by Sharon Pape
The second time she lost him when she took a calculated risk. She was following him south on Route 110 when he started changing lanes for no apparent reason. Left to right, right to left and back again, doing a slalom run around the other cars that earned him a chorus of angry horns. There was only one reason why someone who’d been driving sanely for the past twenty minutes would suddenly turn into Evel Knievel. He wanted to see if he was being tailed.
Rory stayed where she was in the left lane. On a twolane road with moderate traffic it would be too obvious if she followed his every move. But she had to be careful not to let him out of her sight. There were too many places where he could turn off, either at office buildings, diners, hotels and strip malls or onto any number of side streets. She knew that when he made his move, he’d make it without warning. She just didn’t expect him to make it from the left lane.
The traffic was moving along at a fifty-mile-an-hour clip when he cut off a pickup truck and exited onto the next side street. As it happened, there was room behind the pickup if Rory wanted to change lanes to follow the van off. She decided against it. That would have confirmed any suspicions he had about being tailed, and she would have blown her chance of finding out who was behind the dognappings, possibly forever.
Instead, she turned into the next strip mall she came to, drove through the parking lot to a side exit and started backtracking through the local streets, hoping her luck would hold long enough for her to find him again. If the place he was going to had a garage, their little game of cat and mouse was over. She’d be out the money with nothing to show for it.
She drove around for ten minutes that felt more like ten hours. She wasn’t even sure if she was in Farmingdale or Amityville. It was a run-down commercial area with cement buildings and warehouses built on the cheap, the only architectural details limited to a few windows and a door. Every street she passed without a white van was a sucker punch to her gut. But she refused to give up. If she’d given up earlier, she wouldn’t have caught up with him at that red light. She kept the pep talk going to drown out the negative thoughts that were trying to stage a mutiny.
When Rory found the white van, she could hardly believe it was the right one. It was parked out in the open for all the world to see, near the front door of one of the smaller buildings on the block. Apparently she’d convinced the deliveryman that he wasn’t being followed. There were two other cars parked beside the van. She suspected one of them belonged to the boss of the operation, who was waiting for his money. The other could belong to the delivery guy or to Debbie. Further speculation would have to wait until later. Time was of the essence if she wanted to catch them by surprise. If anyone chose to leave before she made her move, she’d be the one at a disadvantage.
She backed her car into a slot beside the others so she wouldn’t have to waste time turning around if she had to leave in a hurry. Then she picked up her cell phone and dialed Leah’s extension at police headquarters. When Leah picked up, Rory told her briefly where she was and what was about to go down. In response to Leah’s alarmed questions, Rory promised to call back later. She knew Leah would immediately contact the local precinct with a heads-up. They in turn would dispatch patrol cars to the scene. They should arrive just in time to take the thieves into custody. If she’d called the precinct herself, they would have ordered her to leave the area immediately and let them handle the arrest. That was simply unacceptable.
She rested her hand on the grip of her .45 and left the car. As she approached the building she could hear the muted barking of several dogs. The noise was welcome; it would help mask any sounds she made entering the building. Unfortunately it would also mask the sounds of her adversaries should they turn the tables on her.
The front door had probably once been glass, but was presently a metal frame with wooden boards where the glass had been, so there was no way for Rory to see what awaited her inside. She’d assumed she’d have to pick the lock, but when she tried the door, she was amazed to find it open. Someone was definitely feeling bulletproof today. She wasn’t going to need her handy-dandy lock pick after all. With a deep, steadying breath and her right hand resting on the hilt of the .45, she slipped inside.
She found herself in a small reception area that was partially walled off from the rest of the building. The only furnishings were an old metal desk and a chair with its stuffing oozing out of a seam like custard from a doughnut. This first-class setup was most likely Debbie’s domain. She didn’t appear to be on the job that day.
Two male voices were coming from somewhere beyond the partition, but their words were garbled by the howling of their contraband. Rory waited a full minute to see if she could pick out any other voices. No, two seemed to be the full complement. All right, two to one weren’t terrible odds when the element of surprise was factored in. These men had left the door unlocked, so they clearly had no idea they were about to be busted. No reason to have weapons in their hands.
As Rory stepped around the partition into the cavernous open space that made up the rest of the warehouse, she saw a half dozen dog crates arrayed against the back wall. Three of them were occupied. The two men had their backs to her. The deliveryman was looking on, while the other man knelt by an empty crate where he was working on the latch with a screwdriver. There was something about the man with the screwdriver, about the way he held himself, that immediately rang a bell in Rory’s mind. But before she could put a name to him, the deliveryman looked up and saw her. He gave a little grunt of surprise that caused the other man to glance over his shoulder. In the dull glow of the single overhead light, Eddie Mays looked positively ghoulish.
“You haven’t done much with the place,” Rory said casually, her hand still resting on the hilt of the gun.
Eddie stood up. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”
“Well, to begin with I want to put an end to this dognapping ring of yours, and then I want to see you tried, convicted and sent to prison on felony charges, along with anyone else who’s involved in this little enterprise.”
“That’s quite a wish list you’ve got,” Eddie said pleasantly. “And you seem to be mistaking me for Santa Claus.”
“Hey, hold on . . . dognapping ring? What are you talking about?” The deliveryman’s voice was shaky, and he was backing away from Eddie as if to literally distance himself from whatever trouble the older man represented. “Oh my God, that’s why you told me to be careful I wasn’t being followed. You said you were worried about the dognappers finding this place, but you’re the ones stealing the dogs!” He turned to Rory. “I thought this business was legit. I took it to make some extra cash. I didn’t know the dogs were stolen. I’ve never been in trouble. Never even had a speeding ticket. I swear. I go to college over at Suffolk. My name’s Keith Beal. Look, I can prove—”
“Stop your yapping,” Eddie snapped at him. “You’re worse than the dogs.” He turned back to Rory, his mouth curved up in a malevolent smile. “How much? How much will it take to send you on your way? Come on, name your price. It’ll just be between us three.”
“Actually I prefer to leave it between you and the police,” Rory replied. “But please feel free to make them the same offer.” She watched Eddie’s magnified eyes cloud over behind his thick lenses.
“Or maybe we should save them the trouble and take care of things before they get here,” he said, moving toward her, the screwdriver tight in his fist.
“Stop right where you are and drop the screwdriver; otherwise I’m going to assume you’re threatening me and I’ll be forced to shoot you in self-defense.”
Eddie paused briefly as if he were calculating his odds in such a skirmish. When he started toward her again, he was holding the screwdriver at shoulder height, poised to attack.
When he was six feet away, Rory drew her gun, cupped it in both hands and once again ordered him to stop.
“I don’t think you got it in you,” Eddie snickered, still coming at her. “What do you think of
that?”
Rory knew if she let him get any closer, he’d have a good chance of lunging for the gun and wrestling it away from her. She aimed for his leg and squeezed off a round, slowly and evenly the way she’d been trained. The bullet missed its mark, but not by much, slamming into one of the cement walls and ricocheting off into another. The shot had the desired effect. Eddie stopped in his tracks.
She pulled a set of plastic cuffs out of the pocket where she’d stowed them early that morning and tossed them toward Keith. “If you want to impress me by cooperating, get those on him.”
“Absolutely,” Keith said, scrambling to retrieve the cuffs. “I’m cooperating. I’m definitely cooperating. You don’t know my folks, but they’re gonna kill me. They’re gonna f—”
“Listen to you,” Eddie snarled, venting his rage on Keith. “You sound like my grandmother.”
“Both of you be quiet and stay put or you’re going to wind up in a lot of pain,” Rory reminded them, pleased by how steady and calm she sounded.
Eddie stood there glowering at her, while Keith fumbled with the cuffs until he managed to get them on him. Even the dogs were quiet. Rory figured she had another five minutes, maybe even less, before the cavalry arrived. No problem. But in the next moment she was startled by another voice, one that was so close to her that it made her jump. “Behind you,” the voice whispered in her ear. Then more urgently, “Rory, behind you.”
She swung around in time to see Joe Kovack coming at her, brandishing one of the large wrenches he used in his work. She trained her gun on him, backing away laterally so she could keep all the men in view. As soon as Rory’s eyes met Joe’s, she saw the fight go out of him. It was as if a fissure deep in his core had finally given way under too much pressure. His shoulders slumped and the wrench fell out of his hand, clattering to the cement floor.
“Coward,” Eddie growled at him. “You had her. You were close enough to knock her out. You’re a loser, Kovack. You’ve been a loser all along. I don’t know why in hell I listened to you. ‘Just let her think you’re breaking into the house,’ you said. ‘That’ll be enough to scare her,’ you said. Well, look at her, Kovack. I nearly killed her damn dog too, yet here she is. She doesn’t scare so easy, does she?”
“Oh, well, your way was much better, Mays,” Joe said, his face flushing as anger rose in him, propping him up again. “If it was up to you, you would have killed her and hoped no one figured it out. You’re a shark. All muscle, no brain.”
Rory listened to the dialogue snap back and forth between the two men as if she were witnessing some bizarre piece of theater. It was clear that they’d never liked one another, and stress had caused that animosity to fester into something lethal. They didn’t even seem to care that she was still standing there able to hear everything they said.
“Better a shark than a coward,” Eddie sneered in disgust. “You didn’t belong in this operation from the get-go.”
“You know what? You’re right. I don’t know how I let Larry talk me—”
“Shut your damn trap,” Eddie spit out, cutting him off.
“Why?” Joe’s laugh was contemptuous. “You think your buddy Larry’s going to protect us? They’ve got him on assault and murder. This here is penny-ante stuff in comparison. He’ll roll on us the second he thinks it’ll help his situation. You really thought you could keep this operation going without Larry to call the shots? Wake up, it’s over. It’s all over.”
Rory’s head was reeling. How could Joe be involved in this? Good, hardworking Joe who’d loved Tina since high school—had he really helped steal two of the dogs she doted on? Rory could barely stretch her mind around the idea. On the other hand, learning that Larry was the brains of the operation required no effort at all. She already knew he was a killer, a liar and a cheat. She wondered if anyone else was going to pop out of the woodwork before this day was over.
The dogs had started their howling again; seconds later Rory heard the wail of sirens approaching. As the police poured into the building, she recognized Detective Cirello, the sour old cop she’d met the day Brenda was killed. Since he appeared to be the ranking officer there, she went over to reintroduce herself and brief him on what had happened. She wasn’t surprised to find that he hadn’t mellowed any since their last encounter. She handed him her .45 and told him they’d find the missing bullet in the wall on the right.
Rory knew she’d have to follow him back to the precinct to file a report, but she asked for his patience while she took care of one last matter. Assuming he’d deny the request, she turned away before he had a chance to respond and made her way to the back wall. She hunkered down in front of the three crates that held the dogs. They were barking and whining, confused by the sudden whirl of activity. She placed her hands against the bars so they could sniff her and know she was a friend.
“Hey, guys,” she said to them in the bright but gentle tone Hobo seemed to love. “Everything’s going to be fine. I promise. As soon as I can arrange it, you’ll all be going home.”
Chapter 34
Hobo caught the ball, a high pop-up near the back fence, and did a triumphant trot around the yard before depositing it at Rory’s feet. He plopped down beside it, panting heavily, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Zeke levitated the ball and sent it arcing into the air again. The dog turned to watch it soar, but made no move to go after it. He looked back at Zeke and Rory with an expression that clearly said, “If you want that ball, you’re going to have to get it yourselves. I’m done.”
“I guess playtime is officially over,” Rory said, laughing. They’d been outside for twenty minutes, and Zeke was still intact and functioning well, a new record for him. He’d likened the progress in his newfound ability to developing a muscle that had never been exercised before. He seemed mighty pleased about it too.
Rory still had mixed feelings about his progress, but since there was no way to force the genie back into the bottle, she knew she’d have to adapt to it. On the other hand, she wasn’t at all ambivalent about the improving relationship between Zeke and Hobo, who were living together in something approaching harmony. She’d watched Zeke’s distaste for the dog soften into acceptance and even subtle gratitude after he helped save Rory’s life. For his part, Hobo seemed to have overcome some of his instinctive fear of the marshal since the poisoning incident. Rory could only assume that the dog had been aware enough to know that Zeke was instrumental in saving him.
The three of them trooped back into the warmth of the kitchen, Zeke eschewing the more direct path through the walls in favor of the mortal route. Rory worried that he was practicing the ways of the living with the intention of passing among them now that he could journey beyond the house. She didn’t question him about it, though, since she wasn’t ready to hear his response.
She shed her coat and gloves, her scarf and hat, draping them over the hooks she’d installed for that purpose in the laundry room. Hobo gave his coat a vigorous shake before ducking under the table, where he lay down with a sigh of pleasure. Having neither clothing to remove nor fur to shake, Zeke had immediately folded himself into his chair at the table, where he waited, noiselessly tapping his foot, while the mortals in the family settled in.
“How was that bunch you went to with Leah?” he asked, having clearly reached the end of his patience.
Rory filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove to heat. She could hardly blame him for initiating the conversation. In fact, she’d expected him to start pumping her with questions the moment she’d returned.
“I think you mean ‘brunch.’ ” She managed to keep a sober face, since laughing at his expense never ended well.
“Whatever you call it,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Speakin’ for myself, I can’t see the benefit of combinin’ two meals into one. I remember enjoyin’ food enough to have three squares a day whenever the possibility presented itself.”
Rory took a packet of cocoa mix from the pantry and poured th
e contents into a mug while she waited for him to circle back to the point.
“Brunch.” His upper lip curled as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “It even sounds unnatural. No matter. I’m not interested in what you ate or where you ate it. I just want to hear the latest information from your detective friend.”
The telephone rang before Rory could begin his briefing. Her “hello” was met with a rush of words that were nearly incomprehensible. Tina was in fine form.
“I’m so glad you’re there—I had to stop by on our way home so you could see the fruits of your labor in person—come outside—come outside—I can’t wait for you to meet George and Gracie!”
Rory set the phone down and told Zeke she’d be back in a minute, at which point he folded his arms, adopting a much-put-upon expression. “One minute, I swear.” She headed for the front door without her coat, leaving it as collateral for the promise.
Tina’s car was in the driveway with the window open and a little white, furry head on either side of hers like animated earmuffs. She introduced the pair to Rory, her voice choked with emotion. The return of the dogs was clearly helping to mitigate the shock and devastation she’d suffered over her husband’s arrest for stealing them.
“You have no idea how much it means to have my babies back again.”
Rory realized there was a time when that would have been true, but now that she had Hobo in her life, she understood completely. “It’s wonderful how most of the people who were caught up in the scam were willing to return the stolen dogs without a court fight or some other nastiness,” she said, scratching around the ears of the two Maltese.
“Dog people.” Tina smiled. “It’s just a pity they were out all that money. I felt so bad for the family that had George and Gracie that I gave them their money back out of my own—hey, I didn’t realize you had company—I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—I was just so excited and grateful. . . .”