TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2
Excuse me.” Jaime scooted back her chair and dashed for the restroom. She waited as long as she dared, using every deep-breathing technique various therapists had given her. Still her tremors continued.
“Jaime?” Caroline’s voice edged into the small room. “You okay?”
What would Dane do if charges were filed?
Jaime’s heart pounded and her lungs tightened until she was sipping air through a straw. She leaned her forehead against the stall’s metal door. Caroline was waiting for her, so she couldn’t fall apart now. She had to hold it together until she was in the safety of her apartment. She pushed out a breath and then tugged another in. Her hands fumbled with her purse. Where was her lavender?
“Jaime?” Concern grew in Caroline’s voice.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay?” Her friend drew the word out until it sounded like a multisyllable question. There was no way she’d fooled Caroline. “I almost believe you, except you tore away from the table like your worst nightmare had come to life.”
Jaime opened the door to find Caroline leaning against the counter. “In a way.”
“Those military guys that just came in?”
“One of them.”
Caroline watched Jaime as if expecting her to bolt. “They’re gone now. Apparently they didn’t have a reservation and didn’t want to wait.”
“You sure?”
“Watched them go out the door on my way in here.”
“Okay.”
“So you know, you don’t have to do what the girls are suggesting. I’ll be fine.”
“What do you mean?”
“Emilie’s decided you should let me stay with you.” Caroline shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but Jaime could read the uncertainty in her stance.
“For how long?”
“It’s supposed to be a week. Emilie says that means at least three.” She winced. “That’s too long to impose on anyone. Besides, the management firm assures me I’ll be back in a week.”
The thought of opening her haven to someone else shook Jaime, but this was Caroline, the friend who saw her in a way few others did. “Plan on a week, then we’ll play it by ear.”
“You sure?”
“Would I offer if I didn’t mean it?”
Caroline squealed and threw her arms around Jaime. “Thank you. You can send me away the minute I get on your nerves. Not that it would ever happen.”
Jaime couldn’t fight a smile at the warmth her friend’s exuberance expressed. “Let’s go tell the others.”
As she exited the restroom, she pushed Uncle Dane far from her mind. She’d deal with him when she knew what the Commonwealth’s Attorney had decided. Until then the odds of their crossing paths in the DC area a second time were small.
Chandler Bolton juggled a gallon of milk and two bags of groceries in one hand, a cup of coffee and keys in the other. The day had been unending, packed with appointments and intensity. He was ready to be home and forget the stress of his job helping returning servicemen and servicewomen with their transition back from tours of duty. He shifted his condo keys for a better angle on the door, and an envelope slipped from the pile of mail squeezed beneath his armpit.
Maybe he should have made two trips.
There, the key finally caught in the door, and he twisted the knob while trying to keep his mug upright. He sloshed lukewarm brew across his hand as he pushed the door open, the plastic grocery bags twisting to cut off the circulation in his left hand. He gave the door behind him a nudge and hustled across the small foyer to the galley kitchen.
He set the bags and milk on the small granite countertop and flexed his wrist and fingers. Then he looked around. Where was Aslan?
Usually the golden retriever was at the door the moment he entered, eager to go out and get some attention. Chandler turned and groaned when he saw the open door.
Where had his crazy dog gone now?
For a dog well trained enough to become a licensed therapy dog and hopefully a comfort dog in court, Aslan liked to disappear the moment he could sneak from the second-floor apartment. His usual good temper and obedience were overruled by the need to say hi to as many neighbors as he could find in the complex.
Chandler stepped into the hallway and whistled, but Aslan didn’t reappear. Well, a shake of doggie biscuits, and the escapee would trot back with a happy grin. Chandler stepped back inside to collect his keys, phone, and the can of treats he kept by the door.
He whistled a long, piercing note. Still no response.
The elevator doors clanged open. What if Aslan had trotted onto an elevator? There would be no way to know which floor the animal had exited onto unless someone took pity on Chandler and read the dog’s tag.
He checked his phone. No messages yet. He’d start by going up, stopping on each floor to look around the hallway. He didn’t want to consider how hard it would be to find Aslan if the dog had made it to the lobby and walked through the doors. With the Potomac River walking trails outside the main entrance, Aslan could literally go anywhere—including for a swim.
Chandler got out on the third floor. The lobby outside the elevators looked like a generic but nice hotel. He glanced both directions but didn’t see the dog or anyone to ask if they’d seen an errant golden. He turned back to the elevator, then paused as his phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Is this the owner of a wild dog?”
“Um, I own a golden retriever.”
“I don’t care what breed it is. I have the dog. Or rather, your dog has my cat. I would suggest you collect him immediately before I contact animal control.”
“Aslan has your cat?”
“Please come get him at once.” The feminine voice vibrated.
“Where are you?”
“Fifth floor. In the hallway.”
The elevator doors had closed, so Chandler headed to the stairs. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Sooner would be better.” There was an edge to the woman’s voice. An edge that warned him she wasn’t a dog lover and had experienced a rough day.
He clomped up the stairs while she kept talking, and a minute later he banged through the stairwell door to the fifth floor. At the other end of the hallway he saw a woman gesticulating wildly while holding a phone to her ear. She was tall, dressed in a work pantsuit, with long, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. At her feet Aslan stood at attention, focused on something Chandler couldn’t see but would bet was a cat. He hurried toward them and let out a short whistle.
The dog’s head turned but he didn’t move. “Aslan.” When the dog ignored him, staying on point toward something in the ficus tree in the corner, Chandler raised his voice and inserted authority. “Release.”
Aslan gave a clipped bark.
“Now.”
The dog’s head sank as he slunk back a step. Then another.
The woman backed away as if afraid of being grazed by his fur.
“You all right, ma’am?”
“Not yet.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Your mongrel is still here.”
He bristled at her words, yet as he took a second look he wondered why he hadn’t noticed her before. The complex was large, but he would surely remember someone as striking as this woman, especially with the sparks flying from her. He bit back a smile. “Aslan wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Tell that to Simba.” She pointed at a marmalade cat standing at the base of the ficus tree, gaze locked on Aslan. The ridge of fur on its back stood at attention.
“They look like they belong together.”
“What?” She turned incredulous eyes on him.
“The colors. They match.” He shrugged, realizing the ice queen didn’t appreciate his comment. “Come, Aslan. Time to get you home.” Aslan edged back with one more reluctant yip.
Chandler turned to the woman, who seemed to be studying him with the intensity of one assessing danger. “I apologize, ma’am. But really, he wouldn’t hurt anything.”
Her gaze softened a little, yet there was still an edge to her voice. “You might want to continue his training.” She scooped down and picked up the cat, who didn’t appear to relish the contact.
Did the creature reflect the emotions of its owner? Or had she picked a cat because it wouldn’t require her to get too close?
He grabbed Aslan’s collar, thinking it was the only way the woman would relax. “I’ll get Aslan back home. I’m Chandler Bolton, by the way.”
“Jaime.” She nodded at him, and it was clear he’d been dismissed.
All right. “Come on, Aslan.”
He headed toward the elevator, only releasing the dog when the doors opened and they could enter. When he turned around, with a firm hand command demanding obedience, he found the woman, cat in her arms, still standing as though planted, her gaze locked on him.