Belinda Blake and the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by Heather Day Gilbert

  I waited for about twenty slow seconds, then rang the bell again. When no one answered the second time, I used the key and opened the door. To be on the safe side, I yelled for Dahlia several times and got no reply. I figured Carson wasn’t home, either, since he surely would have heard the doorbell or my shouts.

  I didn’t have to guess where Dahlia’s office was, because she had a very girlie-looking nook set up in the corner of her living room. A computer, a printer, and several hanging files sat on an ivory and pink desk that could not possibly belong to Carson, unless I’d totally misjudged him.

  I edged that way, glanced around, then slid behind the desk to read the file names. Njord, Freya, Thor, Saga…there was a file for each wolf.

  I picked up Thor’s file and perused it. Several photos of him looking emaciated were clipped to the inside, and I assumed they had been taken before he was brought here. Marco had typed up a couple of reports that detailed Thor’s date of birth, his weight, and his registration chip number. None of the information conflicted, so it appeared that everything had been done according to procedure.

  I slid Thor’s file back into the holder. Stepping into the middle of the living room, I shouted again. “Dahlia?”

  Again, there was no response, but I had the strange feeling that someone was watching me. I hesitated a moment or two, then, convinced I was imagining things, I scooted back to my position behind the desk and started pulling drawers open. I rifled around, but found nothing mysterious in them—and nothing vaguely business-related, either. They were stuffed with beauty products like nail polish and lotions.

  I gave a snort. Despite her hassled and unkempt appearance, Dahlia was a beauty product hoarder. I never would’ve guessed.

  When I shifted the mouse for her computer, a screensaver image popped up—a photo of Dahlia and Marco on the beach. Looking closer, I realized it wasn’t taken at some exotic locale, but at the local Greenwich beach.

  The computer was password-protected, and I knew my hacking game wasn’t strong, at least compared to that of some of my gamer friends. It seemed as if my risk-taking hadn’t been worth it.

  I was just about to open the front door when the knob turned and I found myself face-to-face with Dahlia herself. She wore an oversized men’s shirt, and her hair was thrown up into a large, side-tilted clip on top of her head.

  “Belinda?” she asked, obviously stunned to see me standing in her living room.

  I maintained my façade, feigning irritation. “I was looking for you—Evie sent me over. I’ve been yelling and yelling.”

  Dahlia slid her keys into her purse. “Well, I’ve been out. She should have called.”

  “She said she did. Numerous times. She has some urgent papers she needs you to sign.”

  Dahlia was just as unprepared for my accusatory tone as I’d been for her to walk through that door. She stammered, “Yes, well, of course, I’ll drop over at the visitors’ center as soon as I can. Please let Evie know that I have to eat my lunch first, but then I’ll come right over.”

  I nodded and stepped around her. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Dahlia.”

  She still wore a bewildered look when I closed the front door behind me. But I wasn’t in the dark anymore. As I’d passed by Dahlia, I’d caught a whiff of cologne, and I was pretty sure it was Marco’s.

  All the signs pointed to the possibility that Dahlia had made up with Marco last night, then stayed over at his house. She probably hadn’t bothered to check her phone while she was there.

  I strode over to the visitors’ center to give Evie the scoop. While I couldn’t write Dahlia off as a suspect, I felt like the biggest thing she was hiding was her relationship with Marco.

  As I approached the visitors’ center, I nearly careened into Dennis Arden, who was striding vigorously toward Dahlia’s house. He stopped and gave me an apologetic look.

  “Sorry for almost plowing you down there. I heard that Dahlia’s still upset about the newspaper reports, so I brought her a piece of coffee cake—it’s Madeline’s recipe. I make it about once every month or so, just to remember her, and it struck me that Dahlia might enjoy it, too.”

  I felt like he was laying it on thick—both his loyalty to his dead wife and his attempt to do something nice for Dahlia, but maybe he’d turned a corner.

  “That’s thoughtful,” I said.

  He peered at me. “Has anyone ever told you that you look a little like Marjorie Reynolds?”

  I gave him a blank look and he elaborated. “She was an actress in Holiday Inn with Bing Crosby—she played Linda Mason. She had the same fresh charm you have.”

  I knew a come-on when I heard it, even when it popped out of the lips of an old widower.

  “Nope, no one has ever told me that.” I didn’t stick around to let him further elaborate on my looks. Instead, I made a beeline for the side door of the visitors’ center. I hurried through the kitchen and into the gift shop.

  Evie was still positioned by the window. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t even scrolling around on her phone—her gaze was fixed on the parking lot. The poor woman was terrified. It was no way to live.

  She briefly turned my way. “Did you find Dahlia?”

  “Actually, I did. She just got back—probably from Marco’s. She said she’s going to grab lunch and then come over to sign your papers.”

  “Perfect. Thanks heaps for handling that for me.” Evie took a deep breath and stood. She motioned me over to a display table. “One quick question—do you think these mugs are tacky or simply unusual? They just came in today.”

  The mugs featured watercolor wolves painted in sherbet colors. The paint softened into streaks at their necks and seemed to run down the bottom portion of the mug.

  “I think they’re unusual,” I said, trying to be polite. “I’m sure they’ll appeal to some people.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “What do you have left today?”

  “I just have to feed the goats, peacocks, and chickens,” I said. “And now that the grass has thickened up, the goats don’t need as much feed.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you in a bit, then.” Evie turned back to the table, rearranging the painted mugs so they were more visible.

  Katrina would say Evie’s sudden need to perfect the display table was an avoidance tactic, something to give her a reprieve from thinking about the possible proximity of her stalker ex.

  Katrina would be right.

  Determined to help Evie any way I could, I headed out the kitchen door, but instead of going to do my chores, I circled the barn and crept into the woods by the parking lot. After slipping my pepper spray into my right hand, I slid my cell phone into my left. If Evie’s ex, Brian, was hanging out where he had been the last time, I could startle him, then call the cops.

  But as I closed in on the bramble hedges he’d skulked around in last time, it was obvious no one was there. Disappointed that I couldn’t bust the creeper, I scanned the ground and bushes for evidence he had returned, but there was none.

  Pocketing my spray and phone, I headed back to the red building to grab the chicken feed. On my way to the coop, I caught a glimpse of Dennis, who was hustling down the pathway from Dahlia’s. He acted like he was anxious to leave the preserve, but he didn’t veer off toward the parking lot.

  Instead, he headed toward the woods.

  Why would he be going that direction? As far as I knew, he’d never been friendly with the wolves. Unless he planned to take a relaxing stroll, he had no reason to take that route.

  But he hadn’t been strolling.

  Absently, I scattered chicken feed and glanced at the patched hole in the fence. The raccoon must have sworn off his breaking-and-entering ways, since the mended wire still looked untouched.

  The small-brained chickens wouldn’t have known what hit them, had Jonas not intervened in time. I’d seen raccoons in acti
on in my mom’s coop before, and they were not the kind of animals that backed down. It surprised me that Jonas’s stick techniques had even worked, but then again, the raccoon hadn’t made much headway into the coop when Veronica had found him.

  As the hens pecked about contentedly, my thoughts drifted once again to Shaun. Did the poison hit him suddenly, making him drop to the ground? Did someone spring from the trees and drag Shaun’s rigid body into Njord’s enclosure? They’d have to be considerably strong, given that Shaun had looked to be over two hundred fifty pounds.

  And then Rich…assuming he was the one who’d met Dahlia at The Apricot Macaron, he had argued with her—about what? Was Rich going to blow the whistle on Dahlia somehow? Or was he simply sick of her taking all the credit for his work with the wolves? Why would he feel the need to meet her publicly, instead of just talking with her on the preserve?

  And what linked Shaun and Rich together that made them both threats to someone? There had to be a link…unless they were simply random victims chosen by a psychopath, as Katrina had suggested.

  Yet, didn’t the fact that both victims were dragged into the wolf enclosures mean that someone had intended to pin their deaths on the wolves? That would point to someone trying to take down the entire wolf preserve.

  I shook my head, feeling like I’d come full circle. I still knew next to nothing about the murderer.

  I’d finished with the peacocks and was starting to water the goats when I realized Dahlia still hadn’t emerged from her house. A queasy feeling hit my stomach as I pictured Dennis, walking so purposefully toward Dahlia’s house…and then away from it.

  He had delivered a piece of coffee cake. One piece. Made specifically for Dahlia.

  Alarm spread through me like a fever and I shoved past goats to jump the fence. I ran toward Dahlia’s and rang her bell. When there was no answer, I impatiently banged on the door several times. In the dead silence that ensued, I tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

  I bolted back to the visitors’ center, charging through the kitchen door. I didn’t see Evie anywhere, so I gave a few loud shouts. She opened the front door and poked her head in, a watering can in hand and an anxious look on her face.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  I tried to catch my breath. “Evie, you have to call Sergeant Hardy. I think Dahlia might have been poisoned,” I said. “Was Dennis in here today?”

  “He was here earlier, yes.”

  “Did you notice if he took the new key to Njord’s enclosure? Or is it still hanging in the kitchen?”

  “He went into the kitchen briefly—said he had some kind of food for Dahlia. That’s all I know.”

  I couldn’t stand around talking anymore. “Call the sergeant, then use your key and check on Dahlia!” I commanded. “I’m heading to the woods.”

  As Evie withdrew her phone, I scuttled past her and jogged into the woods. I felt for my pepper spray, then pulled it out as I neared Thor’s enclosure. My phone was in my vest pocket, backup in case things went south.

  I figured I’d have the drop on Dennis, since he wouldn’t be expecting me. And he was older, so I had the advantage. He was definitely taller than I was, but I had no doubt I could move faster.

  I tried to process my racing thoughts. Had Dennis hated Dahlia’s wolf preserve so much, he’d been willing to murder so it would be pinned on the wolves? Or had he wanted his property back? After all, a parcel of wooded land this large would command a small fortune in Greenwich. Or maybe he wasn’t going to sell at all—maybe he’d planned to build a day spa here, to fulfill his wife’s dream.

  I glanced around Thor’s enclosure, and nothing seemed to be moving, not even the wolves. As I got closer, I could see they were napping. Thor’s pack certainly seemed to be more tired in the daytime than Njord’s.

  The metal pepper spray canister slipped a bit, and I repositioned my fingers. The day was mild, but my internal temperature had somehow spiked and I was sweating. Katrina would say I was in fight-or-flight mode, and she’d be right.

  Today, I had chosen fight.

  24

  Njord sat in the grass, a long patch of white in a sea of green, as I approached the first gate of his enclosure. I glanced over my shoulder no fewer than ten times as I examined the locks, but they didn’t seem to be open.

  Saga and Siggie trotted past, giving me curious looks. None of the wolves seemed overly excited or upset, so I had to assume that nothing unusual had occurred today.

  I turned my back to them, slowly running my gaze over each tree. A cardinal sat warbling on a nearby limb, as if nothing was amiss.

  I supposed Dennis could have taken the loop through the woods and come out by the parking lot before I saw him. Maybe he really had just been taking a brisk walk on the property. Had I jumped to conclusions?

  I knew I should head back to check on Dahlia, but something was bothering me. What had Evie said about the man who’d come to drill—that he’d been working near some caves in the woods?

  I vaguely recalled seeing a stony area some distance from the trail when Shaun had taken me on that first tour. I struck off in that direction. If nothing else, I might uncover something about what type of drilling had been done there.

  Had someone approached Dahlia about drilling for natural gas or oil on her property? She would have likely jumped at the possibility for more income. What if the drillers had originally said nothing was there, but when they examined a sample, they had discovered there was?

  Maybe that’s why the driller had returned today—to tell the Whites they were going to be rich.

  If Carson knew about the drilling and had let the possibility of fossil fuels slip to his grandfather, Dennis would have had an even stronger motive to get his property back, so he could control the fortune in the ground. Once Dahlia was out of the way, Dennis’s son, Quinn, would have likely returned the land to his father if he’d asked for it—especially in memory of his late mother…

  I rounded a corner where wide, flat rocks formed a hill. Heavy machinery had torn deep tracks in the forest floor, and they led straight to the rocky area. I followed the dirt grooves and broken twigs straight to the rock facing. It looked solid—there were only cracks for snakes to slide under, and luckily snakes weren’t a big problem around here.

  The trail seemed to curve around the side of the hill, so I took a shortcut and climbed up the overhang. When I looked over, it was obvious there was no solid rock wall in the back—in fact, it looked like a wide-open space. So there was a cave here.

  Backtracking down the hill, I took the long way around the rocky outcropping. As the cave came into view, so did something else.

  A man, standing on the leaf-strewn ground in front of the cave. He stopped and looked directly at me, and I let out a relieved breath when I realized it was only Carson.

  * * * *

  “I thought I heard someone rustling around up there,” Carson said.

  I didn’t have time for small talk. “Have you seen your grandpa?” I asked. If Dennis had already poisoned Dahlia, it was entirely possible he’d try to take out Carson, as well. Especially if Carson was next in line for his property.

  Carson gave me a strange look. “As a matter of fact, I have. Just a little bit ago, I saw him rush out to the woods, so I followed him—secretly, of course—and he headed straight for this cave. He went inside, and I followed him a little way. He had one of those lantern flashlights, but I couldn’t see enough to put one foot in front of the other, so I came back out.”

  I clenched my pepper spray. “It’s a good thing you didn’t follow him any farther—he could be dangerous.”

  “What do you mean, dangerous?”

  “Just a suspicion I’m following up on,” I said. I squinted, trying to see into the darkened cave. When my eyes adjusted, I could make out some dim light emanating from the interior.

&n
bsp; “Okay.” I glanced back at him. “Do you have a phone on you?”

  “No,” he said, shrugging. “I’d just gotten home when I saw Gramps heading into the woods. I left my phone in the car and followed him.”

  “Okay. Just use my phone.” I handed it to him, punching in the unlock code. “You need to call the cops and explain where this cave is located.”

  Carson looked nervous. “I’ll call them, but what are you going to do?”

  “I’m just going to get a little closer, see if I can see what he’s up to.” I opened my palm, showing him the pepper spray. “Don’t worry, I’m armed.”

  “But what if he has a weapon, too?”

  “I’m not going to get that close,” I said. “But I’ll give a shout if I get in trouble, and then you could come and help me.” Although recalling his wailing shenanigans, I fully expected him to hightail it the opposite direction if I started yelling.

  He pushed his glasses up. “Okay,” he said hesitantly.

  I turned back to the cave, rolling my eyes. I could see why Carson frustrated everyone around him. He wasn’t exactly the kind of capable backup I would choose.

  Counting on the element of surprise to help me, I gripped the spray and crept inside. I waited until my eyes adjusted, then silently moved toward the light.

  Had Dennis come all the way out here just to check the drill site? Or was he preparing to kill someone else? Was this his lair, the place he’d lurked before attacking Shaun and Rich?

  I was surprised at how large the cave was. As it angled downhill, I inched forward, sliding my hands along the damp wall. The walls widened into an round, open area. A battery-run lantern was positioned in the middle of the floor, throwing light on several jars of dirt sitting near the wall. Other than that, the area appeared empty.

  Walking toward the jars, I tripped into something large and dark. Biting back a scream, I jumped over it and raced toward the lantern. I snatched it up and swung it around to illuminate what I’d tripped over.