Operation Blind Date
She knew she wasn’t wrong about Cutter.
She trusted Cutter wasn’t wrong about Teague Johnson.
* * *
Teague took another sip of the latte. It was probably a good thing they only did this seasonally, he thought, or he’d be twenty pounds overweight, or having to add five miles a day to his runs, which were already long enough.
Cutter, muffin happily consumed, had found the one spot of sunshine near the outside table and plopped down for a snooze. Now that they were talking, the dog had that mission-accomplished sort of air that Teague had learned to recognize.
“Now that’s the Cutter I know,” Laney said.
“He only seems to know two speeds,” Teague said, indicating the dog with his cup, “that, and full tilt.”
“Maybe the latter requires the former,” Laney said.
Teague smiled. And not for the first time since they’d sat down here, he felt the urge to just forget what had brought them here, to simply sit here and enjoy a few minutes with an attractive woman, without the undercurrent.
But if it wasn’t for that undercurrent, they wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t like he asked every appealing woman he ran into out for coffee. In fact, he hadn’t asked a woman out for coffee, dinner or anything else in a long time. A very long time.
“Problem with your drink?”
Her quiet question made him realize he’d been frowning. “No.” He seized on his earlier thought, since he wasn’t about to open the door on his pitiful social life. “Just thinking it’s good this is only available now.”
She smiled. “It might not be so appealing on a hot summer day.”
“Did you really use the words ‘hot summer’ while sitting here in the Pacific Northwest?”
She laughed. It was a wonderful sound, and he wondered why she didn’t do it more. Then remembered that the reason was probably why they were sitting here in the first place.
“It does happen,” she said. “A couple of years ago we nearly set a record.”
“A record heat wave here is a cold snap elsewhere,” he said; he was willing to let the chat about the weather continue, if that’s what she needed to ease into the real subject. Or maybe she’d flat-out refuse to talk about it, and he could walk away knowing he’d at least tried. Guilt-free.
“Like where you’re from?” she suggested.
He gave a one-shouldered shrug of assent. “Where I’ve spent time,” he acknowledged, and left it at that. This was not the time to speak of distant lands of heat and burning sun and sand. “But I was born in Seattle, grew up over there.” Time to do a little steering of this conversation. “You?”
“I was born in Phoenix,” she said. “But we moved here when I was two, so I practically feel like a native.”
“Family?”
“They’ve retired back to Arizona,” she said. “Dad’s building dune buggies and mom’s taking skydiving lessons.”
He blinked at that one. She apparently came by the athletic bent honestly. Laney laughed again.
“You slow down, you die. That’s Dad’s motto.”
“He’s got a point,” Teague said.
She seemed relaxed now, smiling. “I miss them, but they’re having so much fun, and they worked so hard for so long, I can’t help but be happy for them.”
“What about you? How’d you end up doing this?” he asked, indicating her shop.
“I wanted to be a vet, even started school. I wanted to help animals, but I just couldn’t deal with seeing so many sick and in pain. I had to find another way to work with them.”
“And you did.”
“It’s not as important, but it’s what I can do.”
“I’ll bet the dogs who get adopted after you spruce them up think it’s pretty important.”
She looked startled, then smiled. “Hayley told you.”
“She mentioned it, yes. She admires you for it.”
“It’s what I can do,” she said again. And he liked the quiet way she said it. If everybody took that approach, we’d all be better off. He watched her for a moment.
Now, he thought. “So what is it you’re upset or worried about?”
It didn’t quite have the effect of a glass of cold water tossed at her, but it was close, and he wished he hadn’t had to do it. He realized with a little shock how much he’d been enjoying simply talking with her. Simply sitting and talking with an attractive woman was a pleasure he’d not had in too long.
“I’m not...”
Her voice trailed away. He felt a twinge of disappointment at the denial after she’d been so honest about the crying.
She tried again. “I’m not sure I should talk about it.”
Well, that was better. At least she wasn’t denying that “it” existed.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not my problem, it’s someone else’s. Maybe. Or maybe it’s not a problem at all. Except in my own overactive imagination. Everything could be fine. Could be wonderful, in fact. But I have this gut feeling there is something really wrong. But everyone else thinks I’m the one who’s wrong. So I just don’t know anymore.”
Teague felt like a guy who’d just had a jigsaw puzzle dumped at his feet, all the pieces scrambled, and he was supposed to make sense of it.
Laney laughed, as if she’d just realized how what she’d said sounded. But it was a different sort of a laugh, not charming and fun, but self-deprecating and on the edge of some deeper, darker emotion. But it cemented Teague’s notion that this was not a woman who cried at the drop of a hat, making the times when she did significant.
“I’m sorry. That didn’t make much sense, did it? I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Or say it all,” Teague said. “Whose problem is it, maybe?”
Her mouth twitched into almost a smile at his use of her own words back at her. But still she hesitated. This time he stayed silent, just looking at her, which was no hardship. She stared down into her cup, and Teague noticed the length and thickness of her eyelashes, the delicate arch of her brow, the length of her neck revealed by the pulled-back hair. Her fingers, wrapped around the cup now as if she needed its warmth even on this relatively mild day, were long and slender, tipped with nails cut short; no fancy manicures for this woman who dealt with washing animals every day.
Crazy, he thought. The most common complaint about women he’d heard from his buddies in the corps was that they never stopped talking. And here he couldn’t get this one to start. Whether that was a reflection on her, or himself, he wasn’t sure.
He was contemplating pressing harder when Cutter intervened. As if he’d sensed the lull in the conversation was a problem, the dog had roused from his nap in the sun. He looked at them both consideringly, then got to his feet and padded quietly over to Laney. He rested his chin on her knee and looked up at her. In a move that seemed and probably was automatic, Laney began to stroke his dark head.
“You are so warm from the sun,” she said to him. “That must feel good.”
The dog stared at her until she gave an odd little shake of her head. Teague knew just how she felt. He’d been on the receiving end of that steady gaze himself, and he knew the odd feeling it gave you.
“You might as well tell me,” he said after a final taste of the flavorful drink. “He’s not going to let go until you do.”
“Is that what you think he’s doing? Trying to compel me?”
“I know it is. I’ve seen him do it too many times. He’s done it to me.”
“Giving him a bit too much credit, aren’t you?”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” Teague said wryly. “My boss is the biggest skeptic on the planet, save maybe one—well, two—and even he thinks there’s something uncanny about that dog.”
“I can’t deny he’s clever—”
“Oh, it goes way beyond clever. I could tell you stories,” Teague said. “But I promise you, he’s not going away until you talk about what’s bothering you.”
She looked from him to Cutter, then back.
“I know you don’t know me, not enough to trust me. But you can trust him.”
“I know.”
“So talk to me. You need to talk to somebody.” When she still didn’t answer, he leaned back in his chair. “I could call Hayley. Would you talk to her?”
“Oh, don’t do that. I know she’s busy, or she would have come for him herself.”
“Yes. But she trusts me with him.”
Her head came up then, and he sensed he’d finally hit the right words. “Yes,” she said softly, “she does.”
Again he stayed silent, thinking that pushing harder at this instant would be the wrong thing to do. He’d learned from Cutter that sometimes the best thing to do was just stare them down and wait.
“It’s my best friend,” Laney finally said in a rush, and before he processed the words Teague allowed himself a split second of satisfaction. “Amber. Amber Logan.”
“Pretty name.”
“Yes. And it fits her.” She gestured back toward the shop. “She’s a graphic artist. She did the paintings here.”
“I noticed those. Cute. She’s good.”
“Yes. She is.” He saw her mouth tighten slightly.
“Has she done something?” he asked. “Gotten in trouble?”
“I think...” Her voice trailed off. She drew in a deep breath and started again. “The police don’t believe it, even her folks don’t believe it, but I can’t shake the feeling something’s very, very wrong.”
The police? That kicked it into an entirely different category in Teague’s mind. He leaned forward, sensing she was on the verge of either blurting it out or withdrawing altogether.
“Wrong how?”
She met his gaze, held it. She was committed now, he could feel it.
“I think she’s been abducted.”
Chapter 3
Relief was obvious on Laney’s face as the words finally came out. She looked as if having someone listen to her without that doubt in their eyes, without that expression that told her they were merely humoring her and couldn’t wait to move on, was nearly overwhelming.
She proved his guess right with her next words, spoken fervently.
“You don’t know how much time I’ve spent every day trying to make myself believe that they’re all right, that there’s nothing wrong, that Amber’s just fine and I’m being silly, with an overactive imagination.”
She also looked as if she wanted to hug him. Not something he’d particularly mind, but he wasn’t about to stray into that minefield. Not now, anyway.
“Why don’t you just tell me? Don’t worry about how it sounds, just get it all out there. Then we’ll sort it out.”
Gratitude supplanted relief on her face. She nodded, a short, sharp motion that spoke worlds about what she was feeling. Even if it really was nothing, she needed to get this out.
She continued to pet Cutter, as if she welcomed the distraction. He could almost see her turning over in her mind where to start. He opened his mouth to prod her along, then stopped; he didn’t want to sound like the police who hadn’t believed her, but coplike questions were the first thing that came to mind.
He remembered Terri once telling him she had to work up to the real problem sometimes. And you were a lot of help when she needed you, weren’t you, halfway around the world fighting for people who didn’t even want—
He broke off his own thoughts before they galloped down that old path. And grabbed the first neutral question he could think of.
“Tell me about Amber.”
“We’ve been best friends since third grade. I know her like a sister. And love her like one.”
“Is that where you met? School?” he asked.
“Yes. Ms. Waters’s class. Meanest teacher in school.” Laney looked up at him then, gave him a fleeting smile. “I don’t mean hard, or strict. I mean...mean. And Amber and I, we bonded together in surviving her.”
Now that was something he understood. “Easier to handle stuff like that if you’re not alone.”
The smile was better this time as she nodded. “We had secret meetings where we plotted her absence in various ways, from changing the number on the door of the classroom, to the address on the school. At eight, logic didn’t enter into it much.”
He smiled back. “No GPS in cars yet, so who knows?”
She laughed then, and he felt oddly pleased.
“We were best friends from the day Ms. Waters sent us to the principal’s office for passing notes. Which weren’t even about her, by the way.”
Teague’s mouth quirked. “Why do I get the feeling that that part was pure luck?”
She looked startled, then laughed again. And he got that same little jolt of pleasure out of it. Natural, he thought. She’d been crying when he’d arrived, and he’d managed not to make it worse, maybe even a little better. Something any guy would be happy about.
“But the point is, we were inseparable after that. We shared everything. We poured our hearts out to each other. When I had my first crush on a boy, she was the one I told. When her mom got sick, I was the first to know. She’s the sister I never had.”
“A long time ago, my father used to say there’s two kinds of families—the one you’re born into, and the one you build yourself.”
“Your dad sounds wise.”
“At one time, he had his moments.” He knew he sounded a little odd, but went on easily enough. “He also used to say that’s not something you can pass down to your kids. You have to earn your own wisdom. Usually the hard way.” Too bad he forgot his own lessons, Teague thought.
Laney grimaced at the words. Thinking of Amber, Teague guessed. It was time for those cop questions. He certainly wasn’t about to keep discussing his own family; that was not a topic he lingered on. Ever.
As if he was finally sure things were progressing properly, Cutter lay down. But for insurance, he put his head on Laney’s foot. She seemed to take it as a sign the time for idle chatter was over. Teague saw her take in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
“When did you last talk to her?” he asked.
“It’ll be four weeks on Friday.”
“That’s a long time, for friends as close as you are.”
He didn’t say ‘female friends,’ although he at least knew enough to realize there was a difference. Girls seemed to always want to be in touch, whereas with a guy he could go for weeks, even months without any contact, and then run into him and it would be like nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. But a woman tended to take offense at that kind of benign neglect. At least, that had been his sad experience.
“That,” she said firmly, “is unheard of. For us. We talked or texted every day. Usually multiple times a day.”
“Wow.”
He couldn’t imagine that. It had boggled him when Quinn and Hayley had come out of that mess so tightly connected they did the same; neither of them was happy if they went longer than a few hours without contact of some kind. He teased his boss about it, but beneath the joking was a thread of wonder. He’d never felt that way about anyone.
“Now she’s blocked incoming calls,” Laney said. “I had another friend try, and my mother. Even the police officer tried, I’ll give her that, and she was blocked, so it’s all incoming calls, not just me.”
“Hmm.” It was the most noncommittal sound Teague could manage.
“Look, I know how it sounds. I even understand why the police feel the way they do. On the surface, it looks simple. Woman meets a new man, they hit it off in a big way, then head out on a romantic getaway. They want to be undisturbed, so woman blocks incoming calls on her phone.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No. She just wouldn’t, not without telling me. In fact, she’d call me and giggle about it for an hour first. And then there’s the texts.”
“Texts?”
“The ones that came after my calls were blocked.”
His brow furrowed. “So you have heard from her? Via text?”
She sighed. “Yes. And no.”
He leaned back. “I think maybe you’d better explain that one.”
“I’ve gotten texts sent from her phone. But they’re...off.”
“Off how?”
“They just don’t sound like her.”
“The wording or what she’s saying?”
“Yes. And there are mistakes. Things that are just flat-out wrong.”
He tapped the side of his now-empty cup with his index finger. “All right. Could she have lost her phone, had it stolen?”
“She would have a replacement by now. Amber wouldn’t go from the living room to the kitchen without a phone. And besides, she missed our get-together yesterday, without even a call to cancel. She would never, ever do that. All of this is completely out of character for her.”
Which probably explained the tears today, Teague thought.
“I remember my sister telling me about girls who blow off their friends when a new guy comes along,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“Amber’s not one of them. Nor am I. We always hated that, swore it would never happen, and it never did.”
She was so adamant he decided to leave that one alone. “So she would have told you if she was going to run off with this guy she just happened to meet.”
Laney went a little pale. Cutter’s head came up, so Teague knew he wasn’t imagining her sudden tension.
“She didn’t just happen to meet him.” He saw moisture gathering in her eyes, saw her visibly fighting the tears. “I introduced them. This is my fault.”
“Whoa. Slow down. You knew this guy?”
She nodded. “Slightly. I knew him from my old job, where I learned, over in Lynnwood.”
“A bit of a drive, from the U-District.”
“My boss specialized in pocket dogs,” Laney said. “People came from farther than that.”
He smiled at the term, but said only, “Go on.”
“So, Edward, he’d even asked me out a couple of times. But I wasn’t attracted, and I was too busy with plans for this shop.”
“And?”
“Last month Amber and I went to the mall there. She loved to shop. Edward was there with a friend, we ran into him. I introduced them. She seemed interested, and so did he, she’d just broken up with a guy and was kind of down, so I told her she should go, he was a nice guy.” She blinked again, more rapidly this time. “I told her she should go, damn it. I practically set her up on a blind date with this guy, and now—”
“Easy.” Instinctively he reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “You didn’t know.”
Not that he was sure anything was wrong himself, not really. He needed to know more about what had triggered her worry.
“Tell me about the texts you felt were off. Did you answer?”
“Yes. But she never responded. Which isn’t like her, either.”
“What if you initiate a text?”
She shook her head. “I either get no reply, or if I do, it doesn’t really answer what I said.”
“Example?”
“I ask where she is, she says she’s fine. I ask when she’s coming back, she says she’s having a great time.”
Which could, Teague thought, be answers. Just not the ones Laney wanted or expected.
“You showed them to the police?”
She grimaced again as she nodded. “They thought it was just drunk texting. I know better.”
“Because?”
She reached into the low front pocket of her shirt—when had scrubs become somehow sexy? he wondered—and pulled out a phone. She tapped it a few times, then held it out to him. “This is the first one I got.”
He took it and read the message.
Take care of Pepper 4me, pls? He’s such a gd dog. Thx
“Seems innocuous enough,” Teague said neutrally.
“Yes. Except for three things.”
“Three?”
“Pepper? A cat. And a she.” She took a deep breath. “And she’s been dead for ten years.”
Chapter 4
“Amber has never been that drunk in her entire life,” Laney said firmly. “Pepper was her pet for eighteen years, from childhood, and she adored her. She cried for months when she died.”
It wasn’t much to go on. But even Teague had to admit that three such mistakes in a text message fifty characters long was a bit much. Even drunk on her ass, would Amber have forgotten Pepper was a cat not a dog, a she not a he, and that she had died a decade ago?
Teague glanced down at Cutter, still ensconced on the floor with his head on Laney’s foot, as if to hold her there until the story was out. He tried to imagine, even drunk, ever forgetting about the dog.
Nope. Impossible. And he’s not even my dog.
“Are there more?” he asked.
She nodded. “None as obviously wrong as that one, but some. Read through them. I cleared out all the non-Amber ones.”
He wondered for a moment if there had been some from a boyfriend. But she had said she hadn’t been attracted to this Edward, implying if she had been, perhaps she might not have said no. So there couldn’t be a boyfriend. Unless she was the juggling type. He didn’t think so. If nothing else, he suspected she didn’t have time.
And none of that was in the slightest bit relevant, he reminded himself.
He focused on the series of texts. Most seemed innocuous to him, something about being late for the office and catching up later, one about wanting to buy a new car, and a final one about jetting off to Canada. Nothing jumped out at him, but then nothing would have about the first one, either.
He didn’t have to ask. The moment he looked up, Laney ran through a list. “Except for days when she meets with clients, Amber works from home. She bought a new car late last year, and the process exhausted her so much she plans on keeping it at least ten years. And she absolutely hates to fly. Canada’s way too close to get her on an airplane.”
“You told the police all this?”
“Yes.” She let out a compressed breath. “Their answer was people newly in love do things they might not otherwise. And I can’t argue with that. Especially Amber. She’s always...impulsive, especially with men. More than me, anyway.”
Teague filed that self-observation from Laney away in the “might be good to remember” slot in his mind. Even as he did it, he silently chastised himself; he needed to be paying attention, not...whatever he was doing.
She lowered her gaze to the painted surface of the small, round table. There was something scratched into the surface, something Teague couldn’t read upside down because of the angular shape and unevenness of the letters. A name, perhaps. Carved by somebody as infatuated as Laney said Amber got?
“It’s my fault,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was even glad when he seemed even more interested in Amber than he had been in me, after I’d said no all those times.”
“Laney—”
She picked at the scratched name with a thumbnail. “I told her to go. That he seemed like a nice guy.”
“Did you lie? Did you really think he was a bad guy?”
Her head snapped up. “No! I would never—”
She cut herself off, giving a short, abrupt shake of her head.
“I brought them together. She never would have met him if not for me. I still feel responsible. Maybe that doesn’t make sense, but...”
Teague stared at her for a long, silent moment, fighting down the memories that battered at him. “I get it. Believe me, I get it.”
When he refocused, Laney was staring at him. “You do, don’t you.” The way she said it wasn’t a question. “You lost somebody, didn’t you?”
“My sister. Years ago.” And yesterday. “But Amber is now. Let’s stay there.”
For a moment he thought she might persist. And he wasn’t about to talk about Terri. He’d talked to no one about her in a very long time, except Quinn, and then only because he’d known he had to be thoroughly honest during the long vetting process for going to work at Foxworth.
As if Teague just thinking the name Foxworth had roused him, Cutter got up. He turned from Laney to look up at him. When he was certain he had Teague’s attention, he walked toward where his car was parked. After a few steps he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at both of them.
Teague sighed.
“I guess he’s finally bored and ready to go,” Laney said. She stood up. “Thanks for listening to my...conspiracy theory.”
Teague slowly rose as well, but said nothing. He had a theory of his own about Cutter’s sudden movement. A year ago he would have laughed at the idea, but after seeing the dog in action for months now, he knew better.