“I hope you’re right,” she said, because she wanted to believe the way he did. She wanted to think that everything she’d been through had brought her to the place she was supposed to be. That was hard, though, with the weight of guilt on her shoulders, the sorrow heavy in her heart.
“I’m going to bed.” Rose announced, standing on threshold of the foyer and the dining room. “A good night’s sleep is important to keep the mind sharp.”
“Good night, Rose.” Grayson remained seated on the couch.
“I need to get some sleep, too,” Laney admitted with a yawn. She hoped he would pick up on her not-so-subtle hint as she headed toward the foyer to let him out. “I guess we’ll see you in a few hours, then…”
“I’m not leaving.” Grayson’s voice was firm.
“I’m afraid I have only one spare room, and Rose is using it.”
“I’ll be fine on the couch. The sun will be up in a few hours, and I’d just as soon keep watch on the house until that happens.”
“Well, I personally think that’s a good idea,” Rose interjected. “I’m a little too tired to take on another intruder tonight—plus my can of mace is depleted. I’ll get the blankets and the extra pillows.” Without waiting for Laney’s response, Rose headed down the hall.
“Well, then, I guess it’s settled,” Laney agreed, not wanting to admit, even to herself, that she felt better knowing Grayson would be down the hall. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go grab the pillows from the top shelf before Aunt Rose takes it upon herself to get on the stepladder—we definitely don’t need another trip to the emergency room tonight.”
*
Grayson woke with a start.
He was up and on his feet in seconds, the pile of blankets Rose had given him falling to the floor. No sign of any danger, and the dogs weren’t barking.
Something clanged in the kitchen. A pan or pot, maybe.
He thought it might be Rose, and he went to join her, stopping short when he spotted Laney standing at the sink. The early-morning sun cast gold and amber highlights through her silky hair as she put on the coffee and popped an English muffin into the toaster. Jax and Brody acknowledged him with brief glances, then continued sitting patiently by the counter, watching Laney’s every move.
“Good morning.”
Though he spoke softly, Laney gasped and turned toward him, clearly startled.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s not your fault. I was lost in my thoughts. I guess I’m a little on edge, that’s all.” She grabbed two dog bowls and a bag of food from the pantry. “Would you like a muffin or some coffee? I’ve just put on a pot,” she asked while preparing the dogs’ food.
“A cup of coffee would be great. And I’d like to grab a quick shower later this morning if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Fresh towels and soap are under the cabinet in the hall bathroom. Unfortunately, I don’t have any clean clothes that would fit you…”
“I keep spare clothes in a duffel in my car.”
“Then you’re all set. And feel free to help yourself to anything you need from the visitor kit I keep in the bathroom. Sometimes clients will stay overnight when they drop their dogs off, and I like to be prepared.”
“That’s not a surprise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you seem like the kind of person who prefers to have a plan in place.”
“This from the guy that keeps spare clothes in a duffel in his car?” she retorted, placing the dogs’ bowls down by the sliding glass door. Neither dog moved from its spot. Eyes trained on Laney, they watched as she crossed the room to the coffeepot and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard.
She glanced at the dogs. “Break,” she commanded, and both went for their food.
“They’re really well-behaved,” he commented.
“Dogs need to understand their boundaries and limitations. Consistency in reinforcing those things is the key.” She poured coffee into the mugs. “Milk or sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
She leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee. Dressed in beige tactical pants, work boots and a white, long-sleeved T-shirt with the Wagging Tails Boarding and Training logo on it, it was clear she was ready to work. “Heading out to take care of the dogs?”
“It’s what I do.”
“Not without an escort.”
“You’re welcome to come along, but I’ve got some training to do, so I may be a while.”
“How long have you been a dog trainer?”
“Professionally, since I was about nineteen—it helped pay my college living expenses—but I’ve been training dogs since I was eleven. I picked it up from my grandfather. He’s the one who started this training facility. He mostly trained police dogs for protection work and drug sniffing back then. Some of my best childhood moments were spent in the kennels with the dogs.” Her smile lit her eyes. “But then, what kid wouldn’t like playing with dogs all day?”
She pulled her hair up in a ponytail, tying it off with an elastic band she’d worn around her wrist. She wore no makeup, the bruise at her jawline now a bluish green; the end of the red, jagged bullet wound and one staple were clearly visible at her temple near her hairline, but none of it detracted from her quiet beauty. She had an inner strength and calmness about her that he was sure was part of her success as a dog trainer. Grayson had always believed dogs to be perceptive about people’s character and moods.
“I’ve got to head out. My staff will be here by eight to help open the kennels, and I have a potential new client coming at nine for a puppy evaluation—it should be interesting because I’ve never worked with a Leonberger before. Her name is Maxine.”
Grayson had never even heard of a Leonberger. “Do we have time for me to grab my laptop? I’ve got some case files I want to go over.”
“Can you do it in two minutes?”
“It’s out in my car. I can do it sixty seconds.”
“Challenge on,” she responded, lifting her wrist and staring at her watch.
He made it back with the laptop in fifty seconds, because he was pretty sure she wouldn’t wait the entire sixty.
She was still in the kitchen, the sunlight still playing in her hair.
He thought he’d like to see her outdoors, working with her dogs, doing what she did best.
And that wasn’t a good thought to be having about his key witness.
“So what are you planning to tell your staff about your injuries?” he asked, because he needed to get his mind back on protecting Laney. Even though it seemed certain her connection to the case had been leaked, he still thought it wise to downplay her involvement, to keep the reason for her injuries quiet.
“I think explaining your presence, and that of the patrol car, could be just as difficult, actually. What would you suggest?”
“For now, let’s blame your injuries and police protection on the breakin and call me an old friend.”
“We can try it, but I’m not good at subterfuge. If they start asking questions, that story will fall apart quickly.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to keep them too busy to ask questions.”
“That part probably won’t be much of a problem.” She opened the sliding glass door, letting the dogs out into the yard.
Grayson followed Laney to the kennels, where she busied herself filling water bowls with a two-gallon jug. She had released most of the dogs, about fifteen in all, into a fenced enclosure in the center of the kennel that appeared to be an indoor training area. The morning quiet was now broken with lots of barking, yapping, jumping and running around. He noticed one dog, a large Rottweiler, remained in its enclosure. “What’s wrong with that one?” he asked out of curiosity.
“He’s here as a board-and-train. He’s a rescue, but he’s dog-aggressive and hard to control on walks. He’s improved since he’s been here, but I don’t trust him to play unsupervised yet.”
“That’s too bad.”
“He’s young, and he’s smart. His new owners love him. He’ll have a happy ending.” She smiled.
A door opened at the back of the facility. A girl, about fifteen, came out, hands filled with two buckets overflowing with metal dog bowls. An older teen boy was behind her, pushing a cart piled high with dog food.
“Guys, I’d like you to meet Grayson DeMarco. He’s an old friend. Grayson, this is Riley Strong and Bria Hopewell, my staff.”
Riley stepped out from behind the cart, extending a hand to Grayson. “Nice to meet you,” he said, pumping Grayson’s hand just a little harder than socially acceptable. Not at all threatened by Riley’s obvious territorial gesture, Grayson smiled.
“The pleasure’s mine,” he countered, returning the handshake. He had no doubt Riley knew he was no match physically for Grayson, but he appreciated the kid’s protective posture and wondered if Laney recognized his obvious devotion to her.
Bria stepped forward, pushing her glasses up on her nose and extending her hand, as well. She was taller than Laney, about five-six, and way too skinny. Her natural blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail, the bangs falling into her eyes. She barely met Grayson’s eyes as she mumbled, “Nice to meet you,” before dropping his hand like a hot potato. Grayson had seen kids act like that before, and usually for a reason other than severe shyness. He made a mental note to ask Laney about Bria’s story later.
“What’s up with the cop car outside?” Riley asked.
“We had a breakin last night, and Chief Andrews thought it would be safer to leave some officers here.” A red flush crept into Laney’s cheeks. She was right. She was possibly the worst liar Grayson had ever seen. The kids didn’t seem too perceptive, however, accepting her explanation and going about their task of feeding the dogs.
“You’re welcome to use my office if you need a place to work, Grayson. Here, let me show you where it is.”
“This is a nice setup,” he commented, following her through the facility.
“I renovated when I took over the business from Granddad about two years ago.”
Grayson noticed a sprinkler system in the ceiling, and cameras in the corners focused on the training ring.
“You have security cameras in your kennels but won’t get an alarm in your house?” Grayson asked. It seemed to him that her money would have been better spent equally on the house and the kennel.
“The cameras are for recording training sessions only. They’re not set up for around-the-clock monitoring.”
Grayson’s phone vibrated on his hip. “Mind if I take this?”
“Why would I? You’ve got work to do, and so do I. My office is this way.” She led him past the reception area, down a small corridor that ended at an office and storage area as Grayson answered the phone.
“DeMarco.”
“Andrews here. The arson investigator is wrapping things up. He’ll have the official report to us this afternoon, but the fuse at the hospital was deliberately blown. He confirmed his initial assessment of arson.”
Just as Grayson had expected. “What about the surveillance video?”
“No one was in or around that area except the security guard. I’ve sent a patrol car out to his house to bring him to the precinct for further questioning,” Andrews said.
“Good. We need to press him. Any ID yet on our perp from the breakin?” he asked, meeting Laney’s eyes. She looked worried. She should be. It was obvious the kidnappers knew she had survived. There was no doubt the blown fuse, the intruder, all of it were connected with the intent of finding and silencing her.
“Prints were a match for Stephen Fowler,” Andrews continued. “Two-time loser. Just released nine months ago after serving a four-year stretch for B&E. His car was parked at his parents’ house in the neighborhood, but they claimed they’d not seen him since his release. Father seemed pretty angry over a stolen family car a few years back—claims he’d cut off all ties. Mom may be maintaining contact without telling dad, but I don’t think either had any knowledge of his actions last night.”
“Fowler say anything useful?”
“No. He’s still clammed up. It doesn’t look like he’ll be able to make bail. Maybe another night in jail will loosen his tongue.”
“Maybe. We could definitely use a break. Right now I’m pinning all my hopes on Laney being able to ID a suspect,” Grayson said.
“Do you think we should reconsider moving her to a safe house?” Andrews asked.
“The problem is, I don’t know who to trust. I’d feel better if she was here, with a combination of police and FBI protection for the next few days.”
“I’ll support that. I’ll rotate officers out front,” Andrews said. “Any word on the FBI protection detail?”
“Best case scenario, tonight or tomorrow. I’ll stay around until we get more people lined up.”
“I’ll be by in a few hours to drop Murphy off. You can let me know then if you think we need to take additional precautions.”
Grayson checked his watch. “Actually, I’ve got the sketch artist flying in soon. If you’re going to be here, I’ll feel better about leaving Laney to pick the sketch artist up from the airport. My plan is to bring her directly here—the quicker we get the sketches done, the better.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Andrews said. “You still planning to bring in that computer-forensics guy? Because if you’re not, I’m calling someone in. If there’s a leak in my department, I want to know it.”
“She’s coming, but she’s not a guy. I called in a favor and got the leading cyber-forensics investigator in the country.” He didn’t mention that Arden was his sister. No need for that. Andrews would figure it out soon enough.
“She’s FBI, too?”
“No. She’s brains for hire. An independent contractor. But I know I can trust her, and that’s all that matters right now.”
Grayson said a quick goodbye and disconnected.
“Well?” Laney demanded, her eyes deeply shadowed, the bruise on her jaw purple and green against her pale skin.
“I think you heard most of it. The arson team confirmed that the fuse box had been tampered with, and the perp from the breakin is still not talking. Kent’s planning to bring Murphy…”
A sudden commotion in the kennels, followed by a reverberating crash and a piercing scream, had Grayson on high alert, hurrying toward the office door. “Wait here,” he ordered Laney as he rushed into the kennels, pulling the door shut behind him.
Drawing his gun, he raced to the indoor training ring, scanning the facility for the source of danger.
He didn’t have to look far.
Near the entry of the indoor training facility, a brown-and-black mass of fur on legs was excitedly pulling on its leash. It must have weighed a good seventy or eighty pounds. The poor owner was putting all his strength into holding it at bay as it wagged its tail excitedly and tried to reach Riley and the food cart. It had already managed to barrel over Bria, knocking her off her feet and scattering metal dog bowls all over the concrete floor. Riley was trying to pull her up, one eye warily trained on the furry menace.
Unexpectedly, the pup pulled free, launching himself in a ball of unbridled excitement toward the teens and the food cart. Grayson cringed, but it was like watching a train wreck about to happen. He just couldn’t look away.
Footsteps pounded on the ground behind him, and he whirled around, ready for danger. Laney was there, wild auburn curls flying around her face, eyes wide with surprise. She held a long metal pole, her knuckles white from her grip on it.
“I guess,” she said, as he turned back and saw the furry beast had its head in a bucket of dog food, “that is Maxine.”
NINE
Maxine was a darling, but she was a wild one.
Laney barely managed to get her back into her owners’ SUV after the evaluation was done.
They drove away, waving wildly, probably in gratitude that Maxin
e hadn’t killed Bria or Riley.
Maxine stuck her head out the side window, her tongue lolling out.
“I can’t believe that thing is only five months old.” Grayson commented.
“She’s cute, isn’t she?” Laney asked.
“Cute? I don’t think anything that big can be called cute.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” she responded absently, turning to clean up the mess left in Maxine’s wake.
“You shouldn’t have come running out of the office. You know that, right?” Grayson asked, helping right the cart and scoop what was left of the food back onto it.
“What was I supposed to do? Cower in my office, hoping and praying that the screams weren’t my staff members being slaughtered?”
“You thought they were being slaughtered, and you came outside with this?” He lifted her grandfather’s old catching pole, a tool used to control vicious, potentially dangerous dogs. It was a five-foot-long aluminum rod with a grip on one end and a retractable noose on the other.
She had never used one herself, and in all the years she had worked with her grandfather, she had never seen him use one, either. But when she’d prepared to leave the office to find the source of the screaming, it had been the only potential weapon within her reach.
“It made sense at the time.” She shrugged, her hair sliding along her neck and falling away from the wound on her head. She’d almost died trying to save a stranger. It shouldn’t surprise him that she’d come running to rescue her employees.
“It would have made more sense to stay where I left you. I have a gun, Laney, and I’m trained to take down criminals.”
“And I’m trained to take care of the people who work for me. I’m not going to sit back and let them be hurt because I’m too afraid to act.” Her voice shook—she hoped he didn’t notice.
“Okay,” he said, sounding less like he truly agreed and more like he simply didn’t want to argue with her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 Page 48