Ruff Way to Go (24 page)

He breathed
a sigh of relief and smiled. “I’ll take care of my wife. Don’t worry.”

My heart
sank into my stomach at the words, but his face stayed guileless. He surely
didn’t mean he’d “take care” of her in an evil sense.

I kept
turning the phrase over and over in my head as I drove home. As much as I
believed my instincts that said Fred Nelson was a loving husband married to a
difficult woman who perhaps had a drug problem, all I really knew was that
Cassandra Randon had been murdered. Someone was playing for keeps.

Though I
felt like a heel for having lied to the man, the moment I walked in my door, I
went straight to my phone, ignoring my dogs and my mother, and called Sergeant
Millay. I told him precisely what Fred had told me, including how his wife had
claimed I was charging cash for services never rendered.

My mother
listened to my end of the phone conversation in complete silence, her arms crossed
as if she were cold. She was wearing my favorite blouse of hers, a black velvet
collar and cuff on blue denim, which matched her jeans. After I’d hung up, she
said immediately, “My God, Allida. How horrible.”

“I know. And
my last words to Susan’s husband were that I
wouldn ‘t
go straight to
the police.”

She
shrugged. “That wasn’t something you could stick with, though. You did the
right thing.”

“Did I? I
have no idea if any of what Fred told me is true. I might have just made a load
of trouble for Susan that she didn’t deserve.” I sighed. “Rest assured that
Harvey and Betsy won’t be nominating me for any Most-Beloved-Neighbor awards.”

“Darn,” she
said, snapping her fingers. “And I know how much their opinion has always meant
to you.”

Despite my
mood, Mom’s comment made me smile, which soon faded as I considered more
implications of Susan’s situation. “Do you think it’s possible that she and her
father are both addicts? That Harvey was high on something when he came over
here and tried to break in the other night?”

Mom ran her
hand over her hair and down the length of her braid. Finally she said, “I don’t
know. I guess it’s possible that she and her parents are up to their ears in
debt because of drug problems. Maybe Harvey was trying to steal some pettycash
out of my kitchen.”

“Do you keep
any petty cash in your kitchen?”

“No, not
that I’d ever consider cash ‘petty.’ Which doesn’t
mean Harvey knows that.”

The next
morning was a Saturday, always my busiest day. Mom was up before me, but still
wearing her robe. She was mixing milk replacement with water and puppy chow in
the kitchen when I came in to grab a quick breakfast.

“How are the
puppies doing with their new diet?”

“Pretty
well. But they’re making an incredible mess of things. Fluffernutter seems to
think the food dish is the best seat in the house.”

I tried to
get the little puppy reoriented so that his correct end was in the bowl.
Otherwise, they truly were taking to the food nicely, if messily. The phone
rang. Mom was soon laughing and chatting with the caller, so I tuned out,
assuming this was one of her friends. To my surprise, after five minutes or so
she came over to me and said, “Allida, it’s Russell.”

She
accompanied me to the phone, then realized when I gave her a significant look that
she was intruding on my personal space.

“I’m going
to take a shower.”

“Hi, Allie,”
Russell said to my hello. “I was thinking of you and wanted to see how you were
doing before I headed to the hills.”

“Fine,” I
answered. My heart had started beating faster, though, and I felt a little out
of breath.
This was so annoying!
I really, really didn’t want to be
finding myself getting so attracted to someone with whom I doubted I had enough
in common to have a lasting relationship. “How are you?”

“Okay, but I
wish you were coming with me.”

“Ah, yes. My
dream date. Scrambling up the face of a cliff till I get vertigo and pass out.”

Almost as
soon as the words were out, I regretted them, thinking Russell would assume I
was making fun of him, but he chuckled. “Actually, I think we’re just going to
go for a few hours now, instead of...”

Someone
started ringing the doorbell so relentlessly that Russell’s words were drowned
out. The shower water was already running, so I knew it was up to me to answer
it. I apologized to Russell, but even in the short period of time that that
took, the person outside was now also banging on the door. I quickly explained
that whatever this was sounded too serious for me to get back to the phone
right away, and hung up.

It was
probably one of the Haywoods, who’d heard about my “squealing” to the police
and wanted to get even by bringing a lawsuit against me for those glued
sneakers. I reminded myself to get that check into their mailbox before I left
for work. The visitor was pounding hard enough to rattle the door on its
hinges. My temper rose with every step as I crossed the living room.

I glanced
through the peephole and recognized John White through the distorted lens. I
threw open the door and stared at his appearance in surprise. Despite his tan,
his face had a waxy look to it. His forehead was dotted with perspiration.
Something terrible had obviously happened to him.

Before I
could say anything, he cried, “Thank God you’re here. Allida. There’s an
emergency, and I need you to come with me.”

“What?”

“There’s no
time. I need you to come with me. There’s...I found a couple of dogs running
loose just a short distance from here and I need you to help. It’ll just take a
couple of minutes.”

“I don’t
understand. Why do—”

“It’s over
at the water tower on the edge of town. I’ll explain the whole thing when we
get in the car. Come on. We need to hurry, or else it’ll be real bad.”

“John, you’re
acting—”

“Come with
me! Please! We’ve got to get over to the water tower before someone gets
killed!”

“Someone?
But I
thought—”

“There’s a
child that’s caught up on the water tower and an Akita that’s acting rabid and
won’t let him climb down!”

“My God. We
need to call the—”

“I already
called the police, but they need help with the dog.” He started down the steps
back toward his car. “If you won’t help me, maybe I can find someone else who
will!”

My heart was
racing. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if some child was in danger and I
did nothing. I trotted down the walkway toward him.

How on earth
could a dog have trapped a child on a water tower? And how had they come to
contact John about that? He must be working Animal Control and gotten the call.
But if so, where was the van and its equipment? We needed one of those poles
with the loop on the end so we could safely catch the dog.

I got into
the passenger seat. The car had the familiar scent of dogs, but reeked of
tobacco now, too. “John, tell me again. What’s happening at the water tower?
Why do you need me to—”

There was a
sudden motion from the backseat, and I gasped and automatically lurched forward
while twisting around to look. It was Carver, and he had a long-bladed knife in
his hand.

“Howdy, Miss
Babcock. The three of us are goin’ for a little ride.”

I looked at
John, whose face in profile was beet red and damp with perspiration.

“Sorry,
Allida. He said he had a gun that would be pointed at me the whole time we were
talking. He didn’t give me any choice.”

“Just drive,”
Carver instructed in a gravelly voice to John. “Get us out of here before her
ol’ lady sees us.” He ducked down slightly, and John slowly pulled away from
the curb.

“What do you
want?” I asked Carver as calmly as I could, only the slightest tremble in my
voice giving me away.

“Same thing
everyone wants. A million bucks. A mansion with a batch of servants. But I’d
settle for an even break. I lost my job, thanks to you shitheads. And now I
lost my dog. I need you two to get her back.”

Carver was
talking nonsense. There was no way either John or I had anything to do with his
failing to get some job that he wanted. Or with the loss of his dog.

His eyes
looked wild, and I wondered if he was high on something. The thought of his
being less than lucid while holding a knife to my neck was not a pleasant one.

I gave a
little glance in John’s direction, afraid to fully look at him for fear that
Carver would see any communication between us as a threat.

John gave me
the slightest of winks—some feeble attempt at reassurance—the
perspiration on his forehead showing that he was far from relaxed. “He hasn’t
explained this to me, either, yet. He ambushed me at work and basically
insisted I do what he says without explanation.”

“I told you
as much as you need to know. You’re driving to the dog pound in Boulder.”

“Fine,
Craig. I’ll take you to the Humane Society. I can get your dog back, no
questions asked. We don’t need Allida for that.”

“Hey! Get
this straight right now, John boy! I decide what I need. And right now, I need
her to do the front work for me.”

“Front work?”

“You’re
going to go into the Boulder Humane Society with me and fetch me my dog.
Meantime, John here is going to keep the car engine running, and we’ll bring
the dog out around back.”

This was
nuts!
He was taking two people against their will just to get his dog
out of the animal shelter? “Why don’t you just go in and identify your dog and
take her yourself?”

He grabbed a
handful of my hair, pulled my head back, and held the knife against the skin of
my neck. “That’s none of your business, dog girly.” His hot breath on my face
reeked of alcohol.

My eyes
filled with tears from the pain in my scalp. I automatically reached up and
tried to pry his fingers loose, but he only pulled harder.

John’s
steering went wild. We were veering all over the road. “Calm down, Craig.”

Carver
chuckled. “Don’t like me touching your girlfriend, hey?”

“You’re
hurting her. You’re just getting yourself in deeper and deeper.”

Not trusting
my voice and unwilling to give Carver the satisfaction of seeing me cry, I
tried to swat John to signal for him to pay more attention to his driving. He
was barely staying in the lane. That blade was all too close for John to be
making an unexpected swerve.

“Deeper and
deeper, hey?” Carver snorted and released his grasp on me. “You got a way with
words, John boy.”

“Are you
okay?” John asked me quietly.

I turned my
face to the window, not unleashing the four-letter words on the tip of my
tongue. My head hurt horribly, and rage had me far too tempted toward taking a
stupid risk than was in my best interest.

“Are you
okay?” Carver mimicked, then laughed. “Shit. You are such an idiot. I’ll let
you in on a secret, John boy. I don’t have no gun. All you had to do back there
was tell your little girlfriend here to call the police, and I’d’ve been up
shit’s creek.”

I looked
over at John, who grimaced and reddened. So Carver had fooled him into thinking
he had a gun trained on him when he was at my door. Carver also must have
gotten violent in his drunken state and had Suds forcibly taken from him on an
animal cruelty charge, or he would be able to get her back himself simply and
legally.

Most likely
he was on the lam and had escaped getting arrested for whatever he’d done to
Suds. He also might not want to take the chance of going in there after his
dog, knowing that he might be recognized. There was often an inmate or two working
in the exercise areas or outbuildings.

I
desperately needed a plan, but had none. I couldn’t do a damned thing to
escape, with a knife against my throat. One thing was clear, though. Fair or
not, I never wanted to see John White again as long as I lived. Which I hoped
meant a long time.

It was a
long drive into Boulder, and Carver settled back in his seat in silence. I
considered my options: jumping out of the car, which wasn’t going to work;
crying hysterically, which might force Carver to think again about taking me
with him into the Humane Society. Even at that, Carver could simply claim I was
distraught over concerns for the dog. Most of the volunteers and staff at the
Humane Society knew me. Could I get out of harm’s way long enough to tell them
to call the police?

The drive
seemed both eternally long and far too short as we turned on 55th Street and
neared the building. This was a Saturday. The place would be packed with
families, children, looking at prospective new pets.

We pulled
into the parking lot and found the last available space in front of the
building. The long ride had only solidified my fear. I honestly wasn’t sure my
legs would work. If I got out and ran inside to get someone to alert the
police, Carver might kill John in his desperation to escape.