Witness (8 page)

She turned to see Joe’s profile in the twilight. “Do you think I’m in danger?”

“I’m just saying, don’t take any risks you don’t have to. Until they get the evidence they need to put this guy away, keep your head down.”

“But how can they get evidence? They tried and found nothing. Even your friend didn’t make any headway. They’re not going to keep the case open.” Her helplessness to do anything about it frustrated her.

Joe shook his head. “They should have turned it over to the detective squad right away.”

“Is that standard procedure?”

“Well…I’m guessing the patrol officers agreed there was absolutely nothing to your story. Otherwise, they would have.”

“Don’t they have to treat all complaints seriously?”

“Yeah. But, see, they felt they’d done that. So now what evidence may have been there is probably gone, or at least compromised.”

He drove in to her driveway and walked her inside the garage. She let her key ring hang from the lock on the kitchen door and turned to face him on the step. His dark eyes had taken on a mysterious glitter. Her heart surged in response, but she pushed down the reaction and worked hard for a pleasant tone that didn’t give away her turmoil.

“Thanks, Joe. I enjoyed this evening.”

“Me, too. You be careful, okay?”

“I will be.”

He bit his lower lip and nodded. “All right. You’re a big girl. Just remember, you can call me anytime.”

He reached up and touched her cheek for an instant, and she drew in a shaky breath. His fingertips were warm, inviting. Would he kiss her if she gave him a little encouragement? She wasn’t ready for that. Still, the idea warmed her. She couldn’t meet his eyes. If she did, she might send him a signal it was way too soon for.

The moment was over. He stepped back a little and smiled.

“I’ll see you next weekend,” she said.

“Yeah.” He walked outside. When his car began to roll, she hit the button to lower the overhead door, then turned the knob on the kitchen door. For once, Mason hadn’t barked, but she thought she heard him whining.

“I’m coming, boy,” she called as the door swung open. She flipped the light switch.

Mason lay on the floor whimpering. His pleading brown eyes fixed on her as he writhed on the linoleum.

“M
ason, baby, what’s wrong?” Petra knelt beside the dog and petted him. He lay on his side, staring mournfully up at her, and let out a moan.

“Are you hurt?” She stroked his belly gently and he whimpered.

She looked around quickly. Nothing out of place in the kitchen. Could he have gotten into something harmful? She rose and hurried through the house, checking each room. Nothing stood out as a possible cause of Mason’s distress. His supper bowl was empty, and the water dish still held a half inch of clear liquid.

She yanked open the drawer where she kept her phone book and looked up the veterinarian service’s emergency number. Her vet’s office was closed, but the woman who answered told her to take Mason to a veterinary hospital a couple of miles away, and the on-call doctor would meet her there. She wished Joe were with her, but there wasn’t time to call him now, while every second mattered.

When she urged Mason to get up, he started to roll over as if to get his feet under him, then lay back, whining. It was all she could do to heft his heavy, squirmy body and lug him out to her car. She managed to brace him against the back fender while she opened the door, and after much pushing and prodding she had him settled on the blanket she kept in the back for him. She decided not to try to buckle his canine seat belt harness, as its pressure might cause him more agony.

She drove carefully, so as not to disturb Mason and not to attract attention. The last thing she wanted now was to be stopped by a traffic patrolman.

A man and a woman came out of the veterinary hospital pushing a small stretcher.

“I’m Dr. Vincennes,” the man said. Petra opened the back door of her car, and he stooped to give Mason a quick initial exam, then lifted the dog onto the stretcher.

Inside the lobby, the woman told her, “You can sit down out here while the doctor tends your dog. I’ll bring you some papers to fill out.”

Twenty minutes later, Petra paced the waiting room from the chairs to the curtained window and back. If only she’d opened the kitchen door before Joe had left, he’d be with her now. Again she thought of calling him, but she didn’t feel she could ask him to come back because her dog was sick. He’d be late getting home as it was.

She could hear the murmur of low voices. If someone didn’t come and tell her something soon, Petra felt she would explode. She eyed the closed door warily. She could barge in there. What was the worst they could do to her?

She turned back to the window and peeked out at her car in the parking lot. What was that verse she’d read last night? It seemed ages ago, but barely twenty-four hours had passed since she’d read chapter after chapter of scripture and poured out her heart before God.

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus,” she whispered. She had recognized the verse when she read it as one she’d memorized years ago in Sunday school. Who’d have thought she could pull it out after so long? Peace was something she’d lost long ago, but she hadn’t realized she missed it. The past few weeks were nothing but turmoil. Working way too much. Seeing her sisters again, hearing their pleas to move in with them, followed by the horror of witnessing a murder, then the whole unsavory business with Rex Harwood. Even meeting Joe had added tension to her life. And now Mason was ill. She wasn’t sure she could hold up much longer if Mason died.

“Dear God, please don’t let me lose my dog.” Tears sprang into her eyes. Was a sick pet worthy of God’s attention?

The door behind her opened and she turned. The woman came out, her face grave.

“Dr. Vincennes says you can come in now.”

Petra followed her into the exam room. The doctor was washing his hands, and Mason lay quietly on the stretcher. She walked around it, afraid of what she would find, but her heart leaped when she saw the dog’s tail twitch.

His large, brown eyes gazed at her, and he whined. Petra petted his sleek head.

“Hey, fella. Are you okay?”

The doctor turned toward her as he dried his hands. “I think he’ll make it, Miss Wilson, but I’d like you to leave him here overnight for observation, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. What…” She cleared her throat. “What’s wrong with him?”

The doctor stepped up to the opposite side of the stretcher and laid a hand on Mason’s flank.

“It’s a good thing you got him here when you did. I’m sorry to say it, but there’s no question. He was poisoned.”

Joe braked as a truck merged into his lane. As much as he’d enjoyed seeing Petra again, he’d be glad to get home after this long day. Another hour behind the wheel. That would make it after eleven when he got to Waterville. He yawned and signaled to change lanes. He was about to pull over and pass the truck when his cell phone rang. He groped the passenger seat, where he seemed to recall tossing the phone when he left Petra’s house.

“Yeah?”

“Joe? Mason’s been poisoned!”

“What? Petra? You talking about the dog? No!” Outrage rushed through him like a freight train, setting every nerve on edge.

“Yes! When I went in the house, he was rolling on the floor, obviously in pain, and I took him to the vet. They pumped his stomach. He’s really sick, Joe.”

“Call the police.”

“I…I can’t. When I told the vet Mason stayed inside alone while I was out, he implied that I must have left something toxic where he could get into it. The police won’t come here again. And if they do, they’ll say I was careless, or maybe they’ll accuse me of deliberately poisoning him myself. Joe, I…I can’t call them again. Not for this.”

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, but it hadn’t gotten any earlier. He sighed. “Hang on. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I’m doing it.”

“But you must be nearly home.”

“No, I’m not.” He signaled for the Topsham exit. “Are you at home?”

She hesitated, and her voice seemed to have shrunk when she said, “I’m sitting in my car outside the veterinary hospital. They’re keeping Mason overnight, but I’m afraid to go home. Joe, I’ve never been scared like this before.”

“Well, there’s no way I could sleep if I went home knowing you were alone when something like this has happened. Isn’t there a fast-food place a couple of blocks from your house?”

“Y-yes.”

“Just drive down there and go in and get some coffee. I’m on my way.”

By the time he passed the Yarmouth exit twenty minutes later, he’d calmed down somewhat, but then the fatigue hit him. He punched the cruise control up another notch. Of course, he didn’t want to get a ticket, either.

Petra’s words went ’round and ’round in his tired brain. Was there any possibility she was making it up? He’d seen her with her dog. She loved him. Joe couldn’t swallow the theory that she’d poisoned the perky dog’s supper. He’d stood right there and watched her scoop the food out of the bag and into Mason’s dish. Still, his training as a police officer cautioned him to keep an open mind. Never rule out anything. Follow the evidence.

He sighed, recognizing the need for expert advice.

Okay, Lord. I maybe haven’t come to You as often as I should lately. What I need right now is wisdom. That and some energy. Let me get there in one piece, and help me to see the truth.

Ahead he saw a cruiser on the shoulder, lights flashing. A pickup was stopped in front of it. As soon as he was safely past it, Joe increased his speed again. That trooper, at least, had his hands full.

He reached the McDonald’s at last and hurried from the car to the door. At least they were open late in the big city. The burger joints in Waterville would be closed now.

Petra stood as soon as he entered, her lovely face creased with worry lines. He wondered if she’d been holding back tears for an hour.

When he reached her, he folded her in his arms, no questions asked. He felt her body rack with a sob, and he held her, ignoring the stares of the two young men in the corner booth. He rubbed her back gently, inhaling her faintly floral scent and feeling the green dress’s smooth fabric.

She held on to him for a good thirty seconds, then pulled in a huge breath and stepped back.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to come back.”

“Sure I did. You can’t go into the house alone, and you can’t bring yourself to call the police.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I should have done that, I guess.”

Joe shrugged. “I’m not sure I blame you. Come on, let’s get you home.”

She turned and picked up a covered cup. “I ordered this for you ten minutes ago. I hope it’s not cold.”

He punched open the lid and took a sip. “Perfect.”

She smiled then, a wobbly, watery smile, her green eyes swimming.

“Thanks.” It came out gruffly. He wrapped one arm around her and hustled her out the door. “You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you. When you get to the house, if everything looks normal, go ahead and open the garage door.”

She nodded.

He chucked her under the chin gently, like he would a child. “It’s going to be okay. You got it?”

“I got it.”

She slid into her car. It only took a couple of minutes for them to drive to her house, during which Joe downed half the coffee. The street was quiet, and all the houses were dark. The residents in this upper-middle class neighborhood had real jobs to go to in the morning, and on weeknights they turned in early.

Petra drove into the garage, and Joe parked outside and walked in to open her car door for her.

“Is the house door locked?”

“Yes.”

“Give me your keys. You can stay out here if you want until I check the house.”

“No, I’d like to come with you.”

“Okay.” He unlocked the kitchen door and pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster. Petra’s eyes flared, but she said nothing. He entered cautiously, feeling her close behind him. After checking the kitchen, coat closet, utility room and living room, he told her to remain by the dining table while he swept the rest of the small house. Guest room, closet, hall bath. Petra’s room, another bath, closets. Bedroom-turned-study, where she kept her computer and hundreds of books. Another closet.

He went back to the kitchen. “Any basement?”

“No, just a crawl space.”

“Inside entry?”

“No.”

He nodded and holstered his pistol. “I’d say you’re clear. I didn’t see any trace of a forced entry, but I’m not equipped to do a thorough investigation in the middle of the night.”

She exhaled heavily and put a hand to her forehead. “Thank you, Joe. I feel so…”

“Hey, none of that. You’re exhausted. You need some sleep.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“You told me you didn’t find anything that could have poisoned Mason.”

“That’s right. The doctor will send a sample to the lab and they’ll try to find out what did it.”

Joe rubbed his scratchy chin and stifled a yawn. “Tell you what. I’ll come back here in the morning and see if I find anything.”

“You can’t go all the way home tonight and then drive back here.”

“Maybe I’ll call Nick and see if I can crash on his couch for a few hours. But there’s one other thing we can do now.”

“What’s that?”

“We can pray.”

Petra lay awake long after Joe left. How could this have happened? No way had she left out something that would harm Mason if he ingested it. The alternatives made her shiver. Had someone slipped him something deliberately? But when? And how? She found herself straining to hear any strange sounds above the pattering rain.

She prayed again, silently, repeating the words Joe had offered, but in choppy, disconnected thoughts.
Lord, protect me. Take away my fear. Keep Mason alive. Help us to learn the truth.

Her digital clock glowed with large, red numbers. She rolled over, away from its light. Rain spattered louder against the window, and she puzzled over the enigma of Joe Tarleton. Until tonight, she had no idea he believed in God, yet he prayed like a seasoned believer. Somehow, it fit with everything else she knew about him. A surprise that seemed obvious once you knew it.

She lay inert, between sleep and consciousness. She hadn’t relied on God in more than twelve years. She’d moved away from her family and the embarrassment of facing them daily, but not away from her pain. She’d avoided church and spiritual introspection. Was the perpetual heartache she’d endured the result of her aloofness from God?

Joe hadn’t hesitated to suggest they pray together. Had she mentioned to him that she and her sisters went to church last weekend? Bethany and Keilah very likely mentioned God and church to him, and he must assume she was a believer, too.

Memories assailed her with more wakening power than strong coffee. She saw Joe, steady and dependable, responding immediately to her need. She shouldn’t have hesitated to call him. And he would be back in the morning. That was a comfort. She had only to make it through a few more hours of darkness.