Downton Tabby (23 page)

When they found Heidi
, I corrected myself. I wasn’t going to consider the possibility they wouldn’t.

I remembered how long I’d had to wait on his report about the angry Mr. Zellwen. Okay, fair enough, he had his hands full, but I needed something to keep me from going crazy until I got the information.

I took a deep breath and then exhaled. I still had that bad news to deliver.

I tucked my cell phone in my jeans pocket and grabbed my car keys. Best to get things cleared up with Wayne and the disappointing news about the basset hound. I checked my bag to make sure I had the information on the rescue group I’d jotted down earlier. He’d had his heart set on Cheeky, but I hoped the idea of getting in touch with the SoCal basset hound rescue might soften the blow of the adoption not working out. In any case, in my experience, it’s best to get bad news over with right away.

Chapter Twenty-Four

WAYNE’S HOUSE WAS a drab slate blue and surrounded by the stubble of a lawn in need of care. In the back there was a shed that had probably once also been the same shade of blue. It looked like it needed a new roof and coat of paint. An oleander hedge along the back of his lot really needed trimmed back, and I thought about the expression Grandma Tillie had often used about the shoemaker’s children going barefoot. I supposed when he got home from working on trimming up other people’s hedges, the last thing he wanted to do was work on his own. The yard was fenced, which would be good when he eventually brought home his basset hound. I was sure the rescue group could help him find a good match.

The “Cutting Hedge” van was parked in the drive, so Wayne was apparently home. A part of me had been wishing for a reprieve.

Wayne answered my knock right away. His big body filled the doorway, but I could still see past him into the house. The meager furnishings were plain but serviceable. There was a couch, a recliner that had seen better days, dining-room chair, and a TV tray currently being used as a lamp table. The living room was not exactly clean and neat, but still not terrible for a guy living alone.

He smelled like sweat and nervously shifted from one foot to the other. I wondered if I’d caught him at a bad time. Maybe he’d just gotten home. The television blared from the other room, so maybe I’d interrupted a favorite show.

It didn’t appear he was going to invite me in.

Shoot. This was not a conversation I wanted to have standing on his front porch.

“Would it be okay if I came in?” I pointed past him.

“Oh, sorry. Come in. Come in.” He moved aside so I could enter. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

I crossed the room and sat on the couch which was in direct line of sight to the television. A court reality show was on, and Judge Wanda was about to mete out her punishment for a roommate who’d apparently eaten his roomie’s birthday cake and drank said birthday boy’s beer. Perhaps the verdict was what had Wayne on pins and needles.

“Is this a bad time?” I raised a brow.

“No, no. This is fine.” Wayne turned the volume down and sat carefully on the arm of the chair.

This was going to be a hard conversation, and I truly felt sorry for the man. It seemed like he badly wanted a pet, and we had a ton of pets in need of homes. But I knew he’d had his heart set on Cheeky, the basset hound. Maybe he’d be so happy for Cheeky, knowing his owners had come to claim him, that it would temper his disappointment. Best to just spit it out.

“Wayne, I know you’ve had your heart set on adopting Cheeky, and tomorrow the waiting period would be over.” I took a deep breath. “But today Cheeky’s owners called, then came in and identified him and picked him up.”

“What?” Wayne jumped up. I hadn’t even realized the big man could move that fast. “They can’t do that after they deserted him.”

“They were out of town, and their nephew was supposed to be taking care of him. I guess he got out somehow without his collar on, and the nephew failed to report it, and so they didn’t even know he was gone until they got home from their trip.”

Wayne paced back and forth.

“That’s completely irresponsible. They should have made sure Charlie was taken care of.”

“Charlie? You mean, Cheeky right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s what I meant. Cheeky.”

“I’m so sorry, Wayne.” I stood and approached him. I’d known the poor guy would be disappointed, but I didn’t realize he’d take it this badly. He was really agitated. It was good Don hadn’t tried to handle this news with a phone call.

“It’s not right.” His voice got louder. “They shouldn’t get him.”

I lowered my voice. It’s a great de-escalation technique. It often works with dogs and with people.

“I know you’re upset,” I said quietly. “But I’m sure they’ll be more careful in the future. And we’re going to check in on them and Cheeky and make sure he’s okay.”

“He’s not okay!” Wayne roared. “This is not okay.” He pounded the table.

I felt so bad for the guy. Forgetting his sensitivity to touch, I laid my hand on his forearm in an attempt to calm him, and he immediately shook it off.

In doing so, he flung his arm out and hit the lamp on the TV tray. Broken pieces of the shattered lamp flew. One of the shards embedded itself in Wayne’s hand, but he didn’t even flinch.

Blood began to drip on his jeans, but he was so agitated, he didn’t notice.

Man, I’d known he would be unhappy, but I hadn’t thought he would take it this hard. He was so upset he couldn’t speak, his face red, his breathing labored.

“Hang on there, buddy.” I could see the kitchen through a doorway and figured it would be a good idea to rinse the cut. “You’ve cut yourself and you’re bleeding. Let’s take care of that.”

He’d stopped yelling and seemed to be in shock. He stood, eyes wide, but he made no move toward the kitchen.

I was beginning to reevaluate whether we’d made a good choice in approving him for a pet adoption. His references had checked out. He didn’t have a criminal background. He was new in town, not originally from the area, but Don Furry had done an extensive interview with him. Nothing we’d seen had indicated the kind of extreme instability I was seeing now.

I hurried through to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of paper towels.

“Let me take a look at that cut.” I still thought it should be cleaned, but we’d start with trying to stop the bleeding.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He wrapped his hand with the paper towels I’d brought but still didn’t move. “I’ve cut myself way worse doing yard work.”

“Well, this cut is bleeding a lot. Let me get a damp towel and we can at least clean the wound a bit and see what we’re dealing with.” I went back to the kitchen, tore off some more towels, and ran them under water. As I did, my gaze landed on the glittery hairclip beside the sink. It looked like it had been washed, but it still sparkled like gold.

Real gold and pink topaz and very expensive.

I felt like I’d been sucker punched. Like all of my breath left my body. I’d seen this hair ornament before.

I picked it up and turned.

Wayne stood in the doorway. One look at his face—the rage gone, an emotionless stillness in its place—told me he knew I’d recognized the hair clip.

“It was you.”

He nodded slightly.

Holy Blindside, Batman!

“Is Heidi alive?”

“For now she is. Her boyfriend will come for her, and then I’ll take care of him.”

I stepped away keeping my eyes on him, but I didn’t have far to go. My back was against the counter.

“Where are you keeping her?”

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes slid to the kitchen window.

I’d noticed the shed earlier near the overgrown hedge. “Is Heidi out there?”

Wayne didn’t answer, but his expression confirmed it. He raised his hand to look at the cut, and as he did more blood dripped on the floor.

Great, he was keeping Heidi in a shed out back, he was bleeding all over his floor, no one knew where I was, and I didn’t think he was losing enough blood so that I could pin my hopes on him bleeding out.

I tried to remember some of the moves from my self-defense class, but he had the clear advantage in size, and he was blocking my escape route. If I could distract him maybe I could make a run for it.

Reaching behind me, I tried to remember what else had been on the counter. Dirty dishes, a greasy rag, the roll of paper towels. No knives that I could picture.

Suddenly, my phone rang. I looked at Wayne.

“Answer it, but no funny business,” he said flatly.

I pulled it from my pocket and glanced at the caller ID. It was Betty. Wonderful. I was about to be killed, and my last phone call would be from a pajama-clad senior citizen.

You’ve seen those shows where the person is being held at gun/knifepoint but they’re able to send a coded message to the person on the other end of the phone signaling they were in danger? All without alerting the killer?

Yeah, that was not going to happen here.

I pushed the button to answer. “Hello, Betty.”

“Hey, Carol.” Her voice crackled through the phone. “I’m at your house. When are you coming home?”

“Wait. What are you doing at my house?”

“You said I could have those dog-trainer books for Raider, and I had some time today so I stopped by to get them. I got here and your neighbor lady thought I shouldn’t be sitting outside in the sun so she let me in. I’m inside. Nice house you’ve got. Nice dog, too. Your cats are okay. That one is funny looking. Weird ears.”

I was so upset that Betty was at my house and had talked her way inside that I almost forgot I was about to be offed.

“Betty, you don’t just go into people’s homes uninvited.”

“I didn’t, Carmen. You invited me.”

“But I’m not home right now.” I suddenly remembered Wayne. “I’m at—” I stopped, noting the crazed look in Wayne’s eyes and the vein that pulsed in his forehead. I didn’t dare risk it. He could snap at any moment.

Wayne lunged forward and took the phone from me, pushed the disconnect button, and threw it on counter. It immediately rang. Betty didn’t like being hung up on.

He pushed the end button again. It rang again. He stomped off, marched through the front door, and threw it outside.

So much for that lifeline. No phoning a friend for me.

It only took a few minutes for him to get to the door and back, but I knew I had to take the opportunity try to escape. Otherwise, my chances for survival did not look good.

Before he could get back to the kitchen, I ran for the back of the house. I wasn’t at all sure where I was running, but I figured there had to be a door that led outside or at the very least room with a lock that would buy me some time.

“No, you don’t.” The man was big, but he was quick. He grabbed my hair and yanked me back. “You sit right here.” He dragged me to the living room and pushed me down on the couch. “I gotta figure out what to do about you.”

He’d begun to pace again.

“Why?” I asked quietly.

“What?” He stopped and stared at me, beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and upper lip.

“Why, Wayne?” I’d put together (I know, too little too late) that everything had started when Wayne arrived on the scene. That day at the office when he’d claimed car trouble had obviously just been a ploy. He must have been looking for Jake and Cash.

“They ruined my life.”

I could see the emotion ran deep, but I somehow didn’t see him and the tech billionaires running in the same circles.

“How so?”

“They invented that awful WoofWalker.” He let out a short breath and narrowed his eyes.

“How is it awful?” I encouraged him to talk.

“My wife, Lena, bought one.”

“Yes?” I needed him to keep talking because I needed time to think.

I wondered if I screamed really loud if there might be neighbors who were close enough to hear. I tried to picture how close the next house was and if I’d seen any cars in the nearby driveways.

“Lena and our dog, Charlie, started walking every day. They both lost weight, and she lost interest in me. Then one day I come home from work.” His eyes filled with tears again. “And she’d run off with a guy with a Weimaraner that she’d met at the dog park. Left me and took Charlie.”

Ah, his wife hadn’t died. She’d left him. And the same with his basset hound. I remembered the way his facial expression had changed when I’d mentioned exercise. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“Jake and Cash didn’t cause your wife to leave,” I said softly. But in his confused mind, he believed they did.

Maybe I could use elbow-to-the-gut move we’d learned in self-defense class. I was not going down without a fight.

“If they’d never invented WoofWalker, I’d still have Lena and Charlie. Now I’ve got nothing. They gotta be stopped.”

I racked my brain for some way to get away from him and call Malone. If only I’d told someone where I was going.

“Cash calls me.” I threw out the idea in desperation.

“Why?” He gave me a hard look, but I had his attention.

“To check on his cat.”

He eyed me like he wondered whether to believe me.

“I can call him, but I’ll need my phone.” Wayne didn’t need to know that Cash never answered when I called. Or that he called me from some unknown number that I couldn’t call back. I needed my phone. My only tie to the outside world. I only hoped it was still in working order.

“Fine.” He started toward the door, but then stopped and came back toward me. “But I’ve gotta make sure you don’t make a run for it again.” He ripped the electrical cord from the broken lamp.

“Move.” He pointed at the dining room chair.

I reluctantly moved to the straight wooden chair. Wayne wrapped the cord tight around my hands and then around the arms of the chair.

My stomach tightened with fear. The vivid picture of Jake as I pulled him from the pool flashed into my mind. I pushed it away. I gave myself a mental shake. Get a grip. Don’t panic. Keep a clear head.

Once he was sure I wasn’t going anywhere, Wayne disappeared outside and in short order was back with my cell phone in his bear-like hand.