by Meli Raine
“You need to go,” I tell him.
“We’re following you to the animal shelter,” he says grimly.
“But I—”
“No arguing.”
I close my mouth. It’s useless to even try. Without another word, I climb into my car, start it, and begin the drive to the shelter.
He taps on the hood of my car. I brake and roll down the window.
“Tonight. My place?” His voice is filled with a contrite tone.
I’m angry, but not so angry that I’m going to punish either of us by refusing to see him. We obviously have a lot to talk about. Plus, he’s Mark. I can’t stay away from him no matter how furious I am. He’s...well, like I said.
He’s Mark.
I’m never, ever letting him go again.
“Yes,” I say with a sour grin as I pull away and begin the drive, their car following me.
Mark and Murphy peel away ten minutes later as I pull into the parking lot. The place is packed, with two mini school buses and loads of family minivans here. Adoption Day is a big deal. Minnie’s absence is hard. I make a mental note to go see her right after I help here.
Every hour that Amy remains missing takes a piece of my heart away. I can only imagine how much worse it is for Minnie.
The sound of barking dogs fills the air as I grab the last parking spot in the entire lot and hustle into the building. I enter through the back and surprise Cindy. She’s carrying two kittens.
“Carrying” might be the wrong word. More like two kittens are clawed into her shoulders, hanging on for dear life.
“Carrie! Oh, my goodness, I have never been so happy to see someone.” She stops and pulls back. Her eyes rake over me. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been playing in the mud.”
My hands fly to my hair. “Oh. Yeah. I, um, tripped and fell in a puddle.”
She laughs. Cindy is in her mid-fifties, round and friendly, and always smells like dogs and baby powder. She’s wearing a red, long-sleeved shirt with the shelter’s logo on it, and her thick, greying hair is pulled back in a pony tail. She has goggles on.
“Holding some of the feral cats?” I ask her.
She shows me her thick gloves. “About to try.”
“What do you need help with?” I ask.
“Can you work in the office and answer the phones? We have people calling like crazy to ask about puppies and kittens.”
I nod and walk down the hall. Marny, one of the other volunteers, gives me a quick nod and continues talking into the phone. She points to another headset. I slip it on and press buttons until I get someone on hold.
For the next hour, all I do is answer the same ten or so questions about Adoption Day. On this day, all fees are waived. If you want a cat or dog, you just have to pay for spaying or neutering.
Adoption Day is big around here.
“How’s Minnie?” Marny whispers between calls, handing me a bottled water.
I shake my head and try to drink at the same time. Water dribbles down the front of my shirt. I snort, then inhale some, which makes me cough.
The coughs set off a round of barking from some of the older dogs in the back cages.
It’s that kind of day.
Who am I kidding? It’s been that kind of day since I woke up in Mark’s bed.
And then in walks a new customer.
The last two people on earth I want to see.
Chapter Fifteen
“Carrie, my dear! How are you?” Dean Landau says from behind the plexiglass. I’m on the other side, at the desk, my headset on, water covering the front of my shirt. Even behind the glass, I feel a massive jerk of terror. My blood rushes to my hands and feet like it’s trying to escape.
I force myself to smile at him.
Claudia gives me a look of such disdainful condescension I want to shatter the glass and punch her with a chew toy.
“I’m fine,” I gasp, still struggling to breathe through my coughing.
“I didn’t know you worked here. Side job?” he asks, gracing Marny with a dazzling, charming smile.
I feel her melt a little. No, really. There’s a puddle of Marny next to me, all gooey and sweetened by the dean’s attentions. If I didn’t know the truth about him, I’d be gazing adoringly at him, too.
“No. I volunteer.”
His face morphs into something deeply solemn. “Oh, my goodness. What a wonderful example you are to young women everywhere.” The dean gives Claudia a sharp look. “Some people could learn from you.”
Claudia pretends not to hear him.
“How can I help you?” Marny asks, jumping up and smoothing her t-shirt.
“We’re here to see the pit bulls,” he answers with a disarming smile.
Even Marny freezes at that. Pit bulls are the hard dogs to have at a no-kill shelter. Everyone thinks they’re killing machines. Most of them are sweet dogs. The ones who end up here, though, are often dumped on us by owners who train them to attack and then are surprised when they do attack, and hurt someone.
Then the owners are told by their landlords they have to get rid of the dogs.
Marny’s smile widens. “Oh, how wonderful! What a sweet man you are.”
I hold back a choking cough. “Sweet man” and “sex slave trafficker” don’t exactly go together in my book.
The dean gives her an impatient smile. He turns to me. “Carrie, will you show me your pit bulls? I’d like to pick one out to take home and adopt.”
Now, if the dean really is a drug lord or a sex slave trafficker or just generally an evil, evil man, the last place I’d expect him is at Adoption Day at the no-kill shelter.
Plus, it’s not like he needs the discount on the adoption fees. I’ve grown up with Claudia in my classes most of my life. They’re well off.
My hinky meter was already on because of Mark’s warning, but now it’s blaring.
“I want a goldendoodle,” Claudia sniffs, clearly disappointed.
“You chose the last dog,” the dean says with a low chuckle. “It’s my turn.”
“Why not adopt both?” Marny chirps.
Claudia gives her such a vicious look of rage that I think I can taste Marny’s sudden tears. “Why don’t you do your job and quit interfering in our conversation,” Claudia says with a snarl.
Marny turns away and picks up her headset, pressing the mute button and pretending she’s answering phones. I know she’s really struggling not to cry. People who volunteer in animal shelters are generally super sensitive, sweet, warm people who have big hearts. We’re not accustomed to being treated like that.
I open my mouth to say something back to The Claw, but the dean beats me to it. He pulls on Claudia’s arm and yanks her to the side. As I walk out of the receptionist’s box I give Marny a side hug.
By the time I come around to the other side of the glass case, Claudia’s gone.
“Shall we?” the dean says. “I’ll follow you.”
Every hair on my body is standing on end. I walk down the hallway. All eyes fall on us. I know the people waiting to look at animals are really looking at Dean Landau. He cuts an impressive figure. He’s wearing a suit, jacket still buttoned. I smell his aftershave, even though he’s behind me.
He trailing me that close.
I grab some keys off the wall rack and go to the back cages. The scent of pee and bleach hits us hard as we go out to the small enclosure where the dogs can wander outside in their half-inside, half-outside cages.
Three pit bulls sit on their dog beds, jaws on their paws, looking decidedly non-threatening. One is all-white with a black nose and the other two are ginger and white.
One of the ginger dogs rises as if standing at attention.
The dean smiles. “He knows his boss when he sees him,” he says, giving me a wink.
My stomach roils.
“I’ll take him,” the dean says without another second’s hesitation. “Send him to my house.” He pulls out a stack of cash bound by an expensive-looking mo
ney clip and peels three one hundred dollar bills off.
“Uh,” is all I can say. I’m dumbfounded as the dean’s fingers brush against mine. The acrid scent of money fills my nose.
“Is that enough? I don’t want him clipped.”
“Clipped?” The pit bull doesn’t need to be groomed. What does he mean?
“I want his testicles to remain,” Dean Landau explains. With his light accent, the word sounds melodic, like he’s talking about something other than a pair of dog’s balls.
“Ah,” I choke out.
“He needs to be aggressive. A good guard dog.” The dean’s eyes brighten and his smile widens. No one else can see his face but me and the dogs. As he grins, his eyes turn into two black pools of nothing but mesmerizing focus.
I feel like he’s eating my soul with those eyes.
Bzzzzzzz.
My phone makes my ass vibrate and I leap into the air, scared by the sensation. When my foot lands, it falls on its side. A long line of pain shoots up from my ankle. I make a sound of surprise.
Dean Landau’s hands are on my elbows in a flash, holding me up. I cringe. Something about him freaks me right the fuck out.
And you know I’m unhinged when I start cursing.
“Yes,” I say. “I mean, no. No. Three hundred dollars is too much.” I step back, out of his range, and he lets go of my elbows.
“Then consider whatever is too much to be a donation to this worthy cause.” He stands there, unsmiling, his eyes still on me.
I stop breathing.
“You seem...upset,” he continues.
I just stare at him.
“Is this about your missing friend?”
The world locks. Nothing moves. I am immobile.
“Carrie, I’m so sorry about your friend,” he says. “I do have to say, though, that you were invited to take the job because so many professors and staff members found you to be a responsible person. The alumni interviewer strongly encouraged me to hire you. Yesterday you had some sort of problem in the office with a professor and disappeared.”
What? How did he know that? Why is he talking about this? It occurs to me that he came to the animal shelter today because he knew I’d be here.
He frowns. “I need to know that you are committed to the job. Your father’s past transgressions don’t have to affect you. I want to make certain you understand there is a blank slate where I am concerned.”
Whoa.
My blood begins to boil. How dare he bring up my dad. How dare he patronize me. I’ll take a thousand condescending looks from Claudia over one more second of this smug asshole looking at me like he’s forgiving me for missing the rest of yesterday at work.
As if it’s not his fault.
“Thank you,” I say in a tight voice. I know the drill. I know how this works. I have to pretend. Knowing what I know now about Mark, it’s even more important that I pretend. Mark is getting closer to bringing the dean in. Closer to finding out how he’s smuggling all these women across the border.
Closer to finding Amy and getting her back whole and alive.
I can’t jeopardize that. All I want to do is to scream in the dean’s face, but I can’t.
“You’re welcome. You’ve only been home for a week, and I’m sure once you’re back in the office, you can get on your feet and master the job.”
As if we’re talking about the job.
“Did you find the right beast?” snaps a woman’s voice. I turn.
The Claw. I take a good look at her.
She’s dressed in five-inch stilettos, a long leather coat that must be sweltering in this heat, and wears more makeup than a clown at a cheap traveling carnival.
“I did. A fine dog named...” The dean peers at me, narrowing his eyes. “What is his name?”
I look at the card next to the cage latch. The dog wandered outside. I can’t see him now. He has no idea he’s about to get his forever home.
“Wizard,” I say, reading the card. “He’s seven years old, and—”
Claudia snorts. “Papa, you picked him on purpose, didn’t you?”
The dean laughs. It’s the most genuine sound I think I’ve ever heard from him. “No, Claudia. I did not pick him on purpose. I took one look at the three dogs and he was the best.”
“What’s so funny?” I ask as they both chuckle.
Claudia’s smile fades as she looks at me and gives me a nasty smirk.
“Wizard. It’s Papa’s nickname.”
“What a coincidence,” I murmur.
The dean waves his hand. “Life is nothing but a series of random incidents we cannot even begin to understand. And there are always patterns deeper than we can see.”
Oh, you can tell he is a professor. All that blah blah blah. My body is tingling with danger and all I want to do is to get away from these two people. Funny how I’m in a cage with three pit bulls inches away and more than twenty other not-so-safe dogs, but the beings I fear most are right here, standing tall on two legs.
I trust the dogs more than the people.
“Can we go? I need to get to the spa for my threading session,” Claudia whines.
The dean doesn’t answer. Just looks at me and blinks. “You’ll take care of the adoption of the pit bull?”
“I’ll make sure Wizard ends up exactly where he belongs,” I assure him.
And with that, they leave.
My head starts spinning again.
Chapter Sixteen
By the time Adoption Day is over, twenty-three dogs and thirty-seven cats have been placed. It’s a banner day and we volunteers are exhausted.
“How does she do it?” Cindy moans, sitting at Minnie’s desk, the entire surface covered with paperwork. “I’ll never process everything and get it organized just right.”
I pat her on the back. “Just do your best.”
She brightens. “At least we have sixty pets with new homes.”
“Make that fifty-nine,” Marny says. “There was a problem with one of the pit bulls. We need to keep him to get some shots before he goes home with the Landau family.” Her eyes go dreamy. “Such a lucky dog.”
“Yeah. Lucky. He gets to go to his forever home and live with a bitch,” I mutter.
“Do they have a female dog?” Cindy asks,.
“No. Just Claudia.”
Marny giggles, but her lower lip shakes a little. “She was so rude!”
“That’s how she’s always been. Even when we were little,” I explain. Cindy and Marny are both from here, but they’re older than me. Old enough to be my mother, so they don’t know what Claudia’s really like.
“Well, I don’t know where she gets it. Her father was so suave and sophisticated. Genuinely nice, too.”
I stifle a hmph.
“Looks like Wizard needs a week before he can go home,” Cindy explains to Marny, examining a file for the pit bull.
My phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Effie. All it says is:
Can Carrie come over now?
Effie doesn’t quite understand this whole texting thing.
Hi Effie, I text back. This is me. Carrie. I am at the animal shelter and smell like pets. Still want me to come over?
Within a half minute she texts back:
I am at home and smell like gin. We’re a perfect match.
I laugh out loud. Effie’s turning out to be a hoot.
“Go home, Carrie,” Cindy says as she yawns. Her words come out stretched like verbal taffy.
“I need to visit Minnie,” I say, frowning at my phone.
Cindy’s hand touches my arm. “No.” I look up, and she adds, “Minnie’s sedated right now. I just got a call from Elaine. No need to visit her. Maybe tomorrow. Hopefully, the police will have found Amy by tomorrow.”
Alive, I think. But I don’t say it.
I give Cindy and Marny hugs and walk out into the fresh air. It’s dusk, and the cooler nearly-nighttime air feels strange against my skin. Every day feels like a year
lately.
And I still have to go visit Effie.
* * *
She lives about ten minutes away, in a tiny ranch house. It is neat as a pin, with lace curtains, lace doilies on every seat, on the armrests of the chairs and couch, and on the backs of all the furniture where heads might rest.
It looks like a lace monster vomited in her house.
“My mother was Belgian,” she explains as she ushers me in. There’s a tea set and a bunch of cookies, cheese, and crackers on a tray on the coffee table. At the sight of the food, my stomach growls.
She gives me a quick hug, then sniffs the air. “You weren’t kidding. You smell like a muddy barn animal.”
I playfully sniff the air, too. “And you smell like a distillery.”
That makes her howl with laughter. The joke isn’t that good. She’s been drinking. A lot.
Ten minutes later my stomach is full, I’m drinking spiked coffee, and the world feels like someone’s turned it just enough that I get to feel some relief. My chest relaxes. I’m filthy from Mark’s tackle this morning. I smell like wet dog. I am shaking on the inside from my weird encounters with Eric, Claudia and Dean Landau.
And yet this short time with Effie and I feel restored.
“Carrie, I didn’t invite you over to feed you cheese and talk about doggies,” she says, reaching down in the crack between her chair and an end table. She pulls out a small folder and hands it to me.
Blueprints.
“What are these blueprints for?”
“The campus. Look at how it’s all structured.”
Why is she giving me blueprints? I’m not an architect. I couldn’t read a blueprint to save my life. It’s just straight lines and scribbles.
Bzzzzz.
“Your ass is ringing,” she says dryly.
I giggle and grab my phone.
Where are you? Mark’s text reads.
At Effie’s house, I type back.
Effie Cummings? The police chief’s mom? he writes back.
Yes, I type.
K is his entire reply.
“Was that Mark?” Effie asks, a coy tone in her voice.
“Yes.”
“Elaine says you two are together.”
“Elaine just found out...” I look at the clock. “She found out about ten hours ago!”