Mint Chip Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 6 (8 page)

She landed hard; the breath knocked
out of her, she scrambled to her hands and knees, terror flooding every inch of
her body.  But the car had already swerved back into the street, tires spinning
out smoke as it gained traction and fled.  Heather dropped her head, staring at
the grass as she fought to get her breath back.

Dave.  Where was Dave?

She spotted him ten feet away, his
furry white body lying in a crumpled heap.  Dave!

Sobbing, she crawled toward him.  With
one hand, she stroked the fur of his lifeless body; with the other, she
caressed his head.

And felt him lick her hand.

“Dave?” she managed through her tears. 
“Dave, are you okay?”

But he wasn’t.  He whined pitifully,
just once, his limpid brown eyes looking up at her. 

As gently as she could, Heather slid
her hands beneath him.  Again he whined, longer this time, and she knew she was
hurting him.  “I’m sorry, Dave,” she said, trying to soothe him with her voice,
as the sound of sirens in the distance grew louder and closer.

An ambulance? They were sending an
ambulance for Dave?

No, of course not, she realized,
cradling Dave’s broken body in her arms as best she could and turning toward
home.  Nobody sent an ambulance for a dog, even one as beloved as hers.  If
there was an ambulance, it must be for her.

But more than likely, most of the
sirens belonged to police vehicles.  Gradually, her fear and grief was being
replaced by another emotion.  Lana Sturmer had tried to run her over.  Tried to
kill her!  Fortunately, she was okay, except for a few bruises and scrapes that
were beginning to make their presence felt.  But Lana had almost killed Dave. 
And that made Heather very angry.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”  The voice came
from a man standing next to her.  “Is your dog okay?  Is this your cell phone?”

Heather had no idea who the man was,
but it didn’t matter.  “I’m fine,” she said, surprised that her voice sounded
almost normal.  “But my dog is hurt.  I think he’s hurt pretty badly.”

“Do you want to take him to the
emergency vet clinic on Highway 10?” the man asked.

“Yes.  We were just out on a walk. 
I’m headed home to get my car.”

“I live right there,” he said,
pointing to the house they were standing in front of.  “I heard all the noise
and came outside.  If you want to wait right there, I’ll go get my car and
drive you to the vet.”

The
first police car zipped past them, and then screeched to a stop.  An officer
leaped out.  “Ma’am?” he called.  “Are you Heather?”

“Thank you so much,” Heather said to
the neighbor, “but I think help just arrived.”

The next few minutes were a blur. 
Another patrol car arrived.  And then, the person she’d most wanted to see. 
Ryan.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, looking
deep into her eyes to see the truth for himself.

“Yes, I’m okay.  But I need to get
Dave to the emergency clinic.”

“We’ll take my car,” he said.  “It’s
right over there.”

Right over there was the middle of the
street.  After speaking briefly to one of the patrol officers, Ryan walked
beside her, with her carrying Dave as gently as she could.  He held the door
open for her as she got in, and then fastened the seat belt around her. 
Through it all, Dave was silent.  He didn’t move, except for periodically
opening his eyes and looking up at Heather.

Ryan slid into his seat and buckled
up.  He maneuvered the car skillfully and smoothly through the tangle of
vehicles in the street, and then took off.

In fifteen minutes, he braked to a
stop in front of the clinic.  A staff member in green scrubs held the door open
for them.  “His name is Dave,” Ryan said.  “He was hit by a car.”

Within another few minutes, they had
been shown into a small exam room.  The vet swiftly determined the extent of
Dave’s injuries and recommended surgery.  Heather agreed. 

Almost before she knew it, she found
herself sitting in a hard plastic chair in the waiting room next to Ryan, her
head on his shoulder, his arm around her.

There must have been a thousand
details Ryan had taken care of in order to handle the situation and make things
easier for her, she knew.  That was one thing she loved about him—his strength
and his competence.  Okay, make that two things.

The outside door opened, and a
uniformed officer entered the waiting room.  “Detective Shepherd?” he said, and
Heather realized he must have been surprised to see Ryan’s arm around her.

“This is my fiancée, Heather Janke,”
Ryan said.  “Heather, we need you to answer some questions.”

Heather nodded and sat up straight. 
“Ask me anything you want,” she said.  “I want to help you find her.  She tried
to kill me, and she almost killed my dog.”

“Actually, ma’am, she’s already been
taken into custody,” the officer said.

 “After she tried to hit you, she
swerved back into the street and hit a parked car.  A patrol unit saw a car
turning onto Bowen with its front bumper half hanging off and initiated a
traffic stop.  Turned out it was the woman who tried to assault you.”

“Thank you,” Heather said.  “Thank you
for everything you guys have done.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” the officer
said.  “There was an ambulance on scene near your residence.  I have it on the
way over here in case you would like them to check you out.”

“No, thank you,” Heather said.  “I’m
fine.  Really.  I’m angry, but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.  Nothing a few band-aids
and some rest won’t cure.  So go ahead.  Ask me anything you want to know.”

“Heather, I’m going to step outside,”
Ryan said.  “This is a criminal case—not only the murder, but her attempt to
kill you.  I’m going to stay out of it as much as I can, but I’ll be right
outside.  Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.  “I’ll be fine. 
Just—don’t go too far, okay?”

“You got it,” Ryan said.  He pushed
through the same door through which the patrol officer had entered just moments
before and went outside.

The officer sat down two chairs away
from her and turned to face her.  He withdrew a small notebook from a pocket in
his uniform shirt and flipped it open.  Clicking a ballpoint pen into
readiness, he asked, “What is your full name, ma’am?”

***

Two hours later, Heather sat on her
sofa snuggled against Ryan’s side, their arms around each other.  Dave’s doggie
bed was empty; the vet had recommended that he remain under observation at the
clinic for 24 hours post-surgery.

“I’m glad they got her,” Heather said.

Ryan didn’t have to ask whom she was
talking about.  “Me, too.  Both for Kelly’s murder, and for the fact that she
tried to kill you.”

“I don’t understand why she murdered
Kelly,” Heather said.  “I know she did it, but why?”

“She’s not talking,” Ryan said.  “The
only thing she’ll tell us is ‘see my lawyer.’  But if I had to guess, based on
the evidence, I don’t think she intended to kill her.  I think she came back to
the shop to continue the argument they started earlier.  She got angry, grabbed
the flat iron, and swung it in a fit of rage.  The first blow probably knocked
Kelly out.  In any case, she fell to the floor.  And Lana just kept swinging.”

Heather shuddered.  “Over hair, and coming
in second place.”  She paused.  “You know the person I feel sorry for in all
this — besides Kelly— is Emily Sturmer.  Lisa said she was a sweet kid.  She
probably never wanted any of this.”

“Probably not,” Ryan agreed.  For a
moment, they sat in silence.  “You know…” he said, leaning forward to pick up
one of the bridal magazines that still lay on the table, “I just realized that
I’m going to have to wear a tux for our wedding, aren’t I?”

“You most certainly are,” Heather
said.  “I’m the one who gets to wear the dress.”

“You can have it,” Ryan said.  “I
think I’ll stick to the tux.”

“Good plan,” she said.

“But can I wear tennis shoes?  Dress
shoes can pinch.”

“Not even once,” Heather said. 
“You’re going to look every inch the handsome guy I know and love.  All my
friends and relatives are going to be jealous.”

“So are mine,” Ryan said.  “Listen, I
know you have a lot of plans to make.  But I want to set a date.  I want to
know exactly how much longer I have to wait before one of us doesn’t have to go
home at the end of the night.  How does January 1 sound to you?”

“I think it sounds great,” Heather
said, smiling.

“I know it’s not even three months. 
Will that give you enough time to get everything done?”

“Sure.  If you’ll help me.”

“You actually want my help?”

“Well…maybe,” Heather teased.  “I’ll
let you know.”

“You got it,” Ryan said for the second
time that night.  “But can I make one suggestion?”

“Sure,” she said.

“I think we need a ring bearer.”

“Okay.  Do you have somebody in mind?”

“Of course I do,” he said, one corner
of his mouth crooking upward in a grin.  “I think it should be Dave.”

“Dave?” she said.  “You want a dog in
our wedding?”

“Bella could be the flower girl.”

“We are not having a dog and a cat in
our wedding.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.  “It would
definitely be memorable.”

“Very sure,” she said.  “The only
thing that needs to be that memorable about our wedding is that I get to become
Mrs. Ryan Shepherd.”

“‘Mrs. Ryan Sheperd,’” Ryan repeated. 
“I kind of like the sound of that.”

“I do, too,”
she said, smiling.  “I can’t wait.”

A letter from the Author

To each and
every one of my Amazing readers:
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
 Let me know what you think by leaving a review!

I’ll be releasing
another installment in two weeks so to stay in the loop (and to get free books
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Stay Curious,

Susan Gillard