Silent Night: A Raine Stockton Dog Mystery (11 page)

“Wow.  Sounds great.”  I hoped my words didn’t sound as hollow as they felt. I had counted on Sonny at the Christmas table to take some of the awkwardness away from my first Christmas without Buck.  Though Buck and I had been estranged for several years, off and on, and had even been briefly divorced once before, we had always put aside our differences for occasions like weddings, funerals and Christmas. I knew my aunt and uncle would miss him too, but with company present I had hoped they wouldn’t talk about it.

“We’ll miss you at Christmas,” I added quickly, because I was afraid she would start to sense my disappointment.  “But I’m glad you’re going to get to be with your family.  Let me know what you decide to do about January, and you know if you need anyone to check on things while you’re gone, I have four- wheel drive.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, and I disconnected, still browsing web pages then started punching out the numbers for the sheriff’s office.  It was eight forty-five and I was still in my pajamas, still drinking coffee, still fooling around on the computer and still not accomplishing much at all. I felt a stirring of guilt that I quickly squelched. I used to be much more ambitious.  Since we had closed down the kennel—okay, since the divorce, if I’m completely honest—I hadn’t been quite as energetic as I used to be.  The dogs’ training programs had suffered, and I’d put on a pound or two as a result—neither one of which would serve me well come spring when the competitive agility season began.  I kept promising myself I was going to get back on track, but somehow never found the motivation.  Maybe after Christmas.

The phone had just started to ring when I heard happy scrambling dog paws bounding into the room and a petulant voice demanded, “Where is my iPad?”

I quickly shut down the web page, disconnected, and spun around.
 
Mischief, Magic and Cisco were happily winding themselves around a very tousled and unhappy looking Melanie, and she was ignoring them.  I said first, “Cisco, Mischief, Magic, leave.”
 
They came over to me for the petting that was their due, and I rubbed them down dutifully. “Good morning, Melanie.  How did you sleep?”

“My iPad,” she repeated deliberately, “is missing.”

I was determined to remain pleasant.  “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.  Your dad went over to the house to try to get the heat back on.  I’ll take you over after breakfast.  What would you like?”

She replied ominously, “My iPad.”

I could tell it was going to be a long morning.

I made a breakfast of canned fruit and dry oatmeal for the princess, who could not have eggs, dairy, wheat products, or nuts (but apparently had no problem with chips and cola), and she pushed it around sullenly in the bowl while she watched me clean up the kitchen.  Cisco lay worshipfully at her feet, waiting for the dropped crumbs that always came from children. “If you don’t find my iPad my mom will sue you,” Melanie informed me.

“Good for her.”  I scrubbed hard at an imaginary stain on the tile.

“It cost a lot of money. “

“I’m sure it did.”

“More than you probably even have.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that for a minute.”

“This stuff is crap.”

I ignored that until I heard a suspicious slurping sound from the vicinity of the table.  I whirled and lunged to snatch the bowl she was holding out for Cisco before he could eat the entire bowl of fruit.  “Don’t,” I told her darkly, “feed my dogs.”

She scowled at me.  “My mom says only trashy, low-class people keep dogs in their house.”

I calmly scraped the remnants of her breakfast into the trash.  “The queen of England would disagree with her.  So would Oprah Winfrey.  So would…”  And while I tried to think of a celebrity who would actually impress her, the phone rang.  I snatched it up gratefully.

“How’s it going?” Miles inquired.

“Just great.” I determined to keep my voice cheerful. “A little problem with a missing iPad but nothing I can’t handle.  We’re just going to get cleaned up and head over your way.  How’s everything over there?”

“A pretty big mess.”  He did not sound happy.  “We’re waiting for a part for the heat pump, and they’re going to have to tear out a wall in the living room and re-tile the master bath.  It’s a waste of money for a modular home.  I should just have them haul it off and bring in a new one.”

“Is that my dad?” Melanie demanded.  “Tell him I want to go home!”

I turned my back on her, shielding the phone.  “But you are going to be able to get the water back on today, right?”  I tried not to sound too anxious.

“And by home I mean my real home!” Melanie added belligerently.

“Oh, sure.  We’ll have water by noon.  Is that Mel in the background?”

“Yeah, she says ‘Hi.’” And because I was afraid he was going to ask to speak to her—or worse—ask me to keep her a little while longer, I added quickly,
 
“We’ll see you in a little bit. Bye.”

I turned to Melanie with the same kind of false enthusiasm with which I’d addressed her father.  “All-righty, then.  Are you ready to see your dad’s place?
 
Hurry up and get your things together and I’ll drive you over.”

She said, “Wait until I tell my dad you lost my iPad.  See how much he likes you then.”

I managed to hold on to my pleasant disposition.  “Why don’t you check under your pillow and in your backpack?  I’ll bet you just put it somewhere and forgot.”

“I know you’re only trying to impress my dad, and it’s not going to work.  You’re not even his type.”

I was fast losing my sunny smile.  “You might try making your bed,” I suggested.  “Your iPad could be tangled up in the covers somewhere.”

“I,” she informed me archly, “don’t make beds.”

Right.  She probably had people for that.

I stopped smiling.  “Did you ever hear that story about Santa Claus making his list and checking it twice?”

She rolled her eyes.  “You’re pathetic.”  And she stalked away.

The missing iPad was located as I was putting Mischief into her crate and happened to notice something hard under her cushion.  I drew it out with a wince, quickly polished off the dog hair and slobber, and scolded Mischief in a hiss, “Don’t you ever do anything like that again!” 

She looked at me as though she had no idea what I was talking about and settled down on her cushion with a huff.
 
I looked guiltily over my shoulder as I straightened up, hoping there was no permanent damage, then called out cheerfully, “Melanie!  Found your iPad.”

____________

NINE

C
isco looked at me hopefully as I opened the front door, and because I thought it might be nice to have someone along for the ride who actually knew how to pretend to be interested in what I had to say, I told him, “Okay, load up.”  He bounded through the door and Melanie, once more connected to her precious electronic tablet, trundled after him.

The morning was brisk and bright, with a white winter sun casting pale shadows through the spindly branches of naked trees.  The layered mountains ranged in tone from sepia to lavender to phthalo blue, and I thought again about Christmas tree-hunting with my dad, the smell of evergreen and the bite of frost.  I glanced at Melanie as I opened the back door of the SUV for Cisco and realized how sad it was for a little girl not to have those kinds of memories of her father.  I felt slightly more kindly disposed toward her until she watched me fasten Cisco into his harness and seat belt, and she commented contemptuously, “A seat belt for a dog?  That’s stupid.”

She flung herself into the passenger seat and slammed the door.  I walked around to the driver’s side without a word.  I started the engine and waited, fixing her with my silent gaze, until she favored me with another one of her elaborate eye rolls and jerked her seat belt into its snapped position.  I put the car in gear and started down the driveway, humming “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” under my breath.  Melanie inserted her ear buds and fixed her eyes on the screen of her iPad.

My house is set well back from the highway in the shelter of the mountain, with a gravel driveway that’s a little under a quarter of a mile long.
 
There is a slight curve to it, so while I can’t see the highway from the house, I can usually see anyone who is coming down my driveway long before they reach me.  My mailbox is at the end of the driveway, and that was where, as I slowed to make my turn, I noticed a cardboard box sitting on the ground.

My postman always brings boxes to the house, and if I’m not home, he leaves them on the porch.
 
So does UPS.  So do all the reputable delivery services, which is why I thought, when I first glanced at it, that the box had probably blown off  the back of someone’s truck on the way to the dump.  It did look a little battered and seemed to be held together with duct tape. 

From the backseat, Cisco barked.
 
Barking in the car was definitely not allowed and I spoke sharply to him, surprised.  When I glanced in the rearview mirror, he had two paws on the window frame, straining against his seatbelt, and he barked sharply again. That was when I saw the box, seemingly of its own volition, roll slowly into the road.

Even though I was already practically at a stop, my foot hit the brake so hard that Cisco lost his balance, plopping all four paws back onto the bench seat, and my seat belt locked.  Melanie plucked the ear buds out of her ears and stared at me.  I slammed the car into Park and snatched the keys out of the ignition as I opened my door.  “Stay here,” I commanded her, and ran into the highway.

I could hear the yipping as soon as I opened the door.
 
Cisco had obviously heard it long before.
 
I scooped up the box with its moving, unwieldy contents about ten seconds before a
truck driver blared his horn at me, but I was well back into my driveway when it swooshed past me with a rush of cold air and diesel fumes.
 

Melanie said, standing beside me, “What’s that?”

“I told you to stay put,” I snapped at her.

She followed me as I hurried back to the car.  “What’s in the box?”

“Puppies.”  My tone was short.

“Somebody mailed you puppies?”  She scrunched up her face.  “What do you need more dogs for?”

“They didn’t mail them to me.  Somebody dumped them off here.  The puppies were abandoned.  Get in the car and close the door.  Hurry.”

She did, and so did I.  As soon as both doors were securely locked, I transferred the box to Melanie’s lap and began to strip off the tape.  “Hey!” she protested, but fell silent as I pulled back the cardboard and revealed what was inside.

Three fuzzy yellow pups about six weeks old squealed and wriggled and used each other as ladders as they tried to launch themselves to the top of the box and repeatedly tumbled down again. There were two males and a female, and though none of them looked to be in the kind of glowing health you might expect to see in purebred golden retriever puppies from a top breeder, the female was noticeably scrawnier than her sturdy brothers.  I could see ribs, and her eyes were runny.  She was shivering.

Melanie scrunched up her nose at the smell, which even I have to admit was not exactly potpourri, and said, “Eww. You’re going to wash them, right?”

Cisco put both paws on the back of the front seat, panting with excitement as he strained to peer into the box.  I quickly closed the lid of the box.  “No,” I said, “I’m taking them to the vet.”

I fastened my seat belt and told Melanie to do the same.  Cisco gave an indignant bark and lurched back into his own seat as I pulled out onto the highway.

Melanie lifted one flap of the lid.  “The little one is cold,” she observed.

I turned up the heat.  “Take off your coat and put it over the box.”

“This coat cost three hundred dollars!”

I glanced at her. “I got one just like it online for forty-five.”

“Then take off your coat.”

“I’m driving.”

The pathetic mewling of the puppies would have melted the hardest heart, and after only another moment I heard her grumbling and wiggling out of her coat.  She draped it over the box and I suppressed a smile.

“Is this the way to my dad’s?” she asked when I reached an intersection and turned right.

“I told you, I’m taking the puppies to the vet.  It won’t take long. We’ll call your dad from there.”

I hadn’t gone half a mile before I heard, over the whining and rustling from both the box and the backseat, the surprising sound of a familiar male voice.  “What’s up, pumpkin?”

“Daddy,” Melanie said urgently, “I’m being kidnapped!  I told her to take me home and she wouldn’t do it!”

I glanced over at her quickly and saw Miles’ face on the screen of her tablet.  He said, “Let me talk to Raine.”

She thrust the tablet at me and I swiped it away.  “I’m driving!”

“I told you!  She’s kidnapping me!”

“Miles,” I said loudly, “we’re making a quick stop at the vet’s.  I’ll bring her right over afterwards.”