Chapter 48
Chapter forty-eight
Noah
The phone call has me filled with dread from the moment Martha shouts through for me. Bunny shifts in my pocket as I hurry into the office before my nerves give out.
It's not the stalker. I almost wish it were. This is worse. This is the police.
“Hello?”
“Noah Humphries? This is Detective Anderson. How are you and your strays settling in?”
“They aren't strays.”
“Sorry. I didn't mean to be offensive.”
“The dogs are fine. It's hard work, but it's nice knowing they won't have to do this again.”
“I'm calling with an update. We have officially charged Dennis Walters with stalking and ABH. Does the name mean anything to you?”
“No. I've never heard of him before.”
“We believe he was in the area trying to collect on a debt Frank and Derek have been paying. Do you know about that?”
“I know the brothers hated spending money on anything in the kennels, but I just assumed they were tight, y'know.” They probably don't know, but I'm not sure how else to say it. I thought the brothers were pocketing all the money for themselves.
“We believe the brothers have fled from their creditors, and we're officially closing the case regarding their disappearance.”
“Oh, goodness.” My eyes close as I try to keep the relief from my tone. “So, I'm unemployed. Well, not there… I'm… What happens to the dogs?”
“Because of the media interest, and quite frankly the costs, we're signing them into the custody of the Calder Veterinary Hospital.”
Good. Because if they'd tried to keep ownership of my dogs, the bill for their care would be astronomical.
“We assume that is acceptable to you to take on the cost of ongoing care and re-homing.”
“Yes,” I practically scream at him. “Thank you.”
“We need to keep your details on file for the immediate future, so if you move on from the veterinary hospital, we'd appreciate an update.”
“I'm not planning to leave, but will let you know if that changes.”
Yeah, I've fallen head over heels for the man who kidnapped me and murdered my employers. He's given me a home, a job, and my dogs.
“Thank you, Mr. Humphries. We'll be in touch if we need you.”
I keep holding the phone after he's hung up. I can't believe we've got away with this.
We killed the owners and stole the dogs, and everyone is thanking us for it.
“Not like that,” Tree's voice cuts through the room.
I slowly lower the phone and frown at her.
“You have Bunny?” She accuses.
“Yes.” I'd almost forgotten about him. The tiny puppy who is struggling to put on weight. The runt I had dismissed the second he was born as non-viable, but now I'm so attached I can't put him down.
“He won't survive alone in your pockets.” Tree walks closer with Sunny in her hands. Sunny doesn't look much bigger than Bunny, but weight-wise, it's a different story. Sunny drinks better, moves more, and is putting on steady weight.
“One pup alone can't thrive. He needs to feel his siblings, hear them, develop the drive to compete with them.” She slowly sits in the chair beside me. “Skin to skin contact.”
And with that, she slips Sunny down the front of her top.
“So I need a bra?” I manage to splutter before my emotions spiral in free-fall. From the emotional high of getting away with murder to the depths of despair that despair everything, I still might lose Bunny.
“I remember the moment he was born,” Tree continues, ignoring my flapping as I drag the sleeping pup from my pocket and slide him under my scrubs. Unlike Tree, there is nothing there to hold him there.
“He's barely grown since then.”
“But you have. You've grown from a man who dismissed him instantly to someone who cares about each life. From practical to hopeful.”
She hands me Sunny, who I place next to Bunny. Bunny instantly starts wriggling more. Not restless, just interacting with his tiny sister.
“They both get pushed around in the group incubators. They aren't strong enough to fight for space.”
“You’re doing great.” She reassures, standing up to leave me. “You can put these two in a separate incubator. They don't have to be a littler of twelve, or two litters of six. Just not alone or they'll fade.”
Okay, having two little pups in my non-existent cleavage isn't practical, but they both fit into my pocket, and I'll just spend the next three weeks with my hands in my pockets.