Sheltered Hearts (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 2)

by Mary Crawford

  I nod as I reply, “Actually, I think I have some good news on that front too. But it’s going to take some legwork to track it down. There is a piece of leather that I believe belongs on a training harness. I trained another dog that had a harness from the same company. It’s a custom harness maker out of Ohio. The family is Amish. The parents don’t use a computer, but the son does. It’s kind of hit or miss whether you can reach them.”

  A pained look crosses Darya’s face. “It’s just my luck that you give me something to run down when all the cadets are studying for the big state qualifying exam,” she complains.

  I smile again as I respond, “Just wait, I didn’t even tell you the rest of my news—”

  Darya raises a skeptical eyebrow in my direction as she asks, “There’s more?”

  “So much more,” I declare. I pull out a chair from her desk and turn it backwards. “Do you mind?” I ask.

  She gestures toward the chair and says, “No, by all means, help yourself.”

  I set my briefcase on her desk and throw my leg over the chair, straddling it backwards.

  Darya covers her mouth as she snorts with laughter. “You do realize that you sat on that chair just like my fourteen-year-old brother, right?”

  I shrug as I answer, “I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it, I guess it must be a guy thing.”

  I grab my legal pad from a briefcase and look at Darya as I ask, “Are you good and anchored in your chair? This is going to totally blow you away—”

  “Okay, okay, enough buildup. I just want to get to the punchline. What’s the big announcement? Does it have to do with this case — or your personal life—what’s the big deal?” Darya challenges.

  “It most definitely has to do with this case. Although, if you don’t believe in fate now, you’re really going to believe in it after this story. There’s no other way to explain all of the things that occur in this case. You absolutely, positively have to believe that a higher power of some sort is involved in this dog’s life or our lives to make sure that everyone involved in this case intersect in some way or another. To believe otherwise would totally boggle the mind.”

  “Mitch, do I need to ask if you’re under the influence of something?” Darya asks pointedly.

  “Geez Louise! Darya, you know I work for the school district and I’m randomly drug tested. Besides, I work for you guys when I go on a search. I could be called out at any minute of any day. I’m not using anything. Even when I drink a beer, it’s largely ceremonial just so I can say I have some in the fridge. I don’t want my senses to be dull in case I get called out on a disaster. How could you even almost think that I would use any substance?” I protest.

  “Can you blame me?” Darya argues. “You’re not making any sense at all.”

  “That’s because this whole situation is so full of coincidences, it’s like some weird classic soap opera history. They would’ve written a radio drama about this or something like one of those mysteries, I don’t know.”

  “What are you talking about?” Darya pushes with a confused expression.

  “Bear with me here, it gets a little complicated. A while back, a radio station morning show challenged a bunch of rescue workers to join a wacky new dating website called BrainsRSexy.com to raise money for charity. Since I was trying to raise money for the shelter, I gladly did it. I thought, ‘What harm could it do?’ I was single at the time, so I didn’t think there would be any fallout from it so I filled out their stupid questionnaire and put a profile online. I thought that would be the end of it. Well, I was going to school at that time and my roommates got wind of what I was doing and may have started answering posts on my behalf so, I figured I should start checking my email before they did because I didn’t want them to get me into trouble with any of these ladies. Soon I found myself sucked into conversations with some of the women on the site. A lot of them were really nice and I started corresponding with this girl named Rogue. One day she seemed to undergo a personality change, but she looked the same. It was really bizarre. To make a long story short, it turned out that Rogue and Ivy were twins and they didn’t know it.”

  Darya looks spellbound by the story as she slowly sips her coffee and mouths the word, “Wow!”

  I acknowledge her and continue with the conversation, “One of the people who helped them figure it out is this guy named Tristan Macklin. He runs a company called Identity Bank. I guess that he is really well plugged in with all sorts of contacts within the law enforcement community.”

  “I’m aware; his class on anti-skimming devices and spotting credit card fraud is worth its weight in gold. I got to go to one about two years ago over in Charleston at a national LEO conference; for someone so young, he is certainly impressive.”

  I lean back in my chair and let out a deep breath. Okay, I get it. The guy is the greatest thing since Sherlock Holmes and amazing. Everybody seems to have a massive case of hero-worship when they talk about him. I remember some of the messages that I used to get from Ivy. She would talk about the dude in the same reverent tones. He must be pretty incredible — her sister fell in love with him. “That’s what I’ve heard, I’ve never actually met him, I’ve just heard about him. Anyway, I guess Tristan and the girls joined forces and worked together to track down the twins’ biological dad who had been absent from their life basically from the time they were born. If I gave you a hundred guesses who he was, I don’t think you would be able to.”

  “Is this somehow germane to the case? Or did you just come to tell me stories over my lunch hour?” Darya asks me.

  I smile as a random thought occurs to me. Apparently, hanging out with Jessica has already managed to affect me. Telling this story is starting to take far too long — I guess I’ve taken a cue from Jessica and added a flair for the dramatic.

  “Mitch Chambers! What are you smiling about now? Does this story have a point?”

  “I’m smiling because someone I know recently accused me of not having any appreciation for the drama of the story or the story arc, and I’m thinking that I’ve added plenty of drama to this story. What I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve brought you an offer of outside help — probably some of the best outside help you could find and it’s not going to cost you a single dime. They’ve donated their services for free because it’s for Hope,” I explain.

  “Who has donated their help?” Darya clarifies.

  “Tristan Macklin and Isaac Roguen,” I answer with a rather smug grin.

  “The Isaac Roguen? The one we study in the Police Academy?” Darya asks with astonishment in her voice.

  “One and the same,” I announce, unable to keep a straight face. “We’re going to catch ourselves some dog-nappers.”

  Darya sighs and tries again, “Are you sure you won’t marry me?”

  “Yes, my friend, I’m sure. I’ve met a little sprite with hair the color of a wild summer sunset who’s stolen a piece of my heart.”

  “IVY, I THOUGHT YOU HAD TO get ready for your big art show?” I ask as we enter Ink’d Deep, her fiancé, Marcus’s tattoo shop.

  “Normally, I would, but Marcus ordered me to back slowly away from all of my pieces because I was having a really bad case of ‘fiddle-itis’. He assures me that they’re perfect the way they are and I just need to accept that I’m a genius. Since I’m completely exhausted and I need a manicure — like, yesterday — I’m going to take his word for it. He said that he wants to add a little something to my tat because I got second place in the senior art show, even though I’m only a junior. Do you mind waiting a few minutes before we have our little spa date?”

  I shake my head, as I respond, “No, that’s all right. I’ve got some lines I need to memorize for my senior production. I can’t believe I’m about to get my act together and graduate. I think I should send that guy from the Registrar’s Office some chocolates or something. He helped me track down all my transcripts from three different community colleges and that funky arts school in New York w
ho changed their name four times. It was crazy trying to cobble together a graduation path. I didn’t think it was all going to come together because every school wanted me to take something different to get to the same degree — but I finally have enough credits to graduate. I really thought I was going to be in school forever.”

  Ivy sighs as she commiserates, “I know what you mean, changing my major from Accounting to Art set me back a year and a half, but I’m so much happier now. I love going to school here with Rogue, even though the move from Tampa was hard.”

  I stick my tongue out at her as I tease, “I know you do, but you don’t have to rub it in so much. I miss having you as my roommate. Nobody whips up chocolate cake for me in the middle of the night any more. If I want to cook, I have to do it myself. It’s a real bummer.”

  Ivy looks a little sad as she replies, “I know. Losing you was the only downside of my new, happy life. I wish I could have both things. It looks like Marc is ready for me now. Do you want to wait in the front of the shop or the back?” she asks me.

  “I need to study, so I’ll wait in the back. There’ll probably be less distractions back there,” I reason. I grab my backpack and go through the privacy curtain to the back.

  When Jade sees me, she says, “Hey, Red, what’s up?”

  I examine her as I respond, “Hey — well, I’m not exactly sure what color to call that — so I’ll stick with Jade.”

  Jade grimaces slightly as she puts her hand on her hair and says, “It’s something, isn’t it? I call it ‘Don’t take a gamble on a person who’s struggling at beauty school hair’. I think I’ll go back to my usual black after this.”

  “Oh… that explains so much,” I declare sympathetically. “What are you going to do?”

  She shrugs philosophically and replies, “I’ll wait for it to grow out, chop it off and start over again.”

  “You are way more laid-back about this than I would ever be. If that ever happened to me, I think I’d be comatose for a month. It has taken me so long to grow this out. I don’t have the lovely hair genes that Ivy and Rogue have. I’ve fought for every inch of this,” I answer as I take my hair down from the beret I have it tucked under.

  “Wow! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, but it’s grown a lot,” Jade compliments.

  “Thanks. Mama Rosa turned me onto some natural remedies and essential oils and stuff to make my scalp healthier. I don’t know if any of that stuff really works or just makes me feel better about myself, but my hair feels healthier and it seems to be growing faster — either way, I’ll take it.”

  “So, why aren’t you hanging out with the twins?” Jade asks, as she blows on the Hot Pocket she’s just pulled out of the microwave.

  “I’m not even sure where Rogue is and Ivy is doing something unbearably romantic with Marcus right now. It makes me feel intrusive, so I’m hiding from all the mushy stuff in the back room.”

  Jade rolls her eyes. “I so feel you. It’s like some weird episode of a dating reality show around here. I feel like the weird contestant who can’t get a date. Do you want to kill some time and get a tattoo? I could draw something up for you real quick,” she offers.

  For a second, my heart feels like it just stopped in my chest. I actually have to consciously remind myself to take a breath. Jade has absolutely no idea she’s just granted one of my most private secret wishes. As the granddaughter of a preacher, the idea of getting a tattoo was so forbidden that I didn’t even dare bring it up as a topic of conversation. Still, I used to go to the library and hide in the reserve room and look at photography books about body art and just admire the beauty. I almost got a tattoo when I lived in New York, but I didn’t want to face the idea of letting my grandparents down after they had done so much for me. Until this very moment, the idea of getting a tattoo was just something like a theoretical and ethereal idea that just flitted around in my head that was never obtainable or within my grasp. I have studied her portfolio in person and online many, many times. Her work is phenomenal. It’s been featured in magazines and even on a television show — you know one of those ‘cover my bad tattoo’ shows. This guy had fallen asleep at a party and his friends had tattooed obscene words all over his hands and forearms. Jade was able to tattoo an amazing natural forest scene. It looked so much like a photograph and you couldn’t even tell that anything had ever been on his arms before, let alone filthy, disgusting words that should never be uttered out loud.

  I chew on my bottom lip for a couple of seconds before I summon up the courage to answer, “I’d really love to but—”

  Jade crosses her arms and looks at me as she responds, “You know, some people actually consider me to be pretty decent at this—”

  My jaw drops open in shock. This is my worst nightmare. “Oh geez, it’s not that at all, Jade. It’s the whole way I was raised and whether I’m willing to disappoint my grandparents by turning my back on a whole lifetime of what I was taught just so that I can have something on my skin that looks pretty. I just don’t know how I feel about that. My traditions and the way I was taught mean the world to me. My grandpa is a preacher; I was taught my whole life that tattoos are wrong. Yet, I’ve been drawn to them since I was about nine. I feel really conflicted about all of this. I personally would love for you to give me a tattoo. There isn’t anything I’d love more — really if I’m honest. But, here’s the deal: it goes against everything I was taught. So, I have to sort out the puzzle in my head and I don’t know that I can do that today.”

  “Someday, when I’m not at work, you and I can have a really long conversation about who people think we are and who we think we should be versus who we need to be to make our souls happy. That’s really too heavy a conversation to have here at work. Suffice it to say, something happened in my life that made me realize that life is too flippin’ short to live it to make other people happy. If you’re not happy with who you are as a person, none of the rest makes any sense at all,” Jade answers philosophically.

  Much to my shock, Jade looks a little shaken and emotional. The guys in the shop call her ‘The Rock’ because absolutely nothing shakes her, so for her to show this side of herself is a little bit unusual.

  Suddenly, I hear a shriek from the other room. I’ve lived with Ivy long enough to know that it’s atypical and I run in her direction. Much to my surprise, she’s actually grinning from ear to ear. She’s frantically waving a piece of paper in front of me. Finally, I grab her wrist and hold it steady so I can see what the paper says.

  This motion seems to snap her out of her happy-haze and she takes a deep breath as she shows me the piece of paper. I haven’t had a whole lot of time to get to know Marcus during our short visits. They’ve mostly been best-friends-night-out-on-the-town type of deal. From the expression on Ivy’s face, he seems to have the romance thing down flat. The piece of paper that she hands me appears to be the stencil of her tattoo that Marcus is adding.

  “Look!” she exclaims excitedly, practically hopping up and down on one foot as she hangs onto my arm.

  “I’m trying to — but you’re making it awfully hard for me to read this,” I tease.

  I examine the paper a little more closely and I notice that there is a date on it for this coming Thanksgiving with two interlocking rings and a question mark.

  She turns around and shows me the design as he stenciled it on her shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out why he wanted me to look at the stencil. He never works from a stencil. He always free-hands all my designs. It didn’t make any sense for him to change all of a sudden, but he was really insistent that I look at his design.”

  My complete bafflement must be spelled out on my face because Ivy quickly clarifies, “Don’t you see? Marcus finally set a date. I’m really going to get married!”

  Ivy envelops me in an exuberant hug. I return the hug and reply, “Congratulations! He’s a really great guy. I’m excited for you.”

  Ivy spins around in an excited circle as she says, “You know what this
means, right?”

  “I hesitate to ask,” I comment with trepidation. “I’m not sure I really want to know.”

  “You’re so silly!” Ivy chastises lightly, “It just means my mom gets to take us dress shopping.”

  I roll my eyes as I respond, “Yeah, that’s kinda what I’m afraid of, I’m going to look really silly up there in the land of giants.”

  “Come on, Jessie, you have to be in my wedding party. You’re the only person who knows how to dance. Otherwise, my wedding reception will be an epic failure.”

  Marcus calls her from over his side of the shop, “I hate to break up your celebration, Ivy Love, but if you guys are going to make your appointment, I need to get going on this tat.”

  Ivy gives me one last hug before she skips off to join Marcus. I slowly walk over to my spot on the couch in the back room.

  “That was exciting,” comments Jade as she wipes down the lunch table.

  “Yeah, one more wedding to go to where everyone asks me why I’m still single and tries to fix me up with their cousin’s brother’s best friend who is the hottest catch around. I can’t tell you how many awkward, ugly bridesmaid dresses I have in my closet — no matter what they tell you, you can never, ever wear them again,” I lament.

  Jade grins at me as she responds, “Sure you can. I slash mine up with a razor blade, put fake blood on them and wear them as zombie bride outfits. They work spectacularly well as costumes. The added perk is that it’s an amazingly cathartic activity. The next time I have a dress slashing party, I’ll invite you over.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” I respond as I rub my temples. I feel guilty that I’m not more excited about Ivy’s wedding. But I feel like we’ve started traveling in different worlds. She’s got this psychic bond thing with her twin sister. It is something that I’ll never have with her — I mean, they can communicate without talking. It’s like she has to struggle to fit me into her life now. We don’t even go to the same school or have the same interests anymore. When I hang out with her, it’s just awkward; I feel like I’m the quintessential third wheel. It’s not anybody’s fault, really. It’s just the reality of it all. So, I don’t know how to fix it without hurting somebody.