At the front desk, Crystal looked up the phone number of Courier Express in Crystal Falls. It wasn’t yet six, and she hoped a mail center would have employees still on-site. Employees stayed pretty busy in those places, sorting parcels and loading delivery trucks for the following day. She would do everything she possibly could to protect Tuck’s friend, but her number one priority had to be her grandfather’s welfare. He was steadier on his feet, but she still couldn’t be positive he wouldn’t get overbalanced and take another fall. She placed the call. A woman finally answered.
“Hello. My name is Crystal Malloy. One of your drivers delivered a package to my grandfather today, and I need to learn his last name. I believe his first name is Tanner.”
The employee said, “Oh, yes, that would be Tanner Richards. He’s already left. May I take a message?”
“Oh, uh, no, that’s fine. I just wanted his last name. Thank you so much.”
Crystal ended the call and squeezed her eyes shut. Opening them, she found Marsha staring at her with an inquiring look. “The Courier Express guy brought the goodies? He was a new face, but he seemed nice.”
Crystal nodded. “I’m sure he is.”
“Are you going to report him?”
Crystal shook her head. “I only needed his name to convince Patricia that I played no part in this mess. If Tuck gets kicked out of here, I’m out of good options . . . and so is he.”
Marsha rested her bent arms on the edge of the desk. “It was only a few beers and some tobacco. I don’t know what that woman’s problem is. Most people would just laugh and shrug it off.”
“Patricia Flintlock isn’t most people.”
Crystal retraced her steps to the administrator’s door and tapped lightly on the wood.
“You may enter,” Patricia called.
Crystal stepped into the office. Patricia didn’t appear to have budged since Crystal’s departure. It seemed odd that no paperwork lay in front of her. What did she do in here, only fiddle with her pen? “My grandfather refused to give me the man’s last name, but I got it anyway. Before I tell you anything more, I want your word that you won’t try to get Tuck’s friend in trouble.”
Patricia shrugged. “You have my word. I won’t try to get his friend in trouble.”
Some of the tension eased from Crystal’s body. She could deal with this woman. Tuck should have trusted her to do that. “There’s a box in Tuck’s living room, which you must have overlooked. It bears a Courier Express mailing label. I got the deliveryman’s first name from Tuck’s phone, and I was told his last name when I called the company.”
“And?” Patricia pressed. She did not invite Crystal to sit down.
“And what?”
“I’d like his full name.”
“I’d greatly appreciate it if you don’t pursue this.”
“I’ve already told you I have no intention of pursuing it. What is his name?”
“Tanner Richards,” Crystal confessed. “He’s a company driver. I’m guessing his regular route is in Crystal Falls and Tuck became friendly with him when he delivered packages to his house there.”
Patricia dipped her chin. “I see. I must compliment you on your good detective work. Now all that remains is for you to call Courier Express and file a formal complaint against the individual.”
Crystal’s heart lurched. “But you just said you had no intention—”
“I don’t,” Patricia said, cutting her off. “But you must pursue it. In fact, I insist on it. That driver committed a serious infraction by bringing a nicotine product and alcohol to an elderly man living in a facility that allows neither.” Patricia’s tone and her expression were triumphant.
Crystal gulped. This was getting worse by the minute. “Tuck’s doctor in Crystal Falls gave him permission to chew and drink beer. I don’t see any point in getting this driver in trouble. He just tried to do something nice for an old man.”
“By doing so, he broke the rules of this institution. I’ll also point out that birds of a feather flock together. For all I know, you’re friendly with Mr. Richards, too. You appear to be defending his breach of our rules, and I find your reluctance to report him extremely telling.”
Crystal balled her hands into fists. When she felt certain she had her voice under control, she said, “I’ve never laid eyes on Tanner Richards. And if I had any intention of covering up for him, I’d do a lot better job! How can you think that of me?”
The other woman placed her pen on the desk pad. “If the shoe fits . . .”
“I— This is really outrageous. I’ve given you the name of the person who brought the items. If you’re determined to get him in trouble, file a complaint, but don’t involve me.”
Patricia smiled. “Oh, but I am involving you. As final proof to me that you had nothing to do with the complete disregard of this facility’s rules, you must call Courier Express and file a complaint.”
Crystal wanted to reach across the desk and jerk the old biddy’s helmet hair out by the roots. Instead she stood, collected her purse, and made for the door. She paused to say, “You deliberately misled me, and I refuse to be a part of this. My first loyalty is to my grandfather.”
“Very well. I’ll call the police and have him removed from the building immediately.”
Crystal whirled to gape at her. “You can’t do that!”
“Watch me. A half dozen staff members will testify that he screamed obscenities and actually pushed one of my aides while she was in his bedroom.” Patricia picked up the phone. “That qualifies as a physical assault, which will, of course, go in his records.” She arched an eyebrow. “That may make it difficult for you to place him elsewhere.”
“Was this aide he supposedly pushed the same person who looked under his mattress and found his magazines?”
“What if she was? He had no right to shove her. And, I might add, pornography is not allowed in this building, either.”
Crystal couldn’t envision Tuck laying a violent hand on a woman. It was far more likely that he’d bumped into her while trying to protect his personal property. “He’s eighty years old and recovering from serious injuries. Surely you won’t throw him out when you know I have nowhere to take him. That’s illegal.”
Patricia depressed one button on the phone. “Your attorney can contact the facility’s legal team. By the time you get a suit filed against me, your grandfather will be living elsewhere. Do you know how long it takes just to get a court hearing? Or how dreadfully expensive all the legal fees can be?”
Crystal had been raised by Tuck to believe there was at least some good in everyone. But this woman had a heart wrapped in barbed wire.
Thinking fast, Crystal decided she could make the call later and carefully phrase what she said so Tanner Richards wouldn’t be fired. More of a for-your-information call and a request that no more contraband be delivered to her grandfather. “All right. I’ll lodge a complaint first thing in the morning.”
“You’ll do so now and in my presence.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You will make the phone call in my presence, so there’s no question in my mind that you’ve followed through. If you refuse, I can only take it to mean that you knew about the delivery and are trying to protect the perpetrator. In that event, your grandfather must leave the premises immediately, and all his belongings, including furniture, must be off this property by five o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
If Patricia followed through on her threat, it would mean almost certain financial ruin for Crystal. She couldn’t work and care for her grandfather at the same time. And there would be complications for Tuck as well. She put out a hand and steadied herself on the wall.
She allowed herself an instant’s fantasy of trying to contact an attorney or a governmental advocate for the elderly. But it was after normal business hours. All she could do was leave messages, and she would get no responses until sometime tomorrow. What if the assisted living facilities in Crystal Falls had no openings or refused to take Tuck because Patricia claimed he was violent? Even if she took Tuck home, she couldn’t move all his furniture out of here by herself. She needed to find a crew of helpers, and that would take at least a day, if not two. Knowing Patricia, the woman would call a secondhand store and give away anything of Tuck’s that remained in the building after five tomorrow afternoon. The burl coffee table had been one of her grandmother’s prized possessions, and Tuck’s bedroom set was another family heirloom. He’d be heartbroken if he lost all those pieces.
Crystal sat down, uninvited, and endeavored to keep her expression under control as she placed the phone call under the stern eye of the administrator. When the conversation ended, she met Patricia’s gaze. “Are you satisfied now? I’ve jumped through all your hoops and possibly damaged my relationship with my grandfather, not to mention that the driver, who intended to do no harm, may be fired.”
“I’m satisfied. For the moment. But don’t allow Tuck to pull a shenanigan like this again. I’ll boot him out of here so fast, it’ll make your head spin.”
“I’m sure you will,” Crystal replied. She meant it as sarcasm, but a quick glance at Patricia told her the woman had taken it as a well-deserved compliment.
Trembling with anger, Crystal strode from the office. It took a huge effort of will not to slam the door. She needed to tell Tuck what had occurred, but she couldn’t do that until she calmed down. Instead she made a beeline for the front desk.
In a low voice, she told Marsha, “That woman is one of the cruelest people I’ve ever met.”
“She truly is.” Marsha glanced toward Patricia’s office door. “I really like this job. I’m not required to do much on the evening shift. The pay isn’t great, but I do get health care coverage. I really don’t want to quit, so instead I pray Patricia will either retire or drop over dead from heart failure.” Marsha leaned forward and whispered, “She’s skimming off the top. Stealing from these old folks. I can’t prove it, but I know that it’s happening.”
Normally Crystal would have been shocked by such a statement, but Patricia incited anger and bitterness in others. She also couldn’t discount Marsha’s claim that Patricia was embezzling funds, but that was someone else’s worry. Crystal’s only concern was her grandfather’s welfare.
“She says Tuck pushed one of the aides. Do you know if that’s true?”
Marsha rolled her eyes. “Tuck would never push a woman. That’s probably an exaggerated account of what was actually an accident. He was very upset and trying to stop the aides from taking his stuff and throwing it away.”
“Patricia says it will go on his record and make it difficult for me to place him in another facility.”
“Dear heaven. Will that woman stop at nothing?”
“I doubt it. She lied and said she wouldn’t try to get Tuck’s friend in trouble. But after I told her his name, she made me file a complaint against him. What if he loses his job?”
Marsha’s face took on a worried expression. “Oh, I hope not! It was just beer and chew, and delivered to an old man who’s been forced to quit cold turkey. It’s not easy to give up chewing tobacco. He’s probably craving it something fierce. I quit smoking ten years ago. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And to this day I want to smoke sometimes.”
Crystal had never used tobacco products, so she hadn’t stopped to think of Tuck’s physical addiction to Copenhagen. Had he gone through withdrawal symptoms? Was he still suffering from them? Guilt weighed heavily on her mind. Mainly she’d thought about how difficult all of this had been for her. Getting Tuck moved. Cleaning his former residence and sprucing up the paint to get it ready for staging. Dealing with the Realtor. Getting all the paperwork signed to get the house on the market. Chasing after that crazy dog of his. Missing appointments with clients. Watching her income take a downhill slide. But all the while, Tuck had been enduring his own version of hell.
“Oh, Marsha. Is it just as hard to give up chewing tobacco as it is cigarettes?”
“Some people say it’s even harder.”
Crystal’s gaze flicked to the hallway where Tuck’s apartment was located. She felt a bit calmer now. She walked to his unit, tapped on the door, and let herself in. He still sat in his recliner. She groped for the words to tell him what had happened. She wanted to explain how Patricia had lied and then forced her to lodge a complaint. The words collected at the base of her throat like popcorn she had swallowed without chewing thoroughly. And in the end, nothing came out the way she wanted.
“You were right, Tuck. I thought I could handle the situation without getting Tanner in trouble, but I couldn’t. Patricia made me file a complaint against him.”
Her grandfather’s blue eyes went stone cold. The lines on his face deepened and suddenly seemed to be set as rigidly as expansion joints in concrete. “Get out,” he said, his voice flat. “I don’t want to look at you right now.”
Crystal’s chest constricted. “I didn’t want to do it, Tuck.”
“But you did. That’s all I need to know. Get out.”
Tuck had never spoken to her with this hard, unfeeling tone of voice. Until now. Her heart felt as if it cracked in two. Tears filled her eyes.
“Tuck, please. Just listen. She was going to evict you immediately if I didn’t do it. I have nowhere to take you. I had no choice. There was nothing else—”
He cut her off, still using that icy tone. “I could have gone to our new place here in Mystic Creek,” he said. “I could have slept on the sofa.”
“It’s a love seat, not even long enough for me.”
“I could’ve stayed there alone while you worked until you could find somebody to help me during the day. I ain’t some child that needs a sitter. Get out. I don’t want you here right now.”
“I just wanted to take care of you, Tuck. I can’t move all your stuff by myself. I need a crew of helpers. It takes time to arrange those things, and she said your furniture would have to be out of here by five tomorrow afternoon if I didn’t do what she said. She might’ve given away Grandma’s table and the bedroom set! Please, please try to understand just a little.”
“Get out,” he told her again.
She knew when she looked into his eyes that nothing she said would change his mind.
* * *
On the way home, Crystal called the salon. Nadine answered and said all the teenage girls had looked beautiful when they left. Now the techs were nearly finished cleaning up. Nadine had her own set of shop keys. She could make the final rounds and lock up for the night. There was no reason for Crystal to come back.
“So, did you save Tuck from being evicted?” Nadine asked.
Crystal’s face burned and felt puffy from crying. All she wanted was to drive home and huddle under the blankets to cry even more. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” she promised. Then she ended the call.
When she got home, Rip had returned and was waiting outside the yard gate. Crystal wasn’t sure how much the final bill for the hurricane fence had been. Tuck had written the check. But she suspected it had been a huge waste of money. Rip was a determined runner, and no physical barrier would ever keep him contained.
“Where have you been all day?” Crystal cried as she exited the vehicle. “Do you know how many hours I spent looking for you? Or how worried I was? What do you do, hide behind bushes when you see my car?”
Rip’s tongue lolled from the side of his mouth, streaming drool. His silly grin told her he was completely unrepentant. He was a gorgeous dog with beautiful markings, a perfect blend of gray and white, enhanced by curry markings. He was also one of the smartest creatures she’d ever met. But his quirks and bad habits made it difficult to appreciate his finer points.
Swinging her purse strap onto her shoulder, she walked toward the gate. “I haven’t eaten since six this morning because of you.”
Rip turned to follow her, staggered, and fell over on his side. Crystal’s heart caught and her annoyance fled in a millisecond. “Rip?” She dropped her bag on the gravel and ran to the dog. “What’s wrong with you? Are you hurt?”
She squatted down to run her hands over his body. He growled and bared his teeth.
“Stop it. I know you don’t like to be touched, but get over it for once.” Rip loved other people, the only exception being anyone in uniform, whom he detested. But he’d always been cantankerous with her. “I’m really not a bad person, you know. If you gave me half a chance, you might even like me.”
She palpated each of his legs, searching for wounds or possible fractures. When she found nothing and moved on to his ribs, he snarled and bit her three times on her right forearm. “Darn it!” Crystal sat back on her haunches, which wasn’t easy in spike heels. “Look what you did!” Red marks already showed on her skin. “Tuck may call it pinching and make light of it, saying that you never draw blood, but I sure won’t. You’re mean and impossible no matter how hard I try to make you like me.”
Crystal could see nothing wrong with the dog, so she stood and fetched her purse. Lightning flashed, bathing the house and yard in white light. An instant later thunder cracked, so loud it sounded like an explosion. Then the sky split open and started spilling rain, a hard, driving deluge that instantly soaked her hair and shirt.
“Come on,” she said to Rip. “You aren’t hurt. If you want any dinner, get your ornery butt in the house.”
She threw open the gate, half-tempted to close it behind her. The dog’s main occupation seemed to be climbing over or under the fence to run away. Maybe she should have made him do the same to get back home. Only, she couldn’t quite bring herself to be that mean. He obviously wasn’t at the top of his game. Maybe he had run so hard that his legs were giving out on him.
She held the barrier open, squinting against the drops of water that pelted her face like BBs. “Come on, Rip. You can’t lie out here in this. Get up. I can’t leave you.”
It took the dog three tries to regain his feet. Then he staggered over to her and growled. Crystal realized he was demanding a biscuit for allowing her safe passage through the gate. Incredulity washed through her. “You’re kidding. When you can barely walk?”
Even as she spoke, she reached into her purse for a treat and tossed it to him. He let it drop to the ground and didn’t bother to pick it up. She stormed across the yard. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”
Rip moved across the yard in a crooked line. What on earth was wrong with him? A head injury. She hadn’t thought of that. Oh, dear God. Tuck was already furious. If his dog got hurt on her watch, he might never forgive her.
She hurried onto the porch, hoping the heeler would follow her. Only, Rip couldn’t get up the steps or the wheelchair ramp off to one side. She dropped her purse and went down to help him. That earned her two more bites, this time on her left arm.
“You nasty little monster! I hate you.”
Rip didn’t seem to care what she thought of him. And the feeling was mutual. Crystal hugged his belly to pick him up. He snapped the air and growled, but he couldn’t reach her with his teeth. Dear Lord, he was heavy. He didn’t look that big, but he was stout. Huffing and puffing, she lugged him indoors and set him on the wood floor. He braced his front legs wide apart to push upright and looked at her as if his world were spinning.
“Oh, Rip.” Leaving the door open, Crystal sank to her knees. She couldn’t see any obvious injury, but under his thick fur something might be hidden. She tried to run her fingers over his skull, and he snapped at her fingertips. “Stop it, Rip!” She grabbed his muzzle to hold his mouth closed and did a thorough palpation of his head. Nothing. “Have you been such a pest that someone threw you meat laced with poison?”
Crystal struggled erect, kicked off her heels, and hurried out onto the porch to grab her purse. Dropping into the chair by the small kitchen desk where her laptop resided, she found her cell phone just as thunder cracked overhead again. She located the number for Cassidy Peck, who worked at the Caring Hands Veterinary Clinic for Jack Palmer, the town’s only veterinarian.
“Hi, Crystal. If you’re calling to remind me of my appointment, I have it on my calendar.”
“Actually, Cassidy, I’m calling to pick your brain. I’m caring for my grandfather’s dog, and he’s acting weird.” Crystal told the younger woman what had happened. “After-hours trips to the vet are expensive. I’ll take him in if it’s necessary. But I’m hoping to avoid it if I can.”
“Of course you are, and I shouldn’t make any diagnosis. But friend to friend, I can say it doesn’t sound like he’s been poisoned.” She listed the symptoms.
“No,” Crystal agreed, “I’m not seeing any of those things.”
“And since there are no visible signs of injury, it could be something else. Exhaustion, possibly, especially if he was at large all day and had no water. Another possibility is that he’s fearful of thunder and lightning. A lot of dogs are, and they can grow so frightened they have mild seizures. Sometimes they can’t walk until it passes. They drool. Run into walls. It’s scary but normally not fatal.”
Crystal heard another rumble. “He didn’t seem afraid. And the thunderstorm just started.”
“Not on our side of town. You said he was gone. Maybe where he was, it had already started. And sometimes it’s hard to tell if dogs are frightened. What I would do is give him a small amount of food and a big bowl of fresh water. Then keep a close eye on him. If he gets worse, take him to see Jack. He lives right beside the clinic. Chances are good that Rip will start to get better, though.”
Crystal thanked Cassidy for the advice and ended the call. Then she turned on the chair to look at the dog, who had made it to his bed and now sprawled on it, belly up, with all four legs dangling outward from his body.
“You have none of the symptoms Cassidy described, and if you’re frightened by the storm, you have an odd way of showing it.” Bewildered and worn-out, she slumped against the back of the chair and shivered herself. She was soaked to the skin. Her long hair, which had started to curl from being wet, hung over her breasts like the strands of a dripping mop. “So what is wrong with you, Rip?”
Rip was snoring and offered no explanation. Studying him, Crystal decided he was probably suffering from nothing more than exhaustion. He’d been gone for hours, and there was no way of knowing how far his adventures had taken him. He’d probably be fine after a long rest. She’d set her alarm to check on him during the night, and if he got worse, she’d call Jack.
Rain. She heard it hammering on the metal roof. Staggering a little herself, she went to close the front door. Utter exhaustion definitely compromised one’s sense of balance. Hunger gnawed at her belly, and she realized she felt weak. Had she had enough water herself today? Probably not. She rinsed out Rip’s dishes, refilled them, and set them near his bed.
“Rip? I brought you food and water.”
The dog groaned and limply flapped his front paws. She sighed and went in search of something to eat herself. Cooking anything right then loomed as a herculean task. She settled for breakfast cereal—healthy whole-grain flakes that she drowned in sugar and milk, negating any healthful benefit they could possibly offer. After devouring two bowls, she made toast, slathered it with butter, and ate it sitting at Tuck’s mahogany dinner table. She still wanted to cry, but she was afraid if she gave in to the impulse it would be hours before she could stop.
She’d grabbed a napkin before sitting down. Pink spots had appeared on the white rectangle of paper. Bewildered, she felt her hair, and her fingers came away with the same color on them. The spray-on streaks. In the pouring rain, the color had gone watery. She looked down at her ecru silk blouse. Spotted with pink. She examined the beautiful barnwood floor. Spotted with pink. She’d have to mop before she went to bed. She couldn’t let Tuck’s floor get stained. Could anything else go wrong today?
She went to turban her hair in a towel. Then she got the wringer bucket, filled it with steaming water, and set to work. When the floor was spotless, she took a shower, washing her hair and then standing in the hot, soothing spray until she felt warm again. Normally she wore silky lingerie, but tonight a long-sleeve flannel nightgown and fluffy slippers sounded cozier. Rain still pelted the metal roof, filling the house with a steady drone of pleasant noise. She wished she could just go to bed, but first she had to find a way to keep Rip at home before she missed so many appointments with clients that she went broke.
She checked on the dog, who hadn’t moved, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Then she poured herself a glass of white wine, hoping it would relax her, and descended on her laptop to do some research on dog confinement systems. After a few minutes she found what she believed might be just what she needed, an invisible-fencing kit. The purchaser had to bury wire in shallow trenches all around a property perimeter. I can do that, she assured herself. Growing up on an Idaho ranch, she’d spent plenty of time at the end of a shovel. Once buried, the wire had to be attached to a controller that produced a signal. The setup sounded similar to electric fencing, and she had dealt with her share of that. The dog being contained had to wear a pronged signal collar, which would shock its neck if it got within zapping range. Rip liked to tunnel out under the fence or climb over it. He’d quickly stop trying to do either if he got zinged repeatedly.
Crystal started to order the kit. But then she looked over her shoulder at Rip. While asleep, he looked so darling. How strong were the shocks that came from a collar? Would they be painful? She needed to keep the dog at home, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to actually hurt him. Sighing with weariness, she researched shock collars and read that they delivered only gentle correction and offered three signal strengths. The goal, according to the information published, was to train the canine to halt when the collar emitted a warning beep.
That didn’t sound inhumane, so she decided on an invisible-fencing kit with a collar strength for a medium-size dog and paid nearly fifty dollars extra for overnight shipping. She doubted her purchase would be processed until morning, but she should receive it the day after tomorrow.
She’d no sooner submitted her order than she heard what sounded like a kitten meowing outside. Following the faint noise, she opened the front door. Wind drove sheets of rain under the veranda overhang. She flipped on the outside light in order to see. Sure enough, a soaking-wet kitten huddled on the doormat.
“Oh, baby.” Crystal sank into a crouch to pick up the kitten. All she felt through its sodden fur was a layer of cold skin and fragile bones. “You poor little thing. Where did you come from? You’re barely old enough to be away from your mama.”
After closing the door Crystal carried the feline to her bathroom and dried it off. She couldn’t tell what color it might have been when its fur was no longer damp. Varying shades of gray? It had a sweet face with a white blaze on the forehead and white dots that reminded her of freckles around the nose. Once back in the kitchen, she held the small creature close against her breasts, hoping to share her warmth as she decided what she could feed it. Since adolescence, she had avoided being a pet owner.
“I’m lousy at nurturing,” she told the tiny feline. “So don’t think, even for a second, that I’ll let you stay here. Rip doesn’t like cats, for one thing, and I’m challenged even to keep houseplants alive. In the morning, I’ll call the no-kill shelter. They’ll take wonderful care of you until you find a forever home.” She stepped to a cupboard and searched through the canned goods. “Tuna should be tasty. Right?”
She put a small amount in a bowl and set the kitten down beside it on the plank floor. While the starving creature ate, she warmed some milk and offered that as well. The kitten devoured all the fish and drank the tepid liquid. When Crystal picked the baby back up, she smiled when it snuggled against her.
“Only for tonight,” she warned as she moved through the house. After checking on Rip again, whose even snores reassured her, she switched off the lights on the way to her bedroom. As she swept back the covers and climbed beneath them, she said to the kitten, “I may seem like a nice lady, but the truth is, I’m jinxed. Except for Tuck, anything I love always meets a bad end. You’ll be much better off with someone else.”
The kitten never moved within the protective cup of her hand. It just settled against her and began to purr. Crystal stared at the shadowy ceiling and listened to the patter of rain on the roof. Her thoughts strayed to her grandfather. For years she had allowed herself to love only him, and even that had been frightening for her at first. He had been her whole world. But over time, he’d started to seem as big as a mountain to her—and just as solid. The unrelenting fear within her had eased away, and she’d come to count on her grandfather to be the only constant in her life. He never got seriously hurt, although she worried that he might. He caught occasional colds but had never grown gravely ill. At some point, she had started to believe that nothing could ever get the better of Tucker Malloy.
Now he faced old age, and Crystal had to accept that not even Tuck could escape the inevitability of death. There was nothing she could do to change that, so instead she just hoped to take fabulous care of him and enjoy every second she could with him until he had to leave her. Tomorrow she would convince him to forgive her. Somehow. Please, God, somehow. She’d make him understand that Patricia had deceived her and given her no option but to file a complaint against Tanner Richards. And she’d also ramp up her efforts to find a daytime caregiver so she could bring her grandfather home as soon as possible. Crystal or the caregiver could transport him to his physical therapy sessions. Under his own roof Tuck could drink as many beers a day as he liked, chew and spit to his heart’s content, and enjoy home-cooked meals.
On those thoughts, she rode the wave into slumber.
* * *
The bright sunshine made the wet pavement sparkle as Tanner drove to work early the next morning. He found Prime Country on Sirius XM and blasted the music through the speakers of his truck to vibrate the cab. Singing along with the honeyed voice of a famous country singer was one of his favorite ways to start the day.
Once he reached Courier Express he parked in his usual spot, grabbed his uniform jacket in case it started to rain again, and ran toward the building. He entered by a side door, planning to reorganize the parcels already stowed inside his assigned van. People on the night shift tried to do it for him, but nobody knew Tanner’s route as well as he did. He liked the boxes to be in order for the roads he took, early deliveries on top, late-afternoon ones at the bottom. Nothing irritated him more than to find a package at the end of the day that should have been dropped off at the beginning of his shift.
When he reached the vehicle, he jumped in the back and found Brian Redmond inside. “Hey, Tanner.” Heavier set and slightly shorter than Tanner, Brian was a nice guy and always friendly, but this morning his smile seemed off. “I, um— The super told me to cover your route today.”
“Why? I didn’t call in sick.”
Brian ran a hand over his brown buzz cut. “I, um— He wants to see you. I don’t know why.”
“Okay.”
Obviously, something was up, but Tanner wasn’t worried. He did his job well. He rarely missed a day. His ranking on good public relations couldn’t be better, not because he was nicer or liked his job better than anyone else, but because he truly enjoyed chatting with the people on his route. They counted him as a friend, and he felt the same way about them. Promotion? A raise? Maybe. He sure could deal with that.
He swung out the back of the van, weaved between other loaded vehicles parked on the concrete floor, and pushed through a personnel door that led to the front cubicles. He knew the way to the supervisor’s office. He went there every six months for his job performance interviews, which were always positive meetings, and it had been the supervisor who had promoted Tanner to the rural route, a cherry assignment that Tanner had wished for long before he’d been given the opportunity to take it.
He tapped on the door before opening it. “Hey, Mac. Brian says you want to see me.”
“Tanner.” Mac didn’t smile as he motioned toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
It was then that Tanner knew he was in trouble. Mac seldom looked like a storm cloud about to rain all over someone. “So, what’s up?” Tanner asked.
Mac tugged a paper from a pile on the blotter. A stocky man with a belly that strained the buttons of his dress shirt, he scanned some notes. “The night-shift super left this report for me,” he explained. “Do you know a man named Tucker Malloy?”
Tanner’s heart sank. “Yes, he’s a good friend.”
“A very old friend, actually. As in elderly.” Mac glanced up to meet Tanner’s gaze. “An old friend in assisted living who is presently under a doctor’s care. You allegedly delivered beer and chewing tobacco to his apartment. That’s against the assisted living facility’s rules. The old fellow may be evicted because of it.” Mac’s blue eyes sharpened. “I try to be a fair boss, Tanner. I’d like to hear your side of the story before I decide on any punitive measures.”
Tanner couldn’t think of anything to say. “I’m guilty as charged, Mac. Like I said, we’re good friends. He asked me to do him a favor, and I couldn’t say no.”
Removing his glasses, Mac rubbed the bridge of his nose. “For the love of God, what were you thinking? You’re one of my best drivers. Am I correct in assuming that you used the company vehicle to do him this favor?”
“Yes.” Tanner quickly added, “But I topped off the van’s tank with gas, putting in way more than I used.”
“I know. I had Brian check the gauge.” Mac slipped his glasses back on and stared at Tanner as if he hoped the picture might change if he looked at it long enough. “And I suspect you figured the extra you spent on gas would make up for the wear and tear on the tires and the vehicle itself.” He dropped the sheet of paper. “I know you’re honest. You’d never take advantage of the company. But, damn it, that’s not the point. You drove our vehicle outside your assigned area. You purchased goods for an old man that were forbidden to him. You disregarded all the insurance liabilities that the company might have faced if the van were involved in an accident. What the hell were you thinking?”
Tanner slumped in the chair. Everything Mac said was dead-on accurate. “That my friend missed his cans of beer in the evening, that they’d taken away his Copenhagen, and that he felt like a prisoner. He wasn’t asking for a lot, nothing that he didn’t enjoy at home on a daily basis. I felt really bad for him, Mac.”
“Did you stop to consider that an old man who has broken his arm and undergone hip-replacement surgery might be taking heavy-duty pain medications?”
“Yes. Tuck may be eighty, but he’s still as sharp as a tack. He wouldn’t mix alcohol with pain meds. And I did ask him if drinking and chewing were things his doctor still allowed.”
“Not good enough,” Mac said. “I’m really sorry, Tanner, but I can’t let this slide. If I do, next thing I know, somebody will drive a company vehicle to Reno.”
Tanner nodded. “No need to be sorry.” Nausea rolled through his stomach. What would he say to his kids? “I knew better, Mac, but I did it anyway. I’ve put you in an uncomfortable position. I deserve to be fired.”
“You do deserve that,” Mac agreed, “but this is your first violation, and you’re too good a driver for me to just let you go. I gave you one of the cushiest assignments I had available here when I put you on the Crystal Falls rural route. I did that because you’re a single father, and it allowed you to spend more time with your kids at night.”
Heartened to hear that he wouldn’t be let go, Tanner nodded. “I appreciated that, Mac.”
“Yeah, well, now I have to demote you. Brian gets the cushy route for at least the next year. I’m assigning you to his rural route in Mystic Creek. You’ll still finish your deliveries earlier than you would in town, but the hour of driving there and back each day will pretty much cancel that out. If you keep your nose clean for twelve months, you can have the Crystal Falls route back.”
Tanner stood up. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”
Flapping his hand, Mac said, “Ah, hell. If you’d used your own vehicle and helped out the old man when you were off duty, I would’ve had a good laugh. Probably would have done it myself. Just don’t involve the company again when you’re playing Good Samaritan, or I’ll have no choice but to can you.”
Tanner collected his personal things from the van he normally drove and climbed inside a similar vehicle that he’d probably be driving for the foreseeable future. He put a spare uniform he liked to carry on a shelf behind the driver’s seat. He pressed the sticky pad for his cell phone on the dash. Then he stared at the parcels. There was no point in trying to organize them. He’d driven in Mystic Creek only once, and that had been yesterday. Recalling how nerve-racking the first day on a new route could be, he knew he’d be using GPS almost constantly. Getting to know all the dogs along a route would also be challenging. I’m such a dipshit, he told himself. I had the easiest route in Crystal Falls, and I blew it to do a favor for a friend. Tanner could only hope that Tuck had been able to enjoy at least one beer. Otherwise Tanner had just gotten himself demoted for nothing.
After slumping down in the driver’s seat, he started the van engine, adjusted the mirrors, and drove from the warehouse, braced for a long day of confusion, countless U-turns, and getting lost. In his experience, country roads were the worst. GPS was a fabulous invention, but in rural areas it could go wonky.
He wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the day. What the hell might go wrong next?