“Well, that’s good, because I’m happy.” Still, I feel a heavy, disappointed feeling spread over me, which is strange. What did I want him to say?
“Sorry if I stepped over the line.”
“No. You were just being honest. I appreciate your love advice, Doctor.” I give a small laugh, and glance up at the clock. He’s watching me, trying to see into my eyes, but I can’t meet his gaze. “I have to go,” I say. “Angus is waiting.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
I force my face into a smile. “I’m fine. Really. There’s just a lot going on right now.” I gather my purse and coat and walk toward the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”
I can feel him watch me trudge through the snow to my car, but I don’t look back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SOPHIE
I wake slowly, my legs pinned to the bed, and kick out in panic. The weight moves and I hear Angus jump onto the floor with a loud thud, then sprawl across the carpet. I roll over and stare at the ceiling, blinking my eyes and yawning. Tonight is the party at Jared’s. It’s also the day my dad thinks I’m going over to his house. Why didn’t I just tell him I wasn’t going?
Because he didn’t give me a chance.
In the end I decided not to say anything to Mom about how he admitted he left the CD. The cops will have to figure it out on their own. I’m not going to turn in my own dad. It’s too weird and stressful. Maybe the party tonight will help. I need to blow off some steam. Or maybe the party is the problem. Jared and I have only been “together” for a few days. Is this like making it public? Will he want us to hang out with his friends all the time? I don’t have anything in common with those girls. They’re the beautiful happy crowd, where everyone lives in nice houses with two parents and they don’t have to worry about anything.
I think about canceling and saying I’m sick, but then remember what happened in his bedroom the last time I was there, and feel warm all over. It makes me think of yellow ochre, or maybe deep cadmium yellow. Something bright and beautiful and golden.
I want to kiss him again, but I’m nervous he might want to have sex and I don’t think I’m ready. It’s not like I want to be a virgin forever, but Delaney said it really hurts the first time. Nothing about that sounds fun. My phone vibrates on my night table. Jared.
Want to come over early and help set up?
I’m relieved about the idea of going over before the party. This way I won’t have to show up by myself—Delaney has gone skiing with her family.
K. What time?
Pick you up around 12?
This means we’ll be spending almost the whole day together. I’m excited, but scared, too. What if we find out we don’t like each other that much after all? I think it over, my thumb still hovering over the keyboard. Then I notice he’s typing again.
Hey, don’t leave a guy hanging!
I laugh and text, OK, see you soon.
* * *
Two hours later, Jared’s sitting on my couch and looking around at our colorful living room with its mismatched furniture and paintings. It’s strange seeing him here—like an actor who walked onto the wrong movie set and doesn’t realize yet that he doesn’t belong. We’re like a box of Crayola crayons, and he’s willow charcoal, all velvety shadow and interesting layers.
“This is nice,” he says.
“Thanks. It must seem really small to you.”
“No. It feels like a real home.”
“I guess.” Angus is bumping his head into Jared’s legs and dropping his wet ball onto his lap. “Sorry,” I say as I try to drag Angus away from him, which is kind of like trying to move a duffel bag full of cement blocks.
“I don’t mind. I like dogs.” He may not mind, but as far as I’m concerned, three’s a crowd. I get a bone from the kitchen and Angus instantly loses all interest in Jared.
My cell phone rings. I glance at the call display—it’s Andrew. I drop the phone on the coffee table—as if he can look through it and see me ignoring him.
“Who was that?” Jared says.
“My dad. He wants me to come over, but I’m not going.”
“I thought you told him you didn’t want to see him again?”
“I did, but I don’t think my dad takes no for an answer.”
Jared reaches out and holds my hand. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out the other day.”
“It’s okay,” I say, feeling my face get hot. I was hoping he wouldn’t bring it up.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No. That’s kind of the problem. I liked it.”
“Oh.” He looks happy, then shifts his weight and leans closer to me on the couch. Angus gets off his bed, rams his head between us, and whines for attention.
“I’ll put him outside.” Angus doesn’t want to go and I have to bribe him with dog cookies. When I come back inside, my cell is ringing again. Jared hands me my phone.
“It’s your dad. He texted.”
I feel weird that he looked at my call display. Did he read my texts? Maybe he only glanced at them because he was curious—and concerned. I would probably do the same.
I shove my phone into my pocket without looking at the text and sit back down on the couch. I don’t like thinking about my dad sitting at home waiting for me to call, but more than that, I’m angry. Why can’t he give me some space? “I wish he’d leave me alone.”
“You sure you don’t want to see him? He seems upset. I can drive you.”
I shake my head. “He promised to stay away from my mom, and then he went and put a present on her car window!”
“That’s kind of romantic.”
“It’s freaky.” I give him a look.
“Sorry. I guess I just understand how you can like someone that much.”
“What if the person doesn’t like you back?”
“Then he should definitely give up. But I wouldn’t give you up that easily.” I know he’s just trying to flatter me, but why doesn’t he get that what my dad is doing is wrong?
He holds my hand again, rubs small circles on my palm with his thumb. “I’m really glad you’re coming tonight. It will be fun. There’ll be booze and drugs going around, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want, okay?”
“Your mom told my mom it’s a dry party.”
He laughs. “She tells all the parents that, but they leave us alone downstairs and we just do whatever we want.”
“Wow.”
He shrugs. “My parents don’t care what I do as long as I don’t make them look bad in front of their friends. My dad’s been giving me beer since I was like thirteen.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. He has lots of prescription pills and he knows I take them sometimes, but he never gives me shit. He just doesn’t want me to tell my mom about all his affairs.”
Holy crap. So his family isn’t as perfect as I thought. I guess I’m not the only one who has a messed-up dad. I should probably feel bad for Jared, but for some reason I’m relieved.
“Doesn’t that bother you?” I say. I’m a little freaked out to hear that Jared takes prescriptions, but it can’t be anything too serious. He doesn’t seem like he’s a drug addict.
“Not really. I didn’t like it when he was messing around with my babysitter. I walked in on them when they were doing it. He bought me my first camera after that.”
I stare at him, stunned. “That’s just so horrible.”
“I haven’t told any of my friends.” He’s looking at me intently. “But I trust you.”
“I’ll never tell anyone,” I say. He leans closer, gives me a gentle kiss on the mouth. I relax into the couch and we kiss for a few minutes. This time he’s slower, more cautious, and doesn’t put his hand under my shirt. After a while, he raises his head and smiles down at me.
“You ready to go to my house?” He glances at his watch. “My mom is probably waiting.”
“Sure. I just have to let my mom know.” I fire off a quick te
xt, get her reply almost instantly. Don’t forget the laundry! Right. “I have to put some clothes in the dryer.”
“Can I use your bathroom?”
When I’m finished with the laundry, Jared’s not in the living room yet. I wait on the couch until he comes down the hall, then I say, “I have to grab my clothes for later.”
“Okay. I’ll warm up my car.”
I walk down the hall to my bedroom, noticing that my mom left her door open. She’s been trying to keep it closed so Angus doesn’t climb onto her bed. I shut the door.
I pack my things and grab my makeup from the bathroom. I’m not sure how the other girls are going to dress, so I bring a few options, my favorite black tunic I always wear with purple leggings, couple of skirts. Before I leave the house, I set the alarm and lock the door.
Jared’s car is running, but he’s not inside. I wait by the passenger door, confused. Finally he comes around from behind the house. “Sorry,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I had to pee.”
“Again?”
“Nerves.” He’s looking really embarrassed now.
“What are you nervous about?”
“You,” he says. “I want you to have fun tonight.”
I’ve never had anyone my age care so much about what I think. It makes me feel excited and pleased and confident. I smile. “Then I guess you better be really nice to me.”
“I plan on it.”
He opens my door with a flourish and I slide behind the seat, ignoring my phone, which is ringing in my pocket again. I’m not going to let my dad ruin this night for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LINDSEY
I slowly push my cart around the produce section at the grocery store, my shoulders and hands aching after cleaning two houses. They’re both having parties tonight and were willing to pay extra. I’d rather have gone straight home, but we ran out of milk and coffee this morning. I drank almost a whole pot trying to wake up from a restless night. Why was Marcus asking about Greg? It was as though he was trying to find out if we were going to break up, but that shouldn’t matter to him—unless he has feelings for me. The idea makes me pause in the middle of the aisle, staring at a row of salad dressings. Do I want him to have feelings for me?
I think about calling Jenny, but part of me is afraid to hear what she has to say. She might tell me that I’m way off base, or encourage me, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I know she likes Greg—she thinks he’s a fun guy who doesn’t take himself, or life, too seriously—but she also likes Marcus. She told me once after a meeting that some very lucky woman was going to end up with him one day. I’d said I’d be happy for him, and she gave me a look.
I really don’t feel like going to the New Year’s Eve party at the church tonight when I’m so confused about my conversation with Marcus. I wish I hadn’t agreed to bring an appetizer. I planned on making an artichoke dip, but when I wheel past a display case of assorted spreads and dips, I toss a couple into my cart and add a bag of chips and a tray of vegetables. Screw it. I’ll put them in a nice dish and no one will ever know the difference.
My arms full of grocery bags, I walk into my house and dump them on the counter. Angus usually meets me at the door. Maybe he’s sleeping in Sophie’s bed.
“Angus?” I call out. “I’m home!” Silence. I walk down the hallway. He still doesn’t come running. Did Sophie leave him outside? Tentacles of fear begin to wind their way around my ankles, pulling me faster into the house. Finally I find him sprawled on the couch in the living room, his legs hanging over the edge and his head on the pillow. “There you are!”
He doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head. I rush over to him—and step in something wet. Vomit. Now I notice the other piles of vomit on the rug. I place my hand on Angus’s rib cage, and feel a surge of relief when his chest rises. I press my fingertips under his armpit, remembering something about that being where you check for a dog’s pulse. It seems really fast, but I’m not sure what a normal heart rate is for dogs.
“Angus?” I give him a gentle shake. When he still doesn’t wake up, I grab my cell out of my pocket, look up the number for the emergency vet clinic, and describe his symptoms. “He’s thrown up everywhere.” I take a closer look at one of the piles. “There are hunks of meat.” I crouch down and notice a tiny white fragment. “I think he ate some pills.”
“Better bring him in right away—and the vet will want to see the pills.”
“He’s huge. I don’t know how I’m going to get him into my car.”
“Can you make a stretcher on a blanket? Or ask a neighbor for help?”
“I’ll try a blanket.” I run into the kitchen, grab a plastic bag, and collect a few spoonfuls of vomit. Then I take a quick check around the house. What did he get into? No cupboards are open. Someone had to have drugged him. Not someone. Andrew.
It takes all my strength to slide Angus onto my homemade stretcher and drag him outside, then down the stairs. I wrench my back trying to lift him into the car. I sprint to my neighbor’s house through the woods. I’m hot and sweaty and frantic. I imagine poison spreading through Angus’s body every second, flowing into his liver and kidneys and brain. I can’t let him die.
My neighbor, a retired schoolteacher named Tom, has a passion for fishing and is thankfully outside installing downriggers on his boat. When he looks up, I shout, “I need help!” over the noise of his tools. He follows me back to my house and we load Angus into my car.
I drive fast on the snowy roads, too fast, but we make it to the clinic ten minutes later. Dr. Langelier checks Angus over, gently opening his mouth, examining his gums, lifting his eyelids. There was a different doctor when I brought Angus in for his post-adoption checkup. I’d felt like she was too young, too unsure of herself, but I’m soothed by this doctor’s snow-white hair, his calm manner and deep voice. My pulse settles and I take some breaths. It’s okay. Angus is in good hands. I glance down at his sweet face. Just get through this, buddy, and I’ll take you for all the walks and swims and car rides you want for the rest of your doggie life.
“Do you know what he got into?” the veterinarian says.
“I saw bits of pills in his vomit.” I hand him my little bag and he surveys the contents. “My daughter and I don’t take prescriptions—and we don’t have any pills like this. He also had hunks of wieners or sausages in his vomit. I think someone tossed them into our backyard.”
“How long ago do you think that might have been?”
“I don’t know. My daughter was home until around one.”
“Did she notice anything wrong with his behavior?”
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet, but she would have told me.”
“He probably ingested the substance in the last couple of hours—it would’ve hit his bloodstream fast. Let’s get this guy in the back right away and get him on an IV and run some tests. We’ll give him activated charcoal to bind what’s in his bowels so it gets passed out.” He picks up the plastic bag. “We’ll see if we can figure out what he was given.”
“Will he be okay?”
“Hopefully you found him in time, but we’re going to have to monitor his kidney and liver function to make sure they aren’t damaged. We’ll give him IV fluids to flush his body and treat his symptoms as they appear. I want to run a CBC—complete blood count—to see if it affected red to white cells, and monitor clotting time.”
I look down at Angus, stroke the soft fur around his neck. “I hate leaving him.”
“We’ll take good care of him. Someone will be in the clinic all night.”
I fight back tears. “He’s such a great dog. He doesn’t deserve this.”
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Try to go home and get some rest. We’ll call as soon as we know what he was given, and then you can report it to the police.”
“Thanks.” I lean over, whisper in Angus’s ear. “I’ll come back and get you really soon.”
* * *
When I get
home, I call Parker and tell her what happened. “I know it was Andrew. He’s angry because Sophie isn’t seeing him anymore.”
“I’ll do a trace on his phone and see if he was near your house today. Did you keep any samples from the vomit? Any of the meat pieces?” Parker sounds just as furious as me, her voice tight, but her thoughts are more focused. I feel my grip on the phone loosen. She believes me.
“He threw up everywhere in the house, but I haven’t looked in the yard yet.”
“I’ll come over and check it out.”
While I wait for Parker, I take a walk around the house to make sure Angus didn’t throw up anywhere else. When I enter my room, I take a quick stock of everything. Have the books on my nightstand been moved? My bedding is slightly rumpled, but that could have been from this morning.
I walk over to my desk. Nothing seems out of place, but I have that sick roll in my stomach. I try to think it through logically. The alarm was still set when I got home and the doors were locked. When Greg installed the dog door for Angus we changed the alarm to the pet setting. Anyone taller would’ve tripped the alarm. It’s impossible. I’m just scaring myself.
When Parker arrives she doesn’t find any remnants of food in the yard, but I’m not surprised. Angus would gulp down anything Andrew threw over the fence.
“I’ll find out what his cell records tell us,” she says. “We’ll know if he was in the area.”
“Can’t you arrest him?”
“We still have to prove he was the one who did it, and that will be a lot harder if there are no prints or other evidence. Let’s see how this plays out. I’ll keep you posted.”
After she’s gone, I grab my supplies and clean up the mess. I feel so bad that Angus was suffering all alone in the house, probably scared out of his mind—and I hate Andrew like never before. After I’m finished cleaning, I take a shower to wash off the medicinal smell of the clinic and the lingering scent of dog vomit. I stand under the warm spray for a long time.