WHITNEY HELD JASPER as she watched Kris Simpson bring out the teaser bitch. Jasper squirmed in her arms, anxious to be put down. Whitney didn’t have much experience breeding dogs. When she’d been in high school, she’d worked part-time at a kennel. She’d seen two breeding sessions between the owner’s Wheaten terrier bitch and a male who’d been brought in by his owner. No teaser bitch had been required.
“Ever seen an A.I.?” asked Kris.
Whitney shook her head. She supposed that if she’d thought about it, she would have realized champion dogs, like many champion racehorses, wouldn’t be allowed to breed on their own. The risk of injury was too great. The sperm was collected, then the bitch was artificially inseminated.
“Mandy is in heat and so is my crested, Princess Arianna. She was best in her class at Westminster last year.” Kris held up a small device that looked like a large syringe with a balloon-like sack on one end. “The teaser bitch gets the male excited, then I collect the sperm.”
“You’ll inseminate Princess Arianna yourself?”
“Yes. I’ll freeze the leftover sperm for use on my other bitches when they come into season. That’s why I paid so much money.” She patted Jasper on the head. “I’ll get three, maybe four litters out of this guy.”
Whitney had no idea what this woman had spent for Jasper’s services. Considering Jasper was an international champion, his offspring would be worth a lot. “Will we get the pick of the litter?”
Kris glared at Whitney. “Didn’t you read the contract? I’ll keep all of the puppies.”
“I didn’t see the contract,” Whitney muttered. “I just help Mr. Hunter with Jasper.”
Things must work differently when breeding champions, she decided. The owner of the male usually had pick of the litter.
“Put Jasper down and let him get a good sniff before I bag him.”
She set Jasper on the concrete floor. He looked up at her and whimpered. “Go on now,” she said encouragingly. Jasper pawed her shins, begging to be picked up again. Physically, he showed no sign of being interested in the teaser bitch.
Kris tapped her on the shoulder. “Let’s leave them alone. We can watch it on the television in my office. I can get back out here before he ejaculates.”
Whitney used her leg to scoot Jasper aside. She hurried out of the enclosure. Jasper scratched at the gate and yipped as if his paw had been caught in a trap.
Kris led Whitney down a short corridor to an office. The walls were lined with framed pictures of Chinese crested dogs and the ribbons they’d won. The photographs and ribbons were encased in Lucite boxes. A black satin ribbon was draped over one box and Whitney assumed that dog had died.
Kris sat behind a glass-top desk and carefully put down the collection device. Whitney took the chair opposite her. The breeder picked up the remote control and flicked on the wall-mounted flat-screen television. Jasper’s plaintive yips filled the room. The TV showed the little dog still pawing the gate while the teaser bitch kept circling behind him.
Kris frowned. “That’s what comes from holding a dog too much. I told Cal not to coddle his crested, but he wouldn’t listen. He took him everywhere with him.”
Whitney didn’t interrupt to tell her that Miranda had cared for Jasper some of the time. She must have been partly responsible for spoiling him.
“Now look, the dog can’t concentrate on his business.”
The cell phone clipped to Whitney’s shorts vibrated. Caller ID told her it was Adam. “I have a call I need to take.”
“Go ahead. I’ll monitor the dogs.”
Whitney could hear Jasper’s yelps still coming from the television as she walked outside into a blast of radiant sunshine. “What’s happening?”
“I’m just leaving Saffron Blue. Jared Cabral says Miranda hasn’t worked there in about eighteen months.”
“What?” Whitney stared out at the white picket fence that encircled the sprawling ranch house where the breeder lived with what appeared to be at least two dozen Chinese crested dogs.
She gazed up and down the road, mindful of Adam’s warning to keep her eye out for anyone suspicious. Nothing unusual was in sight.
“I was surprised, too. I assumed she’d been working there recently, but she hasn’t. Cabral didn’t seem to know much. I told him about the firebombing. He couldn’t think of anyone or anything your cousin had been involved in that would make someone want to kill her.”
“Saffron Blue’s a dead end.”
“Looks that way,” he agreed. “We could try going through the stuff she stored in the garage.”
This morning they’d inspected the charred remains of her Jeep. The garage attached to the carport had been partially burned. The contents of the garage had appeared to be a soggy mess.
“I guess we could, but I doubt she left anything important behind.”
There was a burst of static and Whitney thought Adam had driven into a dead zone, but then she heard him say, “It’s our only option. The police will go through her phone records and credit card charges. They may come up with something.”
“I hope so.” She was still jittery after last night. Not knowing what was going on or why her cousin hadn’t warned her was making Whitney even more nervous.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’ve been careful. I’m not being followed. No one suspicious is around.”
“How’s Jasper doing?”
“He doesn’t seem to be all that interested in mating.”
“He could be a gaynine.”
“What?” Whitney wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.
“You know, a gay dog. Maybe he prefers boy dogs.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. Who’s to say homosexuality is strictly a human phenomenon?” He chuckled and she thought about the things he’d told her last night. He was opening up, revealing a sense of humor.
“I think Jasper is just nervous,” she explained. “And I don’t think the nodule you noticed behind Jasper’s ear is any better. Shouldn’t I take him to his vet?”
“Yes. There’s a file on Jasper in the office. I’m sure it has his vet’s—”
“I have the number. Miranda has the telephone number for the vet of every dog she walked. Emergency numbers of the owners, too. She was very thorough. I have it all in my BlackBerry.”
A burst of static followed. “My phone’s cutting out. See you later, sweetheart.”
Whitney said goodbye and snapped her phone shut. Sweetheart? Adam was full of surprises. The way he’d kissed her—well, nothing had felt so right in a long, long time. After her ordeal with Ryan, she hadn’t expected any man to interest her. Just the thought of her ex-husband sent up red flags. She cautioned herself to take time before becoming involved again. Make better, more responsible decisions about men.
She slowly walked back into the office, her mind on Miranda. Maybe she would never see her cousin again. It was possible she would never know who wanted to kill Miranda. Whitney needed to stay out of harm’s way until the police came up with some answers.
Last night she hadn’t been able to sleep. Adam was right. Nearly dying made her look at life differently. After her divorce, she’d become a fugitive from life by deciding to take over her cousin’s business.
Whitney was realizing more and more that what she really wanted to do was become a veterinarian. She’d put her dream on hold to send Ryan to medical school. She’d passed up her chance. After all this time, she would need to take a few refresher courses in biology and anatomy before she reapplied.
She could do it, Whitney assured herself. She would have to go to school at night and scrounge to make ends meet, but she could do it. With hard work, she would be ready to take the entrance tests next spring.
If she was accepted—it was a really big if—she would have to leave the area. The nearest veterinary school was at University of California at Davis in the northern part of the state. It would mean leaving Adam behind.
Don’t go there, she warned herself.
Her relationship with Adam was too new to factor him into her future. She had to chart her own course. She’d learned the hard way that setting your dreams aside for a man was a huge mistake.
AS SOON AS ADAM FINISHED talking to Whitney, his cell phone rang. It was Tyler.
“Where are you, Adam?”
He heard the tense note in Tyler’s voice and knew he was upset. “I was taking care of a little business. What’s going on?”
“My father’s been trying to reach you. Didn’t you get his messages?”
“No. I’ve been really busy.”
“Too busy to pick up voicemail?” Tyler’s tone was hostile now. Anything to do with his old man made Tyler edgy, to say the least.
“I guess you didn’t see the news.” Adam went on to explain about the bombing and subsequent fire.
“Holy shit! You’ll be tied up with insurance claims from here to eternity.”
Leave it to Tyler to think about the financial ramifications of the fire. Adam hadn’t even taken time to report it to the attorney. No doubt this would impact the probate.
“My father’s on the way over to your place. He thinks there’s a disc with a copy of the info somewhere in your uncle’s house.”
Missing financial records and now a missing disc. Things were not adding up. Adam was now more sure than ever that his uncle had been murdered.
“Adam, are you there? Can you hear me?”
“I’m here. I was on my way to the office but I can go home again.”
“I’d appreciate it.” There was no mistaking the relief in Tyler’s voice. “Father’s going postal over this missing disc.”
Adam almost told him that Quinten Foley could drop dead. Searching the house was a waste of time. Adam had already gone over every inch. Then he recalled all the e-mails Tyler had sent him when he’d been in Iraq. He’d kept in touch, tried to lift Adam’s spirits. Most of all, he’d worked hard and protected Adam’s investment in the security company.
It wouldn’t kill him to indulge Quinten Foley. He was the kind of guy who wouldn’t take Adam’s word about not finding the disc. He would have to see for himself. Adam tried to imagine what it must have been like for Tyler to grow up with such a demanding father—and couldn’t.
When they’d first met as cadets at the police academy, Adam had learned he and Tyler had a lot in common. Both had lost their mothers at a young age. He’d assumed Tyler had a great dad like Adam’s own father. Then he’d met the man.
From then on, Adam had befriended Tyler. It wasn’t hard. Tyler was easygoing—the opposite of his father. They’d become closer as they moved through the ranks and became homicide detectives. They both had become disillusioned with detective work at the same time. It was only natural that the two friends go into business together.
Adam assured Tyler that he’d go through all the discs with Quinten Foley. He’d rather be tarred and feathered, but there you go. Some things you did for friends—like it or not. Adam hung up and drove back to Torrey Pines.
A hulking black Hummer was parked in his driveway. Adam pulled in behind Tyler’s father. Quinten Foley jumped out of the Hummer. Splotches of red mottled his face, and Adam knew the jerk would attempt to ream him a new one for not returning his messages.
“Don’t you pick up your messages?” Foley bellowed at him the instant Adam opened the car door.
“Fuck off.”
That got him. Foley stopped dead in his tracks. Adam was certain no one dared to curse Foley. The older man frowned and the red blotches deepened in color.
“I’ve been trying to reach you since late last night,” Foley said as if nothing had happened, but his tone was conciliatory.
Adam headed up the walk to the front door and Foley fell in step with him. “We had some trouble here. My cell was shut off.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“A pipe bombing.”
“Christ! Why?”
Adam was at the front door now. He stopped, the key in his hand. “Apparently the woman who was living in the cottage behind the house got into some trouble.”
“I see,” Foley replied as if he had his doubts. “Did Tyler tell you what I wanted?”
Adam unlocked the front door and held it open for Tyler’s father. “Yes. Something about information on my uncle’s computer.” Adam headed up the stairs toward the office. “It was stolen along with some other computer stuff during my uncle’s funeral.”
“Yes, Tyler told me. I think Calvin made a copy of the file.”
Adam reached the office and flicked on the light. “What makes you think he’d copy your file?”
A beat of silence. “It’s the way we were trained. You know, military stuff.”
Yeah, right. Something else was going on, and it might be the link to his uncle’s death. Adam dropped into the chair behind the desk and turned on his computer. “I’ve run the discs the burglars didn’t take. What are you looking for exactly?”
Foley pulled up a chair beside the desk. “It would be lists of names with numbers.”
Bank account numbers? Adam silently wondered. “I didn’t find anything like that.”
Foley craned his neck to glance around the office at the bookshelves. “It could be hidden somewhere. Mind if I check?”
Foley hadn’t bothered to ask any questions about the fire or express concern. His attitude already had Adam pissed. “Yeah, I do mind. I’ve been through everything in this room. Nothing’s hidden in any of the books or—”
“Did you check discs that seem to be something else like PhotoShop or QuickBooks?”
“Believe me, I read every disc.”
“Why?”
There you go. Quinten Foley was an arrogant SOB but he hadn’t been made with a finger. “Some of my uncle’s financial records are missing. I checked to see if he’d hidden them for some reason.”
Foley studied him for a moment. “Look, I’m going to level with you. No one knows about this—not even Tyler.”
Well, hell. This wasn’t exactly news. Tyler’s father didn’t tell him squat.
“Your uncle was working with me on a weapons deal.”
I’ll be a son of a bitch! Adam had never suspected his uncle might be involved in something that was, if not illegal, damn close to it. When Uncle Calvin told Adam he was afraid, the older man hadn’t mentioned this.
Why would he sell arms? Money, of course. There were countries and groups of people all over the world who would pay vast sums to get the latest equipment. But he never thought his uncle would be involved with them.
How well did you know him? Adam asked himself. Not well. The man blew in and out of his life. Adam had assumed his uncle shared the same principles that Adam’s father had instilled in him. Evidently, this was a serious misconception.
An arms deal gone sour could mean a bunch of pissed-off men who would stop at nothing. Maybe that was why his uncle had been so afraid someone planned to kill him.
“You see, there are times when our government doesn’t want it to be known that they are supplying other governments with arms,” Quinten continued. “They conduct business through a third party.”
“That would be you and my uncle.”
“Exactly. Information concerning a recent deal was on your uncle’s computer. I can’t tell you more—it’s classified top secret. But I can tell you there are people who would stop at nothing to get the information.”
“Would they kill Uncle Calvin?”
“No. Why would they?”
“A little over two months ago, I visited my uncle at his villa on Siros. He was worried about being killed. He wouldn’t tell me who was after him or what it was about. He wanted to protect me.”
Foley gazed at Adam with a stricken expression. “He didn’t send me any message or try to warn me.”
“Would you have warned him?”
Quinten Foley didn’t respond. He didn’t need to; Adam knew the answer. This was a man who didn’t love his own son. How could anyone expect him to protect a business partner?