Must Love Wieners (22 page)

The Chief Operations Officer stepped into the office. She was finally able to put a name to the face—or smell. Old Spice.

“Come on in, Larry,” Aiden said.

Piper gathered her backpack and swung it over her shoulder, eager to leave, but when the businessman noticed her he did a double take.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were already in the middle of a
meeting,
” he said. But the way he said
meeting
made Piper blush.

She formed the most innocent expression she could, like she and his boss hadn’t just gotten to third base on his desk.

“Larry, you remember Miss Summers.”

“How could I forget? Did you come to entertain us again with another little song?”

“No.” She bristled but then reminded herself what she had on beneath her coat. “Aiden has offered to let me use a spare office to study.”

“She’s studying to be a veterinarian,” Aiden explained.

Old Spice planted his briefcase on Aiden’s desk. “Oh, that’s right. You volunteer at that dog shelter, don’t you? I heard about the vandalism. How very unfortunate.”

He spoke to her like she was a ten-year-old with a ruined science fair project. She felt her chin rise in response. “We’ll be fine.”

“Piper went on the news to raise donations to help improve security on the building.”

“Is that right? That was you?” He seemed to think for a second. “Yes, I think I might have seen that segment. How very … industrious of you. Well.” He unlatched his briefcase, signaling it was time to move on to grown-up things now. “I hope it all works out for you.”

He began laying out documents and blueprints on Aiden’s desk, and she smirked as she imagined Old Spice reviewing important documents where her star-spangled butt had been only a few seconds before. If he knew, it would probably have knocked his argyle socks off.

Noticing the documents, Aiden reached over and slammed the briefcase shut, like this wasn’t an investment company but the NSA, highly top secret. He reached over and gathered the loose pages, flipping them facedown.

“I’ll show Miss Summers out before we begin.” He gave Larry a pointed look before turning back to Piper.

“Piper, I’ll speak to you later.” He held the door open for her. Laying a hand on her lower back, he practically shoved her out of the room. He smiled at her, but it was strained. “And help yourself to coffee and snacks. Veronica will show you around.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Piper turned back to the reception room and the door shut firmly behind her. She flinched at the sound. At least it wasn’t a handshake. But somehow, it felt worse.

What the hell was going on? She was tired of being in the dark. She wanted answers, but the kind of answers she needed she wasn’t going to get from Caldwell and Son Investments.

Abandoning her plans to study, she headed back to the elevator and drove to the police station.

21

Hound Horror

Piper pulled into the rescue center’s parking lot and killed her headlights—or, rather, her one headlight, since the other had burned out months before. Colin reclined in her purse like it was a chaise longue, so she had to dislodge him before fishing out her phone. There was a message from Aiden.

Hey. Long day at the office. Just wrapping up now. I came to see if you were still around, but Veronica said you’d left already. Are we still on for a late dinner?

She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the reply button. It was late. The clock on the dash said it was almost nine. She’d stopped by the police station to get an update from Officer Tucker in person. When she pestered him about the attempted hit-and-run, he said he was looking into Barney Miller and Laura from SFAAC. He also said that Aiden’s PA, Tamara, had a solid alibi. Apparently, she was tied up at work in a meeting. Aiden still didn’t know that Piper had listed Tamara as a possible suspect.

One week.
The message rang through her head. She’d reminded Officer Tucker that their time was up. He said the police would increase the patrol units to the area throughout the night. In other words, she was on her own again. She’d thought she’d been joking about spending the night sleeping at the center, but tonight that was exactly what she was prepared to do. Anything to keep her charges safe.

She’d wanted to get to the center a little earlier, but Lindsey from Sam’s office had texted her that afternoon with two last-minute telegram bookings. Well, three, but one of them had been Barney Miller.

Supposedly he’d sprained his ankle and couldn’t go on his vacation, which of course meant he needed a “Get well soon” telegram. She wondered if it was possible to sprain an ankle during a car chase in a dark alley. Obviously she turned that gig down.

As she hesitated with her phone in her hand, Colin grumbled from the passenger seat. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She could swear there was a disapproving tilt to his head.

“What?” she asked. “I can’t see Aiden tonight. I have to study.”

But Colin’s judgmental stare indicated that he wasn’t convinced.

She sighed and flopped back in her seat. “You’re a real ball-breaker,” she told him.

If she was honest with herself, and Colin, she was still dwelling on her dinner date with Aiden. Dwelling on what Holly had said.

Sure, Piper had seen him every day that week for their usual dog walk, out in public, in broad daylight. But each time she saw him, it only reinforced her sneaking suspicion that Aiden didn’t want to make their relationship public. Even when old Larry Williams showed up at Aiden’s office that afternoon, he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

There was no handholding, no kissing, no touching of any kind. That is, until they were alone. Then the touching began.

And boy, was there touching.

At the thought, Piper’s mind drifted back to their little office rendezvous. Even hours later, the memory had her fidgeting in her seat.

“No. No. No.” Piper banged on her steering wheel, trying to shake off the memory and startling Colin in the process. “I have to study,” she told her doxie. “And if I’m not here, then who’s going to make sure nothing happens to the center tonight? All that will have to wait. Aiden will have to wait.”

She hit the reply button on her phone.

Sorry,
she typed.
I can’t. I’m studying at the center tonight.

With difficulty, she forced her finger to hit
send
.

Besides, she’d just finished her telegram gigs. It wasn’t like she’d dressed for dinner. In her peaked police cap, black booty shorts, and skintight spandex top, she was dressed for an undercover police sting op at a brothel.

Grabbing her textbook-laden backpack, she turned to Colin. “Shall we go say hello to the guests?”

Piper locked the VW Bug and made her way around to the front of the building, calf-high boots crunching on the gravel. She used her phone to light the path. The days were getting longer, but the sky was thick with clouds that evening, obliterating the day’s last light. Already she could smell the rain coming. A drop or two fell on her bare shoulder as she climbed the front cement steps.

Reaching into her fake gun holster, she fished the center’s keys out and unlocked the door. She swung it open and stepped into the reception room. She couldn’t see a thing. The only light came from the glowing red exit sign above her and the fish tank buzzing on the far back counter.

The familiar scents and sounds welcomed her inside. The guests were already going nuts in the back, barking and howling like maniacs. She wondered if they’d ever get used to her coming and going at strange hours. Once they saw it was just her and Colin, they’d settle down.

Piper dropped her backpack on the floor and held the door open to let Colin slip inside. He’d barely taken two steps past her before he froze to the linoleum. His long ears were perked, well, as high as the floppy things could go. She grinned. Her tough little guard dog, making sure the coast was clear.

But she couldn’t hear anything but the dogs in the back. Not even out on the street. The traffic dwindled at this time of night, everyone having gone home for the day to eat or party in Mission. And that’s when Piper realized it had been perfectly quiet since she stepped inside, no creak of the door, no cars out on the street. She’d made no sound coming in but for the key turning in the lock. Marilyn’s bell had been torn down during the break-in.

Her breath caught in her chest. So if they weren’t barking at her, she wondered, what were the dogs barking at?

A muffled noise came from the kitchen, a soft splashing like someone washing their hands in the sink. Colin heard it too, because he started growling next to her. It was a menacing sound, low and deep in his barrel chest, too quiet to be heard over the barking in the back. Although she couldn’t see him clearly, his black fur blending into the darkness around them, she knew his hackles were bristling, because hers certainly were.

Maybe Marilyn had come home early from her trip. Or maybe it was Zoe or Addison. But neither of their cars were in the parking lot. And besides, she was the only one with a key—and absolutely no life on a Friday night.

Hand still gripping the doorknob, Piper froze with indecision. She was torn between running for help and heading in to investigate. She knew she should back out, go call the police, like any sane person would do. Although, she reasoned, if someone was there, at night, in the dark, it couldn’t mean anything good. It could mean their criminal was back and the dogs were in danger.

Get out! Or I’ll make you.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Soundlessly, she shut the door and waited for her eyes to adjust. Every scary axe-murder movie she’d ever seen conveniently rushed through her brain at that moment. Her heart thumped like there was a competitive paddleball game being played inside her chest. Suddenly remembering her costume, she reached for her belt and slid the police nightstick out of its holder. She weighed it in her hand like a baseball bat. Nice and heavy.

The costume originally came with a hollow plastic police stick, no more dangerous than a pool noodle. But after her first gig at a college party, she’d swapped it out for a hefty rolling pin that she painted black—just in case there were too many beers and not enough witnesses around.

She’d only used it once, but at least she knew it could break a finger or two.

There’d been no tip that night.

Something brushed against her leg. She bit her lip hard to keep from screaming as she looked down to find Colin at her heel. If only it weren’t so damn dark, things wouldn’t seem so scary.

From memory, she could visualize the light switches on the far wall behind the desk. Forcing her legs forward, she moved inch by inch, trying to soften her footfalls, to be stealthy, like she really was a cop about to bust the bad guy. Although she didn’t think flashing her plastic badge pinned over her left boob would be very convincing with the fishnets.

By the time she crept across the linoleum floor and skirted around the desk, her breaths were coming in quiet, panicked gasps, as though the air were thinner there compared to the other side of the room. Like climbing Mount Everest. She just hoped there was nothing to see at the top.

With her back to the wall, she inched her way to the light switch by the kitchen. The nightstick shook in her hand, but she gripped it tighter. Before she could flick on the lights, a caustic scent wafted through the air, burning her nostrils. Wrinkling her nose, she flinched away.

Something dropped on the floor by her foot, making her jump. Her eyes darted down. A red plastic canister rested at her feet. It was then that she recognized the smell. Gasoline.

The sight was so unexpected that she frowned at it while her brain groped for an explanation. That is, until a match struck in the kitchen, piercingly bright, and illuminated a silhouette.

The scene hit her with nauseating horror that made her stomach shrivel up. She covered her mouth with a hand and yelled through her shaky fingers, “No! Don’t do it.”

The person spun around. It was a man, but that realization only came as an impression, as vague, shadowed features and a stalky figure. She strained to see through the dark, but dots of light blurred her vision from the quivering flame.

The match was burning low, dancing toward his fingers. Piper clenched the nightstick in her hand but was too afraid that if she attacked him the match would surely fall and ignite the gasoline.

Piper tried to steady her voice, to remain calm. “Please. I’ll let you leave. Just don’t do it.”

He snorted, as if she could stop him. In response, he flicked the match aside with the carelessness of someone who’d just lit a cigarette. She screamed as it fell onto the floor, automatically lunging forward as though she could catch it. With a deep woofing sound like the bark of a breathy Neapolitan Mastiff, that tiny flicker of light set off an explosion.

The flash of light blinded her. A wave of heat hit her like an oven door opening—if Hell had ovens. The force of it threw her back against the counter, nearly knocking the fish tank onto the floor.

Everything happened at once. The heat, the light, the high-pitched fire alarm needling her eardrums, the bright white light blinking above the exit, telling her to get to safety. Colin was barking now too, although she could barely hear him. Overwhelmed, Piper tried to blink against the mid-day sun that had risen in the kitchen, just in time to see the man barreling toward her.

She automatically raised her weapon. As he plowed into her, she brought it down. It connected with a crack, and she was reminded of her Little League Softball days.

The man cried out at as they both went down in a twisted pile on the floor. Piper’s hands flew out to catch her fall. The nightstick rolled away, out of reach.

The arsonist struggled to get to his feet, but she kicked the backs of his knees so they folded under him. He wasn’t getting away that easily.

The fire was growing eerily brighter behind them, casting violent light and shadows on the reception room. With her too caught up in the struggle, Piper’s only thought was of keeping him there. They wrestled behind the desk, arms swinging, legs flailing, as the arsonist desperately tried to escape. But Piper wasn’t going to let that happen. If she could only just see his face, she could put a stop to all this.