Once Tasted: A Silver Creek Novel (37 page)

It was difficult to judge how much time elapsed after the vet tech left. Reid and she sat on the exam room’s floor, Bruno between them, the harsh rise and fall of his chest faster than the second hand of a watch. He remained unresponsive.

Mia couldn’t speak, could only stroke her dog’s silken head and will the tremors that racked his body to cease.

The door opened and a woman in a white doctor’s coat entered. She was accompanied by a man in scrubs. “Hi, I’m Cat Lundquist, and this is my assistant, Ted Block.”

Hurriedly, Mia introduced herself, adding, “And this is my friend Reid Knowles.”

“Any relation to Quinn Knowles?”

He nodded. “My sister.”

“We’re fans of hers here at the hospital,” Dr. Lundquist said, as she knelt down beside them. “And this is Bruno?”

“Yes. I’ve had him almost a month now.” And she loved him as if they’d been together for years. “I got him from the county rescue shelter.”

Dr. Lundquist nodded. “Tell me how long he’s been like this.”

“About an hour—though maybe more. He was fine when I went to bed. That must have been around eleven o’clock—”

The vet checked her watch. “So, four hours ago he was fine.”

“Yes. Bruno woke me up with a bark. Then he began to whine. He’s never done that before. I went downstairs and he was just lying there. His breathing was off—like this—and he couldn’t get up.”

As Mia spoke, Dr. Lundquist was running her hands over Bruno, opening his clenched mouth, looking at his gums and his tongue, sniffing his breath, lifting his large ears and examining their insides. Then she moved to his eyes, drawing back the lids. Before she lowered his head, she quietly asked her assistant to slip a towel beneath Bruno’s head so he wouldn’t be lying in a pool of saliva.

She shifted, moving to his belly, her hands gently probing. “Was Bruno behaving differently at any point today? Was he lethargic?”

“No, he was his normal self. We went for a long walk together this afternoon. He had a great time.”

The vet gave an abstracted nod. Inserting the tips of her stethoscope into her ears, she placed the chest piece against Bruno’s heaving ribs. Mia waited while she moved it from point to point across his stomach.

Sitting back on her heels, Dr. Lundquist took off the stethoscope. “Has he eaten anything unusual today or yesterday?”

“No—” Mia paused, remembering. “He did spend some time under a bush tonight. He didn’t listen to my command to come for a few minutes. And when he did come, I saw him lick his lips. But I don’t think he was under there for very long.”

“What kind of bush was it?”

“An aucuba,” Mia said.

“Good for you for knowing.” Dr. Lundquist withdrew a thermometer from her jacket pocket. “I’m going to take his temperature and draw some blood before we take him back with us.”

“Dr. Lundquist, do you have any idea what’s the matter with him?”

“My guess is that he’s eaten something toxic.” Kneeling over Bruno’s prone form, she slipped the thermometer under his tail and held it there. “Do you have any poisonous products—antifreeze, fertilizer, pesticides, rodent poison—around your house?”

“No.” Mia shook her head, confused and horrified at the notion that Bruno could have eaten any of the things just listed. “I have a vineyard—we don’t use pesticides or fertilizers on the grapes. And I have a cat that prowls for any mice or chipmunks. I’d never use a poison to eliminate them.”

“You mentioned him nosing around a bush. It’s possible that whatever was lying under there—a dead animal, for instance—could have been poisoned. If Bruno ingested it, the chemicals would then begin to attack Bruno’s system, too.” She removed the thermometer. “One hundred and four degrees.”

“Is that bad?”

“It’s high.” Her grim tone indicated just how high. “Ted, can you pass me the syringe, please?”

With the same efficiency she’d shown throughout, Dr. Lundquist drew two vials of blood, capped them and the syringe, handed them to her assistant, and sat back on her heels again.

“This is what I’d like to do. We’re going to take Bruno back into the surgery, where we’ll collect a urine sample from him. Then we’ll perform a lavage to flush out his stomach—I think that’s a safer course of action than
inducing vomiting, since I don’t know exactly what he’s ingested. Certain chemicals can cause additional damage to an animal when they’re being regurgitated. If it’s poison, my worry is that he’s bleeding internally. So, in addition to the lavage, I’m going to start him on an intravenous drip. With a fever this high, we need to keep him hydrated. The IV will also allow me to administer other drugs as quickly as possible once we have the lab results for his blood and urine.”

“Okay—thank you.” Mia nodded dazedly. How could her dog, who only a few hours ago had been running and leaping so happily, so healthily, now be so sick? “Will he be all right?”

“I hope so. It’s good you didn’t delay in getting him here.”

Dr. Lundquist’s assistant left the room, returning a few seconds later with another scrub-uniformed man.

Reid spoke for the first time since introducing himself. “Mia, we need to get out of the way so they can carry Bruno into the surgery.”

She realized she’d been staring down at Bruno and stroking his head, willing that spark of canine joy to return to his fixed, vacant gaze.

“Oh, yes, of course.” As Mia scrambled to her feet, Reid rose, too.

Carefully, the two assistants wrapped their arms about Bruno’s prone form, lifted him, and carried him into the adjacent room.

She pressed a fist to her mouth and swallowed back a sob.

Dr. Lundquist turned to her. “It shouldn’t be too long before I have a better sense of what’s going on with Bruno and his chances for a recovery.”

Mia nodded tightly. “Thank you.”

* * *

Quinn was in the waiting room. She stood when they entered, walked up to Mia, and gave her a fierce hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She would not cry, she told herself. “Thanks for coming, Quinn.”

“Of course. How’s Bruno?”

She had to press her lips together for a second before answering. “They’re running tests and hooking him up to an IV.” The breath she took made her shoulders jerk. “Dr. Lundquist thinks he’s eaten something poisonous. She mentioned internal bleeding.”

“Shit,” Quinn muttered. Mia saw her exchange a look with her brother.

“Dr. Lundquist said it was good Mia got him here so quickly. And he’s a strong dog.” Reid’s voice was steady and firm.

“That’s right. He is strong,” Quinn said with a nod. “I’ve brought lots of animals to Cat Lundquist, Mia. She’s good and totally dedicated. She’ll do everything she can for him.”

It wasn’t long before Dr. Lundquist came out. She looked pleased though unsurprised to see Quinn sitting beside Mia. Quinn had obviously made other trips to the veterinary hospital at close to four o’clock in the morning.

As she approached Mia, Dr. Lundquist’s expression grew serious. “From our analysis of the lab tests, we’ve concluded that Bruno did consume rat poison, somehow, somewhere. What we still don’t know, however, is how much he ingested. From his symptoms, my guess is several ounces.”

Reid’s arm slipped around Mia’s waist, holding her steady.

“We’ve given him K1, a coagulant, to try to stop the
internal hemorrhaging,” Dr. Lundquist continued. “His fever has gone up, despite the IV drip. We’ll be monitoring his condition closely to address any other symptoms that might present themselves.”

“And what might they be?”

Dr. Lundquist’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “My biggest concern is kidney failure. It can have a domino effect. We also have to get the bleeding stopped. The thing to remember is that there are some factors in Bruno’s favor. He’s a big, strong dog, and he’s young, too. Those things might help him pull through. I’ll be in touch later with an update on his condition.”

Neither Reid nor Mia spoke on the way back, but every few minutes he reached over to touch her lightly on her knee or arm. With no one on the roads, the trip was short. Reid pulled into her drive and the headlights cut through the dark, sunrise still an hour away. By the back of the house, he braked to a stop.

Unutterably weary, Mia lifted her head from where it had rested against the window as her fingers felt for the door latch.

“Mia, you didn’t leave the winery’s lights on, did you?”

An instant and awful premonition seized her. “Oh my God!” she cried. “No! No!”

She shoved the car door open, jumped out, and raced into the building.

T
HE OVERWHELMING ODOR
of fermented grape juice assaulted Mia before she even reached the processing room. She could hear the noise, too, of cascading liquid. Yanking open the door, she was met by a dark blood-red sea. It rushed past her, soaking her shoes and calves.

“Jesus! What the hell!” Reid yelled as the wine hit him, too.

She didn’t stop but made straight for the nearest tank. From behind her came the splash of Reid running to the one next to hers to shut off its tap, as well. Then, like her, he raced to the tank farther on.

Oh God, there was so much wine—thousands of gallons sloshing in the processing room and now streaming into the front of the winery. She couldn’t even guess how many more gallons had already escaped down the floor drains.

Frantically, she and Reid ran to the two remaining tanks, shutting off the flow with an anguished jerk of wrists. Then there was only the sound of their harsh breathing, the slap of liquid hitting the walls, the awful gurgling of the drains.

“The cellar—my God, Mia.” Reid’s shout bounced off the walls as he sprinted out of the processing room.

Mia closed her eyes, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She didn’t need to race into the cellar. She knew what they would find: barrels rolled, bungholes unstoppered—and more senseless, stupid wreckage.

The smell of wine had never sickened her before. Of course, what assailed her wasn’t merely the odor from the spillage. What overpowered was the stench of wanton, vindictive destruction. Only ruin could satisfy Jay’s thirst for revenge, his festering hate.

She was still standing by the steel tank when Reid returned. His face told what she’d already known.

“It’s all gone.”

Mia closed her eyes and nodded.

She heard the splash of his steps as he walked over to her. Silently, he wrapped his arms about her. For a few precious seconds she let her head rest against his shoulder, and then she straightened and looked around her, assessing the devastation. By now the level of the wine had receded. It lapped the tops of their shoes.

How quickly it had all disappeared, she thought absently. Everything destroyed.

“We need to call the police, Mia.”

“Yes.”

He took her hand and led her outside and into the dark.

“Here, sit.” Reid pulled out one of the patio chairs and pressed on her shoulder until her legs folded. “I’ll be right back.”

She leaned back in the chair and let her head fall, staring up at the moonless, starless sky. This was when the tears should come. But she couldn’t cry, since she could no longer feel. Jay had sworn she’d regret refusing him the money. How naïve, how endlessly stupid of her to think he wouldn’t follow through on his favorite kind of promise.

It was all over, everything she’d worked for and dreamed of for the winery.

She wondered whether Jay had realized that his act of vengeance would also destroy any chance of a future with Reid. Probably. He was clever that way.

There’d be no date with Reid. There’d be no anything with Reid. And no matter how much she’d longed to have the chance to tell him she loved him, the words would remain locked in her heart forever.

The Knowleses had given so much to Thomas and her. Now their investment had literally gone down the drain. Mia couldn’t expect them to funnel more money into a business that had taken such a devastating hit. She wouldn’t burden Reid with her love when his family would be taking the necessary steps to dissolve the agreement they’d made with Thomas.

“Here.” He’d approached quietly. He was carrying a blanket, the same one in which he’d wrapped Bruno.

That was when the pain sliced through her numbness, the prospect of how close she was to losing Bruno too awful to bear. Tears slid down her cheeks and she accepted the blanket, pulling it close about her, comforted when she caught the scent of her dog. She sent a prayer to the heavens that at least Bruno might survive this night.

Officers from the Mendocino County Sheriff’s Department arrived in two patrol cars. One of them, who introduced himself as Lieutenant Nick Armstrong, came over to where Mia sat wrapped in the wool blanket and asked whether she and Reid could answer some questions for him.

She nodded. “Of course. Would you like to sit down, Lieutenant Armstrong?”

He settled himself opposite Reid and Mia. “Ms. Bodell, this is your winery?”

She shook her head. “No, the property belongs to my uncle, Thomas Bodell. He’s moved to France, and I’m running the winery and vineyard for him.”

He wrote down the date when Thomas had left and asked for his contact information. Mia said she had it in the house and could give it to him. Then, because she could guess what his next question would be, she gave him the names of her crew as well as those of Roberto and Paul’s extended family who’d worked during the harvest.