Chapter Twelve #2
Perry’s rusty blue pickup—the same one he drove when he picked up her appliances—sat next to the little trailer that was a similar color of faded blue.
When Billie parked and shut off the engine, he turned to her. “Let me approach the door first. If he’s here and I don’t see any issues, you can join me.”
“That’s his truck so he’s probably home,” she said first, but then she argued, “But he doesn’t know you. You should let me go in first. I can call out his name. Tell him who I am. He’ll recognize me.”
“Not a good idea,” Billie countered. “I should go first.”
As if to defy both their conclusions, two large and admittedly vicious-looking dogs trotted from behind the little dingy blue trailer and bounded toward the SUV.
“You were saying,” Charly teased.
As fearless as she was, she did not mess with unfamiliar dogs.
Particularly those who looked like guard dogs.
Aggressive guard dogs owned by someone of questionable standing.
And it wasn’t that she didn’t like dogs.
She loved dogs. She and Alex had adored Watson—their big old black Lab.
Alex had given the puppy to her the same night he proposed.
Watson had been with them their entire marriage until he died in his sleep three days after Alex.
Watson had been old, almost thirteen, and he’d been declining for a while.
But he’d hung in there until Alex was gone and then it was like he allowed himself to let go.
Another devastating moment for Charly. She’d loved that damned dog. And like her inability to feel anything in the way of interest in another intimate relationship, she hadn’t been able to bear the idea of another dog. There was no way to replace that sweet, loyal animal.
“I’m good with dogs,” Billie offered with a glance in her direction.
She laughed. “Famous last words.” She reached in front of him and pressed the horn. The dogs started to howl and circle the SUV.
Billie looked from her to the trailer and back. “I guess we’ll know in a minute if he’s home.”
“We will.” She pressed the horn again; this time she held it down for a second or two longer.
The front door opened, and a shirtless, low-slung-jean-clad Perry Hillard stumbled out, almost face-planting in the overgrown grass. Even from thirty feet away there was no missing the scowl on his face.
He patted his right thigh and whistled. The two animals went to him immediately.
She and Billie exchanged a glance.
He opened his door and Charly did the same. From the corner of her eye she saw the worried look he cast her way. The idea that he felt compelled to protect her was sweet but not really necessary. She could take care of herself—except maybe when she ended up in a ditch.
“Perry!” she shouted as she moved toward the front of the SUV. “We didn’t wake you, did we?” She supposed it was early for some folks.
The dogs whined but stayed at his side, their bodies quivering with tension. They wanted to protect their master and his home.
“What you up to, Charly girl?” He muttered something to the dogs and they visibly relaxed.
She and Billie continued slowly walking toward the man.
Long, thick hair he’d fastened into a ponytail at the nape of his neck looked mussed and ready to fall from its tie.
He’d probably slept with it that way. He was too skinny and average height.
A scar on his left jaw elicited second looks from strangers but reminded those who knew him that his old man had been a bad, bad person who beat his kid way too often.
When Perry decided to fight back—with a knife—his daddy had taken it away from him and given him something to remember his mistake by. The scar.
Strange she hadn’t remembered that until she was standing in front of the man.
“I’m looking for Kerrick,” she told him, not exactly a lie. She and Billie hadn’t discussed how they intended to approach this guy. She was just making it up as she went along. “He was supposed to get back to me on some questions we had for him.”
That part was totally a lie.
Perry ignored her comment and looked at Billie for the first time. “Who’s your friend?”
“Billie Jagger,” he said, extending his hand as he drew within range of exchanging that sort of pleasantry with the guy.
Perry’s chin went up as he offered a fist bump instead of a shake. “Oh yeah, the PI from Chicago.”
Word got around fast. No surprise. For all its tourists and weekenders, Guntersville was basically a small town with a tight community of year-round residents.
Billie obliged him with a fist bump. “My sister and brother-in-law are the couple who were kidnapped on Monday night. Charly is helping me with my search to find out what happened and to find them. Did you happen to run into either of them? Or maybe hear anything about them? Any help you can provide would be greatly appreciated.”
He made a face, shook his head. “Nah. I didn’t see ’em. Kerrick did,” he offered. “That guy sees everything. You talk to him already?” This he directed at Charly.
She’d already told him she was looking for Kerrick. He was either fishing to see if her story would hold up or he was seriously hungover and couldn’t remember squat.
“I did. Last night. He said he ran into them at the Last Chance the other night. He was supposed to check with you and Finn to see if either of you saw them, but he didn’t get back to me.
” If Charly was lucky he wouldn’t realize there really hadn’t been time between last night and this morning. “I guess he didn’t talk to you yet.”
Perry grunted. “You know Kerrick. If it ain’t about him, it ain’t important.”
Charly laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Perry raised an eyebrow at her. “He still trying to get you to go out with him?”
Why did guys always ask that? Charly shook her head. “The man finally got it that I wasn’t interested.”
“Well, that’s too bad for him.” Perry looked her up and down. “You ever get bored, you call me.”
“I’ll remember that,” Charly lied, again.
“It’s too bad,” Billie said, “that you didn’t see my sister and her husband. There’s a big reward. Did you hear about that?”
He had Perry’s full attention now. “Reward? I didn’t see nothing about a reward on the news.”