Finding Answers Read online

  “That’s sick,” Dani said.

  “It is,” I agreed. “And while he was sorry Vinnie had stumbled onto the murder scene, it gave him pleasure to watch me and Landon find the body. Our arrival was an added bonus to him, and our horror brought him satisfaction. He watched us in those first moments and then, satisfied with what he had done, he left.”

  Jack sat forward in his chair. “Did you see anything other than connecting with his thoughts? Height? Weight? Hair color? Anything?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I picked up on him at all. He wasn’t a victim. He wasn’t the one I was to save. He really shouldn’t even have been rattling around in my head.”

  “You linked to Pastor Brown, and Pastor Brown was linked to his killer in some way,” Dani said. “Maybe you picked up an echo.”

  “Maybe. I guess that would make sense, but the last thing I want are the thoughts of a vicious killer taking up residence in my mind.”

  ******

  I was mentally and emotionally exhausted by the time Yukon and I arrived at the little backwoods cabin where I lived with seven dogs, four cats, eight rabbits, and a blind mule named Homer. The first thing I did when entering through the front door was pick up Moose and hold him tightly to my chest. I buried my face in his thick fur and felt the weight of the day begin to melt away. Moose let me take comfort in his presence for about thirty seconds before he began struggling to get down.

  After experiencing the death of my sister, I was a physical and emotional wreck. I’m afraid I went just a bit off the deep end. Jake, who had been married to Val and had taken over as my guardian, tried to help me, as did everyone else in my life, but there was no comfort in the world that would undo the horror I’d experienced. And then I met Moose, a large Maine coon who wandered into Jake’s bar, where I worked and lived at the time. The minute I picked up the cantankerous cat and held him to my heart, the trauma I’d been experiencing somehow melted away. I won’t go so far as to say Moose has magical powers—at least not any more than I do—but channeling people in life-and-death situations is more draining than I can tolerate, and the only one who can keep me grounded is a fuzzy coon with a cranky disposition.

  I gave Moose one last squeeze, then set him down. While all I really wanted to do was pour myself a glass of wine, take a hot bath, and wash away the dirtiness I felt when I stopped to remember that the killer had not only been watching me but had taken joy in my horror, six of the seven dogs needed to be exercised and all the animals needed to be fed. Luckily, I didn’t have to deal with the long hours of darkness that enveloped us in the winter, so I fed the cats, then picked up my rifle and called all the dogs to follow me out into the sunny summer evening.

  Despite the fact that Yukon had already had quite a bit of exercise that day, he was still a puppy and, as such, had a lot of energy. Once I released the dogs to wander at will, he ran on ahead with Denali, my very protective wolf hybrid, and Shia, a husky pup who never seemed to get enough exercise no matter how often I took her out. Kodi and Juno, two Malamutes I’d adopted after their owner passed away, took up a position in the middle, while I followed with my three-legged dog Lucky and a mama retriever I’d adopted the previous Christmas, Honey.

  Normally, I enjoyed walking with my family of canines, but today I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being watched. Of course, Denali, who would have sensed an intruder, was trotting happily along with nary a care in the world except for the rabbit that had darted into a nearby shrub, so I figured my feeling of being watched was most likely all in my mind. I willed myself to relax and enjoy my ever-growing family.

  Most would consider seven dogs, four cats, eight rabbits, and a blind mule an excessive number of pets for one woman living in a very small cabin, but until recently, the town of Rescue hadn’t had an animal shelter to house the strays that found their way onto the streets each year. My only choice when I happened upon an animal in need of saving was to bring them home. I was happy to share what I had with the animals who wandered in and out of my life. But now, thanks to Harley Medford, an action flick superstar, local town hero, and all-around great guy, we’d opened a shelter with limited hours of service this past spring. My goal, and that of the entire committee, was to run a full-service shelter with twenty-four-hour staffing, but as with all ambitious projects, sometimes the best you could do was the best you could do for the time being. Still, it hadn’t been all that long ago that a shelter of any type had looked to be nothing more than a pipe dream.

  “I should call Harley when I get home,” I said to Lucky and Honey as we ambled along. “I think the movie he’s been working on should be wrapping up soon. I’ll be happy to have him back in Rescue for a while.”

  Honey barked once, as if agreeing with me. Harley was an actor in very high demand who spent most of his time either on location or at his home in Los Angeles, but he’d recently bought a home in Rescue where he intended to spend at least part of his time. At least that had been his plan when he bought it. In reality, he’d only managed to spend a few weekends in his new home since the previous December.

  As we neared the edge of my property, I paused. Denali could probably use a longer walk, but I still had dogs to feed and the mule and rabbits to see to. I was about to call the dogs back when both Lucky and Honey, who stood close to my side, began to growl. I lifted my rifle and looked around. It wasn’t uncommon to come across a predator, especially at this time of year. I called Kodi, Juno, Denali, Shia, and Yukon back to my side. All returned promptly except Denali. I was about to call for him specifically when I heard a rash of angry barking.

  “Denali, come,” I yelled at the top of my lungs before looking down at the other six dogs, who had nestled in tightly to surround me. I heard a yelp and then more barking. I instructed the six dogs to stay, then ran forward without stopping to consider the wisdom of doing so. I could hear a rustling in the brush ahead of me, which only caused me to run faster. I looked down to find Yukon running next to me. Without missing a step, I said, “I told you to stay.” Yukon ignored me, remaining glued to my side as I ran toward the sound of Denali’s angry growls. When I arrived at the edge of the heavily wooded area that served as a border for my property, I found him standing completely still while continuing to bark at something he sensed but I couldn’t see. His shoulder was bleeding, but he didn’t appear to be in any sort of mortal danger.

  “Denali, come,” I called again.

  Denali turned and looked at me. He barked five more times in rapid succession, then turned and limped toward me. I fell to my knees to assess the extent of his injury. He had a deep gash in one shoulder, but otherwise he seemed fine. I threw my arms around his neck and wept with relief. “You’re in so much trouble for not coming when I called you,” I scolded as I hugged him tighter. Denali whined, so I pulled back a bit. I put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s not too bad.” I turned and looked at Yukon, who was sitting next to us, yet continued to growl as well. One thing was for sure: my very protective bodyguards weren’t happy about whatever it was I couldn’t see. I tried to tell myself it was nothing, perhaps a wolf or a bear. Then I remembered the presence I’d felt by the lake earlier in the day and felt a chill run down my spine.

  I got up and walked slowly back to the cabin. Fortunately, Denali didn’t seem to be hurt badly. I’d take a closer look when we got home. If the injury warranted it, I’d call Kelly Austin, the local veterinarian, and ask if I could get him in for a quick look, but based on what I could see, the injury would probably be fine with a good cleaning.

  When we arrived at the spot where I’d told the dogs to stay, the rest of them were still waiting obediently. I greeted them by name, offering each a cuddle for a job well done, then headed back to the cabin.

  Inside, I took a look at Denali’s shoulder. On closer examination, I realized the wound had most likely been caused by a sharp branch as Denali ran toward whomever or whatever he’d intended to run off. I cleaned the cut, which had alr
eady stopped bleeding, then called Kelly, who offered to stop by for a quick look on her way home from the veterinary hospital. After I hung up, I fed all seven dogs. Juno and Kodi, who lived in the barn by choice, followed me out when I went to feed Homer and the rabbits. I’d tried to acclimate the huskies to the house when I’d first adopted them, but they’d been working dogs who had lived in a barn with their pack all their lives and preferred being outside to being cooped up inside.

  “Hey, Homer,” I said as I approached his stall. He couldn’t see me, but he did seem to enjoy it when I spoke to him. “Sorry I’m late. The kids and I had a bit of excitement while out on our walk. Nearly scared the beejeebies out of me.” I petted Homer on the face after I let myself into his stall. “Everyone is fine, though.” I began shucking out the soiled hay. “Yukon broke command when I told him to stay. Honestly, I’m not sure what to do about that.” I walked into a nearby stall to grab fresh hay to spread around. “On one hand, part of being a good S-and-R dog is to obey the instructions of your handler no matter what. The dog’s life as well as the lives of the people involved could very well depend on it.” I scattered the fresh hay around Homer’s stall, being sure to leave a thick layer of hay along the back, where he liked to sleep. “On the other, he’s still a pup, and I know he sensed I was in danger. I guess part of me is happy he felt the need to protect me.” I stood back and admired my handiwork, then headed to the bin where I stored Homer’s oats and veggies. “I guess I’ll talk to Jake about it to see what he suggests. The last thing I want to do is quell the natural instincts I identified as markers for being a good S-and-R dog in the first place.”

  I finished tucking Homer in and moved on to the rabbits. I spoke to them as I cleaned their cage and fed them, then said a final good night to Kodi and Juno, picked up the rifle I’d leaned against the wall near the door, and went back to the cabin.

  Kelly was pulling up in the drive when I came out. I didn’t know what I would do without the generous doctor, who not only was willing to make house calls for minor scrapes and scratches but extended me a 90 percent discount when I did have cause to bring one of my animals in for more serious illnesses and injuries.

  “Thank you so much for coming by.” I hugged the woman I also considered to be a friend. “Initially, I believed the scratch to be deeper than it actually is. Once I got it cleaned up, it didn’t look too bad. Still, better safe than sorry.”

  “It’s not a problem at all. I’m always happy to check in on your menagerie.”

  Denali loved Kelly and stood quietly while she checked the gash in his shoulder. She cleaned it out with a special wash and applied an ointment. “I don’t think he’ll bother the injury based on where it is, so we may be able to avoid the cone of shame,” Kelly said. “But keep an eye on it. I’ll leave the wash and ointment. Clean it with the wash and apply the ointment twice a day until they’re gone. If the injury becomes red or pussy, bring him in right away.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Kelly stood up from the kneeling position she’d taken to treat the wound. “Like I said, it’s not a problem. I stopped by the shelter today to look at that husky that was brought in last week. The antibiotics I prescribed don’t seem to be knocking out the infection in his abdomen the way I hoped. I think I’ll need to do surgery to clean everything out. I can do it tomorrow. Justine said she’d stop by to pick him up on her way in.” Justine was Kelly’s assistant and also served as a shelter volunteer.

  “Okay. That should be fine.”

  Kelly left, and I hunted around the kitchen for something to make for dinner. I hadn’t been to the market in weeks, so the pickings were slim. Settling on a can of soup, I emptied it into a bowl, then placed it in the microwave. It had been a long day and the glass of wine and hot bath I’d planned for later were looking better and better. Of course, I first had to clean cat boxes and answer the voicemails that had been left on my cell while Kelly had been here.

  Once the soup was hot, I settled in at my small dining table and listened to the first message.

  “Hey, Harm, it’s Chloe. There’s a rumor going around that you went out on a rescue today and found a body. Call me.”

  Chloe Rivers was my best friend, and I tended to share most of my life’s secrets with her, but I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to talk about Pastor Brown’s death yet. Officer Houston had asked the team not to say anything until they completed their initial investigation and contacted next of kin. Knowing Chloe, she wouldn’t let it go until I told her the entire story, so I decided to ignore the call and hope she would let it go until tomorrow.

  I took a slurp of my soup, then listened to the second message.

  “Harmony, it’s Harley. I’m sorry I missed you. I had a few minutes before I needed to head out for the evening, so I thought I’d call to say hi. I won’t be able to call you back; my agent wants me to attend a party that will probably drag on until the wee hours of the morning. I finished the film and hope to be home in a week or two. I’ll try calling you tomorrow if I can find a spare minute.”

  Dang. I really wanted to talk to Harley. I was sorry I’d missed his call. We’d become friends when he’d come back to Rescue the previous December to track down the man who’d killed his high school friend. Before that, I hadn’t seen him since his family moved away when he was a senior in high school. I’ll admit I’d been crushing on Harley ever since I could remember, but after he’d left Alaska, he’d become an international film star, which meant he was completely unobtainable no matter how nice and generous he’d turned out to be in my book. Glancing down at my unfinished bowl of soup, I realized it was time to move on to the wine-and-bath portion of the evening.

  ******

  Despite the bath, the wine, and my fatigue, sleep didn’t come easily. There were voices in my head, visions trying to find their way into reality, images I wasn’t yet willing to deal with. I closed my eyes tight, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours before I finally slipping into a restless slumber.

  The windowless room was dark and heavy with scents too overwhelming to process. The air was stale, the ground cold, hard, and unforgiving. The woman faded in and out of consciousness as terror strangled her with fear, pain, and hopelessness. The rough ropes cut into her wrists and thick tape covered her mouth. How long had she been here? How much longer could she survive? And did she even want to? She wanted to live, yes, but she knew that in death would come the peace she longed for.

  I screamed, flailing my arms against an unseen captor as I struggled myself awake. I was bathed in sweat, the bedclothes twisted and tangled around my body. I gasped for fresh air and I felt my lungs expand with the oxygen they’d previously been denied. I threw my blankets to the floor as if they were the enemy and then sat straight up as I struggled to overcome the fear that threatened to destroy me. Moose jumped onto my bed and burrowed his way into my lap, and all five house dogs ran around, barking fiercely at the unseen intruder that had caused their human so much distress.

  “It’s okay,” I said, hugging Moose to my chest and gasping for more air. “It’s okay,” I said again. Honey jumped onto the bed and burrowed her head under my arm, while Yukon, Denali, and Shia took defensive positions between the bed and the bedroom door with guttural growls and teeth bared.

  I took several more breaths. Slow, deep inhalations that chased the remainder of the nightmare from my mind. “It’s okay,” I said again, in as calm a voice as I could muster. Lucky was sitting next to the bed with her head resting on the mattress, while Honey climbed into my lap the minute Moose decided his job was done and jumped from the bed to the floor.

  “It was just a dream,” I assured the animals as I clicked on the bedside lamp. “Just a dream,” I repeated, as if to convince myself.

  I rolled my legs to the side of the bed and sat there for a moment while my heart rate slowed. Then I stood up. The room looked wrong somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I supposed a nightmare as severe as the one I’d just h
ad would leave a bit of confusion in its wake.

  I helped Lucky up onto the bed, then called the others up as well. Surrounded by five very concerned canines, I let them offer comfort as I chased away the last of the dream.

  After Val died, I’d had nightmares all the time. Explicit, gut-wrenching nightmares that had me living through Val’s death over and over again. The dreams had been so real, seeming more like visions than dreams, but with time and the love and patience of Jake and everyone else on the team, they had become less frequent and less intense.

  Tonight’s nightmare was just as intense as those, yet different. It wasn’t Val in the dark, damp room, and it wasn’t me. It was someone I didn’t know but had connected with. Was that even possible? I’d been connecting with people in need of help for years, but always when I was conscious and knew with a certainty that the images in my head were real, not dreams.

  Once the dogs had settled down, I got up and pulled on a robe. The dogs followed me as I wandered into the kitchen. I took a glass from the cupboard and poured myself a glass of water. If there was one thing you could say about the water in Rescue, it was as pure and cold as you were apt to find anywhere.

  After drinking the entire glass, I used a hand to wipe my damp hair from my face. It had been years since I’d wakened in a cold sweat. Sure, I had nightmares when a strong storm blew through, but my dream this evening had felt real, raw, and uncensored.

  Wandering back into the bedroom, I stripped the bed. Then I found new sheets in the linen closet and layered the blankets atop them. I grabbed fresh pajamas, then went into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. I wanted to numb my mind. To push away the images I’d seen, though the feeling of absolute horror I’d just experienced wasn’t likely to let go any time soon.