Woof at the Door (20 page)

Karen took two quick steps toward me. An attempt at intimidation. Though petite—if
you don’t count the chia pet on her head—Karen’s one of those small people who can
seem large, just by sheer force of will. Being a member of the same club, I was not
impressed. She had to pull up short when I didn’t flinch away.

“Don’t question me.” She thrust a skeletal finger in my face, then aimed it like a
spear at the handful of zookeepers who had gathered on the sideline to watch the drama.
They edged away, as if she were casting a hex. “Just because these bozos hang on your
every movement doesn’t give you the authority to question me. In fact, you shouldn’t
even be here.” She made a big show of looking at her watch. “You’re down to four minutes.
Then, I’m calling the police.”

“Come on, Karen . . .” Hugh moved toward her and she spun to face him.

“Shut up! You—you’re worse than anyone!” Her voice was a strangled, serpentine hiss.
“You follow her around like a fool as soon as she sashays in here.”

Hugh was stunned. His jaw was literally hanging open as he stared at Karen. Her eyes
glistened with the sheen of unshed tears. I was tempted to be embarrassed for her,
but at that moment I was too offended.

Sashay? I do not sashay
.

“Karen, stop.” I kept my voice as cool and quiet as possible. “You’re being irrational,
and you’re making a scene.”

She turned to me, and if she grasped any truth in my words, she wasn’t ready to admit
it. “If I ever see you here again, I’ll have you arrested.”

“Do what you have to. But if someone asks for my help, I’ll be here. I don’t care
who you call.” I turned and walked away.

“Grace. Hang on.” I was halfway through one of the zoo’s botanical gardens when I
heard Hugh’s voice.

I ignored it and kept walking.

“Grace.”

I turned. “What?”

The word had snapped out. But I couldn’t help it. My shoulder was throbbing, my fingers
had gone numb, and the scene Karen had instigated had made me mad enough to spit nails.

“She can’t ban you from coming back. I’ll talk to the board—”

“Drop it, Hugh. I mean it.”

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. Just . . . let me look at your
shoulder.”

“I’m fine.” It was a lie. He knew it as well as I did.

“It’s not fine. You should let me take a picture of it.”

I didn’t want to linger long enough for x-rays. “No.”

“Come on, it could be dislocated.” He reached out, cupped my elbow, and then, with
the caution he would use on some wild creature, ran his hand up to my shoulder.

As he began his evaluation, I looked out over the garden. It reminded me of a little
oasis. The pond in the center was rimmed with mounds of grassy foliage. Water lilies
dotted the surface of the dark pool like stars. The feathery leaves of the date palms
fluttered and rustled in a sudden breeze.

I focused on these things to distract me from Hugh’s efficient and soothing fingers.
I knew my shoulder wasn’t dislocated. But I stood there anyway and let Hugh palpate
and assess. I had to admit it was nice to be fussed over a little.

Hugh leaned in and glanced at me. “How’s this?”

“Sore, but it’s okay.”

“What do you have for it?”

I knew he meant what kind of painkillers. “I’ll take some ibuprofen.”

He gave me doubtful look. “You’ll need more than that if you want to sleep.”

I did want to sleep. I hadn’t gotten much rest lately. “Ketamine? I’m sure I have
a vial locked up somewhere.”

He chuckled. “Come to the hospital with me. I’ll get you something.”

I knew this was a ploy to do a more thorough examination. “I’ve got to go. Thanks.”

I eased away from him and headed toward the exit. I’d almost reached Bluebell when
Hugh caught up to me again.

“Here.” He handed me a small bottle of pills. “Codeine.”

I thanked him and turned back to where I’d parked. Moss and Jax were eyeing Hugh wearily.
When he continued to follow me, Jax began to growl.

“Grace . . .” Hugh reached out at the same time I started to turn to face him. The
awkward movement jostled my shoulder and I hissed in pain.

Jax lunged forward with an explosive snarl, his face ramming against the window.

The clap of gunfire made my ears ring. Everything was suddenly dark, a bend of shadows
and rage and fear. I could smell blood. I was blind and choking.

“Grace!” Hugh’s voice seemed tinny and distant. “Grace! What’s wrong?”

I blinked up at his shocked face and realized I was in his arms. We were on the ground.
I was draped over his lap like a reverse
Pietà
.

“I—I don’t know.” Of course I did know. But I couldn’t tell him the truth—that I’d
just seen Mark Richardson’s murder.

CHAPTER 15

Having extracognitive ability is not always fun. Yes, I make my living using my “skill,”
and most days I actually enjoy what I do. But the strings attached are often long
and tangled. And there is no one—no one that I’ve met yet anyway—with experience to
guide me through the cat’s cradle without being snared.

I’d done a few Internet searches just out of curiosity. I can’t be the only person
out there with a psychic connection to animals, right? But mostly I’d found websites
for animal communicators that seemed hokey and bogus.

At that moment, I’d have given my right arm to have someone to call for advice.

Frustrated, my head and shoulder pounding in unison, I let out a long breath and wearily
guided Bluebell onto Beach Boulevard. Driving like a zombie, I finally gave up trying
to make sense of what I’d experienced.

The images of Mark’s murder had burst through my mind with the speed and ferocity
of a train wreck. Flashes of disjointed shapes and shadows.

On the flipside, the emotions Jax had felt were sharp and cutting as a razor blade;
everything else was clear as mud.

Aching and moving like a geriatric tin man, I led the dogs up the walk to the condo.
The bottle of painkillers Hugh had given me rattled in my hand, beckoning me with
every step.

I took a moment to send Hugh a text as he’d asked me to do, and hoped that soon I
would be soaking in a tub, adrift on a narcotic cloud. I was so focused on reaching
the condo and drawing a hot bath, I barely nodded to the maintenance man as we passed
on the stairs.

Vaguely, I wondered what had required his services, but I let the thought go as soon
as it popped into my head.

“Hey!” Emma stood at the open door, smiling. Her voice was eager and filled with cheer.

Crap
. Emma was up to something. I was too tired and too sore to be up for whatever had
sparked her enthusiasm. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

I thought about trying to smile but I just didn’t have it in me. “Okay.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Em, I’m not really—”

“Just close them. It will only take a second.”

I closed my eyes and allowed her to lead me into the condo. I shuffled through the
foyer, grumbling to myself. Why couldn’t Emma be going out? Or working an event?

We stopped in what I thought was the living room. “Okay, look!”

I opened my eyes and immediately felt like a total ass. The sliding glass doors that
led to the balcony now had an addition.

I stared, blinking at the sudden sting of tears and swallowing back the hard lump
that clogged my throat.

A dog door. Emma had had a dog door installed.

“What do you think? I got the extra large.”

I turned to Emma—my sister and friend—and saw that her eyes had teared up, too. Her
chin came up. “Mr. Cavan-ass has threatened me with a lawsuit. If you don’t leave
by the end of the month.”

“Oh crap, Em—”

She held up her hand. “You, and all your critters, will stay until you find the perfect
place. No one runs my sister off but me.”

It was such an adolescent comment that reminded me so much of our childhood, I had
to smile.

Emma looked back to the new door. “Will they use it?”

Moss, smelling salt air, was already investigating. As he sniffed around the flap,
I urged him to step through. “Go on. You can do it.”

But in the end it was Jax who hopped through to the balcony first. Moss poked his
head out and, finally, lurching forward with the grace of a drunkard, made it outside.

Emma and I laughed. “This is great. They are going to love being able to go in and
out.” Even though there was no way down from the second story, the balcony was large.
Partly shaded by an overhang and dotted with potted palms, it was already one of Moss’s
favorite lounging areas. Now he could use it at his leisure.

“They have to wear these once we turn the lock on.” Emma handed me two bell-shaped
doohickies that attached to the dogs’ collars. “They send out an infrared signal that
unlocks the door. That way, only the dogs can go through. Cool, right?”

“Very cool.” And expensive. I knew Emma well enough not to ask how much the door cost,
so I walked to the sliding door and pushed it open. The dog door, being a solid addition,
didn’t prevent the slider from working. I affixed the transmitters onto the dogs’
collars and wiped a few stray tears from my eyes before turning back to my sister.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and one more thing.” She went to the counter and picked up a
long box. “Got you these.”

“Business cards?” I asked as I pulled the top off the box.

“Well, you have a business, don’t you? You need cards.”

I’d never thought about it before.

“Don’t worry. I resisted putting ‘Animal Psychic’ under your name.” She slid a card
out and handed it to me.

I read aloud, “‘Call of the Wilde. Expert solutions for any species.’” The words were
printed in bold ink on a subtle, foiled animal print background. Somehow, the cards
managed to look professional and elegant. I swallowed back another knot of tears that
burned in my chest. “These are awesome, Em.”

“Maybe you’ll remember to use them instead of writing your number on whatever happens
to be floating around in Bluebell.”

She had a point. I grabbed a section of cards and went to stuff them in the side pocket
of my purse.

“We’re doing spaghetti tonight,” Emma said as I walked into the kitchen.

“Sounds good.” Actually, it sounded great. I had barely eaten all day, and the thought
of food made my stomach grumble awake like a starving bear.

Suddenly, I was ravenous. Even my shoulder pain was overshadowed, outdone by visions
of garlic bread and grated parmesan sprinkled over a mountain of spaghetti.

Emma already had a sauce pot on the stove. I tossed some kibble into the dogs’ bowls
and moved gingerly back into the kitchen. I popped a pill with a slurp from the faucet
and turned my attention to the stove, watching Emma add spices to the pan the way
a hawk watches a prairie dog mound.

“Here.” Emma handed me a clove of garlic. “Mince it. But wash first. You look a little . . .
dusty. What happened?”

Where to begin? “I screwed up.”

“I need a little more to go on.” Emma stirred the sauce, and placed a baguette on
a cutting board. I watched as she sawed the bread into even slices.

“I told Kai about my ability.”

Emma’s hands stilled. She set the knife down and turned to me, eyes wide.

“And I screwed up.” I gave her the abridged version of my day. Her mouth dropped open
when I reached the part about finding Burke and my trip to the sheriff’s office to
talk to LaBryce.

“I was so mad, Em. I mean, if you could have seen LaBryce’s face when I told him Burke
was dead. He was shocked. But when I pointed that out to Kai, he just blows it off.
Like it didn’t matter. He tells me he can’t think around me. Like somehow it’s my
fault he hasn’t figured out who killed Mark.”

“Oh?” She gave me an odd look.

“Yeah. And then he starts asking who LaBryce’s alibi is. He was like a damn terrier
in a rabbit hole—nothing else mattered.”

“So you told him.”

I nodded. “He asked me to prove it.” I shot a heated glare at Moss, who chose that
moment to wander into the kitchen in search of a handout. “But I couldn’t. Moss wouldn’t
listen to me. He wanted to show his teeth and be all protective. I’m pretty sure I
did more harm than good for LaBryce today. Kai either thinks I’m lying to cover my
involvement or that I’m delusional.”

“It wasn’t fair of Kai to test you like that.”

“Why not? It should have been easy. I should have been able to call the damn dogs
off. But noooo! Mr. Wolf-butt over there decides he’s not okay with that. He doesn’t
believe I’m safe. So even when I tell him to
leave it
, he keeps growling like the mongrel he is, and I look like a lunatic.”

“You’ve told me a hundred times that you can’t control an animal like a puppet. They
have free will.”

“Yes, but I still screwed up. I couldn’t calm down enough to really focus. Moss wanted
to bite a chunk out of Kai’s leg. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the
idea.”

Emma’s sudden laughter brought an end to my rant. I laughed with her, so long and
hard my shoulder started throbbing again.

I winced and walked over to open the freezer. “Isn’t there an icepack in here somewhere?”

“In the door. What’s wrong?”

“I got kicked in the shoulder.”

“By . . .”

“A giraffe.”

“What?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you crazy? Did you have anyone look at it?”

“Hugh. He said it was probably just a bad bruise.”

“Probably?”

“He wanted to x-ray it but I wasn’t in the mood.”

As I said it, I felt an idea begin to form. Emma was talking. Saying words like
stubborn
and
idiot
, but I’d stopped listening. I played back the last thing that happened before Jax
had his momentary recall. Hugh had touched me. I was hurt. Jax lost it. At the time,
I thought the trigger was Hugh grabbing me and my pain. But now, I realized that wasn’t
it.

“Bluebell.”

“What?”

“Jax was in the car. He couldn’t get to me. That’s what made him remember.”

“Remember . . . ohmygod! He remembers the murder?”

“It was just a flash. Like when you fast forward the DVR. Too quick to really see
anything.”

“So you’re saying the reason he remembered the murder was because he was locked away
from you when you needed him.”

“He thought I did. And like at Mark’s house, Jax could see everything. He was looking
through the glass door.”

“Helpless to do more than watch,” Emma said.

We both looked at the big Doberman. He was stretched out like a sphinx between the
kitchen and the living room watching us. Intelligence sparkled in his brown eyes.
I like all dogs, but Jax was exceptional. Under the shining coat and rippling sinew
was the heart of a knight. Calm and noble and capable of fierce and deadly action.

“Why was he outside?” I wondered.

“You mean when Mark was killed?”

“Jax was in the backyard. Locked out. He’s not an outside dog.” I could tell from
the way he positioned himself at entrances and from his ease with condo living. Plus,
trained protection dogs stayed close to their owners.

“Maybe Mark let him out to go potty?”

“At the exact same time the murderer knocks on the door?”

“Mark could have put Jax outside for the party. And forgot to let him in?”

It was a possibility. But it didn’t seem to fit for some reason. “LaBryce said Mark
had gotten hang-up calls and had heard someone messing around outside the house.”

“So . . . Mark could have gotten a phone call, woke up, and let Jax out to investigate,”
Emma said as she checked the bread and the spaghetti.

“Or the killer calls, hangs up, and waits. If he was watching the house, maybe he
knew the dog would have to be out of the picture to get to Mark.” We stood mulling
the ideas over as the sauce simmered and the pasta boiled.

“Why not just shoot him? I mean, you’re going to shoot a human, why not a dog?”

It was a good question. I would wait until the dog was safely out of the way, so I
wouldn’t have to hurt him. But I’m not like most people. Unless . . . “If I’m the
killer, I know Jax, and like him, I might go to the effort.”

“You said the killer knew Mark. He might have known Jax, too.”

“He or she. Jennifer Weston certainly knew Jax.”

“Or . . .” Emma set her large stainless colander in the sink and turned to me. “The
killer doesn’t want to risk getting bitten. Right? You knock on the door. Mark opens
it, lets you in. You pull out a gun and bam! Jax is pretty fast, he might have time
to attack.”

I nodded. “Same goes for the opposite. Shoot the dog first—Mark might have time to
fight back or run.”

“Too many variables with the dog inside.”