by Laura Scott
“You hungry?” she asked.
“Don’t cook unless you plan to for yourself.” Colt sat at the table with his coffee. His hair was disheveled, and his scruff was turning more toward a beard. Didn’t seem like he slept well.
“I always cook a little something. It’s soothing to me.”
Georgia whipped up pancakes and fried a few sausage patties, then brought everything to the table.
Indulging in extra syrup on her pancakes, Georgia closed her eyes and relished the deliciousness. When she opened them, Colt was examining the dogs, frowning.
“Hey, Georgia?”
“Yeah?”
“I think something’s wrong with Doc...and Wyatt.”
She whipped her attention to her puppers. They both were lethargic, and then Doc threw up. “What in the world?” She hurried to them. “Hey, babies, what’s wrong?” She hadn’t been letting them out to wander since the attacks. “You don’t think they swallowed glass, do you?” she asked as her stomach knotted and a sweat broke out on her forehead. She couldn’t lose her dogs. What if they had lacerations inside?
“I don’t know. Let’s get them to the vet, though.” Colt kept a cool head and scooped up the larger sheltie while Georgia eased Wyatt into her arms.
“We see Dr. Reed over at Magnolia Animal Clinic.” She could hardly breathe with every horrible scenario racing through her mind. She loved these dogs. She couldn’t lose them. Why did she have to get so attached? They comforted her and the thought of their passing terrified her.
Colt hurried to the door, paused and swept the area. “Stay close to me,” he said, and they rushed to his truck, where he loaded Doc and Wyatt in the back seat. Both dogs shook and whimpered. Dread broke out on her skin in chill bumps. “Climb in beside them, Georgia. They’ll feel better having you near.”
Crack!
Gunfire.
“Down!” Colt boomed, and Georgia ducked low with the dogs.
Colt dived to the ground, using the door as a shield.
Another bullet slammed into the vehicle and another. Georgia shrieked. They had to get out of here. Time wasn’t on their side! Her pups whimpered, and Doc vomited. What was wrong with her poor doggies? They couldn’t die and leave her! She prayed God would protect them all and spare her fur babies.
Colt returned fire into the woods. “Shots are coming from the southeast.” He quickly called backup while keeping low. Using the driver’s-side door as a shield, he slid into the driver’s seat. Remaining hunched as he started the car, he stepped on the gas and they fishtailed in the gravel as they backed down the drive at top speed, but Colt never veered into the grass. A shot hit the windshield, spiderwebbing the passenger side.
“It was like he was lying in wait!” Georgia hollered over the shots, the gravel crunching and flying. A cold finger of fear scraped down her spine.
“He was. He used the dogs to lure you out.”
Reality set in like rigor mortis in her lungs. “He poisoned my dogs! My babies!”
Colt slammed the truck into Drive and punched the gas, barreling down the highway.
“Are your deliveries routine?” he asked.
“Yes,” Georgia whispered. Someone knew she had dogs and that she ordered supplies from the local feed store. Then the monster had the gall to intercept the boxes. But when? How? The tin. But how? “He’s definitely local,” she said.
“I agree,” Colt added and flew through downtown, weaving and bobbing between cars to get them to the vet without delay. “I want to talk to the people at the feed store. Someone laced the tin of treats. Did they belong to the feed store?”
“I thought so. Kate often adds a little tin of homemade treats. But there wasn’t a logo on them.” Her neglect to pay attention might cost her dogs’ lives. She wanted to kick herself.
“Someone who knows they often added treats waited for the delivery, then slipped a tin on top with hopes you’d do exactly what you did. Then he waited and ambushed us.”
They passed the Magnolia Motel, the bowling alley, the small grocery beside it, and then around the corner the animal hospital came into view. Georgia bounded from the truck with Wyatt, and Colt grabbed Doc. Her head felt like someone had filled it with fuzz, and her lungs squeezed until she could barely catch her breath. She clung to the truth that God’s grace was sufficient for her, but she still felt the raging fear. She hung on to the fact He was good and faithful and she could trust Him, but her insides continued to jackhammer. But truth was truth regardless of her emotion, which happened to be fear and worry at the moment.
The vet tech jumped to attention when they stormed into the clinic wearing fearful expressions. “My dogs have been poisoned.”
“Right this way!” She ushered them into a room, and within seconds Dr. Reed entered, serious and moving with steady purpose. No time for chit chat.
Georgia explained the circumstances and symptoms. Dr. Reed wanted that tin of treats for testing. Colt called his team and had them on it. The techs ushered them outside into the empty waiting area.
Colt’s strong arm pulled her close to his side. His warmth gave her some solace. She turned into his solid chest and cried. “I can’t lose them.” But that’s what happened to people—and now pets—whom she loved. They died. They left her. Alone.
“I know,” he murmured into her hair. “I know.” He held her tighter. “I’m so sorry this is happening. I’ll do everything in my power to see this guy is caught and does time.”
She melted into his embrace, feeling safer than she had in a long time. His reassuring words slipped into the marrow of her bones. She inhaled his masculine scent and burrowed deeper, then caught herself. Oh, no. No, she couldn’t allow any kind of feelings to wiggle their way into her heart. Feelings of safety would turn to dependence, and then that would snowball.
Then she’d care and end up where she started with him all those years ago.
She pulled away. “I know you will.” She rubbed her arms where he’d once warmed them.
He searched her eyes with a puzzled brow. Her withdrawal had been abrupt, but it was in their best interest to keep things professional.
A few minutes later, Poppy and Rhett burst inside with the tin, and the lady at the desk hustled it into the examining room.
Now it was all a waiting game.
For her dogs’ lives.
For hers.
* * *
Colt had finally coaxed Georgia to leave the vet clinic. Dr. Reed had informed them they’d caught the symptoms early. The dogs had been given crushed-up ibuprofen in the tin of treats. Kate at the feed store hadn’t sent a tin this morning, which meant the killer had purchased the treats and laced them with the crushed pills. To lure her out for sure and maybe to even get rid of Wyatt and Doc so they couldn’t alert her to his presence. There was no sneaking up on Georgia with the dogs.
Dr. Reed wanted to keep the dogs for a couple of days to monitor them and make sure kidney function was proper. They were safer there anyway. Georgia had agreed to leave and accompany Colt to the patch of land on Pine Road, but she’d been distant since she pulled from his embrace. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but he felt the sting of rejection. He’d been there before with her. Withdrawing then pushing him from her life.
Better to rub out the sting and take it as a warning that getting close wasn’t an option. There were many reasons. He could recount them all over and again. Time to draw the line between caring because it was his job and they were friends and caring because he wanted more than friendship and a professional relationship. The latter wasn’t possible. No point even entertaining the fleeting thought.
Now he pulled over on the shoulder of the road. The black mailbox with the numbers 4214 peeked out from the growth covering it.
“I’ll be honest, Georgia. If Coach or one of the high school boosters are recruiting, the NCAA com
mittee may only slap them with a fine. They could go right back to doing it again. I mean, Ole Magnolia might lose TV exposure if they’re involved. Right now it’s looking like there is some sneaky business going on with recruiting kids from other districts, but even so, the worst that may happen is a few penalties and public knowledge that they were cheating to win.”
“That doesn’t seem like enough to threaten my life or kill Dandy—if we find out it was staged to look like a carjacking.”
Colt sighed. That’s what had been bothering him all night as he tossed and turned. “No. Which means something else is going on. Penalties for infractions happen all the time in sports. That’s why there’s an entire committee devoted to investigating them. That’s not enough to send someone after you—so it must tie to the murder of Jared. By poking around in the illegal recruiting ring, you’ve stumbled onto something far more sinister.” His cell rang. “It’s Mae.” He answered and put her on speaker.
“Okay,” Mae said. “I think we have some coercion goin’ on. I spoke with Miss Thompson—Moore Thompson’s mother. He’s one of the boys who is using the Pine Road address. She refuses to talk to me without a lawyer present. So I tried Tyler Burgess’s mom. Same story.”
“They may be afraid of losing the scholarship to Ole Magnolia. It’s out there now. The boys will have to move unless the school keeps it under wraps, but Georgia knows, so expect it to come out in a news article.” He grinned, but his joke didn’t reach Georgia. She barely even smiled.
“Right, but I’m seeing a pattern,” Mae said. “Single moms. Athletic boys. No dads in the picture. These mamas would be desperate to see their babies go to college, so fudging addresses would be tempting if an offer came through. And someone has gotten to them and given them the ‘I want a lawyer’ spiel. Is it worth pursuing? Poppy says they’ll get a slap on the wrist and probably have to go to their rightful districts. I feel kinda bad for these mamas.”
“If they’re that good of a player, they’ll get a scholarship without having to cheat. There are consequences to cheating and deceiving. It’s not fair to boys who are doing things the right way. But I do feel bad.”
“I agree, but Poppy says it’s competitive out there. And if the coach or a booster is working with the coach at Ole Magnolia, then it’s a guarantee only because of that under-the-table deal. They might not get it any other way.”
Colt hated to see boys miss out on college, but this wasn’t why he was in Magnolia. The NCAA could decide what to do about the boys. His job was to find out who had killed Jared, and if this infraction led to his killer—that’s where his focus needed to be.
“We need to know who offered her the fake address. A lawyer is going to counsel them to cooperate. Either way, now that it’s out, their sons aren’t going to be allowed to play for Courage High. What school districts will they end up playing for?”
“They both live in the Southern High school district.”
Harry Benard and Chance Leeway’s school. Fighting Tigers.
Georgia leaned forward toward the phone. “I hate the situation they’re in, but they made the choice to be dishonest. If we can get one of them to talk, we might be closer to finding Jared’s killer.”
“And your attacker,” Colt said. “Mae, tell them to get a lawyer, because they’re going to talk to us. Schedule an interview time. Have Rhett take lead. He’s no-nonsense, and the lawyer and the mothers will recognize that. Have him crack hard, and when one of them breaks—do what you do.”
“Be empathetic and sweet and get them to talk to me as a confidante.”
“Whatever it takes within bounds to find a name. We have a killer to catch and no major leads.”
“I’ll have Poppy run interference with the lawyer.”
Poppy was excellent at distraction and getting in the middle of something. He chuckled. “Get it done.” He hung up, and they nosed through the mailbox—federal offense. Oh, well. Nothing there.
“Now what?” Georgia asked. “It’s obvious no one is living on this land. I thought maybe someone put a camper out here, but it’s not even cleared land.”
“We’re not far from Southern High. How about we swing by and talk to Harry Benard? Let’s make sure Chance Leeway sees us, too. If he had any part in Jared’s murder, seeing us at the school will rattle him. Feel like rattling some cages?”
“Do I feel like rattling cages? Me? I’m just a consultant.” She feigned innocence, all wide blue eyes and pouty lips open in false shock. “I think it’s high time someone else’s cage gets rattled besides mine. I’m over it.”
She seemed to be out of her funk—which he suspected was the anxiety. All he knew to do was pray for her. She wouldn’t let him do anything else, and it wasn’t his job. “Speaking of consulting, I’d like for you to sit in on our interviews.”
Georgia expressed surprise then narrowed her eyes. “I feel like this consultant job is to keep me from nosing around alone.”
Georgia had a way of getting into all sorts of hot water. He’d once had to save her from an upperclassman when she’d taken a photo of him at the movies with a girl—who wasn’t his girlfriend—and posted it in the Whodunit column of the school paper. Whodunit—who cheated with Meg Frowlick? Cody Weinbeck. If Colt had ever known a guy to want to hit a girl, it was Cody when Tillie Maycott stormed into the lunch room and poured a Diet Coke over his head and shoved the school paper in his face.
“Two words,” Colt said as he pulled back onto the highway. “Cody Weinbeck.”
Georgia laughed. “Hey, I only did my job, and as my mama used to say—”
“‘Time will lift the truth to the surface and it’ll bob in the water of lies for all to see.’ Yes, I’m well aware of that. You said it all the time. Guess you still do.”
“Well, it’s true, and Cody was a cheater and a liar. I just kinda helped his lies lift.” She used her hands and pushed upward. “By the way, ole Cody is a deputy with the sheriff’s office.”
“Nice.” He never liked that guy.
“He’s still a cheater, too. Right in the middle of a divorce with Tillie.”
“She married him? After he cheated on her?” Colt shook his head.
“Forgiveness is a thing.” Georgia pointed at him and gave him a stern look. If she was talking about Colt forgiving his dad for being a drunk, a verbal boxing champion and a terrible dad, then forget it.
Colt’s cell rang. Mae again. “What’s up? We’re heading to Southern High to talk to Harry Benard—”
“Yeah, well, he isn’t there. I called to set up an interview, and the school said he went home sick this morning. He hasn’t answered his cell or landline. That’s why I’m calling. He might be a runner.”
That’s all Colt needed—to chase after a town skipper. “Give me his address. Georgia and I will stop in for a wellness check.”
Mae snorted and gave him the address. “Jared’s parents will be here in an hour. Don’t be late.” She hung up.
“Feel like checking Harry Benard for a fever?”
“I imagine if he’s in eyeball deep, he’s feeling some heat. Probably got the sweats.”
“I know just the cure for that.”
“Prison.” She held out her fist, and he laughed and bumped it with his. Like old times. Partners. A pair. A couple. This was not keeping to professional lines.
He turned left as he came off the bypass. Colt still remembered all of Magnolia. Harry’s home was at the end of a dead-end road on the left. His Mazda was in the drive. “At least he’s here.”
Colt led the way to the small porch and peeked in the living room window. The place was dark inside. No TV. Maybe he was sick.
“Colt,” Georgia said in an antsy whisper. “Be careful.”
Colt guided her back a step with his hand and drew his weapon. “Stay here. Better yet, go get in the truck and lock the doors. I’ll gauge the situati
on and determine if you can come inside.”
“What if someone is with him? What if they shoot you—kill you? I...” She fanned her face and inhaled deeply. That was her openly panicked face.
“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I have a gun. I’m trained. Please, Georgia. Go get in the truck. Go on, now.” He gestured for her to return to the vehicle, then he knocked and tried the door. Unlocked. He opened it. “Harry, it’s Colt McCoy. MBI. I’m coming in.”
Colt wanted to shrug off the dark feeling that hovered as if something sinister had taken place. He cleared the living room and entered the kitchen.
Harry Benard was facedown in a bowl of cereal. Colt checked for a pulse, but the stab wound in his back made it evident he was deceased. He lifted his phone to call it in. A thud came from the back of the house. Quickly, he moved through the small hallway past a bathroom and two bedrooms. As he entered the master bedroom, a figure pushed a writing desk over, blocking Colt’s path, then scrambled out the window.
“Freeze!” Colt hollered and maneuvered around the desk and clutter on the floor. By the time he climbed out the window, the man was bolting down along the side of the house.
Georgia shrieked, sending Colt into a panic of his own. He raced to the front of the house, and Georgia was a crumpled heap near the truck holding her arm. The guy ran through the woods at the dead end.
“I’m okay,” Georgia called. “Go!”
He took her at her word and chased after the bulky man. Backup was on the way. After ten minutes of trying to find him, Colt realized the effort was futile, and he doubled back to Georgia.
Sheriff’s deputies were on the scene along with his team.
“Did you see him?” Colt asked as he approached Georgia.
“It happened like lightning. I was getting in the truck, so I didn’t see him. He shoved me into the side of it so hard—my shoulder—and then I fell and you were right behind him.”