Chapter 5

Coffee!

The single word blazed through her like it was illuminated by a thousand-watt spotlight. Coffee—strong and dark, mixed with two heaping tablespoons of sugar—gallons of sweetened coffee. She tightened the sash on her robe and headed to the kitchen. Flicking on the lights, she bustled about the small room, grinding coffee beans and filling the pot with water from the tap. She set the glass pot on the coffee machine and punched the Start button.

The gurgle and hiss of the coffee maker promised relief from her craving, and the kitchen filled with the rich, earthy scent of dark roast coffee. Her hand trembled as she poured the steaming drink into a mug. She shuffled over to the table and settled on a chair. Spooning sugar into her cup, she stirred the sweet mixture. Her first sip scalded her tongue. She winced but risked another mouthful. In seconds, the caffeine-and-sugar bomb eased the sharp edge of her craving.

She peered through the window over the sink. Red-and-orange streaks from the rising sun bathed the distant, snow-covered mountains in a pink glow. Her nerves jittered from the coffee, her eyes gritty from lack of sleep.

Otis hadn’t shifted from his bed in the corner. He lay curled in a ball, his nose buried under his tail as if he were an Alaskan sled dog living in a frozen world of snow and ice and not a pampered pet lying on a padded dog bed in a warm, centrally heated house.

She poured another cup. Sometime during the long night, she’d reached a decision. No more hiding. Better to face the truth than cower in fear that her past had returned. At the start of business hours in Vancouver, she’d contact the legal firm. Talking to the lawyer who’d sent the letter was the only way she’d find out what the woman wanted.

Her gut reaction was to throw the letter in the trash, but she doubted that would be the end of it. She knew lawyers. Heck, she was one. They were a feisty, persistent bunch. The Vancouver lawyer would contact her again and again, until she received a response. Curiosity or masochism, Athena had to know what the lawyer wanted. She just prayed she wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

Otis growled low and deep in his throat.

She jerked and knocked over her cup. Damn!

Hot coffee spilled across the table and dripped on the floor.

Another vibrating snarl sounded from deep within Otis’s chest. He perched on his haunches and stared at the back door; the hairs on the back of his neck rose, becoming a darker stripe down his spine.

“What is it, boy?” She shoved back her chair, crossed to the window, and peered into the backyard.

Typical for the sprawling city in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, the weather had changed over the past few minutes. The sun had vanished behind heavy, dark rain clouds that hovered low over the valley. A spring prairie storm was on the way. Streaks of rain already spotted the window glass, and a light drizzle spattered the back porch. The gloomy morning light didn’t penetrate the shadows lurking under the budding lilac trees against the back fence.

Otis growled again low, deep, and menacing.

Her stomach knotted. “What’s wrong, boy?” She peered outside again, but nothing stirred.

A second later, a small, dark shape slipped from behind the garden shed and streaked across the lawn to the cedar-planked fence. The black cat scampered up and over the fence and leaped into the neighbor’s yard.

The tightness in her belly eased, and she let out a breath. “It’s just Charlie, Otis.”

For all his size and bluster, Otis was terrified of cats, especially Charlie, who’d swiped Otis’s nose with a sharp claw upon their first meeting a year ago.

She rubbed his smooth head, but his hackles remained erect, his gaze fixed on the door.

Her unease returned. Maybe the cat wasn’t the reason he was nervous. She shook her head. What else could it be? No one was lurking in the backyard. She’d checked. Otis was just a big baby. Unlocking the back door, she nudged it open. “Do you want out? It’s okay. The big, mean cat’s gone. You’re safe.”

He didn’t budge and stared out the door, his tail between his legs, growling.

She shoved his rump toward the open door. “Go on. Go pee.” Muscling his resisting body until he was on the back porch, she stayed in the doorway, watching as he raced, barking furiously, toward the back fence.

After a few minutes of sniffing the ground under the lilac bushes, his barking stopped, and he loped across the lawn, pausing at each tree trunk and bush.

When he raised his leg and peed on her favorite rosebush, she stepped back into the warm kitchen and closed the door. All was safe. She locked the back door but unlatched the doggie door so Otis could get back in when he was finished patrolling the back yard.

She checked her watch. Time for the phone call. No point putting it off any longer. Ripping off several sheets of paper towel, she wiped the sticky spilled coffee from the table and floor. She eyed the coffee maker, but she’d had enough coffee. Her gut burned from caffeine overload, and her muscles jittered, her nerves on edge.

Scooping her cell phone from the counter, she strode into the living room and picked up the crumpled paper ball from the floor beside Otis’s bed. Her hand shook as she punched in the phone number of the offices of Smythe & Sons.

The line rang once, twice, three times, four…

Hang up. You don’t need messy complications in your life. You have enough on your plate.

Five rings.

“Smythe & Sons, Attorneys at Law. How may I help you?”

“I…er…hello. I received a registered letter from your office, and—” Her foot tapped the floor in a rapid tattoo.

“Your name please?” The woman’s voice was pleasant, but all business.

“Ath…er, I mean Margaret Anne O’Flynn.” The name tasted wrong and unfamiliar on her tongue. Her heart raced, and moisture beaded under her arms.

The distant clicking of computer keys filtered down the line. “Oh yes, Ms. O’Flynn. Thank you for calling.” More tapping. “Ms. Smythe is able to see you this morning if that works.”

That soon? “I’m in Calgary.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’ve been directed to tell you that Smythe & Sons will pay your transportation to Vancouver and your accommodation expenses while you’re in town.”

Athena pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it as if she could see the woman on the other end of the line. The legal firm was willing to pay her expenses? She clenched and unclenched her hand, her fingernails digging into her palm. They were serious about the meeting. Why? What did they want?

“Ms. O’Flynn? Are you still there?” The assistant’s tinny voice drifted from the phone.

Athena held the phone up to her ear. “Yes. I’m here.”

“Good. How about tomorrow? Could you be here by then?”

“I…I don’t know.” Athena rubbed the tightness in the back of her neck.

“Our firm prides itself on our integrity, Ms. O’Flynn. I promise you everything that transpires here will be held in the strictest confidence. We wouldn’t ask you to travel all this way if the appointment wasn’t important.”

Static crackled in Athena’s ear. “Okay. I’ll be there tomorrow.” Yikes! What was she thinking? Tomorrow?

“That’s great. I know Ms. Smythe is anxious to meet with you.”

Anxious. The word drilled through her. “Really? Why is that?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. She’ll explain all the details when she sees you.” Distant, muted voices and the jarring peal of a ringing phone sounded in the background. “I’ll put you down for right after lunch. Say one o’clock?”

Athena chewed on her wounded bottom lip, already regretting agreeing to the meeting. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to meeting you. Have a lovely day.” The line disconnected.

Have a lovely day.

Was the woman kidding? Athena’s entire world was falling apart. No damn way this day was going to get better. Tomorrow would be even more challenging. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Tomorrow.

She checked her watch.

Twenty-eight hours.

She’d get to the bottom of this nightmare in twenty-eight short hours. Rubbing her arms in an effort to warm her chilled skin, she swallowed back the unsettling certainty she’d stepped onto a precipice and was teetering on the edge of a bottomless pit. Something warm and wet lapped her hand.

Otis sat on the floor at her feet. His long, pink tongue snaked out, and he licked her hand again.

She knelt and wrapped her arms around his large, hairy body. “Oh, Otis, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Ever since she’d found him wandering the alley behind her house, his hair matted and covered in burrs, his ribs poking through his dull coat, they’d been inseparable.

Over the past two-and-a-half years, the dejected, abused little puppy had grown into a large, gangly, hairy, slobbery creature who resembled no recognizable dog breed. He was there when she needed him, offering a warm body to cuddle, a loving lick, or an interested, non-judgmental listener. His gaze followed her every word as if he understood what she was saying.

“It’s just the two of us, eh, boy?”

He cocked his head to one side, and his furry tail thumped the floor. Flopping on his side, he rolled onto his back, legs spread, waiting for her to scratch his belly.

Her fingers trailed through his thick coat, some of the tension easing. “You’re such a big baby.” He certainly had her well trained. She grimaced. At least one of them was.