by Susan Union
“I’m not sure where your mother is. Let me check.”
He put down the phone and Randi was stuck with the silence of his weakness. Strange, because her father was the strongest man she’d ever known. When it came to morals, knowledge and common sense, he had no equal, but his biggest vulnerability was actually not the bottle; it was the woman whose name he was calling down the empty hall.
Randi vowed she’d never have a marriage like her parents’. No relationship at all was better than their special brand of sickness.
Outside the tent, people and dogs streamed toward the grandstand. She watched them with unfocused eyes. After taking longer than he should have, her dad came back on the line. “Your mother must have stepped out.”
“No note?” She slumped against one of the poles holding up the tent.
“Didn’t see one.”
“Can you call her?”
“Her phone’s been dead since she got here. No charger.”
“Of course not. Her charger’s here; in my bathroom.”
“I’ve been meaning to run her into town to get a replacement, but…”
“But what?”
“I don’t know.” A sheepish tone crept into his voice. “We’ve been busy.”
“Oh…yuck. Okay.” No matter how old you were, picturing your parents going at it wasn’t pleasant. “Check her roo-. I mean, look around. Is her suitcase there?”
The bedsprings squeaked as her father shifted. He breathed hard for a second; nothing after that.
His silence could only mean one thing. “Dad, she’s run off again, hasn’t she.”
“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The fairground’s loudspeakers crackled. The information coming through them sounded Greek to Randi and went on far too long. She pushed the volume on her cell all the way up in case her dad called with news of her mother. She and her father were in a race. First one to find Lee Ann Sterling got the prize—like it or not.
Picking up the slack in Shane’s leash, she left the pop-up tent. The grandstand was full to capacity. The benches were as packed as the first day of the agility trial for Gina’s fateful run with Zoom. Apparently everybody was curious to watch Steve Copeland run Gina’s world-class lightning fast dog. Would Zoom perform like he had with Gina, as seamless and smooth as if they were of one mind? Or would the imposter’s cues confuse him, slow him down and send him off track? Today would tell, and perhaps determine Zoom’s future too.
At the base of the stands Randi shielded her eyes, scanning the rows for Luke and Dusty. She found them seated near the top corner. Dusty, with a black baseball cap perched above her spare “Elton John” sunglasses, his In-N-Out Burger bag on his lap.
Okay, maybe the glasses were ridiculously big, but they served the purpose of hiding his face and making him almost unrecognizable. As soon as she put a foot on the first stair a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She whirled with a gasp.
Andrew lifted a red Solo cup in salute. “Hey there.”
Whoever said vodka didn’t smell lied.
“Hi.” She went up one stair to block Andrew’s view of Dusty. Vibrations in the aluminum risers sent earthquake-like tremors beneath her feet. Andrew didn’t expect his son to be here, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Something told her Dusty had a good reason for avoiding his parents, one he claimed he wanted to share. .Randi fully planned on being on the receiving end.
Andrew craned his neck, searching the grandstand. “You seen Valerie?”
“No. Why? You guys getting ready to head out?”
“Not yet. We told Copeland if he hung back for a day or two after the trial was over, we’d consider letting him have Zoom. Sign the papers and make it legal.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“He fell for it?”
Andrew’s lips twisted. “Of course.”
“But you don’t plan on following through.”
“My goal is to keep the bastard around until the cops nail him for killing my sister. Then I’ll get the dog back.”
“And if the cops don’t nail him?”
Andrew slurped his drink and grimaced. “I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
Randi didn’t doubt him for a second. She dared a glance toward the top of the stands. Dusty had shifted sideways and positioned himself so a broad-shouldered woman sitting next to him would be in the way of Andrew’s view if he looked up again. Smart move.
From where Randi stood, snippets of conversation trickled among the spectators, momentarily distracting her. A voice from someone sitting nearby: “That’s where I went wrong at the Nationals. I didn’t cross behind my dog.”
“I pulled Reba off the second jump by mistake. She was going to do it, too, ’til dummy me got in the way.”
A snort of disgust, then a guy said, “It took Blitz so long to come out of the tunnel I thought he took a dump.” A round of laughter followed until the chatter came to an abrupt halt. Randi started to say good-bye to Andrew when voices rose from the crowd. Steve Copeland and Zoom had arrived at the in-gate. All eyes lasered in on Copeland with Gina’s dog.
“So Valerie’s coming to watch?”
Andrew took another drink. “She was supposed to meet me here. Now I gotta go find her.” He made no move to leave.
Willing him to go wasn’t working either. “Okay. Well, tell her hello.” Another step up. Shane tugged at the leash, pulling her toward Luke and the guy with the dog biscuits in his pockets.
Andrew grumbled something into his cup, drained the rest and tapped the bottom. Good to the very last drop.
When she was sure he’d gone, she set her sights on Luke and Dusty. Shane led the way, climbing the slick metal stairs like a pro. At the top, Dusty and Luke slid opposite ways to make space for her. She kinda liked having them as bookends, though closer inspection proved the cap Luke had chosen to lend to Dusty was Barbra’s Ridgemark hat. Grrrrr.
A mother with three squirming children sat on the other side of Luke. The smallest one played on mom’s lap, an older girl bounced up and down on the bench and a red-faced boy ran in place on the metal strip below his feet. He didn’t appear to be having a tantrum, it seemed he just wanted to hear himself sound like a stampeding elephant because he stopped about every five seconds before starting up again, beaming from ear to ear.
Dusty made the kind of face a twenty-something male would make when stuck in the vicinity of small, noisy crumb-pickers. “My dad see me? We couldn’t have picked a more obvious place to sit.”
“I don’t think so. It might feel like you’re sticking out, but there’s actually a lot of commotion everywhere.”
“Hidden in plain sight?”
“Exactly.”
The mom bent over a backpack, rummaged around and pulled out three bags of caramel corn, thus saving everybody’s sanity. Randi took advantage of the respite to let her gaze roam the grandstand. Theresa was seated halfway down, next to Caroline. They appeared to be reading something together. No sign of their dogs. Theresa broke away for a second with a quick tilt of the head. Had she brought her flask along today too? To spice things up like she had at Gina’s memorial?
Randi kept on scanning and caught sight of the French bulldog Pierre and his owner, Earl. Dainsworth sat on the next row down, a little to the right. He must have sensed her eyes boring a hole in his back, or maybe it was his psychic powers that caused him to turn around and meet her gaze. He didn’t smile, nor did he turn away. Just stared, poker-faced. She glanced the opposite direction and when she looked back, he was still staring. Creepy.
Luke took notice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I know you, Randi. You can’t hide stuff from me. Give it up.”
She knew he wouldn’t quit. “Dylan Dainsworth, my mother’s dog psychic. He’s a strange cookie. That’s all.”
Luke pulled his shoulders back and lifted his chin. “Where
is he?”
She jumped subjects by nodding toward the arena. “What’s Copeland doing down there?”
Luke redirected his attention. “Milling around. Looks like he’s going to keep us waiting. Fitting, he seems to think he’s a rock star, but it’s okay because I want you to hear what Dusty told me while you were on the phone.” He leaned forward. “Can you repeat it for Randi?”
“Sure.” Dusty scooted forward. “Like I was telling Luke, I don’t know if y’all get out to many clubs, or what your taste or lifestyle lends itself to out here, but in OKC we get all types of folks.”
“Really?” Randi was surprised. She imagined Oklahoma to be a homogenous place. A stereotype of corn-fed beef boys and their like-minded women.
“Our dance club’s called ‘Thor’s.’ A big light-up panel above the main doors has Thor holding a neon hammer. We’re in the heart of the hotel district, so we get a ton of people through. Business people on the weekdays and locals on the weekends.”
She crossed her legs. What did this have to do with Gina? “Go on.”
“These people, especially the out-of-towners, they like to have a good time when they’re away from home.”
“You mean, what happens in OKC stays in OKC?”
Dusty laughed.
Luke hooked his fingers around his knee. Not amused.
Dusty lowered his voice, sounding much older than twenty-two. “When customers come into my place and they want something, it’s my job to take care of all their needs.”
Randi put a hand to her mouth and sucked in a breath. “You’re a pimp?”
“Good grief, no.” He shook his head. “I’m talking about product. Things to make you feel good. Relax, loosen you up.”
“Oh.” Her hand fell away. “I get it. You’re a drug dealer.” Not passing judgment, just calling it as she saw it.
“No, ma’am. I’m not a dealer. Never happen. The only thing I supply is a number. Don’t mean I like it, but if I don’t take care of things, the competition will. People will buy their drinks at the next bar down instead of mine. Like I said, if they ask me about availability, I hand them a slip of paper with a number on it. After that it’s up to them. They can call him or not call him. No difference to me. I don’t take a cut. I stay as far removed from the whole business as I can.”
“Who is him?”
Dusty pulled the brim of Barbra’s cap down. “Doesn’t matter.”
“All right. No names. Why bring it up then?”
“He came to me. Couple weeks back. Said there was an unusual amount of activity, a big order he thought I should know about.”
“For what?” Randi asked. “Coke? Pot? X?”
The mother of the three children scowled at her.
“G,” he said.
Randi switched to a whisper. This was a family event, after all. “G? What’s that?”
“It makes you feel free. Relaxes inhibitions. People like to take it before they hit the dance floor.”
Luke snorted. “What a crock. GHB is a date rape drug.”
“People take it to get high,” Dusty countered.
“Yeah, high and then raped. Or in your aunt’s case—dead.”
Randi shot him a glare. She needed Dusty to keep talking and not be scared off by Luke playing Papa Bear. “Why was the activity unusual?”
“Somebody ordered way more than enough to get high on. I didn’t think much of it, thought maybe the buyer was planning on dealing a bit to recoup, but trafficking over state lines is a whole new ball game.”
“I still don’t see what it has to do with Gina.”
“My source told me the person who placed the order requested the stuff be shipped to a P.O. Box in San Diego.”
“Why would your source tell you that?”
“If the guy was looking for his own action, my guy needs a part. That’s the way we do things. It ain’t a franchise operation.”
Wise Guys of Oklahoma City? “So, the buyer is out here yet knows your guy can get it, so they contact him in Oklahoma instead of having it traced to a local source?”
“Right.”
“Sounds like a lot of trouble to go through.” Randi brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. There was still no sign of Andrew and Valerie. “Is it possible to die from this date- rape drug?” She thought about what Joe had said in the Sheriff’s station. “Or a date-rape drug mixed with alcohol? Can you kill someone like that?”
Dusty shrugged. “Sure. The right mixture. The right amount. You have to know what you’re doing, but if you take too much of almost any drug, or in a bad combo, it can kill ya. Even alcohol, especially if you aren’t very healthy to begin with.”
“But Gina was in great shape, right?”
“Other than her heart condition, yeah. Mild by itself. Not so mild if additional factors pushed it that way.”
“What heart condition?”
“A murmur. She was born with it.”
“Who knew about her heart, besides you?”
“I’m not sure, but she wasn’t ashamed of it or nothin’. Like I said, it was mild. Anyway, there was something my guy mentioned that struck me as weird. He said the man making the order had a Rasta voice, like he was Jamaican or something.”
Randi looked at Luke. They had to be thinking the same thing. From her pocket, her cell phone blasted. She didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway, mashing her knuckle against her ear. “Hello?”
“Miranda?”
“Mom? Whose phone is this? Where are you?”
“I borrowed it. I’m at the airport. Stop whatever you’re doing right now and come and get me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Randi accelerated up the ramp for I-5 South and joined the traffic already flowing with steady purpose. She picked a spot in the number three lane and stayed there. She should’ve been thrilled; at the very least, relieved to be making this drive. It was what she wanted—her mother to come back safe, brimming with apology, followed by a tale of adventure she’d tie up neatly with a pretty red bow. Instead, at the thought of their reunion, Randi’s jaw tightened, like she was heading to the dentist for a root canal.
After all this torment, her mother might not explain a damn thing, and it was possible they wouldn’t be any closer to understanding each other than they were five days ago when her re-invented, dog-crazy mother stepped off the airplane. Then there was tomorrow, when she had to take her mother in for questioning. Her mother wasn’t guilty, but she was flighty and unstable. Traits that could tip the scales away from one’s favor if the cops misconstrued her quirkiness as guilt, and there was always the possibility telling her mother to play it cool at the station might backfire and make the situation worse.
Shane rode shotgun, staring at the road in front of him, instead of plastering his nose to the crack in the window like he usually did. His eyes were solemn, as if he understood the gravity of the situation.
Luke had wanted to come along too, but Randi talked him into staying at the fairgrounds. Somebody needed to monitor the Zoom-Copeland-Dusty-Andrew situation, especially with the trial coming to a close. A showdown with Copeland and Andrew was brewing, and Luke, with his cool head, was the best man for handling the job, as long as he could keep Dusty hidden. Randi had a hunch Copeland was going to make a run for it and Andrew’s method of stopping him by “taking matters into his own hands,” while it might be satisfying to watch, wouldn’t solve anything.
She pushed the Ford to eighty and settled in for the ride, but when the road swung left and came around the bend at the 5/805 merge, a wall of brake lights four lanes across filled the windshield. She stomped on the brakes. Sunday gridlock. Soccer moms and Sea World tourists. Or an accident. She chewed a thumbnail. It was bad luck to curse the unfortunate souls involved in a crash, but her mother was fickle and Randi needed the traffic to clear, fast. Airports to her mother were what a cool dark bar on a hot summer night was to her father—something to be avoided at all costs.
Waiting imp
atiently behind the line of cars, she tuned the radio to a country station. Songs of others’ pain and troubles always helped her deal with hers. Shane flopped on the front seat with a sigh and curled himself into a ball, nose over tail. She grabbed his stuffed monkey off the floor and put it beside him. He laid his chin on top of the worn-out toy and closed his eyes. Something about riding in the car always made him sleepy, even when traffic crawled at three miles an hour.
Nothing she could do but drum her nails along her thigh and hope it would clear up soon. In the Colorado mountains, there was no vehicle gridlock, just a roadblock every now and again if someone hit a deer or slid into a ditch, and she always felt worse for the deer than she did for the people with a crumpled hood.
Thirteen minutes later, according to the clock on the dash, the line finally picked up steam. Randi raised the window in anticipation of windblown hair but, after only a quarter mile of decent speed, she came upon another round of red lights and flung herself against the seat with a sigh.
Her phone rang. Luke. She hit the speaker button and switched lanes. “Hey, has there been a showdown yet?”
“Nope. Dusty and I are just hanging out.”
“Where’s Copeland?”
“Still here. Talking to his admirers, soaking it up.”
“He ran the course?”
“I’ll say. You ever see those dogs dance with people on TV? That’s what it was like. I hate to admit it, but it was a spectacular run.”
“How’s Zoom?”
“Looks rung-out. He may be dehydrated. I think I’ll go check on him. I’ll tell Copeland Zoom needs his vitals checked.”
“What if he says no?”
“I’ll make up a story. AKC regs or something. Remember, I know the trial vet.”
“Oh yeah. Okay, good idea. Are Andrew and Valerie still there?”
“Haven’t seen them.”
“How’s Dusty?”
“Still in disguise.”
“Nice baseball cap.”
Luke laughed. “He likes it. Says they don’t have too many of ‘them fancy gaited things in Oklahoma.’”