemed like the kind of guys who wouldn’t know their rights. At least that’s what she hoped. People had a way of surprising her, and sometimes not in a good way.
Her best bet, she decided, was to not get caught.
She crossed through the living room and went into the small kitchen where the smell of feces was even stronger. Now that she had an explanation ready in case she got caught, she felt a little better, but she still moved quietly and quickly. She tucked the letter and key ring into her purse and went to the balcony door on the far wall of the room. The door had a hook-and-eye closure that wasn’t lined up perfectly, so it took a bit of tugging to free the hook. She turned on the outside light and stepped outside. The air was filled with swirling flakes of snow and the dog was covered with a layer of white.
“Anni?” Andrea knelt down next to her, and the dog shrank back, shaking. Poor little thing was either shivering from the cold or terrified. The dog’s red collar was attache
d to a short, bulky chain wrapped around a balcony spindle. Andrea followed the chain to where it was connected, relieved to see it had a simple thumb-push fastener rather than a lock. It only took a second for the chain to come free. “Come on, girl,” she crooned. “Time to get out of the cold.” She pulled gently on the chain and immediately regretted it. Anni cringed like she expected to be hit. “It’s okay, Anni. It’s okay.” She wished she had more experience with dogs. Was there some reassuring phrase that all dog owners knew? A secret code that would put Anni at ease? She was ill equipped for the situation, but doing the best she knew how. She ran a hand over Anni’s back and made what she hoped sounded like soothing noises. “You’re a good girl; yes, you are, Anni.” Anni’s ears perked up hopefully when she heard her name. Within a minute or so Andrea felt the dog’s body relax under her hand, and she knew what she was going to do. She was going to steal a dog.
Andrea disconnected the chain from the collar. It wasn’t the right kind of chain to be a dog leash, way too heavy and much too short. She stood up, patting her thighs. “Come on, girl,” she said, but Anni, even as her eyes pleaded, didn’t move. Andrea opened the door, and waved a hand toward the inside. “Let’s go!” She said the words with a faked enthusiasm. Although Anni lifted her head and looked longingly through the doorway, she didn’t get up. Andrea reached down and scooped the dog into her arms. Good grief, she was heavy for such a small dog, but at least she didn’t struggle. Andrea got the overpowering odor of wet dog; it was clear Anni needed a bath. She’d been afraid Anni would fight being carried, but the dog settled against her chest like she knew she was in good hands.
Andrea struggled through the balcony doorway, then closed the door with her back end, not bothering to latch it with the hook and eye. She crossed the room, shifting Anni’s body so that she could grab the knob. Once she was out in the hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t left anything incriminating behind. They’d just be less one neglected dog—a dog they weren’t supposed to have in the first place. First, though, she had to get away from here. Far away from here.
As she made her way down the stairs with Anni in her arms, making sure to avoid the missing step, she prayed she wouldn’t run into any of the other tenants. The first rule of any crime: no witnesses. All she had to do was get to her car and she’d be home free. As she got to the bottom of the stairs, she got a whiff of marijuana mingled with the wet dog smell. So be it. Hopefully the stoner tenant would be too mellow to wonder who was coming down the stairs. She got to the bottom and Anni squirmed and made a sharp bark. Andrea shushed her, and Anni settled down as if she understood.
She passed the two doors leading into the downstairs apartments, one on either side of the hallway, and she was almost to the glass door when she saw the glare of headlights as a car pulled into the parking lot. She froze, watching as the frat boys got out of their car. One of them gestured up to their balcony, and she heard him yell, “What the hell?” Oh no. She panicked as she remembered leaving the balcony light on. All instinct and fear, she whipped around to go out the front door, knowing that they were heading this way.
Halfway there, a door opened in the hallway, and a young man stuck his head out like a curious gopher. Andrea pushed past him right into his apartment and he stepped aside to let her in like they’d planned this. She hissed, “Shhh. Close the door.”
He didn’t look the least bit surprised, just shrugged and followed her directions. She whispered, “We have to be very quiet.”
He was about nineteen or twenty with a full-blown bushy beard, the kind young guys grow just because they can. Besides the beard he was clean-cut with short hair and neat clothes: dark jeans and a navy button-down shirt. A bong sat on the kitchen counter next to a bag of chips, but otherwise the apartment was orderly. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and leaned in conspiratorially. “Why do we have to be quiet?”
“Shhh,” Andrea said, hearing the back door open and the thumping of the frat boys’ steps as they ran past. Anni was getting heavy, but still Andrea cradled her against her chest, glad to see the dog looked content. Hopefully Anni would remain quiet and not give them away.
When she heard the two men’s footsteps up the stairs, she noticed a thump as each one jumped over the missing step. Clearly something they were used to doing. When they reached the top landing, she knew it was time to go. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I have to go. Can you get the door?”
“Sure thing.”
She made a quick decision to go out the front and he followed her to open and hold the door. Participating in this getaway was risky with the frat boys right at the top of the stairs, likely to charge down at any moment, but he did it with gentlemanly ease, no sign of stress on his part. He said, “Take care now.”
“Thanks.” Andrea walked quickly along the side of the building to the back, staying in the shadows as much as possible. Thankfully Anni stayed quiet even as Andrea opened the car door and set her on the front passenger seat. By now her chest was pounding, her heart beating with such force that she wondered if she was having a heart attack, but there was no time to think about herself. As terrifying as it was, it was also thrilling in a spy movie kind of way. Now she knew what people were talking about when they mentioned the adrenaline rush that came with doing something dangerous.
As she backed out of her space, she glanced up. If either of the frat boys had been looking down, they could have clearly seen her car pulling out from under their balcony. Luckily for her, the balcony was empty.
What would they do, she wondered, stepping on the gas. Call the police? Question the other neighbors? She hoped the college student who’d let her take refuge in his apartment wouldn’t be blamed for her crime. She glanced down at Anni curled on the seat, her head resting on her paws. The dog yawned and closed her eyes, looking curiously relaxed. Obviously, she wasn’t aware they were on the lam.
All the way home Andrea darted looks at her rearview mirror, half expecting to see flashing lights accompanied by a police siren. By the time she’d turned down the side street to her condo, her guilt had abated. Anni was neglected and, judging by the length of chain and the fact that she was outside in the cold, a case could be made for abuse. Those two bozos didn’t deserve to have a dog. And technically, she hadn’t broken in. She’d knocked first, and let herself in with a key. Plus, it wasn’t like they were completely blameless in all this. They’d mistreated a dog, violated their lease, and hung up on her when she was just doing her job. She imagined that there wasn’t a jury in the world who could find her at fault.
ELEVEN
That night after Lindsay went to bed, Dan gathered up all of Anni’s things: the dog bed next to the fireplace, the squeaky toy on the top shelf of the bookcase, and the leashes hanging on the hook by the door. All of them went into a large plastic storage container, which he carried down to the laundry room in the basement. After that he went to work in the pantry closet, culling the dog food, heartworm pills, and dog treats. The opened containers were tossed in the garbage, the rest set aside to drop off at the food pantry on his way in to work the next day.
As relieved as he’d been to see that Anni wasn’t the dog under the sheet at the veterinary clinic, it had also given him a moment of clarity. It was time to face the truth: Anni probably wasn’t coming back. It was a horrible thought and nothing he’d say out loud to anyone, much less his daughter. Lindsay still held out a childlike hope that Anni would magically show up at their doorstep one morning.
Outside it was beginning to snow and the wind had picked up as well, howling outside their snug house. The dream with Christine came to mind and Dan directed a thought her way: Please, Christine, if Anni is still alive and we can’t get her back, at least let someone else find her. Someone who will take good care of her. Someone who will be kind to her.
In the morning as he drank coffee and mentally planned his day, Lindsay came down for breakfast. Of course the mis
sing dog bed was the first thing she noticed. “So now you’re just giving up on her?” Her finger jabbed angrily in the direction of the empty space. “Like she was never here?”
Even though he was prepared for her reaction, the vehemence of her accusation hit him hard. “I didn’t throw anything out,” he said quietly. “Just packed things away for now.”
“Because you think she’s gone for good.” Lindsay pouted and he got a glimpse of a younger version of his daughter. Lindsay, age eight, angry at having to come home from a friend’s house when she wanted to stay longer; again at age eleven, upset at not being invited to another girl’s birthday party; and at age thirteen, mad at not getting a good grade on a social studies project she’d slaved over for hours. Lindsay’s moods were mercurial and her ire easily raised. When she got upset, she made what Christine had called her “rain cloud face” because you just knew a storm was brewing.
“No, because it makes me sad to look at them.” He gestured for her to pull up a chair, but she held firm, standing with her arms crossed. He tried again. “Look, I hope Anni comes home, I really do. I just don’t need constant reminders that she’s not here. It doesn’t help find her and it’s upsetting to both of us.”
“It’s not upsetting to me.”
Dan sighed. “Well, it is to me. It’s painful to have to keep looking at her things and not know where she is.”
She tapped her foot. “Talk about ironic.”
“What?”
“That you can’t stand to see Anni’s bed on the floor, but don’t seem to mind that there are reminders of Mom everywhere.”
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