eighteen

Michael was wrong. Plenty of people attended the run. Hundreds, by my estimation. Dressed in a variety of shorts, jeans, T-shirts, and running gear, they all looked ready to have a good time. This part of the beach was much less crowded than the sandcastle competition’s location had been, so I traded Bella’s short leash for her normal six-foot variety. Bella immediately showed her teeth to a standard poodle.

“No mischief from you, missy, or there’ll be no chew treats for you tonight,” I said. Bella seemed affronted by the idea.

Michael and I found Shannon at the registration booth, which had been set up under the gazebo in nearby Whale Park. The small, grassy park provided easy beach access, picnic tables, and restrooms, but it was most famous for its namesake: a ten-foot long, cedar statue of a whale. A large handmade sign declared, Join us at four-thirty for a post-run yoga class taught by Seattle Master Teacher, Kate Davidson!

Shannon jogged up to us and gave Bella a hug—a move universally hated by most canines.

“Easy, Bella,” I whispered.

Bella sneezed to show her frustration but otherwise didn’t react. She might score a treat tonight after all.

Shannon released Bella and peered earnestly at Michael. “How are you? Dale told me he has everything under control, but he wouldn’t give me any details. I’ve been so worried that it’s been hard to concentrate on the festival!”

Michael’s smile looked so genuine, it almost fooled me. “I’m good, Shannon. Really. Dale has a plan. A good one. You can stop worrying now.”

Liar. But I didn’t contradict him. We were, after all, under Dale’s gag order. I pointed to the sign and changed the subject instead. “Master Teacher?”

“Well, I needed to say something. ‘Post-run stretch substitute’ didn’t have the same ring. I have to impress the masses, don’t I?”

“Masses is right,” I replied. “What a huge turnout!”

“I know. I can’t believe it,” Shannon replied. “There are over four times as many people as last year. I guess all that advertising paid off.”

“The ice cream social afterwards is brilliant,” Michael said. “Who thought up that idea?”

Shannon pointed her thumb at her chest. “Yours truly. Nothing brings people together like free ice cream. With four ice cream parlors in town, we had plenty of portable coolers. All I had to do was convince them that donating a few gallons of inventory would be good advertising.”

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked. “The ice cream social is after the yoga class, right?” Yoga is traditionally practiced on an empty stomach, but that wasn’t why I asked. I had a feeling that once the free sweets disappeared, my yoga students would, too.

Shannon handed me a printed schedule. “The event runs from three to six. We’ll kick it off with the warm-up class and a few kid competitions at three. The 5K run begins at three-thirty, and your yoga class will start at four-thirty. We start dishing out ice cream an hour later.”

“Is that enough time?” I asked.

“Aren’t most yoga classes an hour long?”

“They’re usually longer, but I can work with an hour, no problem. I’m concerned about the run. There’s only an hour between when it starts and the yoga class. Are you sure people will be finished by then?”

“You’re obviously no jogger, Kate. Five kilometers is a little over three miles. Most people finish in thirty minutes or so. My grandma can leisurely walk it in an hour.”

Which meant that it would have taken Bella and me twice that long.

Shannon waved to someone across the crowd. “Sorry, I have to go. You two enjoy yourselves. Take Bella on the run if you want to. Just make sure that you’re back by four-fifteen. She pointed to a roped-off area near the water. Your class will be over there.” She gave Michael a hug. “Thanks for coming, Baby Brother. It means the world.” They bumped knuckles and she jogged off to her friend.

When she was halfway down the beach, I turned to Michael. “I’m surprised Shannon didn’t press you for details about Dale’s so-called plan.”

“I’m not. When she’s working, she shuts out the rest of the world.”

“What’s going to happen when she finds out you were lying? About Dale having a plan, that is.”

“It’s not lying, it’s wishful thinking. Besides, I don’t want to think about that right now. Let’s go back to pretending everything’s normal, okay?”

Which was a fabulous idea for the ten minutes it lasted.

Everyone we’d successfully avoided at the sandcastle competition sought us out at the fun run. Von and his boyfriend Andreas found us first. Von strode up to Michael, looking paradoxically joyful, wary, and serious at the same time. He pointedly ignored me. Still angry about my earlier subterfuge, I assumed.

He placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder, which earned him a foul look from Andreas. Bella nudged Von’s leg, clearly hoping he’d brought her a cookie. He ignored her, too. Clearly anyone—even an adorable, cookie-loving canine—who hung out with me was on Von’s do-not-befriend list.

He spoke to Michael in an almost tender voice. “I’m sorry about Gabriella.”

Michael’s face grew pink, but his expression remained somber. “Thanks.” He placed his hand on my forearm. “This is my—” He stumbled at the end of the sentence. “This is Kate.”

Von stiffened. “I know. We’ve met.”

Goose bumps covered my forearms. His tone was that cold. I tried to diffuse the tension between us by offering pretend sympathy. I pointed at the bandage still covering his forearm. “How’s that bite healing? Puppy teeth are the worst.”

Wrong move.

Andreas’s eyes opened wide. He grabbed Von’s arm and twisted it back and forth, as if examining the wound through the bandage. “Bite? You told me you cut yourself.”

Von groaned.

Andreas machine-gunned questions at him in rapid-fire succession. “Did you go to the hospital? What did the doctor say? Do you need stitches? Are you on antibiotics?” His eyes widened. “Oh good lord, what if it had rabies!”

“Thanks a lot,” Von grumbled at me under his breath. He yanked his arm away from Andreas. “I didn’t go to the doctor,” he snapped. “It was a puppy, for God’s sake. Puppies bite.”

Andreas jolted. “Don’t grump at me like I’m the one being unreasonable. You lied to me.”

“I was afraid that you’d go all crazy-hypochondriac, as usual.” Von’s expression grew cruel. “Looks like I was right.”

The two men continued arguing, but I tuned out their words, suddenly overwhelmed by an uncomfortable suspicion. How had Von really injured that arm? Did the bandage cover a cut, a dog bite, or something significantly more incriminating? Like a wound obtained in a late-night struggle with an unarmed woman?

The hair on my arms quivered. Von was obviously fond of Michael—maybe even romantically. He’d resented Gabriella. I’d heard him disparage her under his breath. Was that enough of a motive to kill her?

I would have continued puzzling out Von’s motives but a high-pitched squeal interrupted my thoughts. “Michael!” Crystal threw her arms around Michael’s neck. He stiffened at first, then returned her hug.

“I’m so glad you haven’t been arrested,” she said. “What happened to Gabby was horrible, but I don’t believe you hurt her. Not for a second. None of us do.”

A low, seething voice came from behind us. “Speak for yourself.”

Boyle.

He glared at Michael, his upper lip trembling. “You have a hell of a lot of nerve coming here.”

We all reacted to Boyle’s unwelcome arrival. I gasped and tightened Bella’s leash. Michael tensed; Von frowned; Andreas flinched; Bella growled. Crystal’s expression hovered somewhere between wariness and confusion.

“Easy, girl,” I said to Bella automatically. “This is our friend.”

Bella usually reacted to those words by sitting and offering the stranger her paw. Not this time. She remained standing at high alert, teeth bared, leaning toward Boyle. Go ahead, she seemed to say. Make my day.

Officer Boyle flexed and unflexed his fists, laser-focused on Michael the same way Bella was focused on him. “If it weren’t for your fancy lawyer, you’d be in a jail cell in Astoria right now. Hell, if I had my way, you’d be swinging from the end of a noose. You certainly wouldn’t be sauntering around town living it up with your mistress.” He brought his beet-red face to within an inch of Michael’s. “Make no mistake, mister. You. Will. Fry.”

A low, threatening growl vibrated from deep in Bella’s throat. Boyle leveled a hard stare back at her, right hand hovering dangerously close to his gun. “Oh, please. Give me an excuse. I’d love to put a bullet between your eyes, too.”

I grabbed Bella’s collar and backed her away. “Bella, be quiet.” I leaned down to her ear and whispered, “He has a gun!”

Michael’s growl sounded more threatening than Bella’s. “Leave them alone. Kate and Bella had nothing to do with Gabby’s death, and you know it. Neither did I. If you had enough evidence to arrest me, you’d have done it already. Back off or I’ll sue you for harassment.”

As threats went, it was pretty darned empty, but it was the only leverage Michael had.

Boyle sneered. “Try it. I guarantee you won’t like the results. Soon you’ll be mine, trapped inside a cell. Jail’s a dangerous place, you know …”

The radio on Officer Boyle’s shoulder crackled. He kept his eyes locked on Michael but spoke into the microphone. “Boyle here. Go ahead.” Garbled static obscured the reply. “I’m on a code eight.” More static. “Be there in five. Over and out.” He turned back to Michael. “This isn’t over.” He marched toward the beach and disappeared behind the carved whale.

Crystal stared after Officer Boyle, slowly shaking her head. “What a jerk,” she mumbled.

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“No, not really. I mean, a little. I’ve seen him around.” Her guarded expression belied her words. I would have pressed her further, but I didn’t get the chance. She kissed Michael’s cheek and said, “I need to sign in for the run. Everything is going to be okay, I promise.” She joined the growing line at the registration table. Andreas and Von followed behind her, still grumbling at each other.

I waited until they were all out of hearing range before I spoke. “So much for pretending things are normal.”

Michael didn’t reply.

I squeezed his arm. “Maybe Boyle’s right, in a way. Dale told us to keep a low profile. You probably shouldn’t be here.” I handed him my car keys. “There are more than enough people to support Shannon. Take Bella and go back to Rene’s.”

“How will you get home?”

“I’ll call a cab or hitch a ride back with your sister.”

Michael considered my offer for a couple of seconds, then squared his shoulders. “No. I’m innocent. I’m not going to act guilty.” He gave me a forced smile, handed back the keys, and pointed at the schedule. “Come on. Let’s go watch the Toddler Trot.”

The Toddler Trot—a hundred-foot dash for kids three and under—was one of Shannon’s new events. Eight deadly cute almost-babies lined up on one end of the beach, held back by their captors (aka parents). A hundred feet south, other family members prepared to coax the toddlers to run in their direction. The first child to go from one end to the other would win a fifty-dollar gift certificate to a local toy store.

The athletes consisted of five adorable girls and three precocious boys, Jimmy among them. His mother held him on her hip at the starting line. The woman I assumed was his grandmother stood at the finish.

I put Bella in a sit next to me. “This should be interesting.”

And it was.

The chaos began with the bang of the starter gun. Three baby-girl athletes plastered their palms to their ears and burst into tears. The rest of the runners ran full speed—in every direction except toward the finish line. Two careened toward the ice cream area; one headed for the beach. Jimmy beelined it straight toward Bella.

“Puppy!” he screamed. He tore off to the left, run-wobbling his way toward my toddler-loving canine.

His mother’s eyes widened. “Jimmy, come back!”

His grandmother yelled, “Come this way, baby!”

“Bella, down!” I yelled.

We all might as well have been swearing in Sanskrit. Jimmy and Bella were Romeo and Juliet, separated by parental buzz killers. Jimmy reached out his hands; Bella reached out her tongue. The two collided in a puddle of fur, giggles, and German shepherd saliva. Jimmy wrapped his tiny arms around Bella’s neck and pulled. She flopped to the sand and nibbled his chin. Neither boy nor beast had ever looked happier.

Jimmy’s mother slid next to him and tried—unsuccessfully—to pull his arms off his canine best friend. “I’m so sorry. I swear, I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s obsessed with your dog.”

I should have been horrified, and part of me was. But mainly I was enchanted. “The feeling’s obviously mutual. I think Bella is happier than he is.”

Meanwhile, back at the finish line, a curly haired toddler staggered into the happy embrace of a man I assumed was her father. The crowd cheered; two children cried. Every child got a medal, whether they finished the race or not. Michael and I laughed so hard that tears streamed down our faces. For that brief moment, Gabriella and Officer Boyle—and even Dale and his PI friend in Portland—were long forgotten.

It felt wonderful.

Next up was the 5K run, which had about three hundred participants of all ages. They jogged. They walked. They dragged along erstwhile canine companions. Some carried water bottles, others dog waste bags. Most wore huge smiles and not nearly enough sunscreen. No doubt about it: Shannon’s event was a rousing success.

Shortly after the first group of runners crossed the finish line, Michael and I made our way to the roped-off space designated for the yoga class. Participants—about sixty, by my estimation—started filing into the area a few minutes later. Andreas pulled a reluctant-looking Von to the front. Jimmy’s mother, Zoey, took a space in the middle. Jimmy must have been with his grandmother. Either that, or Zoey had buried him up to his chin in the sand.

I ducked under the rope and handed Bella’s leash to Michael. “Looks like I’m on deck. Bella seems pretty calm, but keep her away from other dogs, just in case.”

“No problem.” Michael pointed to a spot about ten feet behind me. “We’ll hang out here.”

“Watching people practice yoga is as exciting as watching paint dry. Wouldn’t you rather go for a walk?”

“Are you kidding?” The right side of Michael’s mouth lifted into a rakish grin. “Watching your backside could never be boring.”

My throat—and a few places significantly lower—tingled. Michael and I were getting back to normal. Normal was good. Normal was easy. Normal was heaven.

Normal was short-lived.

I raised my voice to be heard over the crowd. “Welcome to yoga class. My name is Kate. How many of you have done yoga before?” To my surprise, about eighty percent of the participants raised their hands. “Wonderful. How many of you have done Viniyoga?”

No one. Except Michael, and he wasn’t practicing.

“The beauty of Viniyoga is that there’s no ‘right’ way to do a pose. All that matters is that you feel better at the end of practice than at the beginning. If anything doesn’t feel safe, don’t do it.” My students smiled back at me. An easy crowd. So far so good.

After making sure there were no injuries, I asked everyone to stand and touch their palms together at their hearts in the Anjali Mudra, often called Prayer Position.

“Close your eyes and deepen your breath.”

I closed my eyes, too, so I could visualize our upcoming practice.

I’d teach most of it standing, since the participants didn’t have yoga mats. We’d begin with poses that stretched the muscles involved in running. A variation of Warrior One would stretch the calves. Dancer’s Pose would open the front of the thighs. A Staggered Legged Forward Bend would release hamstrings. We’d finish with some symmetrical forward bends to ease the low back and include plenty of arm sweeps to erase shoulder tension and relax participants’ necks.

Plan in place, I opened my eyes.

And came face-to-face with Officer Boyle.

He stood straight across from me on the edge of the yoga space, arms crossed, face scowling.

I glanced back at Michael. He nodded to let me know he’d seen him, gave me a double thumbs-up sign, and mouthed the words knock ’em dead. Probably not the most appropriate statement, given how Gabriella had died, but at least he didn’t tell me to break a leg.

I tried to focus on teaching, but Boyle’s scowl evaporated my attention. Instead of conjuring up visions of peace, I pictured Gabriella’s body. Where was her wedding ring? The tan line on her fourth finger indicated that she wore the ring regularly. If she’d taken it off at home, why hadn’t Shannon and I found it in her apartment? If the killer stole it, why?

“Take a deep inhale and raise your arms up to the sky. As you exhale, fold forward and bring your face toward your front knee.”

Gabriella’s face. I shuddered. Her beautiful face had been destroyed by her killer. Bludgeoned over and over and over again. Her killing wasn’t a random act of violence. She was beaten to death by someone she knew. Someone she might have hurt back. I glanced at Von, who was wrapping his hands around the backs of his ankles. The bandage on his forearm haunted me. What was it hiding?.

Officer Boyle stopped glaring and strode toward Michael. I kept teaching. “Let’s do some modified Sun Salutations. I’ll do the first repetition with you, then allow you to move at your own pace.”

I moved slowly, timing my instruction so students could easily follow along. My body relaxed into the flow of breath-centered movement, but my mind refused to obey, jumping from thought to disconnected thought. Starfish ankle bracelets. Bulging white envelopes. Happy wedding photos. Tragically unborn children.

I performed the first repetition with the class, then asked them to move on their own. My eyes found Boyle a few feet away, still staring at Michael, who was now chatting with Crystal. For the moment at least, Michael seemed safe.

“A few more repetitions, and then we’ll move on.”

The students were finishing the last Downward Facing Dog when Jimmy’s grandmother ducked under the rope. She whispered something to her daughter, who stopped moving.

“You what?” Zoey shrieked. “You lost him?” The rest of the class stopped moving and started mumbling. Zoey shielded her eyes and peered up and down the beach. “Jimmy!” she cried. “Where are you?” Her eyes grew wild. “Jimmy!”

A tiny voice wailed in the distance. “Mommy!”

Everything next happened in an impossible fast-forward slow-motion. Zoey pointed toward the toddler’s voice and screamed. “Stop him! He’s kidnapping my son!”

I followed her finger—straight to the man with the camouflage hat. He held the struggling toddler in a vice grip under his elbow. He glanced at Zoey and started running. Fast.

Bella ran faster.

She whipped toward the child’s cry and lunged, ripping the leash out of Michael’s hand. Before he could stop her, she tore after Jimmy’s abductor. The rest of us humans—including Michael, Zoey, Officer Boyle, and me—sprinted excruciatingly slowly behind her.

Bella reached the camo-hatted man a good ten seconds before the first human. She flew through the air, planted her front feet on the would-be kidnapper’s back, and knocked him flat to the ground. He dropped Jimmy, scrambled to his feet, and kept running. A male bystander tackled him near the sidewalk. Bella stayed with Jimmy, circling around him, snarling and snapping. Anyone who didn’t know her would have thought she was rabid.

My heart dropped to my toes. Bella was guarding Jimmy. Protecting him. I knew it. Michael knew it. I had a feeling Jimmy’s mother knew it, too. But we might be the only three.

“Somebody stop that dog before it kills him!” a stranger’s voice yelled.

“Bella, it’s okay!” I yelled louder. “Leave it!”

Officer Boyle pulled his gun.

“No!” I screamed. “Don’t shoot her!”

Boyle didn’t pause. Then again, I couldn’t blame him. Police officers are trained to act on split-second impulses, and Boyle believed a child was in imminent danger. To a cop—any cop—human life trumped animal. Every time.

He raised the gun and pointed it at Bella.

A feral “Nooooooo!” echoed behind me.

Michael flew through the air, tackling Officer Boyle from behind and knocking his gun to the ground.

I dove next to Bella and grabbed her collar, praying that in her near-crazed state of arousal, she wouldn’t accidentally attack me.

Michael and Boyle scuffled in the sand, yelling at each other. Neither one paused long enough to listen to the other.

“Don’t move! Get on the ground! Now!”

“She wasn’t going to hurt that kid, you idiot. She was protecting him!”

Jimmy’s mother skidded next to me and wrapped her arms around her sobbing toddler. “Thank you. Oh my God, thank you.” She pushed Jimmy to arm’s length and scolded, “I told you not to run away from Grandma,” then immediately wrapped him back in a deep embrace. Bella whined and licked every square inch of his face with her long, black-spotted tongue.

When I stopped shaking long enough to look up again, Officer Boyle was securing Michael in handcuffs. Blood dripped off Michael’s chin and splattered in crimson droplets across the front of his shirt. An unfortunate side effect, I assumed, of an untimely collision with Officer Boyle’s fist. The camo-capped man—whose fallen hat revealed a sweaty, balding head—was being led away by one of the officers I’d seen earlier.

Shannon, who’d come from lord only knew where, screamed at Officer Boyle. “He wasn’t resisting arrest, you moron. You didn’t have to coldcock him!” Crystal stood beside her, crying and reaching toward Michael.

Von grudgingly grabbed Bella’s leash. “I’ll hold her. You should go talk to the cop.”

By the time I arrived next to Michael, I was shaking so hard again that my teeth chattered. His nose was still bleeding; his right eye was blackened and swollen. I ignored the cuffs on his wrists and the injuries to his face and wrapped my arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You could have been shot!”

Then reality hit.

I shoved him away. Relieved anger spewed from my mouth. “What were you thinking! You could have been shot!”

“I didn’t think, Kate. I just reacted. Bella was a hero. I couldn’t let her get hurt.”

Officer Boyle grabbed Michael by the elbow and jerked him roughly away. “You just made a huge mistake, buddy. You’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer. You’re mine now. You and I are gonna have ourselves a little talk.”

Boyle recited the Miranda warning as he led Michael away.