High in Trial (10 page)

“We had the buffet,” Ginny said. “It was pretty good. The fish was actually crispy.”

“I’m not staying,” Marcie said. “I just came in to see if I could get some yogurt
for Flame. Her stomach’s a little upset.”

We all made sympathetic noises. There is nothing worse than staying at a hotel with
a sick dog.

“I hope she didn’t pick up something contagious,” Sarah said, and Marcie shook her
head.

“No, Bryte’s fine. Flame has always been sensitive. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I’m glad Neil didn’t take Bryte home after all,” I said. “I’m looking forward to
seeing her run tomorrow.”

Marcie flashed a look to me that seemed, for the briefest of moments, laced with terror.
Then she apparently remembered I’d actually been there when Neil took Bryte away,
and she recovered herself with a quick, “Yes. Right.” She cleared her throat and added,
“Actually, of course, Neil only lives a few miles away now, so he probably would’ve
brought her back for the trial tomorrow.”

Aggie seized on this. “Really? I didn’t know he’d moved.”

Marcie nodded, running a hand over her throat in a nervous massaging motion. “He has
an apartment in Pembroke. It doesn’t allow dogs, even though he sneaks them in sometimes,
so it’s just temporary.”

“I can’t imagine Neil in a place that doesn’t allow dogs,” Ginny said.

“But you still have your beautiful place back in Derry, right?” Aggie persisted. “Gorgeous
farm,” she explained to the rest of us. “A huge training building, regulation agility
course, fenced and cross-fenced… We have club picnics there sometimes.”

Sarah said, “I’m confused. I thought Neil owned both the dogs. Are you just boarding
them?”

“No.” Marcie’s tone was bitter. “They’re my dogs. We co-own Flame, Shine, and Thunder,
but he talked me into signing over Bryte to him when she was six months old. People
do stupid things when they’re in love, but that was by far the stupidest one I’ve
ever done.” I could see her jaw tighten from where I sat. “They live with me, though.
He’s not allowed to take them off the property except for shows. That’s our agreement.
I don’t trust him out of my sight with those dogs. You wouldn’t either.”

The curiosity practically sparked across the table, but only Aggie had the courage—or
the tactlessness—to ask what we were all thinking. “How come?” she inquired. She leaned
in close across the table, her huge bosoms nudging her tea glass, her tone confidential
and inviting. “You know, everybody’s heard he amps his dogs up with meds. Somebody
said he uses shock collars.”

Marcie stiffened. “That’s ridiculous. I would never allow anyone to abuse my dogs.”

Everyone at the table could feel the situation deteriorating, but Aggie soldiered
gamely on. “Well, of course not, but you know there are some people who would do anything
to win. And there’s a lot at stake at this level.”

The sound of the silence from Marcie was like ice cracking. I think everyone at the
table, with the exception of the two women in the end seats, wanted to slide under
it, myself included. And then Ginny, God bless her, turned to me and said brightly,
“Say, Raine, I was meaning to ask you, where’s that handsome fellow of yours tonight?”

I blinked at the non sequitur, then smiled. “Paying for dinner, as a matter of fact,”
I replied cheerily. “Let’s order dessert.”

*
 
*    *

I fed Cisco the leftover tidbits of prime rib that I sneaked out of the dining room
wrapped in a napkin in my purse, and even though I made him do a trick for each one,
he looked at me with such an expression of worshipful adoration on his face that I
laughed out loud with delight and let him gobble the last few bits directly from the
palm of my hand, no tricks required. Seriously, there’s nothing better in this world
than the unconditional love of a dog. Nothing.

The room telephone was ringing when I came back from washing my hands, and I knew
I had to answer it.

“You forgot to turn on your phone,” Miles said.

“I didn’t forget.” I sat down on the bed and kicked off my shoes.

“Uh-oh. Bad day after I left?”

“No. What makes you say that?” I knew my voice was stiff, but I couldn’t help it.

He paused. “Are you mad at me about something?”

“What makes you say that?”

He said slowly, “Okay.” Then, “I have a breakfast meeting in the morning, so I think
I’ll stay over.”

I was both relieved and disappointed. “Okay. Good. That’s a good idea.”

There was another pause. “So how did you do in your last event?”

“We lost.”

“Ah, well. Win some, lose some, right?”

“Jumpers
-
with
-
weaves,” I said sourly, remembering it was all his fault we’d lost. “That’s our best
thing. We lost.”

“Everybody has an off day.”

“I guess. Whatever.” But it
was
our best thing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just a game.”

“Okay.” A note of impatience, or perhaps frustration, crept into his voice. “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I think we need to slow down,” I blurted.

“What?”

“You. Me. I just think we might be moving too fast, that’s all.”

There was a beat, and the silence made me wince. When he spoke, his tone was guarded.
“What brought this on?”

I licked my lips. I wished I’d never spoken. “It’s just… you don’t even know me. I
don’t know you. We hardly know each other. I don’t think we should rush into anything,
that’s all.”

“I hadn’t planned to.”

“Good.” I swallowed. “That’s good.”

He said, “Is there something about me that you just discovered you don’t know?”

I was taken aback. “Well, no. I was just thinking… Look, it’s not something we have
to talk about now…”

“Because we’ve been not knowing each other for over six months now, and this is the
first I’ve heard you complain.”

“I’m not complaining. It’s just—”

“Are you mad because I left this afternoon?”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly.” That was sincere, and he could tell it.

“Then it must be something I said.”

I hesitated a split second too long. “Listen, Miles, let’s not do this now, okay?
I’ve got to be up at six and I’m really tired.”

He said, “You know I’ll figure it out, don’t you?”

I was actually squirming. “Really, I’ve got to get some sleep. Good night, okay? And
don’t call back, please, because I’ll be sleeping. You should sleep too. Good night.”
I hung up quickly and sat there for another half-minute or so, staring at the phone,
willing it not to ring. It didn’t.

Good.

I took Cisco out through the sliding doors to the courtyard for his last toilet break
of the day, changed into my nightshirt, and was in bed by nine. I tossed and turned
for ten or fifteen minutes, hearing every noise from the corridor outside, wishing
the conversation had gone differently with Miles, but exhaustion and the gentle rhythm
of Cisco’s soft snore eventually lulled me into a dreamless sleep.

What seemed like only moments later, I was jerked awake by the shrilling of the bedside
telephone. I rubbed my eyes open, staring at the red numbers of the digital clock.
11:45. Cisco stood beside the bed, tail wagging, wondering if it was morning. “Miles,
you wouldn’t dare,” I muttered as the phone rang again. I fumbled for the receiver
and snatched it off the hook.

“What?” I said ungraciously.

“Miss Stockton?”

I frowned. The voice on the other end was male, but it wasn’t Miles. “That’s right.”

“This is the night manager. I’m afraid there’s been a problem with your credit card.
We need you to come to the front desk and clear it up.”

I blinked, looking again at the clock. “Now?”

“Yes, ma’am. You do have a dog in your room, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. So does everyone else in this wing.” I reached out to stroke the
canine in question. “Do you know what time it is?”

“If you could just confirm your room number for me we might be able to straighten
this out over the phone.”

Alarm bells started to clang belatedly, and I sat up straighter. “Who is this?”

The connection was broken.

Most people who travel on the dog show circuit are women, and most of them are traveling
alone—except, of course, for their built-in canine bodyguards. Fortified with a mostly
false sense of confidence born from the fact that their traveling companions were
only a few thousand years ago tearing mastodons limb from limb and could, theoretically,
still do the same to a human, they engage in what might otherwise be considered risky
behaviors: walking in deserted areas after dark, loading and unloading their cars
in the pre-dawn hours of the morning, fumbling over door keys with their arms full,
and worst of all, leaving their room doors propped open with the latch while they
run down to the ice machine or take their dogs out to pee “just for a minute.” They
are natural targets for savvy con artists or worse, and every year you hear one or
two tragic stories. Fortunately, you also hear about all the latest scams, and this
one, now that I was awake, was starting to feel a little obvious to me.

I dropped the receiver back into the cradle and fumbled in the dark until I found
the switch for the bedside lamp. My throat felt a little dry as I pulled the phone
closer and squinted at the numbers printed there. I dialed the front desk.

A pleasant woman’s voice answered, and I asked to speak with the night manager.

“This is the night manager,” she said.

My head started to hurt. I identified myself and said, “Some man just called here
saying he was the night manager and that I needed to come to the front desk to straighten
out a problem with my credit card. I think he was trying to lure me from my room.”

I heard computer keys clacking in the background. “Please remain in your room,” she
replied quickly, either reading from a protocol manual or very well trained. “There
is no problem with your credit card, Miss Stockton. Do you feel you are in any danger
now?”

“No, but you have a lot of women traveling alone who are staying here this weekend.
If there’s some kind of weirdo playing pranks…”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll send a security guard to your room right away.”

“No, don’t do that,” I groaned. “I don’t want to talk to a security guard. It’s almost
midnight. All I want is to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand. We’ll take care of the problem.”

“But don’t send anyone to my room. And don’t call here, either. I’m sleeping.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m terribly sorry you were disturbed.”

“It’s okay. Just… good night.”

I hung up and turned off the light, sinking back against the pillows. Eventually I
heard Cisco circle his bed a few times and plop down with a sigh. But I lay awake
for a long time, staring at the dark and listening to the faraway barking of a dog.

~*~

SATURDAY

~*~

TEN

Nine hours before the shooting

I
awoke abruptly hours later, my heart pounding, aware that something had jarred me
back to consciousness but having no idea what. The clock said 5:03. I lay very still,
listening, and then I heard it again: the low, fierce rumble of Cisco’s growl.

I sat up, and Cisco stood, stiff-legged, watching something intently on the other
side of the room. I followed his gaze and my heart slammed against my chest. The silhouette
of a man was clearly formed on the white drapery that covered my sliding glass door,
backlit by the lights of the courtyard. Had I locked that door after letting Cisco
out for the last time? Had I heard it click? I had, hadn’t I? I couldn’t remember.

Cisco’s growl grew louder, and I heard fumbling at the door. Was that the click of
the latch?

I whispered, “Cisco, here!”

He didn’t need a second invitation. Cisco bounded onto the bed and I caught his collar,
dragging him with me as I tumbled over the side of the bed and onto the floor, putting
the bed between myself and the door just as it began to slide open. In the same motion,
I grabbed the lamp from the bedside table, jerking the plug out of the wall. It was
clumsy and unwieldy, but it had a heavy metal base and it was the best I could do.

I crouched down behind the bed with one arm around Cisco and the other hand gripping
the lamp, trying not to breathe, straining to hear over the pounding of my heart the
sound of the footsteps that moved stealthily toward me. Frantically I tried to remember
where I’d put my phone before I went to bed. In the drawer? On the night table on
the other side of the bed? In my purse? Was there any chance of reaching it before—