Page 16

16

Diem

B y the time we finished lunch, it was closing in on three o’clock. I figured we had time to check out the kennel before touching base with Delaney and calling it a night. The sun set early this time of year, and I wasn’t interested in running around the woods again in the dark.

After a chat with Nicholas, we could head back to the B&B to sort out where Londyn and Loyal lived. Intercepting the teens before school the following day was a priority. Loyal could choose to come clean about the Murder Club and give us information, or I would report it to the English teacher. I was sure their morbid extension of the Whodunnits? didn’t gel with school policies.

“Can we find a coffee place and get me a latte?” Tallus asked when we left the burger joint.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“But why? I need caffeine. I run on caffeine. The tank is empty. It needs to be replenished.”

“No.”

“Diem, you are not my mother. Coffee. Now.”

“You’ve had two already today, and you once told me any more than that risks you getting migraines. If we’re going to figure this shit out, then we can’t have you bedridden for days. I’ve seen you suffer, and it’s not pretty.”

“Aww. You’re looking out for my health. That’s so sweet.”

I growled under my breath.

“I hear you cuddle bear. Man, I wish I hadn’t drunk the coffee at the police station. It was gross. What a rip-off.”

“How about decaf? Will that hurt you?”

“Um, it hurts that you even have to ask, Guns. For the good of our relationship, never offer me decaf again.”

I tried and failed to suppress a chuckle.

Tallus rested a hand on my thigh and squeezed. “It’s getting easier to make you laugh. I like it.”

I liked it too. Six weeks and our relationship was easier every day. I may not have been perfect, I had a long way to go when it came to intimacy and fulfilling Tallus’s need for affection, but I was getting there, and he remained surprisingly patient as I fumbled along.

The sign for McConaughy’s Kennel appeared shortly after we passed the trailer park on the outskirts of town. I slowed and located a gravel drive among a thicket of trees. A short way in, a clearing came into view, and I scanned the property.

High fences and large, dirt-packed enclosures took up much of the outdoor space near a rustic barn-like building. Inside the cordoned-off yards were play structures suitable for canine use. Several dogs of various breeds occupied the area. Some ran, some slumbered, others chased each other up ramps and through tunnels. Tattered balls and several colorful chew toys lay scattered about.

The main house sat farther back on the property, a leaning red brick century home in severe disrepair. Smoke rose from a chimney at the back. A lone rusted pickup took up space near a garage in similar condition.

I parked close to the barn, and the dogs in the yard went into a barking frenzy, gathering at the nearby fence, bowling over each other in their frantic race to greet the newcomers. I counted ten, but since they were bouncing about, I thought there might be more.

Tallus’s wide-eyed expression suggested he wasn’t over his experience from that morning and would have much rather been elsewhere.

“They’re behind a fence,” I said.

“I know. I’m looking for the rottweiler who wanted to eat my face. Do you see him?”

I scanned the animals and shook my head. “No.”

“Do you think he lives here?”

“Don’t know. Only one way to find out.”

A man in his early to mid-twenties appeared at the barn door, a young golden retriever at his heels and a squirming mess of brown fur in his arms. The man’s flannel and jeans needed a wash, and his faded ballcap had seen better days, but he seemed friendly enough compared to the stranger in the woods. At least he didn’t have a gun. The man tipped his chin in greeting, but questions lived in his eyes.

“Do you want to wait here?” I asked Tallus.

“No, I’m coming.”

We got out, and as I approached the man by the barn, Tallus hung back, calling, “That dog won’t bite me, will it?”

The man frowned and glanced at the young retriever at his side. “Echo won’t hurt you. She’s loving and calm despite her age. I promise.”

I glanced back and met Tallus’s eyes. He searched my face and must have found what he was looking for. Warily, he joined me, keeping a generous distance from the fence and enclosure, using my larger body as a shield.

“How can I help you?” the man asked. He had a slight country drawl. “You in the market for a dog?”

“No. Are you Nicholas?”

“That I am.” The quizzical expression remained as he studied us, seemingly trying to determine what we were all about. The furball in his arms wiggled and wormed. “This is about Weston, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

I showed Nicholas my credentials and made formal introductions, calling Tallus my partner and eliminating the in training part, knowing it would erase the disquiet in his eyes. It worked, and he stood taller.

The golden retriever moved toward me, sniffing my hand. I gave her ear a scratch, and she licked my fingers before sitting at my feet and leaning against my leg, peering up at me like I hung the moon.

“She likes you,” Nicholas said, smiling.

“Doubt it.”

“No doubt, mister. She knows good people when she sees ’em.”

I wasn’t good people, and no one liked me—except Tallus—so I wasn’t sure what to make of the dog’s quick appraisal. Most people saw my scars and height as threatening, but little Miss Echo didn’t seem to care.

“She’s the only one of her litter who didn’t get adopted. A shame, really. She’s one of the calmest, most obedient dogs I’ve ever had, and would you believe she’s only eleven months old? I was considering putting her into the service dog training program next month. She’d make a great support dog. Can’t start until they’re a year old, but she’ll excel. Ain’t that right, girl?”

Echo peered up at me, tongue lulling, eyes sparkling. If I didn’t know better, I would say she was smiling. I tried to nudge her back to her owner, but she persisted in leaning against me. I frowned, and she nuzzled her face against my leg. I didn’t know what to do with the unexpected attention and affection.

Nicholas chuckled. “You’ve got a friend for life.”

I didn’t need a friend for life. I needed her to get off my leg.

“You found the kid in the river.” The blunt statement pulled the conversation back where it belonged and away from dogs and any suggestion that I was likeable.

Nicholas’s smile vanished, and he sighed, fighting with the brown fur ball in his arms. “I did. Well, Diago did. Can you hang on? I need to put this rascal down before he squirms right out of my arms.”

I grunted, and Nicholas returned inside the barn. I nudged Echo again. “Go. Follow him.”

She didn’t move, and Tallus chuckled. “She likes you, D.”

“I’m an asshole,” I said to the stupid dog.

“She knows better.”

“Come on. Get. Go.” I pointed inside the barn.

Echo didn’t move and licked my hand again.

“Stop doing that.”

“Pet her. She wants to be petted.”

“I don’t pet dogs.” But I was already complying, scratching her ear and under her chin, making her golden eyes squint and that smile expression return. “You’re a stupid fucking mutt if you aren’t scared of me. Everyone’s scared of me.”

“I’m not.” Tallus bumped my shoulder and leaned against my other side.

My bubble had been invaded simultaneously by both a dog and a boyfriend. Before I could object to so much contact, Nicholas returned. He did not save me from the dog’s affection, and no one could save me from Tallus’s.

“So, what’s this about Weston? I thought the police wrote it off as an accident. Why are you here?”

“His mother isn’t convinced,” Tallus said. “Do you have a rottweiler named Argos?”

Any friendliness Nicholas had brought into our exchange faded. He stared for a beat at Tallus before responding, tone harsher. “It’s my father’s dog. Why?”

“Where’s your father?” I asked before Tallus could relay our experience in the woods that morning. He didn’t always know when to share information and when to hold back.

“At work, I assume.”

“Where’s work?”

Nicholas shrugged. “Fuck if I know. He does odd jobs for people around town, then hangs out at Lemon’s and drinks away every dollar. Hasn’t held a full-time job in going on five years thanks to his best friend Jim Beam. Why?”

“Does your dad own property on the other side of the river?”

Nicholas laughed without humor. “Are you serious? Look at this shithole.” He motioned to the house on a low rise in the distance. “It’s barely standing. Bricks crumbling. Foundation ready to cave in. Paint peeling. Christ, a strong wind this winter, and we’ll probably lose the roof, and you think we’ve got property in the Port Hope ’ burbs? ” He added air quotes and rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Maybe once upon a time when he held a real job, but not anymore. I thought you were here about Weston. Why are you asking about my dad?”

Echo pushed her face against my hand when I stopped petting her, so I continued as I considered what direction to take. Port Hope was a small town, and Nicholas was a half dozen or more years older than the Mandel kid, but there was a good chance he knew him.

“The police said you found him clinging to a large rock protruding from the water.”

“Not clinging. Clinging would imply he was awake and alert. He was unconscious, wedged between two boulders, probably forced there by the current. I thought he was dead.” Strain pulled at Nicholas’s eyes. “There’s a dam less than a hundred yards from where I found him. If he’d gone over, that would have been the end of him.” A haunted expression took over the young man’s face. “Might have been better off. It’s not like I saved his life.”

“Did you know him?” Tallus asked.

“Yeah, I knew him.” Nicholas tightened his jaw and lifted his chin. It was evident he was going to great lengths to hide his pain.

“Any idea why he might have been out by the water this time of year? Not exactly hiking weather.” Punctuating my statement, the wind picked up, rattling the barn door on its hinges and making it creak.

“How should I know? Teens in Port Hope have always taken to the woods. That trail is a popular one, too. Used to hang out there myself when I was in high school. It’s private, you know. No adults around to tell you what to do. Kids go out there to smoke pot, drink, probably fuck if the weather’s nice. I never got that lucky.” Nicholas shrugged his misfortune away.

“Who owns the property along the trail?” Tallus asked.

Nicholas glanced at the fenced-in yard where the dogs had grown bored with our arrival and had run off to play again. His focus shifted inward like he was thinking. “The town owns the trail and part of the woods, but there’s a bunch of ritzy houses whose properties stretch a fair way out. Not sure I can tell you specifics. Why?”

A voice from inside the barn called, “Nick? Where the fuck did you go? I’m done with the kennels. Can I go out now?”

A second later, a familiar teen appeared and flinched the moment he laid eyes on Tallus and me. “What the hell are they doing here?”

Nicholas glanced from pimply-faced, glasses-wearing Chett to us, then frowned. “You know these guys?”

“Yeah, they pinned us down at Lola’s this morning, asking a hundred questions. They promised to pay for our meal but didn’t.”

Nicholas seemed to consider his brother’s words. “I don’t appreciate hearing you’ve been harassing my younger brother.”

“We didn’t harass him. We were hired by Weston’s mother to try to figure out what happened by the water. She’s convinced he wasn’t alone out there, and I’m starting to think the same.”

A stitch formed between Nicholas’s brows, and he glanced at his brother. “Do you know anything about why Weston was on the trail?”

“No.” The defensive tone told a different story, and Nicholas seemed to hear it too.

“What’d I tell you about going out there?”

“We didn’t.”

“Out where?” I asked.

Neither of them answered, and they continued to stare at each other as though having a silent conversation.

To Chett, I said. “We learned about your murder club, by the way. All the special little details that make it unique and secretive. Your buddy Atlas didn’t mind spilling the details. What can you tell me about it?”

Chett paled, wide eyes momentarily flashing to his brother. “It’s just a writing club.”

“No. The Whodunnits? is a writing club. Your version is a lot more fucked up. You and your punk-ass friends are in way over your heads, and you know it. One of your own is dead, and I’m not so sure it was an accident.”

Echo licked my fingers, and only then did I realize I’d clenched my fists. Loosening the joints, letting my anger simmer, I petted her again.

“What’s he talking about?” Nicholas asked his brother.

“Nothing. Can I go out now? The kennels are clean. You promised.”

Nicholas looked from his brother to me as though unsure how to respond. “Be home by nine.”

“I will.”

“And stay out of the fucking woods.”

Chett ducked away in a flash. Nicholas watched him go before turning back with a look of skepticism. “Something I need to know?”

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you worried about him being in the woods?”

Nicholas pinched his lips in a tight line, then said, “Ravings of a lunatic. Believe me. It’s not worth sharing.”

I wanted to ask about the cabin and tell him we’d encountered his father but was less and less certain of how much I wanted to share. Everyone in this town was connected, and the wrong word to the wrong person could kill our investigation.

“Do you know the kids your brother hangs out with?”

“Some of them. Why? Is he in trouble?”

“The twins. Londyn and Loyal. Any chance you know where I can find them?”

Nicholas stared between Tallus and me for a long time, and when it seemed I wasn’t going to get an answer, he said, “Other side of the river. They’re in one of the big fancy-ass houses on Hope Street. Got a pool in their backyard. Chett was over there swimming this past summer. In fact, you asked whose properties backed close to the trail. Theirs would be one of them.”

“Thanks.” To Tallus, I said, “I think we’re done here.”

“I don’t want to hear that you’ve been harassing my brother,” Nicholas said. “If there’s something you’re worried about, you bring it to me. I’m basically that kid’s Mom and Dad combined. You get me?”

I grunted noncommittally and glanced at Echo, who continued to sit loyally at my side. Stupid dog.

“Let’s go,” I said to Tallus.

But as we made for the Jeep, the golden retriever stuck by my side, tail wagging like she was expecting a car ride. Only when Nicholas called her name did she reluctantly retreat.