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Combs sat in the passenger side of Doc Eugene's SUV, bracing himself as Gonzales pushed the car’s limits. The veterinarian sat in the back, probably wishing he hadn't insisted on coming.
The GPS idea to find Shadow should have worked. Should being the operative word. They'd arrived at Teddy William's house in good time only to discover several days' worth of newspapers stuffed in the front door. Combs had his cell number, but with the towers down, no way to reach him. Without someone like Teddy massaging the technical side, they'd wasted their time.
Gonzales slammed the brakes, and both Combs and Doc Eugene stifled curses. Half a bois d'arc tree blocked the road. He shoved the SUV into a lower gear, cranked the steering wheel, and plowed off the road around the barrier, scraping up the car's side on his way around.
"Sorry, Doc. Now you've got matching scratches." Gonzales took off again.
"Insurance covers storm damage." Doc hung onto the back of Combs's seat. "Lucky we didn't slide into the water, though."
The county road barely cleared runoff that surged alongside the drainage ditches on either side, spilling over the road in each low spot. Combs stiffened every time they slowed to clamber through one of these runoffs. It didn't take much to hydroplane off the highway.
Somebody's phone buzzed. "Hey, that's my phone." Doc Eugene answered, and quickly shut it off with a grimace. "Robin checking in. She’s heading out to check on a friend."
Combs dug out his phone to call September. He looked at messages first. One from Kelvin, the P.I. he'd referred to September, but nothing from her. He scrolled through text messages next.
Gonzales's phone beeped. "Yeah this is Gonzales." He pulled the phone away, and whispered, "It's Doty."
"Tell her to—" Combs cut off the rude comment when he saw September's text. He read it again, and then a third time, suddenly realizing he'd stopped breathing. Without a word, he reached out a hand to grip Gonzales’s shoulder. His face split with the biggest, sappiest grin of his entire life.
Gonzales mouthed, what? "Uh, hold a minute." He held his phone against his thigh. "Willie?" He took his foot off the gas, letting the car coast.
At first, Combs couldn't speak. "Text from September. Don't know when it came in, but she says Melinda and Willie are with her. They're fine. The dog, too." Combs thought he might cry, and didn't care. "What is Melinda doing with her?" He didn't care about that, either. His kids were okay. Safe. And so was September. That mattered, too. A lot.
Doc Eugene leaned forward to pat Combs on the arm. "Where are they?"
"Didn't say. Her house, I guess." Combs leaned back, and felt his tightly wound spine crack and relax for the first time in hours.
The car drifted to a stop, and Gonzales shoved it into park in the middle of the county road. No danger with the highway deserted. Residents knew to stay inside during tornadoes, and the clouds hinted the weather might return.
"Let me get back to Doty before she chews me a new one." Gonzales slapped the steering wheel. "Now we won't have to kill ourselves to find this barn. Hell, we're already in the neighborhood." He picked up the phone.
While Gonzales dealt with Doty, Combs tried to call September but only got voice mail. He left a brief message. Later, he'd show her the extent of his gratitude. Curious, he thumbed the voice message left by Kelvin, and frowned when he only heard a long silence followed by heavy breathing. "That's weird. I got a heavy breather call from Kelvin." Gonzales’s pissed expression stopped the banter before it began. "What?"
"Doty was at Kelvin's office. He's dead. Shot."
"What the hell?" The euphoria over his kids' safety evaporated.
Doc Eugene leaned forward again. "Do I know this Kelvin fellow?"
Gonzales ignored the veterinarian. "Kelvin always aspired to get ahead. This time, he must have sucked up to the wrong players." He put the car back into gear. “Doty said they found a dog tag in BeeBo’s hand. Belonged to Kelvin’s mutt.” He smoothed his mustache. “He was up to his BVDs in this dogfight stuff. Kelvin had a wadded up map in his fist, with directions to that same barn our tipster shared."
Combs grunted. Didn't sound like the dog-loving Kelvin he knew. "Money makes people do crazy-ass evil. Let’s drop Doc Eugene somewhere." Now his kids were safe, he could focus on the job.
"No, I'm fine. I'll ride along. Won't get in your way. Robin locked up the clinic, but nobody's coming by with this storm." The veterinarian leaned back and crossed his arms. "Besides, it's my car."
Much as Combs liked Doc Eugene and appreciated his help, they couldn't worry about a civilian and work, too. "We’ll leave you with September and I can check my kids. It's on the way."
Gonzales chewed his lip. "Where'd you say she they holed up? Hope it wasn’t her house. That whole area got hit by the storm."
Combs’s gut clenched.
Gonzales wouldn't meet Combs’s eyes. "We'll swing by. Like you said, it's on the way."
