“I bet some of them do.”
“What about Stone Lake?” At Owen’s confused expression Chief Deb continued. “Big-city lawyer got sick of lawyering and bought Stone Lake Tavern. Built some cottages on the water.”
“He lets dogs stay in them?” Owen asked.
“Only when they bring along their duck-hunting owners to pay the bill.”
Stone Lake was more of a pond than a lake but ducks still floated on it.
“Sounds perfect. I’ll just pack up and be on my way. Don’t feel you have to wait for me. I promise not to touch—” He waved at the altar.
“Not so fast.” Chief Deb held up her hand like a crossing guard stopping traffic. “I have questions for you that I want answered before you go anywhere.”
Her shoulder mike squawked static. “Say again,” she ordered, moving into the kitchen, nearer to both an open window and town.
Chapter 5
Owen was acting strangely. Not that finding dead things in your house wouldn’t make anyone kind of off, but— “Why is it your house?” I blurted. “I thought it was your mother’s.”
“She signed everything over.” Owen’s gaze went to the mess and stuck there. “Lucky me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t trash the place.” His eyes came back to mine. “Did you?”
“Once upon a time, I might have.” I’d been hurt, angry, young, but I also hadn’t been here. By the time I’d returned to Three Harbors for good I was Dr. Carstairs, and I had better things to do.
“Doubtful,” he said. “You were always a Goody Two-shoes.”
He was right. The one rebellion I’d ever made was him. That had worked out so well, I hadn’t bothered with rebellion, or men, since. Animals were more my speed. They were honest about their feelings. If a dog loved you, you knew it. If it hated you, you knew that too. Pretty damn fast.
Chief Deb reappeared and beckoned me. I followed her into the kitchen. She tapped her shoulder mike. “Emerson’s asking for you. Duchess has been in labor for hours.”
As the only Emerson in Three Harbors was Emerson Watley, we were talking Duchess the cow, rather than Duchess the dog, or Duchess the duck. I did count all of them as patients.
“That’s not unusual. But … how did he know where I was?”
“Office is closed. Your cell isn’t getting a signal.”
So he’d called the cops. I wasn’t really surprised. It had happened before with other clients. Usually people called my parents first. Emerson might have, but they wouldn’t have been any help.
Often, if I knew I was going to an area where my phone would be useless I left word with dispatch. Three Harbors was a small town. Eventually, everyone called dispatch. Though this time I hadn’t left word because I hadn’t planned on a side trip. Thanks to the nightmare in the living room, the cops still knew where I was.
Deb’s mike hissed with static loud enough to crack a window if there’d been any left to crack. She leaned out the gaping hole in the wall in an attempt to get a better signal.
I joined her, standing as close as I could to hear the dispatcher—sounded like Candy Tarley, whose hair color fluctuated between cherry Gummy Bear and lemon Life Saver, depending on the month and her mood.
“He says—” Snap, crackle. “… doesn’t like—” Pop! “… looks of her.”
Emerson Watley had been a dairy farmer for over forty years, like his father before him, and his father before him, and knew what a calving cow should look like.
“Tell him I’ll be right there.”
“Okay, Becca.” Deb turned her head toward the mike, obviously waiting for the atrocious static to clear before she did so.
No one had called me Dr. Carstairs since I’d graduated. A few went with Doc Becca. Didn’t matter. As long as the checks they sent to Three Harbors Animal Care didn’t bounce—I had huge school loans—they could call me anything they wanted. I just needed them to call.
I had my hand on the front doorknob before I remembered I had no car. But Owen did.
The hall was empty. I walked back to the living room.
“Huh.”
The living room was empty too.
*
The instant Becca moved into the kitchen with the chief, Owen gimped as fast as he could to the front door. Thankfully Deb and Becca faced away from the hall, the chief leaning half out the window as she tried to hear what the person on the other side of the fizzy radio was saying.
Owen quietly opened the door. Reggie sat on the porch, right where he’d left him. Together they headed for the rental truck.