I felt calmer, but no nearer to a solution. I was past caring whether the answer came from my rusty psychic sense or from that intuitive flash of insight that I sometimes felt when working a case. My “gift” was not in the habit of helping out when I wanted answers. It was more likely to give me riddles and scary visions. I still had questions without answers and was unsure how to proceed. I was suspicious of Milo, Tish was acting strangely, and I didn’t know whether Gary was capable of killing his ex-wife. And, after my mistake in the spring, I realized I no longer trusted my instincts.
I packed the gun and targets away. The rutted trail that led to my dad’s cabin was barely passable in a car. The Jeep bounced along through the trees and I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled out onto the highway. I glanced in my rearview mirror and thought I saw a bald man walk into the woods. But when I slowed and turned my head to look, he had disappeared.
13
I arrived home to chaos. My mother’s angry voice came from inside the house. Dad and Seth met me in the front yard. I asked what was going on inside.
“I was on the computer, I got distracted . . .” Seth began.
“It looks like a 10-80 in there. I’m going back to work.”
Dad had every Wednesday afternoon off, so I knew that was a lie. He shook his head and mumbled something about the “usual insanity” before slamming his car door.
Seth looked to me for a translation.
“10-80 is a bomb explosion,” I said.
Seth nodded. “That’s about right. I’m really sorry,” Seth said.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Not me—Tuffy.”
Seth and I took the steps two at a time and followed the shrieks toward the living room.
“Look at this room! It’s ruined!” my mother said, her arms out to encompass the wreckage.
Tuffy was nowhere to be seen, but his handiwork was evident throughout the room. The throw pillows were scattered everywhere, some of them gutted, their fiberfill innards spilling onto the carpet. Fringe had been ripped from its ribbon and the strands were draped on the furniture like tinsel on an overly adorned Christmas tree.
“Now, Rose, you know he’s distraught. You’re scaring him. I won’t be able to find out why he did this if you don’t calm down,” Vi said. She was approaching my mother while patting the space in front of her as if trying to calm the very air around her.
Unfortunately, my mother spotted Seth and me standing in the doorway.
“You two are responsible for this.” She pointed a shaky finger at us. Seth stepped behind me.
“Mom, what happened?”
“Tuffy happened, that’s what. Where have you been? You should see the bathroom. It’s like a band of drunken teenagers got lost in there and tried to TP the entire room.”
“Where’s Tuffy now?” I asked, glancing around the room.
“Who knows? He disappeared as soon as I discovered what he’d done in here.”
“You mean as soon as you started screaming,” Vi said.
“Nana Rose, I’ll clean it up. I should have locked Tuffy in my room,” Seth said from over my shoulder.
That statement left me speechless for a moment.
“You will?” I asked.
Seth nodded.
“Let me go find Tuffy. I’m pretty sure I know where he is,” Seth said, and headed toward the bathroom.
We traipsed after him.
The sea of white assaulted us as we peeked into the room.
“What the f—heck?” I said. I glanced at Seth.
He looked at me with flat eyes. “Really? F—heck?”
I shrugged.
Seth bent to one knee by the toilet and talked quietly. After a moment, a quivering ball of fur emerged from behind the toilet bowl and rushed into Seth’s arms.
“Well, I’ll help you clean up, Seth,” Vi said. “Let’s get Tuffy settled in my living room, and we can fix up this room and Rose’s living room right quick.”
The three of them scooted past my mother and disappeared down the hall.
My mother’s face was returning to its normal shade of pale, which made me feel better.
I knew what would calm her down.
“Why don’t we have some tea, Mom?”
“Okay.” She nodded slowly. “Then I probably ought to help them clean up, too. They’ll never do it right.”
Over our cups of tea, my mother told me about Tuffy’s strange behavior that afternoon. He’d begun barking at the wall in the living room, cocking his head and looking up, wagging his tail a little. She had gone to get Vi to show her. They had gotten involved in a conversation about the neighbor’s cat and some gossip about their teenage daughter sneaking out at night. This made me grateful we’d never had a tattletale cat when I was growing up. By the time they went back out to find Tuffy, he had destroyed two rooms of the house.
“Vi says it must have been Sara visiting Tuffy. Dogs can see Spirit better than we can. Sometimes it scares them. But really, did he need to shred every pillow in the room?” She tucked a stray hair back into what was usually a smooth bun.
I felt a cold tingle run down my back when she mentioned Sara’s ghost. I thought back to that morning when I had felt something strange and Seth had said Tuffy was scared. Sensing, seeing, or talking to ghosts was not one of my gifts, thank goodness. But I had felt something. . . .
“I don’t know, Mom. He’s a strange little dog. He’s always acted afraid of me, every time he’s seen me. The only person besides Sara I’ve ever seen him respond to is Seth.”
“Well, at least we don’t have that small pony of Tish’s to deal with anymore.”