having no pets to greet me.
Now, I just wanted to head straight for bed. I’d picked up a salad at a fast-food restaurant’s drive-through, though, so I decided to eat first.
I turned on the TV and sat through the beginning of a cop show, chewing on the irony of it along with my dinner. Then I pulled my BlackBerry out of my pocket and used its online function to view news about what had happened at HotRescues, and finally checked it for anyone whose call I should return.
My friend Carlie’s number, my kids’, parents’, brother’s, and Nina’s, appeared with a bunch I didn’t recognize. Some of the unknowns had called a few times.
I tried returning Carlie’s call first. As far as I knew, she was still on her trip to the east to film a segment for her pet health TV show. It was three hours later there—after eleven o’clock—so she’d probably have her cell phone turned off, but I could leave a message.
To my surprise, she answered. “Can’t talk now,” she whispered. “In a meeting about what we’re doing tomorrow. But”—I heard voices in the background, then Carlie said—“you’ve been a busy girl. In the news here. You okay?”
“Yes, but—”
“You kill him?”
“No!” I practically shouted.
“I figured. Talk to you soon.” She hung up.
I stared at my BlackBerry for nearly a minute, willing Carlie to call back, but, of course, she didn’t. Sighing, I next checked in with family, although I’d spoken with all of them earlier, too. I again assured them all I was doing fine. Then I returned Nina’s call.
“Everything okay?” I asked. I knew she was doing her regular volunteer work at a city shelter that night.
“Fine. But Captain Matt Kingston got in touch with me. He said he’s left you several phone messages, but you haven’t called him back.”
“I’ve only returned a few other calls besides to you,” I told her. “And none was to him. Which one’s his number?”
She told me, and I pushed it into my cell phone. It was fairly late, so I expected I’d just have to leave a message, too, but at least I now would recognize it when he called back.
But he answered right away. “It’s about time, Lauren. Look, I don’t want to talk to you over the phone. Meet me for a drink.” He named a place not far from HotRescues. “There are some things you should know.”
To hell with my exhaustion. I let curiosity and the need to be in human company—especially the company of Matt Kingston—outweigh common sense and agreed to meet him in half an hour.
Chapter 9
We met at the bar of a great Mexican restaurant where I’d eaten lunch occasionally. The place was crowded—it was a Saturday night—but we still found a table for two along a wall.
I was tired enough that I considered ordering something nonalcoholic, but not long or seriously. I deserved one drink, as long as it wasn’t too strong. A strawberry margarita whet my appetite and it would soon wet my lips. Matt chose a Dos Equis beer.
I’d taken time to shower fast and change out of the HotRescues outfit I’d worn for nearly two days, sometimes with the hoodie for warmth and sometimes not. Now, I wore a yellow long-sleeved shirt tucked into khaki pants. I’d decided to throw on something that would make me appear cheerful. I was afraid that what Matt wanted to see me about had something to do with the disposition of the animals from the puppy mill—in a manner I’d hate.
That would only add insult to the injury of being a suspect in killing a wretched member of the human race who’d hurt them in the first place.
Last time I’d seen Matt, he’d worn an Animal Services uniform. Now, he had a sport jacket on over a shirt and slacks. Trying to impress me?
More likely, he’d been to some kind of meeting before.
When our orders were taken, we chatted amiably for a while, loud enough to hear one another over the endless thunder of conversations in the bar. I knew we were here on business—the very
Now, I just wanted to head straight for bed. I’d picked up a salad at a fast-food restaurant’s drive-through, though, so I decided to eat first.
I turned on the TV and sat through the beginning of a cop show, chewing on the irony of it along with my dinner. Then I pulled my BlackBerry out of my pocket and used its online function to view news about what had happened at HotRescues, and finally checked it for anyone whose call I should return.
My friend Carlie’s number, my kids’, parents’, brother’s, and Nina’s, appeared with a bunch I didn’t recognize. Some of the unknowns had called a few times.
I tried returning Carlie’s call first. As far as I knew, she was still on her trip to the east to film a segment for her pet health TV show. It was three hours later there—after eleven o’clock—so she’d probably have her cell phone turned off, but I could leave a message.
To my surprise, she answered. “Can’t talk now,” she whispered. “In a meeting about what we’re doing tomorrow. But”—I heard voices in the background, then Carlie said—“you’ve been a busy girl. In the news here. You okay?”
“Yes, but—”
“You kill him?”
“No!” I practically shouted.
“I figured. Talk to you soon.” She hung up.
I stared at my BlackBerry for nearly a minute, willing Carlie to call back, but, of course, she didn’t. Sighing, I next checked in with family, although I’d spoken with all of them earlier, too. I again assured them all I was doing fine. Then I returned Nina’s call.
“Everything okay?” I asked. I knew she was doing her regular volunteer work at a city shelter that night.
“Fine. But Captain Matt Kingston got in touch with me. He said he’s left you several phone messages, but you haven’t called him back.”
“I’ve only returned a few other calls besides to you,” I told her. “And none was to him. Which one’s his number?”
She told me, and I pushed it into my cell phone. It was fairly late, so I expected I’d just have to leave a message, too, but at least I now would recognize it when he called back.
But he answered right away. “It’s about time, Lauren. Look, I don’t want to talk to you over the phone. Meet me for a drink.” He named a place not far from HotRescues. “There are some things you should know.”
To hell with my exhaustion. I let curiosity and the need to be in human company—especially the company of Matt Kingston—outweigh common sense and agreed to meet him in half an hour.
Chapter 9
We met at the bar of a great Mexican restaurant where I’d eaten lunch occasionally. The place was crowded—it was a Saturday night—but we still found a table for two along a wall.
I was tired enough that I considered ordering something nonalcoholic, but not long or seriously. I deserved one drink, as long as it wasn’t too strong. A strawberry margarita whet my appetite and it would soon wet my lips. Matt chose a Dos Equis beer.
I’d taken time to shower fast and change out of the HotRescues outfit I’d worn for nearly two days, sometimes with the hoodie for warmth and sometimes not. Now, I wore a yellow long-sleeved shirt tucked into khaki pants. I’d decided to throw on something that would make me appear cheerful. I was afraid that what Matt wanted to see me about had something to do with the disposition of the animals from the puppy mill—in a manner I’d hate.
That would only add insult to the injury of being a suspect in killing a wretched member of the human race who’d hurt them in the first place.
Last time I’d seen Matt, he’d worn an Animal Services uniform. Now, he had a sport jacket on over a shirt and slacks. Trying to impress me?
More likely, he’d been to some kind of meeting before.
When our orders were taken, we chatted amiably for a while, loud enough to hear one another over the endless thunder of conversations in the bar. I knew we were here on business—the very
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