by Meg Muldoon
“People talk in this town,” I said.
“Always have and always will,” he said. “But I trust you. I know that you would never do anything like that. Especially not with that good-for-nothing, sorry-for-himself drunk excuse for a city councilor. But you see, the problem is that you don’t trust me, Cin. You think you have to explain that to me.”
He let out a sigh.
“That’s not true,” I said.
“Why were you in there drinking alone tonight in the first place?” he said. “Nevermind. I know the reason. Part of it was Hucks being gone. But the other part has to do with that receipt you found. From Pepper’s pie shop. Right?”
I bit my lower lip. Not answering
He rubbed his face.
“I understand why you’re upset about that,” he said. “I shouldn’t have gone in there. Even if that was the only place open for 100 miles that night. Even if it had something to do with a case. I still shouldn’t have done it, because I knew what it meant to you.”
I furrowed my brow. This was the first I’d heard that his stop there was part of a case.
“But Cin, it was a coffee and a pastry. It was a four-dollar and seventy-five cent purchase. And if you want to drag this out and hate me for it, then fine. But Pepper’s pastry shop isn’t the problem here.
“You want to know what is?”
I swallowed hard.
“You don’t trust me,” he said. “That’s our problem, Cin. You think I would’ve gone into that pastry shop just for fun? Like I would have done it just to hurt you? Is that what you think?”
He sighed again.
“No,” I said. “What I do wonder about though is what you were doing in Portland, that day. And why you lied to me about it, saying that that was part of a case too. When Billy said he wasn’t aware that you were working on something for the department in Portland.”
Daniel glanced over, a sharp look in his eyes.
Then he shook his head.
“I don’t know what else I can do,” he said. “Something this small just sends you back to square one. You think I want to hurt you. You don’t trust me to do right by you. When all I do is…”
He trailed off.
Then he got out of the car, his words echoing in my head as I watched him walk up to the porch and go inside, slamming the front door behind him.
Chapter 38
I lay wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts thrashing around in my head like a life raft on angry seas.
Outside, the trees trembled in the cruel winter wind. I listened to the sound of their branches groaning, filling the night with their ghostly mumblings.
The darkness was oppressive and all-encompassing. I was drowning in it, struggling to breathe.
Swimming in a violent ocean of memories and thoughts.
Sometimes, it felt like you made progress in some areas of your life. Like you had breakthroughs, and grew as a person. Like you crossed certain bridges that you knew you’d never see again so long as you lived.
And then one day, you find yourself at the edge of one of those same old bridges again, having gone in one giant circle without realizing it. Those same issues, still there, like nothing had ever changed.
Was that what had happened? Was I standing at that same old bridge of trust again, afraid to just let go and cross?
Hadn’t Daniel given me every reason to trust him? Hadn’t he always been there for me? Hadn’t he always done right by me? Given me everything I wanted and more?
Yet despite that, somewhere deep inside me those same old issues I had with trusting another person completely were there. Waiting, like a sleeping dragon, to rear its ugly head anytime something gave me cause to doubt.
Daniel going to the pie shop across the street, for instance.
Or him going to Portland and not telling me the real reason why.
Shouldn’t I have had enough faith in him and in our marriage to not care about small things like that?
It was easy to blame things from the past. To blame my ex-husband. To blame my father, who abandoned me and my mother when I was just a girl.
But those days were gone, never to return again. I knew that.
But still…
Something inside of me found it hard to let those old, ancient beliefs die. No matter how outdated they were now. No matter how little they served me in my new life.
I let out a long, unsteady sigh up into the air. I turned on my side, toward Daniel, watching him as he slept, his chest rising and falling with each breath of air.
Asleep like that, he looked like a younger version of himself. His features were somehow softened. His skin was glowing. A peaceful expression on his face.
I watched him and scolded myself.
Daniel was kind-hearted, generous, good-natured, and everything I needed.
And he loved me. Like I was his moon and stars.
I knew that with every fiber of my being.
So why couldn’t I just let go? Why did I have to fuss over stupid things? Why couldn’t I—
Daniel stirred in his sleep, and then his eyes opened, meeting mine, catching me staring at him.
It was too late to close my eyes and pretend that I was asleep. So I just held his stare. Watching as his questioning look changed into recognition, and then into worry.
“Are you okay?” he rasped, his voice thick and scratchy and louder than it needed to be.
I searched his eyes.
“You were right,” I said.
“What?”
He rubbed his eyes, opening them again, focusing hard on me.
“You were right, about what you said about me earlier. That I have a hard time…”
I trailed off. Then swallowed.
“It’s not about my love for you,” I said. “It has nothing to do with that.”
I inched forward toward him.
“But it’s not right. I understand that now. Because you’re my husband. And we’re a team. And there can’t be any doubts. Not now. Not after all we’ve been through. You don’t deserve that.”
His eyes softened.
I put a hand on his chest, over his heart.
“I trust you,” I said. “With everything I have. From here on out. I’m not just your wife, I’m your partner.”
I looked deep into his eyes.
“We’re together in this. Every step of the way.”
I pulled him to me then, kissing him hard. Wanting the kiss to say what I felt inside my heart.
That I trusted him.
That I believed him.
That I believed in him.
That he was my one true love, and that I would never let anything come between us.
Not another woman’s coffee and pastries, or the things that he didn’t explain to me. Or a creepy guy at the bar who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
Not anything, ever again.
He stopped me after a moment, pushing me back, searching my face. His eyes full of raw emotion.
“No doubts?” he said.
I laced his hands through mine, gazing deeply into his green eyes.
“I promise.”
He grabbed me, pulling me down underneath him, kissing me back with the same intensity. Running his hands through my hair, over my body. Holding me tight, our two hearts hammering together in one thundering beat.
Only trust between us.
The bridge burned behind me, and I heard the wooden beams break apart and collapse into the river below.
And all I had left to hold onto was him.
That was enough.
Chapter 39
I sat at the edge of his desk, sipping bitter coffee from an old mug that was stamped with the faded words “Pohly County Sheriff’s Office.”
I looked at the bulletin board hanging on the wall behind his desk, my eyes skimming over each of the photos, my chest tightening when I got to the photo of Huckleberry.
The picture had been taken during a camping trip last summer up in th
e mountains. Huckleberry had loved playing fetch up in those cold mountain lakes. We’d sit on the bank, and Daniel would toss a stick into the water. Little Hucks would wag his nub and go splashing after it. He’d come back drenched with the stick in his mouth, his eyes glistening with happiness. Wanting us to repeat it all.
Would we ever get a chance to do that again with him?
My eyes drifted over to Chadwick’s photo, which had been provided by the Humane Society. The little Cocker Spaniel had that sad, lonesome look when the photo was taken. The kind that would have made him a prime candidate for one of those SPCA commercials showing the depressed, homeless dogs in their cages.
Would I ever get to walk Chadwick again? Would I ever get to see him run away while barking at the squirrels in the trees?
I closed my eyes.
I should have never let them out that night.
“Six dogs have disappeared in the last two weeks, so far as we know,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve interviewed every one of the other owners. We’ve interviewed neighbors. We’ve searched the areas where the disappearances took place. We’ve searched for fingerprints and analyzed the scenes. And while the circumstances of the incidents vary, they do have one similarity: the dogs all seem to have vanished into thin air. And not one of them has been seen since.”
Daniel crossed his arms. Cold sunlight spilled from the window behind us, casting shadows on the bulletin board.
“A number of the dogs went missing in the BrightStar trails area, including Shasta. But some of them were taken right from the owners’ possession, including Huckleberry and Chadwick. Dog Holliday was snatched from his van in a grocery parking lot. Meaning whoever’s doing this is getting bolder with each kidnapping.
“As far as we’ve learned, there’s nothing that these owners have in common either that would cause them to be targeted. Obviously, Billy is a deputy. Julianne Redding is a retired chef who lives alone. Anna Stevens is a librarian. You’re a small business owner. I’m in law enforcement. And Pete…”
He trailed off, looking at me for a moment, and then away.
“He’s a soon-to-be former city councilor with a construction business.”
He rubbed his chin.
“So if there’s a rhyme or reason behind these kidnappings, then it’s not obvious to me or to any of the deputies.
“Right now, I think it’s likely that the dogs are being taken by an animal hoarder of some sort. So we’re looking into anybody who’s been associated with hoarding animals in the area. But that could take a long while. And a lot of those folks aren’t exactly cooperative and forthcoming.”
He let out a sharp sigh.
“Might be a long while yet, Cin.”
I felt my heart sink.
I could tell by the tone in his voice that he hadn’t made as much progress in the case as he had hoped to by now.
He was trying so hard. I could see it in his tired face. But like he had always told me, sometimes when the trail was cold, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do except wait around until something else happened.
I cleared my throat, something occurring to me from the night before.
“What about that dog board?” I said.
Daniel furrowed his brow.
“Dog board?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Uh, last night when I was talking to…”
I trailed off, a chill running through me as I remembered the creepy feeling of Pete Burgess’s hand on my thigh.
“Well, he was saying that at first, he thought maybe Daisy’s disappearance had something to do with him being on the dog board. Somebody wanting revenge for some ruling they might have carried out.”
“Except that committee’s mostly a joke. They hardly enforce anything,” Daniel said. “In all my years, there’s only been one time that...”
He trailed off, looking out the window for a long moment.
“What is it?” I said.
He continued staring, almost as if he hadn’t heard me.
“Daniel?”
That snapped him out of it. He glanced back over at me.
“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Just tired is all.”
“So, uh, what’s next then?” I asked.
He took off his hat, rubbing a hand absentmindedly through his hair.
“We’re sending out a news release about the missing dogs,” he said. “The media will run the photos. Hopefully somebody will have seen something, and we’ll get a lead.”
“About Shasta too?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“I don’t see any other way,” he said. “And if it means getting Huckleberry back, then I don’t really give a damn if I get in trouble. Maybe I should. But I don’t.”
He leaned forward.
“I miss him a lot, Cin.”
I bit my lip.
“I do too.”
“Sometimes I can’t help but think—”
He turned toward me in the chair.
“What if…?”he started saying.
I shook my head and reached for his hand, not letting him finish the thought.
“I don’t believe that,” I said. “You’ll find him, Daniel. I know it.”
He looked back at the bulletin board.
“I don’t want to let you down,” he said.
I squeezed his hand.
“You couldn’t, partner.”
I saw the faint beginnings of a smile on his lips.
Then he nodded.
Chapter 40
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, rubbing her face, the steam from the wood burning tool on the craft table curling up around her. “But please don’t say it: I’m already thinking it myself.”
Kara stared down at the circular slab of juniper in front of her, the top half of which was pocked with crudely formed words that got smaller and smaller as they got closer to the bottom.
She wiped a Kleenex across her moist brow.
“Dammit, I must be clear out of my head, Cin,” she said. “There’s only about a million things left to do for the wedding, and here I am burning my vows into a piece of wood. What kind of lunatic does that with only two weeks to go before the big day?”
“My favorite kind of lunatic,” I said, giving her a weak smile.
“Nice of you to say,” she said. “But I tell you what, I’m driving myself nuts lately. When all this is done, I think I’m going to need a long, long vacation… from myself.”
She shook her head.
“And as much as I love having my mom here, she’s been no help whatsoever with the wedding preparations. I give her tasks to do, and then she suddenly remembers she told so and so that she was going to see them when she got back into town. And then I don’t hear from her all afternoon. She’s really just—”
She shot a look my way.
“But what am I even complaining about?” she said, scanning my face. “Everything’s fine with me.”
I forced another weak smile, tying together a wreath made out of juniper branches that was going to adorn the reception hall.
“You know, I saw Daniel on TV last night,” she said.
I forced one of the branches too far, and it snapped clear in half.
Daniel had appeared on the 6 o’clock news after putting out a news release about the missing dogs. In some ways, the fact that more than just Shasta was missing seemed to legitimize Shasta’s disappearance. Billy Jasper hadn’t just lost her: she’d been stolen. And that seemed to take a little bit of heat away from the department when it came to the missing dog. Though one of the news anchors did make some smart ass crack about Shasta’s theft being the biggest theft, moneywise, that the county had seen in quite a few decades.
“Daniel was looking pretty handsome on the TV,” Kara said.
“Yeah, he was, wasn’t he?”
She let out a sharp breath.
“Six dogs is a lot to just disappear like that,” she said. “Sounds pretty organized and calculating to me.�
�
I nodded.
“You hear anything yet about where they might be?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing real, anyway. A few crazies called into the station this morning, like they do whenever something comes up on the news. But there’s been nothing concrete.”
“I’m really sorry, Cin,” she said. “I really hope you find them. You know, I love that little Huckleberry like he was my own dog. I can’t imagine you guys without…”
She stopped herself before completing the sentence, realizing she was wading into emotional territory.
“I know,” I said. “And I appreciate it, Kara.”
A silence fell over the room.
She cleared her throat.
“So, uh, the big day’s coming up, right?” she said. “The day you’re going to take Pepper Posey to town at the Gingerbread Junction?”
I bit my lip.
I hadn’t really thought much about the Junction the last few days.
The Dr. Zhivago gingerbread house was sitting there in the corner of my shop, untouched. An elaborate creation that in light of recent events, no longer felt as important as it once did. For a competition that no longer felt as important as it once did.
Since Hucks and Chadwick had been taken, the world had faded a little bit for me.
Kara must have read my thoughts.
“You are going to the Junction, aren’t you?” she said, looking up from behind her face mask.
“I…”
But I stopped before saying anything more as something through the front window caught my attention.
I focused hard, unable to believe what my eyes were telling me.
The next thing I knew, I was running through Kara’s shop, bolting out the door and down the sidewalk, chasing after him like a dog chasing a wild turkey.
Chapter 41
I had never met Shasta, the Pohly County Sheriff’s Office police dog, before she disappeared.
But that didn’t stop me from barraging the surprised bloodhound with hugs and kisses, as if she was my own dog.
I knew that other people passing on the sidewalk were looking at me like I was nuts, but I didn’t much care.
Shasta was here. And she was alive.