10. Claire
CHAPTER 10
Claire
C old soaked through the thick wool socks on my feet as I stepped onto the back stoop, peering into the darkness for my dog. “Pebbles!” She’d been outside for several minutes to do her business before we went up to bed. It was time to come in.
Drawing my robe more tightly around my middle, I hid my hands in the thick, velvety fabric. The cold snap the weatherman promised had arrived.
I glanced at the sky. Heavy, leaden clouds, highlighted by the streetlights, hovered, promising to spit snow before morning.
All the more reason to go back inside and snuggle into my nice warm, comfy bed with a book.
“Pebbles!” I moved down a step. The little stinker was going to make me go put on shoes. She was probably back in the bushes again, chasing after the rabbit that liked to taunt her from the other side of the fence.
When she didn’t appear after another thirty seconds and me calling her again, I huffed and traipsed back inside, where I shoved my feet into my boots. Snagging a flashlight from the cabinet in the mudroom, I went back outside.
“I swear, dog, you’re going on a chain every time you go out from now on. I fenced the yard so you could have some freedom, but you’ve taken a little too much liberty a little too often.” What was left of the snow from the other night crunched under my feet as I stomped across the grass toward the hedges that lined the back of my lot.
I flipped on the light and scanned the bushes. “Pebbles! Where are you?” Bending slightly at the waist, I peered into the branches.
After walking the entire fence line—twice—I straightened with a huff and glanced around the yard, concern replacing my ire. Where the heck did she go?
Not seeing any sign of my dog in the yard, I let myself out through the gate, hoping she was still close by. I regularly checked the fence, because I knew even the smallest opening was enough for my tiny dog to get through. In fact, I’d just checked it last week.
Walking the perimeter, flashlight aimed at the area where the fence met the ground, I looked for any breaks in the chain link. Along the back of the yard, about five feet past the beginning of the hedgerow on the other side, I spotted a hole in the fence.
“Crap.” Crouching down, I frowned as I got a better look. With a finger, I touched a broken link. The edge was smooth.
It had been cut.
I turned, surveying the area beyond the fence, the roadway past that, and on down to the beach. There was no sign of anyone lurking in the darkness.
Or of Pebbles.
Did someone cut it so they could take her? Why else would they? The hole was much too small for a person to wriggle through.
I stood, calling for her again, a fearful, frantic note in my voice now.
Watching my footing, I hurried away from the fence, sweeping the ground with my light.
Tiny doggie paw prints in the patchy snow led off to the left.
She’d escaped!
Hope surged, weakening my knees. Forcing my joints to function, I followed them.
“Pebbles!”
Snow crunching, I stumbled a couple of times as I walked along the edge of the road. Occasionally, I flicked the light toward the beach. I could only pray Pebbles hadn’t crossed to it. If she made it down to the rocky shoreline, one larger wave could knock her off her feet and sweep her into the sea.
For a solid five minutes, I followed the irregular pattern of prints, sure I’d stumble upon her soon. I mean, how far could a little dog get with only a few minutes’ head start? I’d let her out while I loaded the dishwasher.
Tears pressed against the backs of my eyes as I continued to walk. I’d been right there . How did she slip away without me noticing?
Glancing back, I realized I’d walked almost two blocks.
I chewed on the corner of my mouth, sweeping my light toward the next patch of tracks. If I didn’t find her soon, I probably needed to call for help.
But who?
I could call Mina. Except she was probably asleep. The Cozy Cup opened early, so she was almost always in bed by eight-thirty or nine o’clock. It was nearly eleven.
Times like these were when it would be nice to have family close by. With my mother long gone, and my dad living in California with my stepmom and my teenage half-brothers, I was all by myself up here.
I stumbled into a bare strip of ground and stopped, shining my light over the snow on the other side, trying to pick up Pebbles’s trail.
But there were no more tiny paw prints.
I spun around, my light shining over the prints I’d followed.
Where did she go?
I aimed the light between the houses. It was bare all the way to the driveway, where the grass ended. She could have turned left and gone that way and not left any trail at all.
Or she could have gone right and crossed the road to the beach.
Turning, I pointed the light toward the embankment. The ground that way had more snow, but it was patchy.
That thud of fear in my chest returned.
I swept the area on the other side of the bare strip with the light once more, but it was as void of paw prints as it was the first time.
Which meant she turned.
So did I go right and check the beach? Or left and continue along the road out front?
My gut said left. Pebbles didn’t spend much time walking along the road behind the house that ran along the shore. We crossed it to get to the beach when we walked there in warmer weather sometimes, and that was it. She was much more accustomed to the sidewalk out front of our house and on our road.
Decision made, I jogged between the houses, checking every patch of snow for Yorkie-size prints.
But there were none.
Cursing under my breath about ornery little dogs, I checked up and down the street, calling her name. Out here by the curb, there was even less snow to leave a trail in. It had melted off the road and most of the sidewalks.
Teeth clenched, I tried to put myself in Pebbles’s head. If she turned, did that mean she wanted to go home? Or did she just not like running in the yards?
I took a leap of faith and turned right, toward home. My best guess was she’d been chasing something and lost it. Or she decided to explore, then figured out she was far from home and wanted to go back inside where it was warm.
While I walked, I continued calling her name. I’m sure the neighbors were peeking out their windows, wondering who I was and what I was doing walking down the sidewalk in my robe and boots. But hey, at least I didn’t have my pink slippers on this time.
I was so engrossed in my search I didn’t hear the car approaching until it tooted its horn. I glanced over and saw a gray pickup pull up to the curb beside me facing the wrong direction.
Trepidation skated down my spine with icy fingers. Parker’s Landing wasn’t known for its major crime, but I was still a woman walking alone late at night.
I put my hand in my pocket, ready to activate the emergency call feature on my iPhone.
The truck window rolled down.
Pebbles’s head popped into view, and she barked.
My mouth dropped open, and I hurried forward before I even saw who was in the driver’s seat. I didn’t care. They’d found my dog.
“Lose something?”
Detective Quartermaine leaned closer, emerging from the shadowed interior with an amused smirk on his face.
“Where did you find her?” I reached out and scooped her from the vehicle. She squirmed in my arms and licked at my face.
“The security light came on in my yard. When I looked out the window, I saw her sniffing at the ground. I knew right away whose dog it was. That little bow on her head is unmistakable.”
I smiled. “Where do you think she gets her name?”
A small frown puckered the area between his brows for a second before it smoothed out and he chuckled. “The Flintstones. Makes sense. Is there a Bam Bam running around too?”
A chuckle slid past my lips. “No. One dog is plenty for me. Thank you again for catching her.”
“You’re welcome. Just be careful opening your door. I think she’s figured out she can slip past you.”
“She didn’t. Not this time. I let her into the backyard. It’s fenced. Someone cut a hole in the chain link behind my hedgerow.”
The levity on his face disappeared and a dark frown took its place. “You’re sure?”
I nodded. “The first thing I did when I realized she wasn’t in the yard was to check the fence perimeter. I found her trail and the hole. It’s not bent like an animal forced its way through and the links haven’t untwisted. It’s been cut.”
He tipped his head toward the passenger side of his truck. “Hop in. I’ll take you home and you can show me.”
Really? He wanted to look now? I just wanted to go to sleep. “That’s not necessary, Detective. It’s late, and?—”
He held up a hand, cutting me off. “First, I think since rescuing your dog is becoming a bit of a habit, and we’re neighbors; you can call me Oscar. Second, you’re right—it is late. So please just get in the truck.” Exasperation colored his rich tone.
I scowled at him, keeping my feet rooted to the sidewalk.
He sighed. “Look, it’s cold and you’re not wearing the best clothing to be out here.” He gave my attire a once-over. “If I drive you back, you get out of the cold faster, and I can make sure your house is safe. We’ll both sleep better if I do.”
My resolve wavered. I was chilly. And it would be nice to know someone wasn’t waiting in the wings for me to return.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the icy breeze coming off the ocean went through me. I hadn’t given much thought to why someone would cut a dog-sized hole in my fence except to steal her.
But his words made me wonder.
What if it wasn’t about Pebbles, but about me?
That thought set my feet in motion. I hurried around the front of the truck and climbed inside.
Warmth enveloped me as I settled into the cloth seat. My nose was frozen. So were my fingers.
“Buckle up.”
I blinked. Was he serious? “We’re going a hundred yards. Maybe.”
“Most accidents happen within a mile of home.” But he put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb.
Thirty seconds later, he turned into my driveway and cut the engine.
I opened the door and slid out of the seat to the ground. It wasn’t quite as tall as some I’d ridden in, but it was up there, even for someone my height.
His over six-foot frame had no trouble getting out, though.
I frowned as I watched him. The few inches really shouldn’t make that much difference. Maybe it was just his legs; they were probably longer than mine.
Shaking off the silly thought, I rounded the hood, then waited while he took a flashlight from his back seat. With it illuminating our path, we headed for the backyard.
Traipsing along the exterior of the fence, I stopped a few feet past the start of the hedgerow and pointed to a spot near the ground. “There.”
He aimed the light at the ground near the fence and walked forward a couple steps before crouching in front of the hole. “It was definitely cut.” He touched an edge, then stood. “She didn’t get cut, did she?” He nodded to the dog. “That hole isn’t very big.”
“I don’t think so.” Concern pinched my features as I ran a hand through Pebbles’s fur. “I don’t feel anything.” I’d take a closer look later, just to be sure, but for now I was satisfied she was fine.
“Good. If you want, you can head inside. I’ll take a look around out here and make sure nothing else has been tampered with.” Oscar nodded toward the house.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m guessing you’ve been out looking for her for a while. Go warm up.”
“Okay.” My nose and hands thanked him. “Can you come knock when you’re done?” I didn’t want to sit up, wondering if he was still out here looking for anything amiss.
“Yes.”
With a soft smile of thanks, I hurried away, ready to be warm. Next time, I’d grab my coat before wandering through the neighborhood.
“But there better not be a next time,” I muttered, dropping a kiss on Pebbles’s head.
Inside, I set her on the floor, then immediately went to the coffeemaker. I needed something to warm me up from the inside, and I had a whole bag of decaf in the cupboard.
Adding enough grounds to the carafe side of my dual-brew machine to make two cups, I hit start, then went to the window to watch Oscar search.
It felt weird to think of him by his given name. But he had a point. It seemed we were neighbors, and Pebbles was determined we got to know each other.
And really, was that so bad?
Maybe he was gruff the first time because it was early, and who expects to get accosted on a run at that hour by a Yorkie?
As far as his staying out of trouble comments went, I had a feeling that didn’t have much to do with me. He’d been very quick to leap to the conclusion I would stick my nose where it didn’t belong. Someone somewhere in his past had done so. I’d bet my real estate license on it.
The coffee machine gurgled, expelling the last of the coffee through the filter. I returned to the kitchen and took a mug from the cabinet to pour myself a cup. Oscar could have the rest if he wanted it.
Wrapping my hands around the mug, I wandered back to the window to wait.
And to wonder more about why someone would cut a hole in my fence. If the goal was to take Pebbles, or even to lure me out and harm me, they’d have to lay in wait. There was no guarantee Pebbles would go through the hole or that it would happen quickly. That hole could have been there for days.
Oscar’s flashlight bobbed outside the fence as he walked toward the gate. I watched him come through, then search the yard. There weren’t many places to hide back there. I had a shed and some lawn furniture. And the bushes, of course, but those weren’t big enough to conceal a person. I deliberately kept them low so they didn’t obstruct my view of the bay.
Pebbles, who’d snuggled up on her plush bed by the couch, suddenly raised her head and let out a little bark.
“It’s just your rescuer, sweetie.” I shushed her, and she settled.
A minute later, he approached the back door. I opened it for him, then stepped back so he could come inside.
Redness from the cold tinged his cheeks, and the wind had mussed the dark waves of his hair.
He looked good enough to eat.
I raised my coffee cup and took a sip, hiding the scowl that formed as I admonished my errant brain. Those kinds of thoughts were not helpful.
Lowering the mug, I cast a quick look at the kitchen. “I made coffee, if you’d like some to warm up. It’s decaf.”
“Actually, that sounds nice.” He rubbed his hands together, then blew on them. “It’s chillier than I expected. You get a breeze from the ocean. My house is more sheltered.”
“But my view is spectacular.” I flashed him a quick smile, then went into the kitchen and poured the rest of the coffee into a brown, hand-thrown ceramic mug. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He took it, cradling it in his large hands to warm them. “I didn’t see much. Near that hole, it looks like there might have been some food. I found?—”
Pebbles let out a series of barks, rising to her feet and spinning in a circle.
“Pebbles…” I let out a sigh.
“What’s she barking at?”
“I have no idea. I thought it was you, but you’re inside, and she’s not paying any attention?—”
A thump overhead silenced my words.
What the heck was that? I glanced at the ceiling.
Pebbles let out another flurry of barks and ran for the stairs.
“Pebbles!” I took off after her, depositing my mug on an end table. I made it just past the couch when a strong hand encircled my wrist, bringing me to a halt.
I looked back and right into a pair of intense, fierce, dark-brown eyes.
“Stay here. I’ll check it out.” He let go and moved swiftly around me to run up the stairs after a still barking Pebbles.
A series of thumps and bangs on the side of the house sent my heart into my throat, where it raced at a frantic beat.
What was going on?
“Hey!” Oscar’s deep shout echoed downstairs. “Stop! Police!”
Pebbles’s barks accompanied him.
Eyes wide, I moved closer to the staircase. Who was he talking to?
I looked up to see Oscar appear at the top, running at full speed and taking the steps with fast feet.
“Call 9-1-1. Tell them I’m in pursuit of a burglary suspect.” He flew past me to the front door.
“Burglary?” My feet grew roots, and I stared at him, eyes round and jaw slack.
“Just call.” He threw open the locks and let himself out.
The frozen air that came through was enough to snap me out of my state of shock. In just a few strides, I was standing in the doorway, watching him run down my driveway after a figure cloaked all in black.