Читать книгу Cut to the Bone - Joan Boswell - Страница 13

Chaos reigned in the hangar-like room where ten dog owners, supporters, and puppies awaited their lesson. Hollis, Jay, and Crystal fought to control the overexcited Barlow, who lunged forward, barking and whining to be allowed to socialize with each and every dog.

Previously, Hollis had taken him to young puppy training, where his one claim to fame was being the only puppy not to pee on the floor. Hollis had spent hours trying to train him to walk on a loose leash, rather than hauling her along in his wake. She’d become a devotee of Cesar Millan, the National Geographic channel’s dog guru, and adopted his ideas of dog psychology. Most of the time Barlow accepted her as the alpha dog and, except on occasions like this, even eleven-year-old Jay could control him.

Waves of ammonia-laden air forced Hollis to breathe shallowly, but she’d signed what she suspected was a legal agreement with the breeder committing her to enroll Barlow in dog training classes. She’d vowed to herself that she’d turn the willful, headstrong puppy into a well-behaved dog.

Chris, the rotund instructor, who wore a too-small purple T-shirt with “City Dog” blazoned across her ample chest, bellowed over the cacophony of barking. “Please take a seat and listen.”

Metal folding chairs scraped on the concrete floor as dogs and owners settled down. It wasn’t quiet, but the decibel level had dropped. Hollis, anchoring Barlow close to her with a short leash and an iron grip, invited Crystal and Jay to sit on either side, knowing their barricading presence would prevent Barlow from launching himself at any dog parked next to him. Sitting in the third and last row of chairs, she observed the crowd.

Mabel, the adorable low-energy St. Bernard, leaned on her owner, a pretty, petite blonde woman. MiMi, the impossibly tiny teacup Chihuahua, was huddled under her owner’s chair, tail tucked between her legs. Hollis thought that if she was that small in a surging mass of half-grown dogs, she’d hide too. Three rescue dogs of indeterminate parentage along with a chocolate Lab, a labradoodle, a Wheaton, and a Jack Russell that bounced with the elasticity of an Indian rubber ball completed the roll. It was a diverse group of dogs, and the owners or handlers were equally varied.

“I see that a number of dogs have brought several people with them,” Chris said. “You will remember from previous classes that we have only one person with a dog. You may take turns, as we will do each exercise at least three times.” She smiled toothily, with little warmth. “Take positions around the room. We will do a long down and stay,” she instructed.

Chairs scraped.

“I’ll go first, then Jay and then Crystal,” Hollis said, tightening her grip on Barlow.

Despite his afternoon failure to obey this command, when there was an audience he could do it pretty well, and she’d brought a pocketful of liver treats to keep him focused.

At the hour’s end, Hollis felt exhausted but Barlow resisted being led out.

“He did really good, didn’t he?” Jay said. “Crystal and I did too.”

“You certainly did, you’ll be dog trainers before you know it,” Hollis said.

“I’d like to be a vet,” Crystal said as she walked beside Hollis. “It could never happen. It would cost way too much.”

Hollis turned to look at Crystal. It surprised her when preteens expressed long-term goals. “There are always scholarships,” she said and was about to add a cliched comment about working hard when it occurred to her that she knew nothing about Crystal and shouldn’t make facile remarks.

“I don’t want to be a vet,” Jay said, jumping over the cracks in the sidewalk. “I’ll be a detective like Nancy Drew.”

This ambition didn’t surprise Hollis, but she smiled to herself thinking how surprised Jay would be if she knew how much detecting her foster mother had done. Maybe someday she’d tell her. They’d reached the second-hand Mazda van Hollis had bought to replace her much-loved truck. She’d purchased it when the CAS’s notification that they’d accepted her foster parent application arrived on the same day as an email saying that the Flat-coat breeder had a puppy for her. There was no way to squeeze two dogs, Jay, and herself into the truck, let alone bring along Jay’s friends.

“How about a mug of hot chocolate when we get home,” Hollis said.

“I’ll go up and tell my aunt,” Crystal said.

Hollis dealt with the police officer stationed at the entrance to the underground parking garage, manipulated the van into her allotted space, and shepherded her pack to the elevators.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Crystal promised as Jay, Hollis, and Barlow got out on the first floor.

Inside the apartment Hollis flicked on the lights, said hello to MacTee, and headed for the kitchen, where she filled and plugged in the kettle. She spooned powdered hot chocolate into three mugs, pulled a package of oatmeal raisin cookies from the cupboard, and was arranging them on a blue-and-white plate when the apartment door banged and Crystal raced into the kitchen.

“She’s gone,” she shouted. “She didn’t wait, didn’t take me. She’s gone. Aunt Mary’s gone. The door was unlocked. She’s gone. She left me behind. I went down to the garage. Her car’s gone.”

Crystal’s angry eyes, white face, and shivering told Hollis that the child was both furious and frightened.

Time to take charge.

“There’s probably an explanation? Sit down while we figure out what it might be.”

Crystal didn’t move. “I knew it. I just knew it. Now what will happen to me?” she wailed.

“Right now what will happen to you is drinking something sweet to make you feel better. I’ll make the hot chocolate and we’ll talk about what could have happened.”

Jay took her friend’s hand. “It’ll be okay.” She pulled a chair away from the table for Crystal, who allowed herself to be moved like a piece of furniture.

Hollis poured the boiling water on top of the chocolate powder in each blue mug and stirred thoroughly before setting them on the table.

Crystal stared at the drink but made no move to raise it to her lips.

Jay picked up her friend’s cup. “You need this, Crystal. I read that a big slurp of sugar helps you get over shock. If you think your aunt has left you, you’ve had a big one, so drink.”

Her words penetrated. Crystal obediently sipped.

Hollis marshalled what little she knew about Crystal, who lived with her Aunt Mary, a woman Hollis pegged as an Aboriginal without any concrete evidence to support her assumption. The accountant had Hollis check up on tardy tenants, and Mary’s name never appeared on his list, so she must pay her rent on time. Whenever Hollis met Mary in the lobby, the woman responded minimally to Hollis’s attempts to chat.

Not much to go on. She tried to think if anything in the files would help. A few months earlier at the start of the job, she’d read through all the lease agreements and found out as much as she could about the building’s tenants. For some she made notes to help her remember their idiosyncrasies and obsessions, but she had none for Mary.

Hollis sat down. She’d probably get more information if she didn’t loom over the child. Being almost six feet tall, she knew she could be intimidating.

“Couldn’t your aunt have gone out and forgotten to lock the door?” Hollis asked.

Crystal reached for a cookie, swallowed a mouthful of hot chocolate, and shook her head. “No way. Whether she’s home or out she never, never leaves it unlocked. She has three locks and she’s super careful to always lock the door.”

“There are other people living with you, aren’t there. Are they gone?”

Crystal shrugged. “They’re not there.”

“How many people live with you?”

“Sometimes one, sometimes two or three.”

“Family? Friends?”

Crystal eyed her warily and shrugged.

“I suppose they’re your aunt’s friends. Maybe she left you a note to tell you where she’s gone,” Hollis said.

Crystal tipped her mug and finished her drink before she replied. “I doubt it. Aunt Mary took me because my mother’s dead and my grandmother’s sick. She didn’t want me but there was no one else.” The bitterness in Crystal’s voice shocked Hollis.

What had happened to the child’s mother? Why didn’t Crystal think Mary would leave her a note if she’d unexpectedly gone out? Clearly, Crystal didn’t want to tell her anything about her aunt. Maybe the apartment would reveal more.

“When you finish your drink we’ll go upstairs and search for clues to tell us where your aunt went.”

Jay, jiggling from one foot to the other as she followed their conversation, took the matter in hand. “Hey, just like Nancy Drew. Maybe we should wear gloves and take a magnifying glass.” She looked at Hollis. “Have you got stuff like that?”

Hollis shook her head. “I have, but we haven’t reached that stage.” She registered that the puppy had inserted his nose into the pocket of the jean jacket Crystal had hung on the back of the chair. Hollis pointed to the jacket. “Don’t leave anything where Barlow can get it,” she said as she did every time they left the dog alone.

Crystal grabbed the jacket, shrugged into it, foraged in the pockets of her blue jeans, and yanked out three keys on a grubby blue satin ribbon. “I didn’t need these. I didn’t lock the door when I left in case my aunt came back.” She frowned at Hollis. “We should lock it after you see that there’s no way to tell where she’s gone. You could write a note telling her I’m here and stick it to the door. I don’t know why you don’t believe me, but if it makes you happy we’ll look.” She picked up her cup and carried it to the sink before she headed out.

Jay left her mug on the table and scrambled to join Crystal. Hollis sighed as she followed the girls. She suspected Crystal was right and they wouldn’t learn anything about Mary’s whereabouts.

Upstairs, the three hesitated outside the apartment before Hollis led them into a small foyer that opened directly into an apartment that was the mirror image of Hollis’s. The door might have been open when Crystal came home, but nothing untoward appeared to have happened in the hall. The pictures hung on the wall, the rug lay on the floor, and a bowl of keys sat on a demi-lune table. Only rhinestone-encrusted sunglasses lying on the floor were out of place.

The three stopped.

There was no evidence that Mary’s departure had been involuntary. And how would her kidnapper have evaded the police, who had checked everyone entering and leaving the building and garage since Hollis reported Sabrina’s murder?

Crystal had told them Mary’s vehicle was gone. But there was no law against leaving the garage. Perhaps a very cool customer could have risked forcing a woman into her own car and driving out, but Hollis had trouble visualizing a man hustling Mary out of the building into the garage, hitting her on the head, and sticking her in the trunk.

The security tapes recorded activities in the garage. The police possessed them. Surely they would have noticed? And what of the unidentified tenants? Who and where were they?

“Nancy Drew would see if anything suspicious has happened in the rest of the apartment,” Jay said, barging ahead of them.

“Jay, wait. Let me go first. We don’t know what happened here,” Hollis said and again led the way.

First they forged into the combined living and dining room. A sectional dark green velour sofa, wood-and-glass coffee table, two folding chairs, two standard lamps, and a large old-fashioned TV on a stand were undisturbed. On the wall over the sofa a large poster that reproduced a classic photo of an American 1930s woman sharecropper standing in a doorway added a depressing note. On the opposite wall another poster of an Indian chief in full regalia dominated the room. Venetian blinds covered the windows. A utilitarian room with nothing to indicate a struggle.

In the dining area a bridge table with four folding chairs pulled up to it, a brown laminate china cabinet, a white particle board bookcase stuffed with books, and a treadmill filled the space.

Hollis didn’t know what signs to look for, but it wouldn’t hurt to learn more about Mary. She squatted in front of the bookcase. Many books on Aboriginal history and law. A neatly alphabetized section on addictions. A few novels and cookbooks. An eclectic mix. A worn book with a soft green cover lay horizontally on top of the others. Hollis removed it. The Song My Paddle Sings, a well-thumbed collection of Pauline Johnson’s poetry. Interesting. If she had time she’d come back and look through the volumes to see if Mary had annotated or folded and inserted relevant articles between the pages.

The adjoining kitchen’s tidiness impressed her.

Crystal grabbed her sleeve. “Never mind the kitchen. Our stuff, Aunt Mary’s and mine, is in there.” She pointed down the hall to a closed door. Heavy-footed, she stomped down the hall and flung the door open.

Hollis and Jay traipsed into the bedroom, where two neatly made single beds, one with a bedraggled toy monkey on the pillow, shared a small chest of drawers with a two-armed gooseneck lamp.

Two unmatched white DIY bureaus crowded together, as did two desks and a tall grey filing cabinet. The contents of a bulletin board over one desk, along with a collection of bobble-headed dolls lined up in front of a computer, clearly belonged to Crystal. The second desktop with its mug of pens and computer must be Mary’s. A navy backpack tucked under the desk attracted Hollis’s attention.

“Okay if I take a look in this?” Hollis said to Crystal, who stared sadly around the room.

“It’s Aunt Mary’s. Go ahead.”

Opening zipper after zipper, Hollis found nothing and was about to replace it when she poked into a small side pocket and found a notebook. She looked at Crystal, who shrugged. “She always kept that with her. Really weird that she doesn’t have it. Maybe it’ll tell you where she is.”

“I’ll return it,” Hollis said as she stuffed it in her pocket. She waved a hand at the room across the hall. “Whose bedroom is that?”

“Different people’s,” Crystal said, not meeting Hollis’s gaze.

“Let’s have a look.”

Hollis opened the second bedroom door. Two bunk beds, one with bottom and top neatly made, contrasted dramatically with the tangle of bedding and clothing on the other. It was as if an invisible line divided the room. Order versus chaos. Hollis imagined how difficult it must be for the neatnik to live with her absolute opposite.

Hollis turned back to the girls who hovered in the hall. She pointed to the cyclonic confusion. “Crystal, is this half of the room always like this?”

“I don’t know. I never come in. They keep the door closed.”

“Who lives here with you?” That was the first thing to determine. Then she’d find out what they’d been doing.

Crystal allowed her short-bobbed black hair to swing forward and partially hide her face as she scuffed her shoe and fixed her gaze on the floor. “Different people,” she muttered.

“That doesn’t tell me much. Why did they live here?”

“Aunt Mary never said. I asked once and she told me it was better if I didn’t know.”

Crystal’s obstinate refusal to provide meaningful information irritated Hollis. “You must have wondered. Didn’t you talk to them? Didn’t you ask their names?”

Crystal shook her head. “Mary didn’t want me to know and I stopped asking. I didn’t want her to send me away.”

Send her away? What had gone on in this room? “I don’t think we’re going to find out anything here,” Hollis said, although she longed to search the drawers, lift mattresses, read clothing labels, and go through pockets. She might be the building’s custodian, but until she had a few more answers, she’d be abusing her job if she succumbed to the urge

Stepping out of the room, she gently put her hand under Crystal’s chin and raised her head until the girl finally looked at her. “Did your aunt have enemies?”

Crystal shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t understand any of this and you’re not helping,” Hollis said.

The angry lines around Crystal’s mouth and eyes disappeared. Her brown eyes filled with tears. “I’ll never see her again,” she sobbed.

Not the time to give the child the third degree. Hollis pulled her close and hugged her. “I’m sure you will, but you must help me if we’re going to find her. Let’s have another look in your room and see if we can figure something out.” She released Crystal. With shoulders bowed like a prisoner facing execution, the child walked directly to the cupboard in her room, where she clutched a blue velour robe hanging on the back of the door, buried her face in the robe’s soft folds, pulled it from its hook, and sank to the floor.

Jay squatted beside her, wrapped her arms around her friend, and rocked her. “You don’t know she’s gone for good. Hollis will find her. She’s really smart and her boyfriend’s smart too. Don’t worry, we’ll get her back.”

Tears filled Hollis’s eyes. Given that Jay had lost her own mother when she was a young child and her longtime foster mother only months earlier, it was clear that she related to Crystal’s pain. Maybe, if they could find Crystal’s aunt, in some small way it might compensate Jay for her losses.

“I’ll speak to the police at the door….” Her voice trailed away. What would she say? If there had been an abduction, how had the abductor managed to get a grown woman out of the apartment and the building without attracting attention? It seemed like an impossible task. Furthermore, unless there were clear indications of foul play, the police counseled waiting twenty-four hours before filing a missing persons report.

Crystal dropped the dressing gown, stopped crying, and stared wide-eyed at Hollis. “No. No police. Never. No police.” A shuddering sob. “No. Don’t do that.”

Crystal might not know or admit that she knew whatever it was that her aunt was involved with, but she knew the police mustn’t be called.

Whether she liked it or not, Hollis had a job: finding Mary Montour.