CHAPTER 13
The sign outside Gunderson’s store said:
If we don’t have it, you don’t need it!
Bryce looked at Melanie.
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
She laughed. “Probably a little of both. Come on.”
The three of them headed inside and walked back to the deli counter, where they ordered ham and Swiss sandwiches on Mae’s homemade rye bread, then scoured the aisles for snacks and drinks while the sandwiches were being made. Bryce snagged a bag of Doritos and a Coke and Melanie opted for an orange Nehi, two Red Delicious apples, and some Oreos, plus a small bag of kibble for Shep. Walt was waiting for them at the front counter.
“Hey, Bryce. Long time, no see.”
“Good to see you, Walt. You’re right. It’s been a while.”
Melanie set their purchases on the counter.
“I think Shep needs a walk,” she said. “Do you mind getting this? I can pay you back later.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Bryce said. “You two go ahead. I’ll meet you back at the car.”
The store had been in the Gunderson family for generations and it looked as if their checkout process hadn’t been upgraded in years. Bryce found himself tapping his foot as Walt carefully rang up each item, and realized that the go-go pace he was used to had reduced both his attention span and his patience. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that there was no hurry.
“I hear you’ve left the DA’s office,” Walt said, ringing up the second sandwich. “Working for a big law firm now.”
“That’s right.”
“Sorry to hear it. Seems like all the good lawyers are leaving government service. Pretty soon, there’ll be no one left to take down the bad guys.”
Bryce had heard the argument before. He’d made it himself, in fact, not all that long ago.
“Oh, there are still plenty of good prosecutors around. The DA in Portland is one of the best.”
“Yeah, but budgets are always tight when the public’s footing the bill. Sometimes it feels like justice is for sale in this country.”
He tucked the sandwiches into the bag, holding back the bag of chips.
“It was good of you to come down here and give Melanie a hand.”
“It was no problem. I was happy to help.”
Two apples went into the bag next, then the Oreos, kibble, and chips. Walt put the drinks in a separate keep-’em-cold bag and rang up the total.
Bryce took out his wallet.
“What do you think of the plan to make Shep the mayor?” he said. “Will it work?”
The older man stared at the open till.
“I don’t know. The town’s thinned out since the timber industry folded, and it’s changed the nature of the place. In some ways, of course, it’s worse. Without the good-paying jobs we once had, several retail shops have closed, and we’re down to only one school now, too. Other things, though, are better: There’s less drunkenness, for one thing, and less violence overall. Plus, without all that heavy equipment rumbling through town, the place is a lot quieter than it was. The lack of public services is hard, too, but when people know they have to rely on themselves, neighbors take time to check on one another. I’m not saying it’s ideal. I’m just saying it hasn’t all been bad, either.”
Bryce considered that for a minute.
“It seems like there ought to be some way to keep what’s good about Fossett while still improving its economic circumstances.”
“I agree,” Walt said. “But most of us don’t have the determination and energy that Melanie has. As long as she’s hell-bent on making the town what it once was, I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“Have you told her that?”
“Oh, sure. More than once.”
“But it didn’t change things.”
Walt shook his head.
“I’ve known Melanie since she was a baby and I love her like my own, but when she takes something into her head, she’s as tenacious as a bulldog. I find it’s better just to go along until she figures things out, one way or the other.”
He gave Bryce a knowing look.
“You may have noticed the same thing.”
He nodded. “A bit too late, unfortunately.”
Walt counted out his change.
“Well, time goes by. Some things that were important don’t seem so from a distance. I take it you haven’t changed your mind about moving here?”
“I don’t see how I can,” Bryce said. “My job—no matter what you may think of it—requires that I stay in Portland.”
“And you think you can convince her to join you?”
Bryce felt caught out by Walt’s perceptiveness.
“I’d like to, yes. But like you, I’d rather she came to that decision herself.”
The older man nodded.
“Well, whatever you do, be careful. I don’t want to see either one of you get hurt again.”
“Thanks,” Bryce said, slipping the change into his pocket. “Believe me, neither do I.”
* * *
They ate lunch in the car, neither one of them in the mood to sit outside in the cold. Melanie kept a collapsible dog bowl in the glove compartment; she poured out a measure of kibble for Shep and set it on the floor. He devoured it in seconds, then perched on the back seat, staring hopefully at their sandwiches.
Bryce ate quietly for several minutes. Walt’s comment about his job had hit a nerve. Since leaving the DA’s office, he’d had his own crisis of conscience. He was honest enough to admit that money had been the deciding factor in making the move to Norcross Daniels, but there were days when he felt as if he was walking a fine line between advocacy and collusion. Plus, there was still the whole Colton thing hanging over his head. Who knew how long it would be before that was resolved? He found himself dreading the day he’d have to return to work.
“You okay?” Melanie said.
“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about something Walt said.”
“Anything you want to share?”
He shook his head.
“Sorry.”
Bryce took another bite of his sandwich.
“This was a good choice. Thanks for suggesting it.”
She smiled.
“You were a hit with those kids back there. I had no idea you knew all those magic tricks.”
“What are you talking about? I practically wooed you with my magic tricks.”
“Not rope tricks. You’d have been lucky to get a second date if I’d known about those.”
He opened the bag of Doritos.
“Speaking of dating,” he said, popping one into his mouth. “You seeing anyone these days?”
She gave him a look.
“Oh yeah. Can’t you tell? I’ve got eligible bachelors falling all over me.”
He covered his smile with a sip of Coke.
“You never know. They could be hiding in the bushes, ready to carry you off.”
“Yeah, right.” She started fishing around in the bag. “How about you?”
He took out another chip and shook his head.
“Too busy. Since the move to Norcross, I’ve been pretty much married to the job.”
Melanie bit into an apple and chewed thoughtfully.
“What about Sofia What’s-her-name? You ever go out with her?”
Bryce nearly choked on a Dorito.
“Who?” he croaked, smacking a fist against his chest.
“You know: dark brown hair, killer bod. She was two years ahead of you at law school. Man, did she have the hots for you.”
He shook his head. The sting of spicy nacho cheese was making his eyes water.
“Oh, my god,” Melanie said. “You did, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he wheezed, taking another swig of Coke.
“Well, if you didn’t, then you missed out,” she said. “Man, I was so jealous of her back then.”
“Can we please change the subject?”
“Sure. What do you—”
Her phone buzzed.
“Hold on a sec,” she said. “It’s Kayla.”
Bryce took another slug of Coke, relieved to be escaping the subject of Sofia Cardoza. It never occurred to him that she might have been interested in him back when they were in law school. He found the notion vaguely unsettling.
Melanie glanced at him and shook her head.
“No, of course,” she said. “I understand. Yes. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She hung up and looked at Bryce.
“Helena fell and broke a tooth. Her husband’s taking her to Corvallis to see a dentist, but there’ll be no one to watch the shop this afternoon until she gets back.”
She stuck the phone back in her pocket.
“I can’t believe this. Just when we were starting to make some headway.”
“It’s okay,” Bryce said. “Shep and I can manage alone.”
Melanie gave him a skeptical look.
“After the outing you two had yesterday?”
“That was an accident—no big deal. Besides, it’ll only be for a couple of hours.”
“Well . . .”
He grinned.
“Either that, or I watch the shop while you take him.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Ever worked as a barista?”
“Nope.”
“Never mind.”
“Come on,” Bryce said. “We’ve got the map. We’ll be fine, right, Shep?”
Having given up his quest for a handout, the border collie was dozing on the back seat. He glanced from Bryce to Melanie and thumped his tail.
“You see that?” Bryce said. “He’s totally cool with it.”
“All right,” she said doubtfully. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”
* * *
The two of them dropped Melanie off at Ground Central and headed to the next house on the map. In spite of his experience the day before, Bryce was eager to take Shep out again. So far, his plan to win Melanie over wasn’t working as well as he’d intended; he hoped he’d have better luck with her dog. If he could prove to her that the two of them could get along, it would be that much easier to convince her that the three of them could live peacefully together in Portland.
The next house on the map was in Fossett’s historic district, only a few blocks from the B and B where Bryce was staying. Like Fossett House, it had been built in the Victorian style with dormers, exposed trusses, and Gothic windows. But whereas the B and B had been painted in muted tones of yellows and cream, this house was purple, with dark green shutters and bright yellow scrollwork running along the eaves. A gazing ball sat in the front yard and twin dream catchers dangled on either side of the porch. A brass nameplate on the door said: JEWELL DIVINE, PET PSYCHIC.
“Well, this should be interesting,” Bryce said as he rang the bell.
Moments later, the door swept open and a slender woman in a gold turban and a velvet caftan opened the door. The interior of the house looked like two parts haunted house and one part Hoarders.
“Hello,” Bryce said. “I’m Bryce MacDonald and this is Shep. He’s running for mayor—”
Jewell gave them an enigmatic smile.
“I know. I’ve been expecting you.”
She held her hands out to the dog.
“Shep, my dear. How are you?”
The collie stepped closer and she cupped her hands around his head. Several seconds passed while she and the dog communed.
Bryce looked around.
“Right. Well, we, uh—”
“Sh-sh-sh.” The psychic held up her hand. “Please don’t interrupt.”
He checked his watch, feeling like a fool standing there. How long was this going to take?
“He’s running for mayor,” he whispered.
“I know.” Jewell frowned. “Be quiet, please.”
Several awkward moments passed while Bryce cooled his heels. At last, the psychic let go of Shep and stood.
Not a moment too soon.
“So, the election is this Saturday,” Bryce said. “Shep is really hoping he can count on your vote.”
“Yes, of course,” Jewell said absently, tapping her chin. “But I must warn you, there is a scandal in his past which you must deal with quickly or it will ruin his time in office.”
Bryce nodded as if giving it some serious thought. He’d always made it a point not to argue with crazy people.
“Well, that’s good to know, isn’t it?” He looked at Shep. “Remember that. Honesty is the best policy.”
Jewell was eyeing him critically.
“And he has a lesson for you,” she said. “But Shep tells me you are a slow learner.”
“Right. Aaaaanyway,” Bryce said. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll make sure we get that whole scandal thing cleared up right away.”
Jewell folded her arms, looking pleased.
“Good. I look forward to the celebration.”
As the two of them walked back out to the curb, Bryce glanced down at Shep.
“What do you mean I’m a slow learner?”
The next few houses were scattered among the numbered streets along the periphery of downtown. After the delay at Jewell’s the two of them were once again making good time. For the most part, people were polite and enthusiastic about Shep’s candidacy. Only a few mentioned being visited by Rod Blakely, and of those who did, no one had anything good to say about the experience. “The man can’t take yes for an answer,” was a common refrain. With only two houses to go, there were twenty yeses, five undecideds, and one firm no on the tally sheet and ten dollars (eight tired-looking singles, seven quarters, two dimes, and a nickel) and a Toll House cookie (delicious) in donations. Not a bad haul, Bryce thought. Melanie would be pleased.
Melanie would also be pleased, he thought, about how well he and Shep had been getting along—surprising, really, considering how badly things had gone the day before. Maybe having Bryce carry him out of the woods had caused the dog to have a change of heart.
They’d come almost full circle by then. Melanie’s car was little more than a block away. The sun was still out, but low enough in the sky that it barely skimmed the tops of the trees; he could feel the temperature dropping. At the thought of getting back inside the car, his pace quickened.
They were coming up on Lou Tsimiak’s house. The place was even stranger in person than Melanie had described it. The yard was a hodgepodge of odds and ends that the man must have been collecting for years. Birdbaths, metal sculptures, and lawn trolls sat amid stacks of flat tires, broken lawn furniture, and two-liter bottles, filled with sand and half buried in the ground, all of it overgrown with weeds and wild blackberry. Whether it was PTSD or some other mental condition that had prompted this cache, Bryce was glad he didn’t have to deal with it.
He felt a tug on the leash. Shep was trying to head toward the front door.
“No, no. We’re not going in there,” he said.
The collie glanced back over his shoulder, then tugged again.
“No,” Bryce said, pulling firmly on the lead. “Not here. Come on.”
Shep turned around, then sat down and stared at him defiantly.
“I don’t believe this,” Bryce muttered. “Shep,” he said, giving the leash a tug. “Heel.”
When the dog didn’t budge, he tightened his grip and tried again.
“I said, heel.”
The collie stood, made a feint in his direction, and grabbed the lead in his mouth.
“What are you doing?” Bryce said. “Let go of that!”
Before he knew it, Shep had dug all four paws into the ground and started jerking on the lead, throwing his entire weight into the effort as Bryce held fast to the other end. The two of them were literally in a tug-of-war.
Bryce gritted his teeth. If Shep got away with this sort of bad behavior again, there was no chance that the two of them would ever be able to get along and any hope he had of convincing Melanie to move in with him would be gone.
Well, he thought, that wasn’t going to happen. The collie was headstrong and spoiled and it was time he learned that he was not the one in charge.
“Drop it, Shep,” he said, preparing for a final pull. “I said drop. It!”
And Shep did drop it. As Bryce put all his strength into one final yank of the lead, the collie stepped forward. With nothing to resist his backward motion, Bryce lost his balance and toppled into the bushes.
“What the hell was that all about?” he said, flailing his arms as he tried to right himself. “I swear, Shep, when we get back to the shop—Ow!”
He knew what had happened the second he felt it. Bryce swatted at his neck and got another sting for his trouble before the hornet flew off. He sat up and shook his head, feeling panic clutch at his chest. There was antivenom in the glove box of his own car, but he hadn’t thought to put it in Melanie’s and they were blocks away from Pete’s garage. Even if he sprinted, he’d never get there in time.
He felt faint—his blood pressure was beginning to drop—and his tongue began to tingle. As his throat began to swell, he was finding it harder to breathe. Bryce began to feel an odd detachment from the world, realizing that he was about to die. Shep, too, must have known that something was wrong, he thought. The collie was barking frantically.
Then everything went black.