The paper slipped from my hand.
Mark caught it before it hit the ground. His gaze skimmed the paper. “I’m calling the police.”
I grabbed his wrist. “You can’t call the police.”
“It doesn’t say that.”
It hadn’t said that? I read the note a second time to be sure. “What type of kidnapper doesn’t specify not to call the police? Isn’t that a given? Don’t these people watch TV?”
My voice jumped in pitch, but I couldn’t seem to control it. Not only had someone been in my home, they’d taken my dogs. Even though the note promised they were safe, they didn’t have Toby’s bed or his glucosamine for his joints or Velma’s toys. And there was no way they’d walk them properly because they couldn’t risk being seen.
If I didn’t comply, who knew what they’d do next? Whoever had taken my dogs had probably killed Sandra as well since they wanted Dean to take the fall for it. If they’d killed a person, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill my dogs. Maybe next time they’d kidnap me, too.
You need to calm down and think, the voice in my head that always sounded too much like my mom said.
I didn’t want to calm down and think. I wanted to panic and cry. But calming down and thinking made a lot more sense. As my dad loved to remind me when I was a little girl, crying didn’t achieve anything. And I knew that panicking didn’t, especially as an adult.
“Call the police,” I told Mark. “I’m calling Dean.”
I dialed his number, but he didn’t answer. Instead of leaving a message, I ended the call and dialed again. And again.
Finally, on the fifth try, he answered—with a curse word strong enough that I would have hung up on him if the situation were different.
“Someone took my dogs. Either you get them back to me, today, or you’ll be finding yourself a new lawyer tomorrow.”
“What makes you think I can get them back?” Dean said. His tone still had a snarly quality to it. “I didn’t take them.”
“Because they know you well enough to know I’m your lawyer, and whoever took them wants you to go to prison without a trial. You didn’t take them, but it’s a good bet you’re connected to the person who did.”
A sound like fabric rubbing over the phone filled my ear. Given his tendency to go around shirtless, he was probably getting dressed.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
To his credit, the sniping tone had vanished. I filled him in on the note.
“The note said other people’s business? It said that’s what they wanted you to stop nosing around in?”
Yarg. If my dogs hadn’t been involved, I never would have missed that. That meant this likely wasn’t about Sandra’s murder at all. It wasn’t the real murderer who’d taken my dogs. This happened because I’d been poking around in Dean’s construction business. Then again, Griffin might be both the one behind the kidnapping because I’d been poking around and the one behind Sandra’s murder. “That’s what it said. So I’d start with your business partner.”
“I don’t think it was Griffin. I’ll handle this. Don’t call the police.”
Don’t call the police? He had to be kidding me. I might have listened to that if the kidnappers had demanded it, but I certainly wasn’t doing it to cover Dean’s hind end. “Mark’s already called the police.”
He swore again. “You just made this worse.”
That did it. “It’s not my fault if you get caught doing something illegal. And it’s time I talked to Elise about it. I want off this case.”
“Don’t call Elise.” Now his voice had a frantic tone. “I’ll tell you everything once we get your dogs back, but don’t tell Elise. She’ll use it to get my visiting rights to my kids revoked.”
She probably should, depending on what he was involved in. People who would snatch my dogs might also kidnap Arielle and Cameron. Granted, they’d seemingly only come for my dogs because they thought I was on to them, which meant Arielle and Cameron weren’t in immediate danger.
Still, if Dean was involved in something illegal, Elise should know. Her job—my job as their future “aunt”—was to protect those kids.
“You’ll tell me everything, and then I’ll decide whether Elise needs to know or not. For now, get my dogs back.”
We ended the call. Just in time, too. A Fair Haven police cruiser stopped in my driveway.
Please be Erik. Please be Erik.
I pocketed my phone and met Mark at the door he’d already opened.
The man who climbed out of the police cruiser wasn’t Erik. It was Grady Scherwin.
His gut hadn’t gotten any smaller than the last time I saw him and still looked out of place with his oversized arm muscles. Maybe he took steroids. I gave myself a mental pinch. There was no need to be mean, even in my mind, and even if I was under stress. Grady was mean enough for the both of us.
I turned to Mark. “I’m not trusting Grady Scherwin to find my dogs. He won’t even take this seriously.”
Mark hit a button on his phone. “You’re not. Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”
He stepped away from the door, and I went out onto the front steps. I placed myself on the top step so that Grady Scherwin couldn’t come up without pushing past me.
He squinted up at me even though the sun was behind him. “I hear you need to report a theft.”
A theft. As if my dogs were nothing more than stolen property. “My dogs were kidnapped.” I emphasized kidnapped. “Is Sergeant Higgins working today?”
“If you want to make a report, I’m willing to take it”—he crossed his arms, making his biceps look even larger—“but don’t waste my time asking about other officers. This isn’t The Bachelor or something.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught movement behind me. I glanced back, and Mark motioned for me to join him.
I held up a finger to Grady. “I’ll be right back.”
I might have taken a bit too much enjoyment from the annoyed look on his face.
Mark led me to the far side of the room. “Erik and Quincey are both off today, but I talked to Chief McTavish. He’s sending Troy.”
I pressed a hand into my forehead. Troy was at the bottom of the Fair Haven police totem pole as far as seniority was concerned. He’d only been out of the academy for two or three years, and Fair Haven had been his first posting. Because I’d never worked with him on a previous case, I didn’t know if he was even any good at his job. In fact, this might be the first serious case he’d ever worked. If I was remembering correctly, he mainly worked traffic. I didn’t even know him on a personal level the way I did many of the other officers.
“There’s no one else?”
Mark shook his head. “Everyone else is busy. Quincey’s back in tomorrow, and McTavish promised to give him the case then, but today our choices are Troy or Scherwin.”
“Troy it is.”
“I figured as much. He’s on his way.”
I leaned around Mark. Grady Scherwin’s ears were now a reddish-purple, like the only thing keeping him from throwing his proverbial weight around was Mark’s presence. Other than Chief McTavish, Mark was the only person I’d ever seen Scherwin show respect to. Given that the man seemed to think wearing a badge made him better than everyone who didn’t, that was saying something. Mark wasn’t an officer.
“What do we do about Scherwin?” I asked. “Do we wait for Troy and hope he takes the hint?”
“McTavish said he’d have him called back to the station, but I’ll talk to him anyway.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Maybe Erik had heard about what happened—Fair Haven shared news faster than Facebook or Twitter—and he was going to offer to come in.
The screen displayed Mandy’s name. I should have known better than to think I’d get away with hanging up on her. I shouldn’t have done it. It wasn’t a nice way to treat a friend. Dave, thankfully, would assume I’d walked into a cell phone dead zone. We’d been disconnected that way more than once before.
I touched the screen to answer. “I’m sorry about earlier,” I said in lieu of hello.
“Are the dogs okay? What’s going on?”
Her voice had the same tone to it as when she’d discovered a puddle of blood in one of the rooms of her bed and breakfast. It was that my-sanity-is-held-together-by-Scotch-tape sound.
I was a horrible friend. She loved me, and she loved my dogs, and no matter how scared I was, I shouldn’t have left her hanging. I filled her in on what had happened.
“I’m coming over.”
That was the last thing I needed. Mandy would have a bunch of crazy theories about who took my dogs, from a rogue taxidermist to kids pulling a prank. None of them would be anywhere close to accurate, and all of them would only make me feel more like throwing up all the food I ate at Stacey’s shower than I already did. “You don’t need to come. Mark’s here, and the police are on their way.”
No need to feed the rumor mill by telling her I’d rejected the first police officer who showed up. Grady Scherwin already didn’t like me, and his pride wouldn’t take a public slight well.
“I can find them,” Mandy said. “I’m coming. Don’t let the police leave until I get there.”
“Mandy, you can’t—”
The line went dead. For a second I fantasized about throwing the phone across the room. But that wouldn’t do me any good. Then I wouldn’t have my dogs or my phone.