by Lisa M Airey
“Okay.” She paused. “Could I take a shower? I smell like cigarette smoke.”
He smiled. “Of course. And, after dinner, if the storm lets up, and if you want, I’ll take you back to your place. Naturally, I would hope to hold you tonight, but that will be your choice. Rain storms and snow storms don’t carry the same sort of isolationism, but one could always hope that you’d see it that way.”
“I see.”
“Or perhaps you might just choose to stay because you enjoy being held snug and safe in my arms? Do you remember?”
“You should sell cars, Gray Walker.”
His smile widened.
“No pressure. You choose.”
“Okay.”
“Now, tell me what happened tonight.”
She did. He wasn’t pleased with most of what she had to say. She could see his jaw was rigidly set and his hands gripped the wheel far too tightly.
By the time Gray pulled into his apartment complex, Julie was talked out for the most part. He ushered her into his apartment in silence.
The apartment was Spartan and neat. All was in earth tones, warm, rich and friendly. While she picked up his personal momentos to examine them, he fetched her a clean towel and washcloth. “Here ya go,” he said, tugging on her earlobe. “Please, be comfortable.”
“Thank you.”
She took her shower and slipped into a soft cotton t-shirt and cotton pants. She walked barefoot into the kitchen, her towel-dried hair curling softly.
“Sit, Julie. I’ve made you some pasta.” She ate, thanking him for the meal, and told him about her conference.
He listened.
While she sipped a cup of hot tea, he asked her about the AAA driver again. The conversation was repeatedly interrupted by a crack of lightening, a roll of thunder or a particularly heavy barrage of raindrops.
“Stay,” he said softly.
“Okay,” she responded, her eyes gazing out the window, drinking in the night. It had been months since the snowstorm. She inhaled slowly. This time, she was choosing to spend the night. She turned to Gray and acknowledged him. “I see you Gray Walker, and I like what I see.”
She changed in the bathroom. She had packed a nightgown in her duffle. It was a soft peach satin shell that flounced softly mid-thigh. When she entered the bedroom, he hummed in appreciation.
“Gray Walker, you hum like that when good food is set upon the table.”
He smiled, eyes flashing, and held out a hand. “Come here to me, woman,” he said softly, and tugged her toward the bed. He waited until they were tucked in before he spoke again. “So, Julie,” he sighed. “Now that I’ve got you warm and safely snug in my arms, I want you to tell me what really upset you this evening.”
He felt her muscles tighten. “I told you already.”
“You didn’t tell me all of it.”
He waited. And waited. Then, he crushed her to him gently. “Speak, woman. You were afraid of me tonight. That hasn’t been the case since before the blizzard.”
“Tom and I had a conversation.”
It was Gray’s turn to stiffen.
“He said that you consider me your woman because we shared a buffalo robe.” Gray laughed softly. His chest rumbled deep, rich and easy. “Do you consider me your woman?” she asked.
“Well,” he sighed. “That is a loaded question. If I say yes, you’ll consider me an anachronism and a male chauvinist. If I say no, you’ll think that I don’t care about you enough, that I’m not sincere in my pursuit of your affections.” He rubbed her shoulder with his chin. “Julie, I think a more appropriate question is this – Do you consider me your man? In this day and age, it’s the woman who chooses, you know.”
She was silent.
“So, are you going to answer the question?”
“You didn’t answer mine,” she said, tucking her hand underneath his t- shirt and burrowing her face into the hollow of his neck. “I’m not going to answer yours.”
“Fair enough,” said Gray, trying to keep the smile out of his voice. He placed his right hand on top of hers, the t-shirt between them. He didn’t need an answer. Not a verbal one anyway. She’d already told him what he needed to know, even if she didn’t acknowledge it herself.
20
After breakfast, Gray drove her back to her home so that she could change into her baseball uniform. Fortunately, she had made a double batch of snicker doodles, Rice Krispy treats, and Chex mix in advance of her trip to Pierre. The boys wouldn’t starve. She glanced at Gray loading the SUV – neither would the team’s biggest boy.
She called the garage and inquired about her car. The manager on duty told her that he had not received a red Toyota Corolla the evening prior. She called AAA and spoke to a representative, explaining her situation.
She was on hold when Gray appeared in her doorway and tapped his watch. She gave AAA her cell number, locked up the house and dialed Elliott on her mobile. She left a message asking if he could pull any strings to track down her missing vehicle.
The ballgame was a total adrenaline rush as usual. The boys played so well. She was a little surprised to see a police cruiser enter the parking area with its lights flashing and more than a little surprised when a second car pulled in behind the first.
Dan got out of the first car, Elliott the second. Both of them strode toward the ball diamond with grim faces and downcast eyes.
The referee called a time out in the last inning and a hushed murmur rose from the crowd. Both coaches and the referee approached the police officers and stood in quiet huddle. Then Gray pivoted in Julie’s direction and waved her over, his face dark.
She was genuinely confused as she approached the men. Her first thought had been of Keith, but Keith stood resolutely on first base, alive and well. She searched each face as she approached the group, looking for a clue. Her eyes found Dan’s and she waited.
“Julie, we need to ask you some questions about the AAA driver that responded to your call last night.”
She cocked her head, her mind moving swiftly. “He wasn’t an AAA driver, was he? That’s why my car isn’t in the garage, isn’t it?”
“Could you come back with us? Now?” said Dan. “We need to ask you a few questions.”
Julie just looked at him.
“Julie?” he said, all cop.
Her breathing was short and shallow. “He was going to kill me, wasn’t he? I knew it!” She pivoted to Elliott. “I knew it. That’s why I didn’t get into the truck!”
“Come back with us to the station,” said Elliott.
She shook her head to the negative and heads popped up all way round.
“Julie.”
It was Gray.
“Wh-what?”
“You need to go with Dan and answer some questions.”
She looked at Gray for a moment, willing him to understand her dilemma. For all the world, she did not want to hurt Dan Keating. She had spent the night in Gray’s arms. She hoped she’d be able to keep that to herself.
After the game, Gray drove to the police station and waited an hour for Julie to be released. Dan was none-too-pleased to see him in the waiting room.
“Someone needs to take Julie home,” said Gray. “Unless you’ve recovered her car?”
“Not yet,” said Dan with a frown. The two men stared at each other.
“Did we win?” asked Julie, rounding Dan and crossing the room to Gray.
“By a run.”
“What happened to our big lead?”
“It left when you left the infield,” he said. He looked up at Dan. “What’s the word?”
Dan frowned. “The man who responded to Julie’s call for roadside assistance was not the real tow truck driver. The real tow truck driver was found mauled to death near Rock Creek.”
“Mauled to death?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you check the AAA call record, the call before Julie’s?”
“Way ahead of you.”
“Any leads
?”
Dan shrugged, giving up nothing. Gray cocked his head and held the silence. “Can I take Julie home?”
Dan nodded, disgruntled and displeased. Julie had been very uncomfortable during questioning, but then, he imagined he would have been also had he come that close to… To what? The man who had responded to her call had obviously stolen the truck, and now, her car. But that didn’t necessarily link him to the dead man. Perhaps he was nothing more than an opportunist who had inadvertently stumbled upon the parked tow truck.
The dead man had been found at a rest stop near a scenic overlook. Dan took a deep and uneasy breath. He had been mauled like the woman who had been trapped in the blizzard on the mountain.
Dan watched Julie and Gray walk across the parking lot to Gray’s SUV, pleased by the large amount of open space between them as they made their way. He didn’t reach for her and she didn’t reach for him, but they stopped every now and again to face each other and talk. Gray reached inside his jacket pocket and removed his car keys. Dan stiffened. Car keys! How did the false tow truck driver get the keys to the truck? The real driver would have certainly had them on his person when he was attacked by whatever animal had attacked him.
Dan was standing in silence, lost in thought when Elliott entered the waiting room.
“We’ve found the tow truck,” he said.
“Where?”
“Abandoned on the outskirts of town,” reported Elliot. “Good news is, Julie’s car is still on the flatbed.”
Dan scowled. That was not good news. That was not good news at all. If theft wasn’t the motive behind the misappropriation of the tow truck and Julie’s car, what was?
21
Julie started off her workweek with three terribly injured pets. A border collie rounding up a herd was gored by an irate steer and required almost 100 stitches to keep its intestines inside its body. A black lab had gotten its hind leg caught in an illegal wolf trap and required an amputation below the shattered bone. A German Shepherd chased a rabbit and managed to snare himself into a tangle of barbed wire. The animal had to be sedated before he could be cut free, and it took Julie all afternoon to disinfect and stitch up the multiple cuts that crisscrossed his body.
She was never more grateful to administer simple vitamin supplements and booster shots to the rest of the town’s household pets. No matter what Dan Keating said, sometimes the standard routine was just what the doctor ordered.
The new furniture arrived for the waiting room. It had been on special order and had taken the better part of a year to make it to South Dakota. The result was a very safari-esque appearance. The veterinary office now looked as good as it smelled. She surveyed the room with a smile on her face then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
Dan called her cell before she had even turned the keys in the ignition. “Are you on your way home?” he asked.
“I am,” she said.
“Can I come over?”
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Would you like some dinner?”
“Very much.”
“I’ll be home in ten minutes,” she informed him.
She pulled some homemade meatloaf out of the freezer and started warming it up. Although Dan was not big on vegetables, she warmed a fresh green pea puree and set out some frizzled onions and bacon bits to serve as toppings. Then she took out some refrigerator dough and made rolls. By the time Dan walked through the kitchen door, the house smelled like food.
He helped himself to some crackers and cheese, opened the wine and poured them each a glass. He wrapped an arm around her waist from behind and gave her a gentle squeeze as he deposited her wineglass on the counter. She was busy shaping the dough into fantails.
“I haven’t seen much of you,” he husked.
“Work, the Copper Pigs, baseball. The only free time I have left is eating and sleeping.”
“I’d be happy to join you in either activity.”
She chuckled and shook her head as she slid the rolls into the oven. A quick bark pulled her attention to the kitchen door. Dan was on his feet immediately, his face a mixture of anger and alarm. She crossed the room, removing her apron, and gave his arm as squeeze as she passed.
“Trust me, Dan,” she said. She opened the door a crack and no more. Big Boy barreled into it, then sat back on his haunches in dazed confusion. “I have company,” she said to the wolf. “A dinner guest. You may come in and join us if you can behave yourself. No growling tonight. I’m very tired and don’t have the energy to offset your über alpha protectionist policy.”
The wolf’s head dipped, so she opened the door. Big Boy walked in, looked in Dan’s direction, then took a spot on the kitchen floor near the table. She fixed the animal a cracker with cheese and hand-fed him. He was the poster dog for obedience school training.
“Wow,” said Dan. “Is this the same wolf?”
“Uh huh,” she murmured, handing the wolf another cracker-cheese combo. The animal took the food ever so gently, licking Julie’s fingers and eyeballing Dan in the process.
She shrugged when she saw Dan’s expression. “He likes this combination. In fact, he likes everything I cook, don’t you Big Boy?” She laughed. “I know why my wolf visits. What brings you to my door tonight, Dan?”
“I have been thinking.”
She cocked her head and waited.
“Julie, do you remember the night of the police fundraiser?”
“Sure,” she said, trying not to frown. “What about it?”
“I know there was a lot of teasing and joking, but do you remember George speaking of a young Sioux who was anxious to meet you backstage?”
“Yes,” she said, her brow knit in concentration.
“Well, wasn’t it a young Sioux that was driving the tow truck that night?”
Julie fell quiet.
“I’m not sure where you are going with this. There are a lot of Sioux men in South Dakota, Dan.”
Julie stood up, pulled the meatloaf out of the oven and set it on the table. The rolls came next then the peas. She loaded on the bacon bits and onions. Big Boy started to prance. She fetched a large plastic tray that read “Fido” and fixed the wolf a plate. “Do start,” she said to Dan. “If I don’t feed him straight away, he gets rather ill-mannered.”
Dan watched as she placed a scoop of pea puree onto the plastic dish.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said with a snort. “A feral wolf will never eat something like that. I won’t eat something like that. It’s green.”
She loaded up another spoon and dumped it onto Dan’s plate.
“Try it. Just one bite. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.”
Dan growled in protest which brought Big Boy’s head swinging up fast in his direction.
“If the wolf can’t growl, neither can you, Dan.” She buttered two rolls and cut up two slices of meatloaf then set the tray on the floor. The wolf waited patiently for her to fix her own plate.
“He’s waiting for you to start?” asked Dan incredulously.
“Uh huh,” she said, taking a forkful of meatloaf. She winked at the wolf who tucked into his meal like the beast that he was.
Dan grunted. “The peas are really good.”
Julie grinned. “Wait until you try the meatloaf.”
There was a quiet pause while Dan attacked his food. He was a speed-eater, but after the second forkful he slowed down, tasting everything, savoring everything.
“I asked George if he could work with a police artist to come up with a sketch.”
“A sketch of the young Sioux who wanted to meet me after the singing gig?”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
“His memory is fogged on that score. It was weeks ago. How about you? Do you think you could give us a sketch of your tow truck driver?”
She frowned and shook her head. “I never saw the man’s face. He wore a ball cap. It was dark and he never looked at me.”
He swore softly.
“Dan,” she said, “Honestly now, what are the odds of the same Sioux band groupie being the man who falsely answered my call for roadside assistance?”
“What are the odds of Gray Walker finding you by chance in the middle of nowhere on an unfamiliar walking trail in the middle of a blizzard?”
She was stunned speechless. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when it matters,” said Dan. He got to his feet. “And you matter very much to me, Julie.”
He went to take a step toward her, to kiss her goodnight, but the wolf ambled between them, sat on his haunches and gave him direct eye contact. Dan eyed the wolf, then looked back at Julie.
“He’s very protective,” Dan murmured.
She nodded.
“So am I.” But his comments were directed at the very sentient being that sat like a sphinx between them.
22
Baseball finals were a blur. Gray seemed more keyed up than the boys, and it took all she could do to keep his ferocious appetite in check. Game day rations had tripled since the start of season, but then Gray ate more than the 13 boys put together and even more if he was stressed.
When he handed her the starting line-up on a cafeteria napkin, she raised an eyebrow and raised the lid to her tin of peanut brittle. He snagged a fist-full.
She made the rounds and administered her sugar high to the rest of team then copied the starting line-up into the scorebook. Keith was batting first, but he hadn’t arrived yet. As the minutes passed, she grew more anxious.
It wasn’t until coin-toss that Keith plopped himself down on the bench next to her. She turned to greet him and froze. It wasn’t the purple bruise on his perfect ‘outside’ face but the devastated countenance on his ‘inside’ face that made her snap.
She flew to the bat bag, grabbed a Louisville Slugger and trailed after Keith’s father as he made his way back to his designer sports car. He hadn’t even turned the key in the ignition before she blew out a headlight.
“What the hell?” he shrieked, climbing from the driver’s seat. She shattered the windshield.