Drool Baby (A Dog Park Mystery) (Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries) (28 page)

"I'm hoping you'll learn to forgive yourself for not being perfect.

I'm hoping all this will go away."

"There's a lot that may never go away."

Lia looked down at the bandage on her leg as she talked. "I know that. It's not fair that Anna could change my life like that."

"No, it's not. But you can find some good in this."

Lia looked at her sharply. "What good could there possibly be in killing someone?"

"You've faced something very few people ever have to face. You've faced it twice, in fact. When you first came to see me, you said you froze when Bailey
put that gun to your head. This time, you were able to assess your situation and act effectively."

Lia shrugged. "When I woke up, she wasn't there. I had time to think about it. It might have been different if she'd been there when I woke up."

"What's important is what did happen. I'm hoping that you'll have greater confidence in yourself from now on." Asia smiled. "The important thing is, you
were not a victim."

"I feel like a victim, like life tossed me into the Vita-Mix and pressed the puree button."

"You've had a lot happen over the past several months. Not all of it has been bad, but change still causes stress. You've been in and out of crisis mode
for an extended period of time. Hopefully, this situation will settle down and you can start to make decisions based on everything you've learned in the
past six months. Maybe we can start our next session by listing what some of those things are."

"Great." Lia stuck her tongue out. "More work."

"Enough for today. You have some friends over on the other side. Isn't it time you gave them a chance to be there for you?"

Peter met Lia and Asia at the corral. All three dogs were lined up at the gate, waiting for her. Asia handed Lia off to Peter, who wrapped an arm around
her. As she limped along beside Peter, Lia felt that electric tingle of shame, that feeling she got in dreams when she was naked and everyone was looking
at her. Heads turned. No one waved. The dogs, sensing something out of the ordinary, stayed close.

She'd felt this exposed once before. She'd visited a prison for an art project, and had to cross the yard. A quarter-mile of athletic fields and more than
a thousand male convicts dressed in dark blue. All stood silent, all activity stopped. All staring at her as she made her slow progress, a thousand heads
turning in unison until she and her escort reached their destination on the far side of the prison campus.

"Jim and the others are in the back. Just ignore everyone else."

Lia kept her head up, defiantly. "Screw them," she said.

"Atta girl."

Jim, Marie, Terry and Nadine were at their usual table. Terry was showing off his cast-free leg, pallid white and fragile from the shin down. Nadine was
the first to speak. "Come sit over here, Lia. You should rest that leg." She scooted over on the table top, making room.

Lia boosted herself up. Peter sat next to her.

"How's the leg?" Jim asked.

"I think this is where I say 'it's only a flesh wound,' and slug down some bourbon."

"Now, Lia, you know alcohol isn't allowed in the park," Nadine joked weakly.

Lia cracked half a smile. "I don't know what to say to you all."

"We're just really glad you're okay," Marie said. "You don't need to say anything. Jim and Peter filled us in."

"And if any of those Looky Lous pop off at ya, I'll just taser 'em," Jose offered.

"Thanks, Jose," Lia sniffed. "This is so awkward."

Terry scuffed his shoe. "You may have saved my life. Peter says she sabotaged my ladder. She might have come back to finish the job."

"We're really sorry, Lia," Nadine said.

"Why are you sorry?" Lia asked, genuinely perplexed.

"We all liked her," Nadine said. "We never dreamed she had it in her to kill people. How many years has she been coming up here? There was never a hint of
anything wrong."

Kita planted her forepaws on the bench and licked Lia's face, leaving a long streamer dangling off Lia's chin.

"Ick," Lia said, and everyone laughed.

Lia was suddenly struck by how her crowd had shrunk in the past six months. Luthor, Catherine, Roger, Anna, gone. Bailey sidelined, and Terry an infrequent
visitor for now. She blinked back tears. She'd lost people, but she'd also gained. There was Peter, Asia and Renee, and Bailey would be back before long.

"We have to celebrate," she said.

Everyone looked at her.

"We're all alive. Bailey is coming back home as soon as she can convince the state she's not a danger to herself and others. Anna can't ever hurt anyone
again. We need a party."

"What a wonderful idea," Nadine said. "How do you want to celebrate?"

"Something crazy. I feel the need to do something outrageous."

"Karaoke," Marie offered.

"Are you nuts?" Jim asked.

"Exactly," Marie said.

"You won't get me up there," Peter said.

"Singing badly in front of strangers is liberating," Marie said.

"Karaoke is an outstanding idea," Terry said. Where can we do this?"

"The Painted Fish has Karaoke on Wednesdays," Lia said. "And the sushi is half-price."

"Karaoke and half-price sushi?" Terry enthused, "What more could anyone want? When are we going to stage this debacle?"

"When Bailey gets out. But everyone has to sing. Except Bailey," Lia said.

"You don't want me to sing," Jim said. "I'm tone-deaf."

"Even better," Marie said.

"How does that help anyone?" Jim asked.

"We're doing it for Bailey," Marie said. "When she comes home, she's going to feel really embarrassed about everything that's happened. She's spent three
months in a mental institution. Coming back to normal life is going to be strange. So we make fools of ourselves to make her feel better. She won't feel so
weird."

"I'm supposed to make an ass out of myself so Bailey won't feel like an ass?" Jim asked.

"Exactly!" Marie said.

Lia sat next to Peter on the back stoop, watching the dogs. Her bandaged leg was carefully extended.

"You know," Peter said, "once probate clears on Anna's estate, you'll no longer be a starving artist."

"I don't want that money. I can't stand the thought of it. I still can't believe she left everything to me in her will."

"You're still going to have to deal with it."

She sighed. "I know. I suppose I'll give it away."

"There go my dreams of being a kept man."

Lia elbowed him. "I could never humiliate you like that. Just think what it would be like, having to ask for money every time you wanted to buy a new
Ferrari."

"You're right. I could never live with myself. Doing nothing all day long except thinking of ways to make you happy. That would be terrible. Much better to
see it go to a home for paraplegic finger-painters."

"Oh, stop it. I know who I want to give it to, but I don't know if they'll take it."

"Who's that?"

"According to the journal on her netbook, Anna had a lot of victims. Terry's going to need medical treatment for years to deal with his head injury. I could get him a
speech therapist."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "A speech therapist? For Terry?"

"Speech therapists do more than help people learn how to talk again. They also help people with brain injuries learn how to function with their disability.
It may not look like it, but I think Terry's having a really hard time."

"Huh."

"And Bailey's got to be in bad shape after losing all her income for three months. She's probably lost a lot of her customers for good. From everything
you've said about Anna's journal, there are probably children who lost parents. If we can identify them, I could help them with their education, or with
starting a business or something.

"As it is, any one of those people could sue the estate for wrongful death and tie everything up for years. If I let them know up front I'm sharing the
money, we can settle it all faster. I guess I should talk to a lawyer about a foundation."

Peter twined a lock of Lia's hair around his finger and tugged. "You're a victim, too."

"Maybe I'll take enough to pay for my therapy."

He wrapped his arms around her. "You're a good person. I don't know if I can live up to all this goodness."

"Tell you what. You keep being your bad self and I'll just make a project out of fixing you up."

"Does that mean I have to eat kelp noodles?"

"Absolutely. Or be punished."

He considered this. "Will you wear Marie's boots when you do that?"

"Maybe. Peter, I need to get serious for a minute."

"What's on your mind?"

"I love you, I really do."

"Good." He kissed her.

"But . . ."

He leaned back and looked at her. "But?"

"I really need my space back. I'm not ready for a twenty-four/seven relationship."

Peter sighed. "At least I won't feel guilty about my Pop Tarts anymore. Do I get a going away present?"

"You're not going that far, Kentucky Boy. Look, this isn't about you, it's about me."

"That sounds like a break up line."

"I've been figuring out some things about myself. My mother used to be totally dependent on the men in her life, and when she didn't have one, she focused
all her attention on getting one. I didn't have a mother for much of my childhood, not one that paid attention to me. And the men never made her happy. She
did better when she was alone but she never realized it.

So I think I'm phobic about being dependent on a relationship. And I think you're the type of guy who wants that kind of dependence. I don't want to lose you, but I still need to work some things out."

Peter pulled her into his lap. "I'm sorry if I've crowded you. I didn't mean to, but I didn't know any other way to protect you. I like that you aren't
needy. But I do have 'serve and protect' in the blood. If there's a danger to someone I care about, I'll be there. You can still change your own tires. It
won't threaten my manhood.

"I don't know where this is going. I see so many bad things, I want to grab onto the good things in my life. I don't know what's right for us, but I'd like
there to be an 'us.' It makes my job easier, knowing you're around. I bet, if we try real hard, we can figure out something that works for both of us. But
we don't have to figure it out today."

"You hardly ever talk about your work."

"I guess I just want to leave it all behind when I'm with you."

"That's not fair to me, Peter."

"What do you mean?"

"If you want me to share the good, I need to share the bad, too. Otherwise, I'm like a kid with a lollypop who doesn't know the rent is past due."

"Huh."

"Just think about it. If I can change my own tires, I can handle hearing about your day."

"Guess I never thought of it that way. So when do you want me to leave?"

"Not just yet. 'Person of Interest' is coming on in a bit. We can watch Jim Caviezel in poorly choreographed fight scenes and I can pretend that's what you
do all day."

Lia sat in the lounge and watched the door to the psych unit apprehensively. She told herself there was no reason to worry. Still, the remains of her
breakfast smoothie roiled in her gut. She should have added some ginger. That would have fixed it.

Bailey was being discharged. This had been confirmed. Still, until Bailey was out, out of the unit, out of the building, she wouldn't believe it. The
longer the exit process took, the more anxious she became, as if someone would realize it had all been a mistake. She twisted her hands, unconsciously
mimicking her agitated stomach.

Finally the door opened and a slight, black man escorted Bailey out. She had only a second to register how much thinner Bailey was, how frail she looked,
how much longer her hair was, before she was up off the chair and hugging her as hard as she could.

Their cheeks met, tears mingling. Lia rubbed Bailey's back. Bailey sobbed, "I'm so, so sorry. The gun went off by accident. I never would have shot you,
never."

"Shhhh. It's all right. You didn't know what you were doing. It's not your fault. I've missed you so much."

"I thought you'd never speak to me again."

"That's past. We're going to fix you up." She guided Bailey into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. Bailey rubbed her eyes and shoved her
overgrown bangs out of her face.

"We've got to take care of your hair," Lia said. "You're getting it cut tomorrow."

"I can't get an appointment that soon."

"It's already taken care of."

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor.

"I've got a surprise for you," Lia said.

"I'm already stressing, just about going home. I really can't handle anything else today." Then Bailey looked beyond the glass entry, where Jim stood with
Kita on a leash. She burst into tears again and fumbled her way through the doors. Kita jumped up on her, bathing Bailey's face with her rough tongue,
leaving behind a long streamer of drool.

Bailey dropped down and hugged her, rubbing her cheek against the silky muzzle. "Thank you for keeping her," she told Jim. "And for everything else you've
done."

Jim nodded. "I'll just leave you ladies to your reunion." He walked back out to his car and left.

"He's a good person," Bailey said. "If he hadn't listened to Frank, I would still be in there, in there or in jail. And you would still hate me."

"I'd like to think that if Frank had come to me, I would have listened, but I honestly don't know. The important thing is, Jim did listen, and we were able
to help. Now let's get you home." She steered Bailey towards her old Volvo. Kita jumped into the back and stuck her head between the front seats, where
Bailey could continue to pet her.

"Goddess, Lia. I'm going home to such a mess. I'll be lucky if the utilities haven't been shut off."