The sound of sirens grew louder, and I silently urged them to hurry.
Before it was too late.
Chapter Twenty-four
A half hour later, I walked through my back door, dragging the weight of the world behind me.
The ambulance was on the way to the hospital, and there wasn’t much I could do now but say a prayer that she’d survive.
I was still stunned by her admission that she’d killed Virgil. Her reaction to seeing Louella now made sense as did the overwhelming guilt I’d read in her energy, but what didn’t was the fact that Virgil had claimed it was a bald man who’d run him over.
Hyacinth certainly wasn’t bald, nor was she a man.
She had, however, previously owned a black SUV. She sold it in June when Haywood bought her the sports car. Just a month after Virgil had been hit.
I didn’t know what to make of it, and my brain was starting to hurt from trying.
It had been one seriously long day, and though I wanted to crawl into bed so badly, I had such little time left to help Haywood.
The last I’d seen of him, he’d been in the back of the ambulance with Hyacinth, driving down the road. I didn’t know when he’d be back. Whether it would be a few minutes, an hour . . . or, if I couldn’t figure out who killed him soon, a whole year.
I checked the note on the counter to see if Dylan had added to it. He had.
Still going over reports. Will be back as soon as possible. Is Louella okay?
I called for her as I walked into the living room. I found her curled into the corner of the couch, barely moving. I sat next to her. “I know you’re sad, but you have to eat. And drink.”
She blinked at me.
Roly and Poly watched over her from the back of the couch, and I gave them scratches before going back into the kitchen to prep a feast of varying dog food flavors.
Back on the couch, I used the dull side of a plastic knife as a fork and waved it in front of Louella’s little black nose.
It didn’t so much as twitch. I tried another flavor and another.
Nothing.
I set the paper plate on the coffee table and said, “Virgil loved you. He wants you to be happy. You need to eat.” I rubbed her head, and when she didn’t nip, I ran my hand down her spine as well.
And was horrified when the motion made some of her fur fall out. I petted her again, and more fur came off, leaving behind a bald patch. I reached for the cordless phone, didn’t even bother with calling the emergency number for the vet clinic. I dialed Doc Gabriel at home.
“Sorry for calling so late,” I said after Idella put him on the line. “It’s Louella. She’s not eating or drinking and her fur is falling out, and she can’t die after all this. She just can’t.”
“Carly, take a deep breath.”
I breathed.
“How soon can you get her to the clinic?” he asked.
“Five minutes at most.”
“I’ll meet you there,” he said. “It’s going to be okay, Carly. Louella’s tougher than she looks.” He hung up.
When I put the cordless down, I noticed that Roly and Poly had helped themselves to the plate of dog food. It was completely licked clean. Both sat on the coffee table, swishing their tails innocently. “I’ll deal with you two later,” I said.
Neither seemed scared by my words.
They knew me too well.
I thought about calling Dylan at work, but if he was deep in the middle of scouring those bank accounts, then I didn’t want to disturb him. If there was even the slimmest chance he could uncover Haywood’s killer in that information, I had to let him do his job. It might be the last hope Haywood had.
I added to the note on the counter, grabbed my Jeep keys, scooped up Louella, and headed out.
After loading her into the Jeep, I looked at her and said, “Don’t you dare die on me.”
She blinked. I figured that was her way of telling me to mind my own business.
Driving as fast as possible, I pulled into the vet clinic four minutes later.
A cold wind whipped my hair around as I ran to the passenger door to grab Louella, carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke from a nearby fireplace.
The smell made my stomach churn with bad memories as I cuddled Louella close to my chest and ran for the door.
Doc was waiting for us and took Louella out of my arms. He rushed her back to a treatment room and set her on the table. “I haven’t seen her like this since Virgil died.”
“Apparently she didn’t like me as much as I thought.” I bit my thumbnail as I paced nervously.
I didn’t want to talk about Virgil. Not right now.
As he went about checking her over, pulling gently on her skin, looking in her mouth and eyes, he said, “Sit down, Carly, before I have to treat you, too.”
I sat.
The building was eerily quiet this time of night, even with the occasional bark from the kennel.
“You’ve had quite the night,” he said. “Our phone has been ringing off the hook. The Harpies are in a twitter between you asking questions and what happened to Hyacinth . . .”