Deadly Obsession (14 page)

Chance closed the car door and followed.

“What's wrong?” Jillian was asking Daryl.

The man's eyes were filled with tears and he'd been crying. “I can't find JT.” He wrung his hands and glanced around. “I've looked everywhere.”

Jillian hugged Daryl. “Sweetie, who is JT?”

“My dog.” He lowered his hand toward the ground. “She's this big, white with spots and has black ears.”

“How long has she been missing?” Chance asked.

“She was in the fence last night. Now she's gone. She never runs away. I think something terrible happened to her.”

Though he wanted to get moving on finding Alan Thompson, Chance couldn't leave Daryl when the guy was so obviously upset by the loss of his beloved pet. And Jillian wasn't going anywhere until she helped.

“Have you called the local veterinarians?” Jillian asked.

“I stopped at Dr. Pierce's and he said he hasn't seen JT.”

“What about the animal shelter?” Chance suggested.

Daryl shook his head. “I haven't made it that far yet.”

“Hop in. We'll take you there,” Chance said.

Jillian gave him a thankful smile and ushered Daryl into the backseat.

“JT is my only friend. I don't know what I'd do without her.”

“Daryl, you have lots of friends.”

“Mama says I don't. I'm not supposed to talk to anyone. I'm supposed to go to work and go home. That's what she said.”

“Why?”

“She doesn't want bullies to hurt me.”

Jillian turned and stared at the man in the backseat. “Not everyone is a bully, Daryl.”

“I know. But Mama says I can't always tell who is nice and who isn't. It's best to keep my mouth shut and go straight home.” He sniffed. “JT is my only friend. I can tell her anything.”

Jillian gave Chance the directions. In minutes, they were turning into the concrete block building that was the Cape Churn animal shelter.

They entered the building and found a young man behind the counter, wearing a T-shirt that read Save a Life, Adopt From a Shelter.

Jillian smiled at the young man, leaning close to read his name tag. “Hi, Stewart. We're looking for Daryl's lost dog. Have you had any brought in during the past twenty-four hours?”

Stewart nodded. “Normally we only get one or two a week, but we had a rash of them last night. Must have been the fog. The new ones are in the pens on the right side near the rear of the building. You're welcome to look. And if you find one you like, today would be a good day to adopt,” the clerk said, his face hopeful.

Jillian and Chance followed Daryl into the building, passing by cages holding pathetic pooches that had been turned in or captured as strays. The dogs all barked as one, the noise deafening.

With each cage passed, Daryl's shoulders sank more. He stopped several times and stuck his fingers through the wire to scratch a dog's chin. “I wish I could take all of you home,” he whispered.

Chance knew how he felt. When he was a child, his father hadn't let him have a dog. They moved too often and not every place allowed dogs. When Chance brought home a stray, his father had promptly taken it to the shelter, claiming someone with more time and a big yard would give the animal a better home.

Chance stopped in front of a cage with a short-haired yellow mutt. In Afghanistan, Chance and some of his buddies had adopted a lone puppy that had wandered into the camp. Each one of them had wanted to take the dog back to the States, but they didn't know how. When the time came to redeploy Stateside, they came up with a plan to smuggle the dog on board the C-130 aircraft scheduled to transport them home. The plans were made and all they had to do was wait until the designated departure date.

A shiver slipped down Chance's spine. A member of the Taliban had lured the dog outside the wire, strapped explosives to it and sent it back inside the compound. The Taliban fighter waited until he was certain the dog was well within range of troops and then detonated.

Chance had seen the dog coming. Others had, too. The soldier nearest to the dog had known he didn't stand a chance and sat down to hug Ruger, using his body to block the shrapnel when the bomb went off.

Staring down at his hands, Chance expected to see the red stain of blood. In his mind, he could still see the aftermath of the explosion and smell the dry air, sand and the coppery scent of blood.

He didn't realize he'd stopped in the middle of the building, in front of a dog that looked so similar to Ruger, until a hand on his arm brought him back to the shelter. “What's wrong?” Jillian stared up into his eyes. “Chance?”

He shook himself. “Nothing. I'm fine.”

“No, you're not. Your face turned as white as a sheet.”

“It's nothing.” He glanced over her shoulder.

Daryl dropped to his knees and stuck his fingers through the last cage. “JT! Oh, JT, how did you get out of the fence?”

“I think Daryl found JT,” Chance said, hoping to divert Jillian's attention from him and back to the reason they'd come to the shelter in the first place.

Jillian turned and smiled, the entire depressing building lighting up with the sparkle in her eyes.

“Thank goodness.” Jillian glanced back at Chance. “I still want to know what you were thinking, but it can wait until later.”

“I'll get the attendant.” Chance hurried to the front of the building and found Stewart, thus saving him from explaining what it felt like to have your friend splattered all over your body. All because of a dog that only wanted to be loved.

Chapter 14

P
art of Jillian was jubilant because Daryl had found his pet. The other part of her worried about what she'd seen in Chance's face as he stood among the barking dogs.

She'd never seen such a desolate, heart-wrenching expression on anyone's face before. From the way he'd hurried away, he probably didn't want to talk about it. But she wanted to know.

The man had taken the time to help a guy find his lost pet, proving, once again, that Chance had a soft spot for animals and people in need. This was a must in Jillian's book.

She loved animals and had had pets when she'd been growing up. Her mother and stepfather allowed her to have a German shepherd in the house. They'd carefully chosen the animal and had it trained to protect her. Jillian didn't care about all the training. She was just glad to have a friend to greet her when she came home and sleep with her at night. He'd helped to keep her dreams at bay, nudging her awake when she cried out in the night.

Jillian stared at the cage near where Chance had been standing when he'd zoned out. A short-haired yellow puppy with a dark nose and wiggling tail stared up at her with big brown eyes.

Jillian's heart melted. If she could have, she'd have taken the dog home with her. But the house wasn't ready for her, much less a dog and two kittens. Steeling herself to walk away, she hurried toward Daryl and JT.

Stewart came to release the dog from the kennel. He slipped a lead around the dog's neck and led him to the front.

Chance had paid the fee. All they had to do was take Daryl and JT home and they could be on their way to find Alan Thompson.

“Daryl, where do you live?”

“In the trailer park by the elementary school.”

Jillian was familiar with the area on the southern tip of town, closest to the road leading out to her house. She gave Chance the directions and looked over the seat at Daryl hugging JT.

“What does JT stand for?” Chance asked.

“I don't know,” Daryl said. “I just call her JT.”

Chance smiled into the rearview mirror and drove into the trailer park.

Daryl pointed to a small trailer with skirting that had seen better days and a small deck in front of a narrow metal door. “Mama will be mad if she sees me coming home with anyone.”

“Why?”

“She likes to pick me up at the café.” He ducked his head. “Let me out. She's not home.”

Before Chance stopped the vehicle completely, Daryl flung the door open and jumped out. JT followed, racing toward the little trailer.

Daryl waved. “Thanks!” Then he turned and hurried toward his home, rounding the trailer to the back.

Jillian smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For helping Daryl find JT.” She faced him, her smile fading. “Now it's our turn to find Alan Thompson. I'm ready to figure out what's going on. I can't live looking over my shoulder all the time.”

Chance turned at the road in front of Daryl's trailer and pulled away from the trailer park. He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Is that Mrs. Sims?” he asked.

Jillian swiveled in her seat and glanced out the back window. “Looks like her getting out of her car.”

Chance slowed at a stop sign.

The woman looked angry, pointing at Daryl and then JT. Jillian's heart sank. “Damn. Looks like she's yelling at Daryl.”

“Want me to go back?” Chance asked.

“No.” Jillian sighed, watching until Mrs. Sims and Daryl entered the trailer. “She might not appreciate us butting in.” She settled in the seat and stared out the front windshield. Daryl had his challenges, but Mrs. Sims did, too. Jillian hoped the older woman let Daryl keep his dog. It seemed to mean a lot to him.

The drive to Frank Mortimer's was a short distance, but the road followed the coastline and was very curvy, forcing Chance to take it slow.

Jillian pointed to the lighthouse sitting on a point, overlooking the water. “There's the lighthouse where Gabe and Kayla live with their two children. We need to watch for the turnoff to Mortimer's place. I've driven between the lighthouse and the Stratford mansion many times, but I can't remember seeing the road for Mortimer's place. So it has to be well hidden.”

Chance slowed to a crawl.

“There!” Jillian pointed to an overgrown driveway where the trees and bushes barely parted for a vehicle to slide between. Chance turned onto the road and bumped along the gravel until they reached a weathered gray cabin with a rickety front porch.

“Do you see the wolf dog?” Jillian asked, tension building.

“No. Maybe we'll get lucky and Mortimer will keep him inside.”

Palming the packaged steak in her hand, Jillian reached for the door handle.

Chance touched her arm. “Maybe it would be better for you to stay here while I question Mortimer.”

“No way. If Mortimer lets his wolf loose, I have the steak.” Besides, she refused to stand by while Chance was ripped apart. She smiled at him. “I'm sure Nora was exaggerating. Let's get this over with.”

“Please, give me the steak.” He held out his hand. “I don't want you to be hurt.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I know you can. Humor me, please.”

Jillian held onto the package for a moment longer, but Chance wasn't getting out until she relinquished the dog's bribe. With a sigh, she handed over the butcher paper–wrapped steak. “I think there's safety in numbers.”

“If I'm worrying about you, I'll lose focus on the reason for being here.”

He had a point. She didn't like it, but he had a point.

His hand on the door handle, he stared across at her. “You'll stay?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she nodded. If she pouted a little, so be it. “Yes.”

Chance got out of the vehicle and walked toward the house.

A flash of silvery gray burst through the front door and charged at Chance.

Jillian stifled a scream and was halfway out of the vehicle when the dog pounced on Chance.

The beast of a dog planted his big paws in the middle of the man's chest and knocked him flat on his back.

Chance didn't move except to hold up the package of steak. “Hungry? How about a steak?” he wheezed.

The dog didn't glance in the direction of the meat. His lips curled back in a wicked snarl, and he growled deep in his throat.

Jillian rushed toward the pair, her heart hammering in her chest. “Shoo!” She waved her hands and stopped when the animal's growls became more vicious.

“Jillian,” Chance whispered. “Get. In. The. Car.”

She stood still, torn between doing exactly as Chance requested and throwing herself in front of the dog before he ripped into Chance's exposed throat. “But he'll kill you,” she said.

“That dog's not gonna kill anyone,” a gruff voice called out. “Unless I tell him to.”

Jillian shot a glance to the porch, where a scruffy older man stood. Dressed in worn jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, he carried a shotgun in his hands.

“Mr. Mortimer?” she asked.

He snorted. “Who wants to know?”

“I'm Jillian Taylor and this—” she tipped her head toward Chance, trapped beneath the wolf dog “—is Chance McCall. We need to ask you a few questions.”

“You're trespassing.”

“Please, Mr. Mortimer,” Jillian said, her voice shaking. “Call off your dog. We're not here to hurt you.”

The shaggy man crossed his arms. “Ever stop to think before you come barging onto a man's property that he might not want visitors?”

“Yes.” Jillian straightened, her chin lifting. She refused to let this man bully her or Chance. She reasoned that if the dog wasn't going to attack unless Mortimer told him to, they shouldn't have to worry. Surely he wouldn't tell the dog to kill Chance or her. That would be murder. “Sir, you're the only person we know of who might be able to tell us where to find Alan Thompson.”

Mortimer's eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”

“Nora Taggart.”

“Damned busybody.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Mortimer. She's a nice woman who only cares about the people of her community. You could take a page from her book.” Jillian took a step forward. “We need to find Alan Thompson.”

“Is that the only question you have for me?”

“Yes.” Jillian stared at the man. “And we'd appreciate it if you'd call off your dog.”

Mortimer stared at the package in Chance's hand. “Is that one of Nora's steaks?”

“Huh?” Caught off guard, Jillian glanced in the direction Mortimer was looking, at the untouched package in Chance's hand. “Er, yes, it is.”

“I'll tell you where to find Thompson if you get that package to me without Loki eating it first.” Mortimer chuckled, the sound as scruffy and gravelly as the man.

Chance tried to sit up, but the wolf dog snapped at his face and snarled angrily.

“Just stay still,” Jillian said. “I'll get it.”

“Don't do it, Jillian,” Chance said. “You don't know what the dog will do.”

“I'm not worried. Mr. Mortimer wouldn't let his dog rip my arm off for a steak.” She shot a glance at the man, praying she was right. Jillian inched toward the animal and Chance's hand held out to the side.

The wolf dog growled, his gaze shifting to Jillian, though his paws remained firmly on Chance's chest. Apparently, he considered Chance more of a threat than she was.

“Please, Jillian, I'd feel a whole lot better if you just got back in the car,” Chance said.

“You'd feel a whole lot better without a one hundred and fifty–pound animal on your chest.” She reached out, her direct gaze never leaving the animal's, trusting her peripheral vision to guide her to the package.

When she was close enough, she spoke to the dog, “Nice wolf. I'm sure you'll be getting some of this. Your master wouldn't deprive a big old boy like you, would he?” She took the package amid a new chorus of growls and snarls. Then she backed away and held up the package. “If you want this, you'll have to call off the wolf.”

“That's not the deal.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Mortimer's eyes narrowed and he glared at her. Then he finally clicked his tongue and called out, “Heel, Loki!”

The animal gave another low-pitched growl and stared down at Chance, as if warning the man not to make any sudden moves. Then he stepped off his chest, trotted back to the porch and sat next to Mortimer like a trained pet.

Chance stood and dusted the dirt from his backside.

“I'll take that steak,” Mortimer said.

“You can have it. But we still need to know where to find Alan Thompson.”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Miss Taylor purchased the old Thompson place and someone has been trying to warn her away. We want to know why and were hoping Mr. Thompson could give us information about the place.”

“That house didn't even belong to Thompson. It was his wife's house. He hated that house.”

“Why?”

“Because he couldn't provide a house for her. The man lost his job just before Sarah's parents died in a wreck. When he finally got another, it was for chump change. If her father hadn't left her that house and a small annuity, they'd have been out in the cold. It was good timing, if you ask me. Alan didn't see it that way.”

“So where is Mr. Thompson now?”

“Last time I saw him, he lived in the next county, thirty minutes from here. In a cabin he built himself. Never did get over losing Sarah and Julia.”

“Could you be more specific about his address?”

Mortimer gave them an address, rattling it off so fast Jillian almost missed it. “Now, I'll take that steak and you two can get off my property.”

Chance took the steak from Jillian and carried it to the porch.

Loki came up on all fours, his lips curling back in a wicked snarl.

Chance ignored the dog and handed the package to Mortimer. “Thank you, sir.”

Mortimer snorted, turned and walked into the house, holding the door for the dog. “Come.” The wolf dog growled once more at Chance and trotted into the house, and the door snapped shut.

“Are you all right?” Jillian asked, brushing dirt off Chance's back.

“I'm fine,” he said, his tone surly.

Jillian couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. “Don't like being bested by a dog, do you?”

He glared at her, hooked her arm and hurried her to the vehicle. Once she was inside, he rounded the car, got in and faced her. “I told you to stay in the car. How can I protect you if you don't do as I ask?”

Her smile widened. “I don't know how you could have protected me, lying beneath the dog. Oh, come on.” She punched his shoulder lightly. “He didn't kill you. For that I can't help but be happy.” She leaned across the seat and kissed his lips. “And you handled it beautifully.”

He frowned, backed the vehicle around and then shifted into Drive. “I don't know how you could say that.”

“You did the only thing you could. That wolf could easily have ripped into you. We would have spent the night in the hospital, and we wouldn't have gotten what we came for. As it is, you're fine, we have Thompson's address and we know a little more about Sarah and Alan's relationship. It could be Alan sabotaging the house to keep anyone from moving in. Maybe he still harbors resentment for the place.”

“Sounds too easy.”

“At the very least, maybe Thompson can shed some light on the situation.” Jillian sat back in the seat. “I'm just glad we came out of our encounter with Mortimer relatively unscathed.”

“You can say that. You didn't have a wolf pin you to the ground.”

“Okay, I take that back. The only casualty from our Mortimer encounter was your pride.”

* * *

Chance shot a glance at Jillian. That damned smile still played at her pretty pink lips and he found it difficult to stay mad at the woman. So, his pride had taken a hit. He'd get over it. And she was right—the dog could have ripped into his throat and left him to bleed out. He was lucky. It could have been worse.