Protecting Peyton: The Gold Coast Retrievers, Book 4

by Muth, Becky

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kurt waited for Peyton on the front flagstone walkway that linked the home’s front porch to her driveway. After a few minutes, she emerged—sans dog—through the front door, shutting and locking it behind her.

  He asked, “Will she be okay?”

  “Gilda? Yeah. We spend so much time together that she has a little separation anxiety when we’re apart,” Peyton replied as they walked to her car. Once they were inside with their seatbelts on, she continued, “Belle never had this problem. She had a crate when she was a puppy, but when she was a few months old she started crying and begging me to let her sleep on the foot of my bed. If I left the house, she wouldn’t even get up from the couch.”

  “Sounds like an awesome dog.”

  “She was. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gilda more than I like most humans, but there will never be another Belle.”

  Kurt smiled. “You’re lucky to have struck gold twice.”

  “Is that a pun?” Peyton’s laughter filled the car.

  “Not an intentional one. You don't mind puns?”

  “Mind? I love them.”

  “Oh, turn left at the next intersection,” Kurt directed from the passenger seat. The conversation lulled as he navigated her to his apartment building. Once she parked, he asked, “Ready to meet my pets?”

  “Sure thing. Since you live in an apartment, I’m guessing it’s not a dog?”

  “No, it’s most definitely not a dog.” Kurt laughed as they exited the car and walked toward the building. He used his good hand to grab the door and hold it open. Unlike when they left the police station a few hours before, this time she didn’t protest. Was it only a few hours ago? It feels like I’ve known her for years. They rode the elevator to his floor and he led her to his apartment. “This is it. Home sweet home.”

  Kurt unlocked the door and opened it, allowing Peyton to enter first. He was eager to see her reaction to the aquarium that dominated one wall of his living room. As she took in the surroundings, he wondered how his apartment must look to his new friend.

  An island in the kitchen doubled as a dining area. A black leather sofa and a matching recliner in the living room faced a flat screen television, which hung on the wall perpendicular to the one behind the aquarium. Between the couch and the television was a coffee table with shelves built into its base to hold his diminutive library of books.

  “Oh my gosh, are these it?” Without waiting for an invitation, Peyton crossed the room to the aquarium and stooped with her hands on her knees to peer through the glass. “Only two? What kind? Oh wow, they’re ginormous, aren’t they? Will they get bigger?”

  Kurt chuckled and joined her next to the tank. “Only two. They’re oscars, a kind of fish native to South America. The size of their environment determines their size. Some people online claim they’ll grow to about eighteen inches.”

  “They look seriously cool.”

  “Thank you.” Kurt swelled with pride. This must be how she feels when people praise her dog. “The black one with the white lines is a tiger oscar and the white one with the red markings is a marble oscar.”

  “Do they have names?”

  “Indeed. The red one is Mulligan and the other is Rochambeau.”

  “Not Hamilton and Burr?” Peyton turned to him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “And have them dueling? No way.”

  “So, did you enjoy history before the musical, or are you one of the people who became interested after hearing the soundtrack?”

  “I’ve always enjoyed history, but my mom raised us to appreciate the arts. One of the first shows we saw was Paint Your Wagon at a little community theater.” Kurt shrugged with his good shoulder. “Dad worked a lot. I tried to get out of going, but my sisters outnumbered me.”

  “You learned to enjoy it?”

  “I did.” By now, Kurt recognized it as a sign of her amusement and felt challenged to make the smile reach her lips. “Hey, did you hear about the new Broadway show about puns?”

  “For real?” Her eyes widened.

  Kurt paused for effect before replying, “It’s a play on words.”

  The sound of her laughter bubbled through his apartment. “Okay, that was a good one. Thank you for that, and for introducing me to Mulligan and Rochambeau. I should get back to Gilda. I don’t care to leave her any longer than I have to, and I want to be there in case Owen calls my landline.”

  “Have you thought about forwarding calls from your landline to your cell phone?”

  “I didn’t even know that was possible. I’ll look up how to do that as soon as I get home” She put her hand on Kurt’s good forearm. “Thank you again. I appreciate your help.”

  Kurt’s skin warmed under her touch, the feeling creeping until his cheeks. No woman had ever had this effect on him before, including the firefighter from the bar. What was so different about Peyton?

  A crack of thunder split the silence inside the apartment, the force of the sound rattling the glass in Kurt’s living room windows.

  Peyton winced. “Gilda hates storms. I have to get back. The last time, she destroyed her crate and I had to buy her a new one.”

  “Could I get your number before you go?” When she met his words with a quizzical expression, Kurt added, “So I can let you know if I find Owen.”

  “Oh, sure. Here.” Peyton pulled her phone from her pocket and swiped the screen a couple of times before holding it out to him. “Put your number in the top bar and send a text message to your phone. That way we’ll have each other’s numbers.”

  Within seconds, Kurt returned her phone to her outstretched palm and walked her to the door. “Thank you again for lunch, and saving my life, and everything.”

  “Thank you for helping find Owen, and for the chance to get to know you better.” Thunder rolled again, louder this time. “Okay, I have to go. Sorry. I’d stay longer, but…”

  “No, it’s okay. Go ahead but text me to let me know you got home okay, please?” Kurt urged, opening the door.

  Before Peyton could answer, Winters bellowed, “Well, what do we have here? I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  Kurt peered past Peyton into the hall to see his partner, who held a study book for the detective’s exam in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other.

  “Nope. I’m heading home. Thanks again, Kurt.” She gave a little wave before jogging down the hall to the elevator.

  Kurt stepped into the hall and watched until she disappeared inside the steel doors before turning to his partner. “I guess you want to come inside?” He walked back in his apartment and heard Winters follow, the door shutting behind him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next day, Peyton and Gilda entered the science wing of Gold Coast Community College and walked straight to Owen’s classroom. Unlike Professor Mason’s, which was on the other side of the labyrinthine hallways of the building, her brother’s physics lab was a short distance from the main doors. A glance through the window revealed rows of empty desks. Looking down at her dog, Peyton asked, “What next, Gilda?”

  The next door closest to the classroom opened and Carla stepped into the hallway. “Peyton, hon, it’s so good to see you! And there’s the best puppy in the whole world. How are my two favorite ladies?”

  Gilda trotted toward the older woman and licked her outstretched hand.

  “We’re okay. Still no word from Owen?”

  “Not a peep, how about you? Have you heard anything?”

  Peyton shook her head, “No, nothing, but I filed a missing person's report and have enlisted help.”

  “Come on into his office. I was going through his papers. Busy work that I’m too busy to do when he’s here. As much as I miss him, and worry for his safety, it is nice to get caught up on everything without his standing over my shoulder. Although, at the same time, I miss him standing over my shoulder.”

  “Yeah. He can be a little OCD at times.”

  “Girl, you sa
id a mouthful.” The teaching assistant gestured toward one of the chairs facing the desk. “Please, sit. What brings you to the college today?”

  Peyton lowered into a chair and Gilda sat in front of her. “I came by to see how you’re doing, and to see if there is anything of Owen’s that might have a more current scent on it. Gilda and I are going to start searching.”

  “Oh, honey. Without any idea of where to look, can you do that? You would be looking for a needle in a haystack?”

  “You’re probably right, but I have to do something. Owen is the only family I have left.” Peyton blinked back tears. “If only there was a clue or hint about where he is, I’m sure Gilda and I could find him.”

  “That reminds me, there was one thing.”

  A knock on the door interrupted Carla and she went to answer it. She spoke in hushed tones to the person outside in the hall before beckoning them in. At the sight of Professor Mason, Gilda gave a friendly, “Woof.”

  Professor Mason stooped and extended her open palm, her face lighting up when the dog accepted the offer to greet with a handshake. “Hello, lovely Gilda. And hello, Peyton.” The woman’s frown returned as she stood.

  “Professor Mason was also contacted by the police,” Carla explained.

  “You were? That’s good, right? It means they’re investigating.” Peyton breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t know what they’re investigating, though. They started out normal enough, asking me about people your brother knew. His friends. What colleagues he spent time with. His hobbies. But then they segued into the oddest things. Did I know if he had financial trouble? Did he owe people money? Did I think he was the type of person to lie, cheat, or steal?”

  Hearing the professor talk turned Peyton’s relief to resentment. “Those are weird questions, and Owen wouldn’t do any of those things.”

  “Peyton, I’ll be honest with you. Your brother and I weren’t dating, but we’ve been out to dinner several times as close friends. Here lately, he’s seemed a little more distracted than usual, but not overly so. That officer was insistent, almost as if he suspected Owen of illegal activity.”

  “That’s crazy!” Peyton fumed. “Do you remember which cop it was?”

  “An Officer Lopez.”

  Peyton slumped at the professor’s reply. “Oh, okay. I thought it might have been someone else. I’m glad they’re investigating and not blowing off his disappearance. If you could have seen the state of his house, there’s no way he would have left it in that shape.”

  Carla, who had remained silent to that point, cleared her throat. “Someone named Detective Collins called me.”

  Peyton rubbed Gilda behind the ears, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

  “What aren’t you telling us?” Carla prodded.

  “Did Owen tell you about the surfer Gilda pulled from the ocean?” Without waiting for Carla or Professor Mason to respond, Peyton lunged into a recap of recent events. “And in exchange, Kurt’s promise to find Owen.”

  “Gilda is that dog in the video! The students were asking me but I wasn’t sure since you weren’t with her.” Carla came around the front of the desk and rubbed Gilda’s cheeks before kissing her on the forehead. “You are hero, Miss Gilda. Such a brave, courageous hero puppy.”

  Gilda grinned, basking in the praise. By the time the woman returned to her chair, the golden retriever’s tongue hung from the side of her mouth.

  Professor Mason added, “That was impressive work. I saw the video on Good Morning Gold Coast but didn’t put two and two together, either.”

  “She was on Good Morning Gold Coast?” Peyton beamed.

  “Indeed. They played the video posted on Reel Life.” The professor nodded. “And there’s a link to it on their website, too.”

  “I tagged Gilda in video on Reel Life. I’ll have to leave a comment on the network’s website, too. Who knows. Maybe Owen will see it and be in touch.”

  “I hope he will.” Professor Mason gave a grim smile and glanced at the clock on the wall. “If you ladies excuse me, I need to prepare for my next class.”

  Carla waited until the other woman was out of the room before turning to Peyton. “I found something that might help you find your brother.”

  “For real? Carla, why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because when I tried before, Professor Mason showed up. She seems nice enough, but this is your brother’s private business.” Carla picked up an expandable file from the desk and handed it to Peyton. “These are Owen’s grant applications. You don’t have to read through everything right now but take a look at that letter on top.”

  Peyton slipped the elastic cord free and the accordion-style sides sprang open. Pulling the top sheet from the cardboard container, she skimmed the contents.

  “Is that what it appears to be?” Carla asked. “I read through it, but I can’t imagine that it’s true.”

  The more she read, the queasier she felt. “Carla, this can’t be. My brother is the most honest, upstanding person I know. You’re right. Whatever this letter accuses him of can’t be true.”

  “That is why I saved that out for you.”

  “Did you tell the police about this?”

  “No!” Carla put a hand on her chest and shook her head. “I could not have them thinking this about him.”

  “Exactly. This letter has to be bogus. I know Owen had a lot on his mind lately, but there’s no way he’s involved in grant fraud. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kurt sat in the doctor office, waiting to have the healing progression of his injury checked out. Perched on the end of an exam table, he held his composure together while the nurse poked and prodded the area of his forearm around the wound. He kept up the false front while the doctor repeated the examination, poking and prodding in the same spots. When they finished, the nurse wrapped his arm in a new splint.

  The doctor moved to a desk in the corner where he focused on a mobile computer screen, his index fingers pecking at the diminutive keyboard. When he finished, he swiveled the chair around and smiled at Kurt.

  “That’s it. Do you have any questions before we wrap this up?” When Kurt didn’t react, he explained, “Get it? Wrap it up? Because there’s a splint wrapped around your arm? No worries. That’s a little medical humor. My younger patients enjoy it.”

  Kurt frowned at the dark gray foam encircling his arm from elbow to the middle of his hand. Flexing his fingers, he tried not to wince at the resulting pain that shot up to his shoulder. “But, um, I can work with this thing on, right?”

  “Sure, if they put you on a desk and you’re not a southpaw.” The doctor laughed.

  “Are you serious? For how long?” Kurt scowled.

  “That depends on how well you let your body heal. You have the benefit of youth and that you're in good physical health. The blade missed tendons and there's no permanent axillary nerve damage but doing too much too soon could change that. That splint will help prevent long-term damage as well.”

  Kurt nodded and stared at the splint on his arm.

  The doctor continued, “Unfortunately, there was muscle damage, and you will feel pain. Not enough for prescription narcotics. Over the counter pain relievers should take care of it now that it's had a few days to start healing. Keep that splint on to keep your arm immobilized.”

  “What about when I shower?”

  “It's waterproof. You'll leave it on until you come back for your follow-up appointment.” The doctor gave Kurt an encouraging smile.

  “Is there anything else I can’t do?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend driving or doing anything else that requires two hands.”

  “Great.” I’m not even going to tell him that I drove myself here today. “Is that it?”

  “Unless you have any other questions. You can schedule the follow-up appointment at the reception desk in the front lobby.” The doctor extended his hand and Kurt gave it a firm shake.<
br />
  “Thanks, doc. I appreciate your help.” He hopped off the exam table and followed the older man into the hall.

  Kurt was climbing into his Jeep when he heard his name. Looking around, he saw the redheaded firefighter waving to him from the sidewalk. Before he could turn the key to start his vehicle, she made a beeline for his parking space.

  “Oh, hey, Nicole. What’s up?”

  “I’m checking on things for my paramedic class. How’s your arm?”

  “Getting better, thanks.”

  “Hey, listen, do you want to hang out? I could come over and cook meals for you, or clean up, or keep you company, or anything you need, really.” Her exuberance spilled into her words, the sound reminding Kurt of one of those big-mouthed fish that gurgled a constant stream of water into a fountain. Batting her lashes, she repeated, "Anything."

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Because if-”

  Kurt blurted, “I have someone to help me, but thanks.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t mean to cut this short, but I have to go.” Kurt waved his splinted arm for effect before starting his vehicle and backing out of the space. He glanced in his rear-view mirror to see Nicole was still on the sidewalk, staring at his vehicle. With his knee and splinted forearm holding the steering wheel in place, he shifted gears and let the Jeep coast forward as slowly as he dared through the parking lot while using his free hand to make a call on his cell phone.

  "Hey Mom?" he asked when she picked up on the third ring. "Can you meet me at my apartment? I have huge favor to ask."

  * * *

  Kurt pushed a button on his recliner and the footrest kicked out. “Hey mom, can I have ketchup for my potato wedges?”