by L E Fraser
Upstairs, he handed her the mug.
She sipped her drug-laced cocoa. “Yummy. Thanks.”
His stomach lurched and self-disgust made him lightheaded.
Twenty minutes later, she was asleep with her body curled around Brandy. Little snores emanated from the back of Sam’s throat and her foot twitched. She mumbled in her sleep, something about Joyce, a lily, and blood.
Reece put on a pair of track pants and a sweatshirt. In the kitchen, he washed the mug, scrubbing away the evidence of his deception.
His cell rang. “Hash,” he answered.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with your woman, but I’m done. I told her so tonight and now I’m telling you.”
Reece wasn’t in the mood to mollify their temperamental hacker. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Work with Hybrid going forward. I’m done,” Behoo said with self-righteous indignation.
Hybrid had helped Behoo to stop a vicious cyberattack against them last year, but Reece had never met the hacker. “I don’t know who Hybrid is or how to reach him.”
“You hired Elijah Watson.”
“So?”
“So get him to do your hacking,” Behoo retorted.
“Eli is Hybrid?” Reece was livid. “He’s a hacker on the deep web and he never told me?”
“Not him,” Behoo said impatiently. “His sister, Danielle. She’s a computer engineer with mad skills.” He paused. “Hey, man, didn’t Eli tell you?”
“No.”
Either Eli was a pathological liar or he had a hidden agenda. And Reece had convinced Sam to hire him. If the little worm had ulterior motives for joining their firm, it was Reece’s own fault.
“I did them a solid and kept my mouth shut,” Behoo said. “But I flipped out on Eli tonight because we had an agreement.”
“Kept your mouth shut?” Reece repeated.
“Sam got up in my business because I didn’t give her a detailed report about Eli. I told Eli he had to tell you or I would. He said he explained and you were cool.”
Cold dread tightened around Reece’s heart. “What didn’t you tell us about him?”
“About his father.” Behoo paused. “Or Danny’s father. I’m not sure which one is related to the guy because Danny did a solid job hiding everything. If I didn’t know her from school, I wouldn’t know anything. But I think it’s Eli’s father because he figured you wouldn’t hire him if you knew the truth about the old man.”
“What about him?”
“He’s a con, serving serious time in some high-security federal pen,” Behoo said.
The air rushed from Reece’s lungs. “Get me a number for Eli’s foster father,” he said.
“I—”
“Find me a damn number for Dr. Watson. Now,” Reece yelled.
“Chill out,” Behoo muttered. “Give me a sec.”
A few moments later, he recited a number and hung up.
Reece dialled and an authoritative male voice answered.
“Dr. Watson, this is Reece Hash in Toronto.”
“Mr. Hash… Is Eli okay?”
“Your foster son lied to us and I want answers,” Reece said. “Who is Eli’s father?”
There was a heavy pause before the man sighed. “I warned him not to lie but Eli marches to his own drummer.”
“Who is his father?” Reece repeated.
“A dangerous man,” Dr. Watson said. “He’s responsible for the scars on Eli’s face and the cigarette burns on his forearms. He’s in prison, serving twenty years.”
“Convicted of what?” Reece asked.
“Eli believes that his father murdered his mother, but the court convicted him of armed robbery. The man is eligible for parole this year.” There was fear in the doctor’s voice. “It’s imperative that he doesn’t get out.”
“Why?”
“He’s forcing Eli to do something,” Dr. Watson said. “He has disreputable friends inside and outside of prison. Everything Eli is doing is to protect Danny. Millhaven can’t release his father.”
Reece couldn’t believe he’d been so gullible. “Eli’s father is at Millhaven with Incubus.” Before the doctor could respond, Reece disconnected.
Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Sam wasn’t deluded. Lutz was playing some sort of sick game with her. But for his manipulation to work, Incubus needed help from people outside the prison.
And Eli and his hacker sister had access to every aspect of Sam’s life, including her phone, containing evidence of the woman following her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sam
SAM WOKE DISORIENTED. Congestion forced her to breathe through her dry mouth and there was a barbed pain in her throat when she swallowed. A headache throbbed behind her bloated eyes. Groaning, she rolled over. Reece wasn’t there. Brandy lay across the bottom of the bed, and Sam gave her rump a little pat. She blinked at her cellphone. It was eleven o’clock. How had she slept so late?
She climbed out of bed and dizziness caused her to wobble. She stumbled into the bathroom, adjusted the showerhead, and stood under the piercing needles. Jets of cool water bathed her parched mouth. She twisted the massage setting to a soft pulse and turned up the hot water. Steam filled the shower and her stiff muscles began to relax. Some of her confusion cleared. She must have fallen asleep while working on her thesis. That would explain why she had woken in her clothes.
Reluctantly leaving the warmth of the shower, she pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. It was cold. She added a thick sweater and shuffled into the bedroom, flopping onto the bed beside Brandy.
“Time to get up, sleepy-head.”
Her golden retriever didn’t stir. Brandy’s chest moved in shallow rapid motions. She opened her unfocused eyes.
Trepidation swelled in Sam’s chest. The headache pounded mercilessly behind her eyes. Lightheaded with fear, she tucked her arms under Brandy’s middle and lifted her. Brandy’s mouth opened and a whimpering groan whistled out. Lowering her cherished dog, she wrung her hands with abject helplessness.
“I’ll get Magda,” she whispered. “You’re okay. Everything will be okay.”
She called her vet’s office, explaining to the receptionist that Brandy was unresponsive. A moment later, the vet came on the line.
“Hi, Sam. Can you move her?”
“No. I tried and she cried. Can you come? I don’t know what to do.”
They’d gone to school together and although Sam wouldn’t call Magda a close friend, they’d known each other for years. She’d cared for Brandy her whole life.
“I’m on my way.”
Sam hung up and called Reece. It went to voice mail. She texted him 911! Urgent! Brandy.
Ten minutes passed without a response. She called again and it went straight to voice mail again. Shoving aside her growing panic, she tried Eli. He didn’t answer. Beginning to cry, she called Lisa but her voice message said she was unavailable until five. She phoned Jim but his assistant said he was in court. Her stepfather was out of town. No one else could fetch Reece from class. She was alone.
She held her tear-streaked face to Brandy’s snout. “You are such a good dog,” she said. “Magda is coming. Hang on, my precious girl.”
The doorbell rang and she leaped up, hurtling down the stairs two at a time. She wrenched open the door. “She’s upstairs. Hurry, she’s—” Sam clamped her mouth shut.
Eli’s sister was standing on her threshold.
Danny frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my dog. I thought you were the vet. What do you want?”
“I can’t find Eli,” Danny said. “He’s not answering his phone. I thought he might be with you.”
“He’s not. Get out.” Sam tried to push her into the corridor.
Danny dug in her heels and refused to budge. “Where’s your dog?”
“Upstairs.”
Without waiting for an invitation, Danny shoved passed her and stomped up the ladder staircase. She knelt
by Brandy and stroked her head.
“How long has she been in distress?” Danny asked.
Distress… How could she have slept through it? She should have gotten the vet hours ago.
Danny glanced up and rather than her perpetual disapproving scowl, her expression was sad. “I volunteer at the humane society. Your dog is dying,” she stated bluntly.
The girl’s callousness dumbfounded Sam, rendering her speechless.
Danny draped a throw blanket over Brandy and tucked it around her body. “Until the vet gets here to euthanize her, there’s nothing you can do but make her comfortable. It’s a bit cold. Can you put up the heat?”
Sam wrenched her away from the bed. Danny stumbled and tripped.
“Get away from her,” Sam screamed. “You aren’t a vet. Get out of my house.”
Danny disregarded the outburst. She stood, circled Sam with a wary glance, and sat on the other side of Brandy.
“You shouldn’t be alone.” She began to sing softly to the dog in a language that Sam didn’t recognize.
Downstairs, the bell rang and Sam raced down.
“Where is she?” Magda asked.
Sam dragged her upstairs. Danny ignored the vet and kept singing and stroking Brandy’s head.
After her examination, Magda removed her stethoscope buds from her ears. She stood and faced Sam. “Her abdomen is distended. She has ascites—fluid retention—and she’s jaundice. It’s end-stage liver disease, now.”
Sam shook her head vigorously, incapable of processing what Magda was telling her. “We put her on prescription food six months ago. It was working. You said so. Do something.”
“I warned you that it would only prolong the inevitable. I’m sorry, but it’s time.”
Sam grabbed the vet’s bag and pushed it into her arms. “You have to save her.”
“We can’t maintain stable health, Sam. She’s slipping into a coma.”
End-stage liver disease… If she had taken Brandy to Magda weeks ago, this wouldn’t have happened. Her dog was suffering because she was too cowardly to face the truth.
“I did this,” Sam said. “If I’d called sooner, if—”
“The outcome would be the same.” Magda took both her hands. “She’s twelve. It’s time to say goodbye.”
Sam had been eighteen when her dad bought her the puppy. She’d taken a bouncing, ill-behaved Brandy everywhere that summer. Her liquid brown eyes, fluffy gold fur, and gentle temperament stole everyone’s hearts. Even Lisa’s germaphobe mother had given in and let Brandy visit inside their house. At Lisa and Jim’s wedding, Brandy had walked with polite dignity down the aisle, a satin ring pillow tied like a saddle to her back. Lisa had woven a crown of roses that rested between Brandy’s floppy ears.
“It’s not time. She can’t go.” Guilt washed over her. Brandy had lain dying and she had slept. She’d never forgive herself.
Danny was speaking to Magda, but Sam couldn’t hear their conversation. She didn’t care. Eli’s sister was a trespasser with no right to witness her anguish.
She remembered coming home from Joyce’s funeral. Impotent rage had formed a hot mass of hate inside her. Her burning need to find Incubus and avenge her sister’s murder had consumed her, turning her into a monster she feared. Brandy had pawed her leash off the peg by the front door and carried it over to Sam in her mouth. Driven by habit, Sam had taken Brandy to the park. Her golden retriever had trotted over to a group of boys playing Frisbee. They threw the disc and laughed as Brandy gracefully leapt into the air to catch it between her teeth. Rather than returning it to the children, Brandy had brought it to Sam. With her woeful chocolate eyes imploring, she’d waited for her mistress to understand. In that moment, a sliver of light had penetrated the evil blackness in Sam’s heart. She’d accepted Brandy’s gift and they had spent all afternoon playing with those kids. Sam had experienced a sense of hope for the first time since Incubus had taken her sister.
“You always knew what to do.” She cuddled Brandy’s head against her lap, and her tears dripped onto the soft gold fur between her perfect ears.
For twelve years, Brandy had loved her unconditionally. When she had fallen into the abyss of madness after Joyce’s death, Brandy had brought her back. Her dog was the one constant in a life filled with ugly change that she was powerless to prevent.
“Sam, she’s in pain,” Magda said softly.
After all their years together, Brandy deserved better than to suffer.
“It’s time,” Magda said.
Choking on guilt and tears, all she could manage was a slight nod of her head.
Magda filled a syringe and administered the injection.
Blinded by tears, Sam stroked her dog’s head. Brandy’s eyes opened once. She gazed up with such love and trust that shards of Sam’s shattered heart pierced her chest with an almost physical pain.
“You’re such a good dog,” she whispered. “Thank you for loving me.”
Brandy’s large brown eyes drooped and closed. Beneath Sam’s trembling hands, the tension in Brandy’s warm body released. She took a final shuddering breath and lay still.
There was no air in the room. Sam couldn’t breathe. Crushing grief weakened her back and she slumped across Brandy, desperate to hear the comforting beat of her heart. It was silent. Brandy would never be waiting at the door, excited to greet her. She’d never romp in the park or gobble down her treats. No more bundling her to bed and spooning with her. Her beloved dog was dead.
“Your friend is calling a pet cemetery,” Magda said gently. “They’ll take good care of her, I promise. Attendants will be here soon.”
There was no sense of time as Sam slumped over the still warm body of her dog. At some point, a man was talking to her. She raised her wet face, desperate for the protection of Reece’s strong arms. Her heart somersaulted with disappointment when she realized it wasn’t Reece. He should be here. They were partners.
Danny took her arm. “Come downstairs with me,” she said. “They’ll bring her.”
Powerless to object, she let Eli’s sister lead her downstairs. Danny spoke to a second attendant. A few minutes later, the door closed behind them. Brandy was gone.
Sam sat still, staring at the full food dish on the kitchen floor. Brandy hadn’t eaten her dinner. Why hadn’t she called the vet last night?
Toys littered the floor around the vacant dog bed. The sight of them caused her stomach to lurch. Her eyes fell to a bookcase with a framed photo of Brandy and Reece playing in the water at the beach.
Hours had passed and her fiancé was too busy to come home or to answer her 911 call.
All the reminders of what life would be like without Brandy tortured her. She walked on dead legs to the kitchen and removed a garbage bag from a box beneath the sink. She bent and picked up the food dish, placing it in the deep bag. She unplugged the water filter and tossed the ceramic fountain into the sack. In the living room, she discarded all the toys and the silver-framed photo.
Danny watched silently with a disapproving scowl.
Systematically, Sam removed every trace of her dog from the loft. Her mind was dull and her body was numb.
“Don’t do this,” Danny said. “You’ll regret it.”
“Please leave,” she said.
She opened a photo album and tore out pictures of Brandy as a puppy. Moving chronologically through photos of her dog’s life, she concentrated on staunching the flood of memories. Eradicating Brandy’s existence was the only way she could cope with the loss.
“It’s because I love you,” she whispered through her tears. “The reminders are too hard. I’m too weak. Forgive me.”
“Where’s Reece?” Danny asked.
“Not here. Please, leave.”
Danny pried the bag from her fingers. “I’ll take that out for you.” She paused at the open door. “The service is tomorrow. I left the address of the pet cemetery on the fridge. I made all the arrangements and paid for it.”
Sam te
nsed with anger at her audacity but said nothing. The door latched behind Danny.
Alone, she stood motionless in the centre of her empty loft. Imagined echoes of happy barks tormented her. She lifted her hands to her face, inhaling a faint aroma of her dog. Strands of silky gold fur clung to the sleeves of her sweater. Sunlight streamed from the southern windows, bathing her in warmth. The sensation was obscene. Inside her, there was nothing but cold, hollow darkness.
“Joyce, take care of her,” she whispered. “She’s your dog now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Reece
REECE GAZED AT the hole in the kitchen where Brandy’s custom bed used to be. It was gone, along with every other trace of her existence. Throwing away all the reminders of their dog was unhealthy avoidance. And Sam refused to share her feelings. This morning, she’d announced that they were having a service at a pet cemetery today but he didn’t have to go if he was too busy. With stoic determination, she was hiding her fury beneath passive indifference. Reece didn’t blame her for being angry with him. His guilt over abandoning her during her time of need devastated him, but his shame over drugging her was crushing. When he told her the truth, her anger would turn to contempt.
His cell rang. Reece glanced up at the bedroom loft. Sam was getting dressed and it wouldn’t be a good idea to be yakking on his phone when she came down. He checked the caller ID before sending it to voice mail. Harry Walsh. Reluctantly, he accepted the call.
“Did you read the morning paper?” Harry asked.
Reece opened the front door and grabbed the paper. “Not yet. Why?”
“They found a fourth Frozen Statue victim.” Harry’s voice was tight. “A first-year physics student.”
Reece unfolded the paper and scanned the front-page story. Police had discovered Martin Cloutier, a nineteen-year-old from Brockville, on the edge of the Don River, just north of Pottery Road. The article reported that forensics had identified trace evidence of a plant indigenous to northern Ontario. It could be a substantial clue, but the paper didn’t report much else.