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SEPTEMBER STOOD AND backed away from the agitated dog. They’d waited for hours for Lizzie to take the next step. Worrying about April had her nerves on fire, so much so that she’d nearly come out of her skin when Shadow tried to attack the computer. The dog’s attention never wavered from the computer monitor. He’d stopped barking, but his growls shook the bed.
“Turn up the volume. Shadow, good boy. Hush.”
“What the hell’s wrong with him?” Teddy gingerly reached for the audio. “I didn’t think dogs could see TV.” He fooled with the keyboard again as the video clip finished, and the image returned to the live feed. A heavy cop moved away from the podium and joined two detectives. “That’s the courthouse.”
September leaned closer to the monitor. “The video they played showed Henry Pottinger, Steven’s doctor. Shadow must have recognized him.”
Doug Childress seized the podium. “I just want my son back.” He leaned into the microphone, and a picture of Steven filled one half of the split screen. “He’s seven years old, and has been missing since noon yesterday.” His voice caught. “He may be with his mother, or aunt. But Steven needs to come home. To me. To his father.”
Shadow continued to growl, but September’s hand on his ruff calmed him. He licked his lips, yawned, and lay down, but his focus remained glued to the computer.
“You sure the dog recognized this guy? How do you know him?”
“I don’t. But the doctor is the thread that ties everything together. Shadow couldn’t have met anyone else in that video, so that must be what got him riled.” Her mind flashed to the bundle of bloody workout clothes. Did the blood belong to Pottinger? That would explain why April wouldn’t call the police when Steven got lost. “There’s so damn many people involved, I don’t know who to trust.”
“Would the dog recognize people on the screen?”
“Doubtful. Flat faced breeds like bulldogs or cats more easily react to TV, especially the latest high definition ones. Something about their eye placement and retinal differences compared to longer-nosed dogs. Shadow must have heard Dr. Pottinger before.” Maybe yesterday morning. That was the only thing that made sense.
On the computer screen, the spiky-haired detective moved Childress aside, and pulled the microphone close. “September Day remains a person of interest.” A picture of September with a cello, and without the white skunk streak in her hair, filled the screen.
The detective came back on screen. “We’re also looking for April Childress and her son Steven.” April’s glamorous picture appeared side by side with a somber photo of Steven. “We believe the little boy caught a ride on the HART-Line bus and got off at Star Mall. The child could be in the company of a large, black German shepherd, a service dog. The police welcome any additional information the public may have about the whereabouts of these individuals.”
Somebody from the press shouted. “Detective Doty, what about the other shootings? One at Star Mall and another at Gentry Park. Are they connected? Is this drug related?”
Doty held up one hand for silence. “I have no further comment on other pending cases. The deceased have not yet been identified pending notification of next of kin.”
“How are they related?” Several reporters called out the same question at once.
“We’re not prepared to say at this time,” said the detective. “We welcome information, and you can call the number on the screen.”
Teddy reached for the desk phone. “My turn.”
“What are you doing?” September lurched to grab for the receiver. “Please, you can’t call the police.” She might not be hero material, but she was Steven’s only chance. “Give me half an hour head start—”
“I’m dialing.” He punched numbers, and then paused. “Unless you want to clue me in. It’s time.”
He was right. She didn’t know if April was alive or dead. She’d already failed her sister, and the only way she knew to redeem herself was to save Steven. Lizzie would call, and she’d obediently hand over the computer drive, and be left with empty prayers they’d keep their word and release Steven.
“Tell me.” He hung up the phone. “I want to help.”
Reaching for the dog, she sat on the bed. Shadow wagged his tail, licking her hand as she stroked his soft, black fur. September felt her stress slowly ebb to barely below the scream-threshold. “Okay, what do you want to know?” She checked her watch for the millionth time. Six hours until the deadline.
“From the beginning. Give me the digest version, because the way you check your watch, time’s short.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She struggled to gather her thoughts. She took a big breath and spoke quickly. “Some bad people kidnapped my sister and her son.”
“Dr. Pottinger?”
“No. Lizzie Baumgarten and about a million henchmen. There’s a pale man who looks like a ghost. That’s her son, Gerald.” She reached into the top of her borrowed sweatshirt and pulled out the flash drive. “They want this. It belonged to Pottinger.”
His glasses twitched. “That’s why Freda was killed?” He reached for it. “Why didn’t you just give it to them, for Christ’s sake?”
She slipped it back under her shirt. “I just got it. Shadow was wearing it.”
He scratched his head. “The dog had the flash drive? Wait, don’t tell me.” He wrinkled his brow. “Steven, right?”
September nodded. “April said Pottinger was at the house yesterday morning, so I think that’s why Shadow reacted just now.” She hugged herself, and spoke her fears aloud. “That detective said Pottinger was murdered, probably at April’s house.”
Teddy gulped. “Your sister killed him?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” September forced herself to finish the story despite the bad taste it left behind. “April was frantic when Steven disappeared in the snowstorm. I think Steven got scared when Pottinger was killed, and ran away.” She braced herself against a chair back, gripping the upholstery so hard her fingers turned white. “Lizzie shot the babysitter, and threatened to kill my sister unless I returned the flash drive.” The room reeled and then steadied again, a side effect of unburdening herself. Or maybe she just needed more caffeine. “She gave me twenty-four hours. That’s two o’clock. April doesn’t know about the babysitter. She just wants to help her son.”
“That’s how you got beat up?”
“You should see the other guy.” The joke fell flat. Sure, she smacked Gerald, but in retaliation Pam was killed. “They’ve been ahead of me every step of the way.” Her hand covered the flash drive. “This is first break I’ve had, the only hope to save Steven and April.”
Shadow whined and pawed her until she shushed him, and he leaned hard against her. She avoided Teddy’s eyes. Lizzie may have already killed April. If Teddy called the police, Steven could die, too.
He picked up a glass paperweight and immediately appeared calmer as he massaged its smooth surface. “I can see why you don’t want to call the authorities. But do you think these jerks will return Steven? You can identify them, right?”
“I’ve got no choice.”
“You always have a choice.” He turned back to the computer. “First things first. Let’s see exactly who we’re dealing with.” Teddy gently kissed the paperweight and set it down. “Channeling my wife, she was always the brains in the family. That was a fiftieth anniversary gift from her.” He smiled, touched the glass again, and then his fingers clacked on the keyboard. “The phone’s dead anyway. So until I can call the cops, might as well do some research.”
September breathed again. “What are you doing?”
“Find out about this Pottinger character.”
“Hold that thought.” She hurried from the office to the living room, rummaged in her coat for her notes from the conversation with Fish. Gerald’s pistol came out first. The greenish parkerized finish looked dull even in bright light. She’d never liked guns but she respected them, and Chris had taught her how to use them. September stuck the pistol into a pocket of the borrowed sweatpants. She wanted it within reach. She returned to the office bedroom. “My friend at the radio station found Pottinger on the internet. He works for NeuroRealm.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Teddy typed the company name into the search engine, and soon had the website on the screen. “Here we go—all sorts of research. Hmm.”
“How does this help?” Her toe stuttered in rhythm with the silent tick-tock in her head. Lizzie could call any minute. She had to be ready.
“Interesting.” Teddy clicked on the media button, found the list of press releases, and opened the most recent. “Looky there.” He backed away to give her room to see.
She scanned the press release. “Rebirth Gathering. April mentioned that.” She read further. “It’s a retreat for parents with autistic kids, and hints at some breakthrough treatment that cures the condition, extensively quoting Dr. Pottinger.” She devoured the information. “Holy shit, it also quotes Dr. Gerald Baumgarten” She read further. “Sounds too good to be true. And it is. There’s the contact person—Lizbeth Baumgarten, RVT.”
“RVT, what is that? Some kind of nurse?”
“Registered veterinary technician.” September’s gorge rose. They must be using veterinary drugs on kids. “Look at that fee. You’ve got to qualify for placement, Rebirth Gathering won’t accept everyone.”
“Oldest sales trick in the book.” Teddy snorted. “Make it exclusive, so folks want to be part of the elite.”
“Doug refused to pay for the treatment, so April came to me.”
Teddy whistled. “You didn’t blink at the price?”
September shrugged. “I’ve got the funds, I’m comfortable.”
“But it costs twenty-five grand just to get in the door, and they limit it to the first two hundred who register. Enough reason to kill.” He shuddered. “Wonder how much the cost goes up once the children qualify for the full treatment? The bastards.”
September read further, and gasped. “The full treatment goes up to seventy-five thousand.” When did April plan to hit her up for that amount? Chris left her okay financially, but not if Steven’s treatment fees hemorrhaged her funds. “April said Steven improved tremendously on the new therapy. Snake oil? Maybe. But placebo can be a powerful persuader. Parents grasp at straws, and will try any crazy cure for their kids, even unproven stuff.”
“I didn’t know you could experiment on kids.” Disgust filled his voice.
“FDA studies mostly use adults, true. To run the same trials with kids would increase the cost even more, so they extrapolate doses and go off-label with drugs approved for other things.” She shrugged. “Happens all the time. I think parents just sign a consent form acknowledging they know the treatment hasn’t been FDA-approved. Of course the insurance won’t pay for experimental treatments, but desperate folks accept the risk.” She re-read the press release. “My God, Rebirth Gathering starts this afternoon! That must be the reason for the deadline. Whatever’s on the flash drive must be explosive.”
“So let’s see what’s so important.” He held out his hand.
September’s fist closed protectively over the drive, and she walked away. April got herself into the situation, but Pam was already on her conscience. She didn’t need to add more to her guilt. Once she ransomed Steven she’d retreat to her reinforced rabbit hole, bolt the doors, and never come out again.
“Do you think these yahoos will let you off the hook? Grow up.” He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s not just about Steven anymore. People have died.”
“Who made you the savior of the world?” She whirled to confront him, and chewed words through a clenched jaw. “Don’t you dare play the guilt card with me. I didn’t ask for this. I owed April. Steven belongs to her now, he never belonged to me. I never even wanted kids; don’t even like them, how long can she hold that over my head?” She clamped her hands over her mouth. Shame heated her face.
Teddy made a face. “Yes, I can tell you’re an evil person only out for yourself. You hate kids. Probably beat that dog.” He waved at Shadow and the dog wagged his tail. “So do you want Lizzie to kill more kids with her treatment? Do you let Lizzie get away with murder?”
She looked away. He didn’t know. Only God knew who she really was, and what she’d done, and there was a very good reason God didn’t hear her prayers anymore. So be it. She slapped the flash drive into his palm. “It’s your funeral. If you get killed, I’m not going to cry.”
“I have no plans to die. But they murdered my friend. Freda only wanted to help.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I know it’s my fault.” The flush left her cheeks, and September grabbed the wall to steady herself. She needed an IV bolus of caffeine or she’d never be able to finish this race.
Teddy plugged the drive into his computer. “Information is power. That’s the shovel we use to bury them. We not only look at what’s on this thing, we make a copy as insurance.”
Pottinger’s information might offer leverage, but she wondered what other horrors it might reveal. September mentally shook herself. Save them first, and save worrying for later. Teddy was right. She needed every advantage possible to come out of the storm. “Go ahead and copy it, Teddy. But hurry.” She touched her watch. “When they call for the exchange I’ve got to be ready.”
Teddy tapped keys.
“They’ll come after your computer if they find out.”
“They won’t find it on this machine.” Teddy boasted, still hitting keys. “I have an online storage site, password protected. In fact, Pottinger password-protected the file.” He bared tobacco-stained teeth in a wolfish expression. “They don’t know who they’re messing with. I am the original badass hacker. And I flat love a challenge.”
She smiled despite herself. “How much time do you need?”
His fingers flew. “Half an hour, give or take, when it’s an amateur job. Professional encryption takes longer.” He typed some more. “This is amateur hour. Piece of cake. I can save the file.”
September returned to the bed but didn’t sit down. She stroked Shadow, needing the contact to calm down. “They have to keep them alive at least until I return the flash drive. I have to believe that.” The circumstances of his birth weren’t Steven’s fault. She had to stop blaming him. And herself.
Shadow nudged her hand. What the hell. She always thought better, worked out problems best around dogs. She’d learned that during the dark time eight years ago, when even her beloved music had forsaken her. She’d been lost until Dakota found her and brought her back to life. Dogs have a way of connecting and healing the broken pieces of one’s soul that people can’t always reach, although it was Chris who brought Dakota into her world.
September picked up the glass paperweight. Fifty years married. Something she’d never know. Chris wanted kids. Desperately. He shouldn’t have counted on her for that most basic dream. Chalk up another failure.
Stop it. Picked sores don’t heal. And she no longer had the luxury of feeling sorry for herself. She couldn’t hide this time. Locked doors wouldn’t protect her from this horror.
Shadow waited on the bed and watched her every move. He was tuned in to her, even more than Dakota. She tamped down that disloyal thought.
Holding the paperweight in her right hand, she picked up his bear in the other. “Watch,” she said. She held the glass paperweight high, out of the dog’s reach. “This is glass.” She held up the bear. “This is Bear.” She lowered both hands within reach of the dog. “Show me glass.”
Without hesitation, Shadow reached forward and poked the glass globe.
September “clicked” her tongue, and tossed Bear to him. He caught it and dropped the toy and watched for what she’d do next. His tail slowly waved. He loved games, loved learning. Shadow was a trainer’s dream.
Pulling a tissue from the box on the bedside table, September repeated the drill. She held the requested item in the opposite hand this time. “This is paper. This is glass. Show me paper.”
Shadow lunged forward, poked the balled tissue, and received the tongue-click. “Good boy. What a smart dog.”
His wags grew more exuberant. He woofed and play-bowed.
September searched for another pair, and bumped into the bed when she turned. Her pocket thunked against the footboard. She paused. Couldn’t hurt. She pulled out the pistol, and checked the safety was on, and held it aloft. “This is gun.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Teddy paused from his keyboard dance. “Is that thing loaded? Put it away.”
“The safety’s on.” She glared.
“Do you have a permit? Where’d you get that thing?”
“It’s Texas, y’all. I’ve got a license, but this isn’t mine. Gerald dropped it and I accepted his donation.” Turning to Shadow, she began again. “This is gun. This is–”
“Good God, put it away, September! What are you doing, anyway?”
“Vocabulary.” She set the pistol on the desk. “It’s a mental stimulation game. Some words he already knows, like paper, but he’s not yet generalized.”
“Generalized?”
“’Generalized’: a generic word to a family of similar objects. He’s generalized “bear” to include any stuffed toy. With paper, there are so many kinds I wouldn’t want to confuse him by making him pick.” She considered other objects, grabbed two, and turned back to Shadow. “This is candle. This is book. Show me candle.”
Shadow poked, she clicked, and Teddy stared.
Teddy turned back to the computer. “It’s a trick. No dog learns something that fast.” He typed even faster.
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” She replaced the book on the shelf, and the candle on his desk. “I watched a horse demo at a behavior conference once. This mare could even tell what group an object belonged to—if it was a food or a tool.” She rubbed the dog’s head, and enjoyed the silkiness of the clean fur under her hand. “Had to try with Shadow, since he already knows so many action commands. Once he learned “show me,” teaching him object names was a breeze.”
Shadow woofed again. He pedaled his front paws from side to side, anxious for the game to continue.
“Nice parlor trick. But what good is it?” Teddy turned back to screen. “Nearly got it.”
She shrugged but he didn’t see. “Good for lots of things, especially for a service dog. It’s most important that he gets a kick out of learning. Naming objects and behaviors teaches language. Just like the commands “kiss” or “sit” have meaning once the action is named. You’ve got to have a common language to communicate with people, computers, and even animals.”
“Like new software, or a different language, huh?” Teddy bobbed his head. “Okay, that makes sense, I guess.” He poked the gun. “With the trouble we’re in, you ought to teach him something helpful. When’s a dog ever going to shoot a gun? Teach him something we can all use, like “sic-‘em.””
His words punched a fist-size hole in the conversation. For a moment the dog play had pushed horror aside, but the upbeat mood evaporated quicker than fog on a sunny day. “He’s already protective, Teddy. He’s a German Shepherd.”
“Can’t you, I don’t know, get him to go after the bad guys? Get him close enough, he could do some damage? He nailed that guy at the mall.”
She smiled, but shook her head. “The man took Steven. Of course Shadow would go after him. But Shadow’s a service dog, and he’s been taught restraint. It takes more than a few drills to turn a dog into Schutzhund material.” It had taken years to train with Dakota, herself more than him. They’d nearly read each other’s minds, but it required time to develop that kind of rapport. “TV has you think it takes thirty minutes to bully a dog to behave any way they want. A lot of that’s creative editing, and the rest is the dog with the pee scared out of him.”
Teddy scowled. “Well, you know dogs. I know computers. Let’s stick with what we know in the time we’ve got left.”
Time. That defined her world. She could teach Shadow anything if she had time. He worked for praise, he was easy. Dakota wanted to be paid with his ball. Macy demanded treats. Even people worked best for pay. If she could figure out what payday would float Lizzie’s boat and used it against her, she just might survive the deadline.
“Got it. By damn, I got the sonofabitch’s password cracked.” Teddy swiveled in his chair. “’Paddlefoot,’ the name of Pottinger’s dog when he was a kid. Go figure, he’d be a fan of Clutch Cargo.”
“What? Never mind.” It didn’t matter how he’d cracked the code. “Let me see.” She shoved Teddy away from the desktop to stare at the screen. Time to find out what was worth so many lives.
