Unforgivable (37 page)

Silas stood in the shadows of the oaks and watched her. He felt her agony and confusion, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. She obviously didn’t want to be with him, didn’t want the comfort he could provide. She didn’t want that comfort, because she knew she’d break down and cry if he so much as touched her. She was too close to the edge.

He’d known she was heading to hang out with the ghosts, so he’d given her time to get there before walking over. He slid down to the base of the tree and stretched out. She wasn’t crying at least. He wouldn’t have been able to stay away from her if she’d been crying.

Now she was sitting among the dead. He could only see the top of her head where patches of sunlight washed over her. He’d give her time alone, and when she left, he’d make sure she didn’t know he’d ever been there. For now, he watched over her. She was right; that was his role. He’d loved Katie from a distance for most of his life. He wasn’t sure he knew how to love her close up. 

CHAPTER  20

The next morning, Katie and Ben drove to the hospital as usual. 

“I looked for you,” Ben said for the fiftieth time. “I drove all over the place looking. So did your buddy, Silas. But even he gave up after a while. He parked by the cemetery for hours. Guy’s spooky, just like they say.”

She lifted her head at that revelation. He’d been there, watching over her, just like always. 

“Say something, Katie. You can’t just not talk about this.” He let out an exasperated sigh at her continued silence.

Ben had come in later that evening, once she’d gotten home. And amazingly, he’d tried to convince her it was all some big misunderstanding. 

“Gary was looking for you, too. Maybe you were right to be wary about him.”

Now
he believed her! She got out of the van without commenting. When they’d listened to the radio, he had tried to talk to her about the fires that were moving closer. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, and the winds had picked up. Residents of the Flatlands were warned to be on the alert and monitor the radio for further reports.

She had barely turned on the computers and coffee maker when their first customer pushed open the door: Silas.

He was carrying The Boss, which was no small feat. She rushed forward and held the door open.

“What happened?” she asked, taking in Silas’s disheveled appearance and the dog’s short, panting breaths.

“He went out this morning and came back like this.”

“Ben!” She led the way to the examining room, and Silas laid The Boss on the metal table. The dog shuddered and twitched, and she saw the pain in his brown eyes. When she looked up at Silas, she saw the pain there too as he watched his dog.

Ben walked in and visibly stiffened when he saw the two of them together. 

Katie took The Boss’s vitals. “There’s something wrong with the dog. Silas, how long was he outside?”

“About an hour. He dragged himself to the front steps. I don’t know when he started acting like this.”

“It looks like he got into something, or maybe it’s a snake bite.” She met his gaze. “It doesn’t look good, Silas.”

“Do you want us to proceed with treatment?” Ben asked Silas.

Silas met Katie’s eyes. He knew the real question was, try to save him or let him die? “Proceed.”

“Then you’ll have to leave,” Ben said in a cold voice.

After a pause, Silas left the room. Ben checked the dog’s mouth while she checked for signs of snakebite. When she found nothing, she started an IV drip of lactated Ringer’s solution. She and Ben worked well together in cases like this. They both maintained a calm, efficient speed. He showed more compassion this time as he checked the dog. The Boss was having a hard time taking a breath. His mouth stayed slightly open and his tongue lolled out. Something bothered her, but of course, everything about his condition bothered her. She was about to induce vomiting when the dog’s vital signs started dropping. They were losing him.

“Silas!”

“What are you doing?” Ben hissed.

Silas appeared in the doorway with a worried expression.

“Be the last face he sees,” she whispered, and he rushed to the table.

He positioned his face in front of The Boss’s and massaged his paws. “Goodbye, buddy,” he whispered.

The Boss closed his eyes, shuddered one last time, and slipped away.

Ben glared at her over the improper procedure. 

An apology, an explanation, hovered on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she looked at Silas and said, “I’m sorry.”

The pain was evident in his features, and she felt it so fiercely, she wondered if the connection between them went both ways now. It was probably her pain.

“Do you know what happened to him?” Silas was looking at Katie, but slid a glance to Ben, who answered in a clinical voice, “My guess would be an internal bleed-out from a ruptured splenic tumor. I could do an autopsy, but it’s expensive and it doesn’t change the outcome. He was an old dog.” He gently closed the dog’s eyes.

She couldn’t help but reach out and touch Silas’s arm. “You did everything you could.”

He stared at her hand, a raw mixture of pain and need in his eyes. Had anyone ever held him when he’d hurt? When he’d lost Celine? He’d probably never been held or comforted, which was why he was reluctant to allow anyone to do it now. He pulled away from her touch as though he’d read her mind.

Her heart melted when he walked out carrying his dog. The Boss’s legs jiggled with each step Silas took as he headed to his vehicle. He returned a few minutes later and paid the bill in cash. Ben had already escorted the next patient into the examination room.

“Was it a bleed out, Katie?” Silas asked quietly.

“I don’t know.”

Ben returned to stand guard as Katie returned his change. “We can cremate him if you want,” he said.

Silas didn’t even answer, just turned around and walked out. She wanted to go after him, to give him a hug and make him accept it.

“Katie, I need you to prepare Mrs. Turner’s cat’s vaccinations.”

“Was it a bleed out, Ben?” she asked, stopping him as he returned to the examination room. It didn’t feel right.

“That’s what I said it was, didn’t I?” His eyes looked cold and as gray as the steel of the examining table. 

In her mind, she saw the dog panting, and then The Boss turned into a raccoon pleading with her to help it. It was the same panting action, the same pain in his eyes. “He was poisoned. Just like the raccoon.” Cold dread filled her chest as though someone had poured cement mix down her throat.

“Maybe he got into the stuff I left for the raccoons.”

“That dog has never been near our house. He stays near Silas at all times.”

Ben looked right at her and said, “Get the vaccinations ready.” He returned to the room. “All right, Mrs. Turner, we’ll have Fuzzy ready for another year in no time at all.” His voice was once again warm.

Her hands shook as she readied the shots. Ben gently stroked the white cat while he spoke with Mrs. Turner. Then it was Katie’s turn to hold the cat while he administered the shots.

“Weigh her and see what we’ve got,” he asked in his nicest voice. She set the cat on the table and noted the cat’s weight. “Up a pound and a half. Might want to think about putting her on a senior diet now that she’s slowing down.” He gave the cat a friendly pet. “Don’t want her to get to be called Tubby.”

Mrs. Turner chuckled and patted her own sizable stomach. “Fuzzy’s not the only one who needs to go on a diet.” She settled up her bill, and Ben hoisted the bag of cat food.

“Did I ever tell you that my brother is a veterinarian? He’s been practicing in Macon for thirty years. You kind of remind me of him, you know, when he was younger.”

“That’s very nice,” Ben said with a sweet smile. “What’s his name?”

“Ken Buchanan. Do you know him?”

“Don’t think so.”

“He’s dying of testicular cancer. I’m going to miss him. It’ll be nice to have you around as a reminder.”

He patted her shoulder. “I’d be glad to be your surrogate brother, Mrs. Turner.”

“I’m going to Macon tomorrow for their annual Independence Festival. It’ll probably be his last one.”

Their conversation trailed off as the door closed behind them. Katie tried to remember where the box of rat poison had been recently. When he stepped back inside, she was waiting for him.

“Ben, we need to talk.”

His expression was as open and friendly as it had been for Mrs. Turner. “Yes?”

“Good morning, Dr. Ferguson,” Mrs. Lane said as she guided her German Shepherd into the waiting area. “Thanks for getting us in this morning. With this fire coming in, and possibly having to put poor Duchess in a shelter, I want her vaccinations up to date.”

Ben guided Mrs. Lane and her dog into the exam room. She was going to confront him about The Boss. It wouldn’t matter whether he confessed or not—it was over between them.

Even though The Boss had been old, even though he’d been a hassle to take on his travels, his loss left a hole inside Silas. He’d gone home to give him a proper burial.

Silas would never forget Ben’s sense of smug satisfaction and vengeance when his dog died. Ben had had something to do with The Boss’s death. As strongly as he felt Ben’s malevolence, he felt Katie’s compassion. She’d wanted to comfort him, to protect him from pain the way he tried to protect her. As much as he’d wanted to accept that comfort, he’d wanted to run from it, too.

He searched the yard for the right place to inter The Boss. He found the perfect spot nowhere near his house, but at the old cemetery. The place hadn’t been touched in years, evident by the sprawling vines and the broken, rusted fences. Something about the place comforted Katie, and in an odd way, comforted him, too. No one would ever notice the new grave.

The smoke was getting thicker as he chose a spot toward the back of the cemetery and started digging. The smothering heat, combined with the smoke, broke him out in a sweat within minutes. He stripped off his shirt and continued, wishing The Boss had been the size of a small poodle rather than a small horse. He kept trying to tell himself this was for the better, remembering the pain the dog had been in. His chest tightened when he positioned him in the hole. He thought of his dog’s devotion, of the way he licked Silas’s hand in gratitude when he’d massaged his paws. And he realized something: he’d accepted The Boss’s love. From a dog, not a person, but he hadn’t felt strange about it.

He blinked away the moisture in his eyes as he tossed in the first shovel full of dirt. The orange dirt mingled with the dog’s brown coat, and Silas had the urge to brush it away. He’d always kept The Boss clean. He dug the shovel into the pile of dirt and deposited the second load. He almost expected the dog to get up and shake it off. He didn’t move. He’d never move again.

He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and continued until he couldn’t see The Boss anymore. When he patted the dirt flat, he said a prayer for a good dog’s soul. He hoped he was wrong about Ben being responsible. He hoped for Ben’s sake. And for Katie’s sake. Any man who’d kill a dog for spite could hurt the woman who wanted to leave him.

Silas had wondered about his father, whether his joy of killing animals and slapping his kid around could transform into something more violent. Perhaps that started his fixation on what made someone cross the line.

He was a boy again, feeling his father’s joy at the kill, feeling his finger being squeezed over the trigger. Through the recesses of his mind, he saw the barn his father used for slaughter. Something kick-started his heart. For years, he’d pushed it from his mind, probably like Katie pushed away sunsets. Now he forced his thoughts around it, picturing the weathered and moldy exterior, the dim interior. 

The barn. The eerie feelings it elicited weren’t only from his childhood memory. More recent events colored it blood red—The Ghost’s feelings of perverse joy.

 The memory of those other feelings lured him back to his vehicle. It was time to put them to rest one way or the other. It was time to face the truth no matter what face that truth wore.

He called Katie on the way out, then concentrated on the woods bordering the highway. That old road was probably indiscernible now, but he had a feeling he’d know it when he saw it.

“That dog was poisoned. I need to know how he got into poison.”

It was late afternoon before the deluge of last-minute vaccinations ceased momentarily. 

Ben had just pulled off a pair of rubber gloves and tossed them into the trash. “Honey, I think you’ve been way too preoccupied with poison lately. You’ve been paranoid and argumentative. I’ve been as patient as a saint through all this, but how much is one man supposed to take? You’re accusing someone who saves animals for a living of poisoning a dog. Do you realize how silly that sounds? How paranoid? Poor creature probably stumbled onto some poison that was out, or maybe even a plant. I don’t like Silas, I admit that. He’s been causing trouble between us since he came back to town. I’d never hurt any dog, even … that man’s dog. Dogs never turn their backs on people. They don’t shun love, mislead, or hurt. They’re loyal to a fault.” He took her hands in his. “I love you, Katie. Even though you’re putting me through a lot of pain and insecurity, I love you. How can I prove that to you?”

She looked into his eyes and saw love and warmth and earnestness there. It looked as real as the white walls around them and the rack of dog food behind him. It was as real as the look of cold hatred he’d worn when he’d spoken to Silas about The Boss.

“Give me a divorce.”

He started to open his mouth, but he’d clearly not expected her to say that. “What?”

She wasn’t sure what he’d do, but she’d already started it. “You heard me. You say I’ve changed. Well, I’ve got one up on you. I’m not sure I ever knew you. Your whole past was a lie. Your present is a lie. And more than that, I don’t know who I am. I’ve always been Ben Ferguson’s wife or girl or something. But Ben Ferguson is an old man I’ve never met!”

He tried to grab her hands again. “Honey, you’re blowing this all out of proportion. You know why I lied about my past. I thought you of all people would understand.”