High in Trial

NINE

Nineteen hours before the shooting





Miles and I had had issues before over my habit of forgetting to turn on my phone and refusing to return texts when I was annoyed with him, and I had almost paid the price for it last winter when Cisco and I had been stranded in a blizzard and one lucky phone call had saved our lives. Since then he’d made me promise not to be out of touch, which, given that my lifestyle occasionally—and through no fault of my own—had put me in harm’s way, was not an unreasonable request. Because I always keep my promises, even when I don’t want to, I texted Miles as soon as I returned to the room. On my way to dinner. Turning off phone.

But before I could do that, the incoming message chime sounded. Call me.

Going to bed early. Long day.

How early?

Don’t be needy.

The message came back with the speed of light: Excuse me?

I turned off my phone and pretended I didn’t receive it.

I took a quick shower, changed into clean jeans and a tee shirt without a slogan on it (which is dress-up in the world of dogs) and patted makeup over the red-blue bruise across the bridge of my nose. I always travel with sheets from home to cover the hotel furniture, and I spread one of them over the small sofa in the sitting area and another across the bed, although Cisco really, really knew better than to get on the bed while I was away. I left him with a chew bone and the television tuned to Animal Planet, along with a promise to bring him back a treat from dinner. When dogs win blue ribbons, they get treats from dinner, no matter how many subsequent courses they blow. That’s the rule.

The dining room smelled of fried chicken, broccoli, and steam tables and was already beginning to fill up, even though it wasn’t quite six o’clock. Ginny and Aggie waved to me from a big booth, and I’d barely gotten settled before Sarah joined us.

“You won’t believe what happened to me when I was taking Brinkley back in after our walk,” she said. She was a red-haired woman with troubled brown eyes and a pale face that now seemed a little drawn. “I opened the outside door with my key card, you know, and it’s always a little awkward trying to get the dog in because the door swings out.”

We all murmured agreement. It was hard to manage the key card, the leash, and the heavy door without tripping or stepping on your dog’s toes while trying to edge inside the door.

“Well, I was holding the door open with my shoulder and trying to get Brinkley untangled from his leash when I noticed this guy jogging toward me. He yelled at me to hold the door for him because he’d forgotten his key. Well, let me tell you, I lived in New York City for twelve years and you never fall for that line. I pulled Brinkley in as fast as I could and let the door slam, and when he reached it he actually pounded on the glass and cursed me like a sailor. So you girls be careful.”

“Did you report it to the front desk?” I asked.

“I most certainly did. They even got someone from security down to take a description. That’s why I was a little late.”

“Maybe somebody really did forget his key,” offered Ginny.

“Then he should have gone to the front desk and gotten another one,” returned Aggie. “Sarah’s right. You never let somebody into the building with your key.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well, I know that, Mother. I’m just saying, we don’t always have to think the worst.”

“And I’m just saying we all should walk our dogs in the courtyard tonight,” said Sarah.

I raised my water glass. “I’ll drink to that. I’ve had about all the drama I can take today.”

At their questioning looks, I explained about how Bryte had gotten loose and Neil had made such a scene with Marcie. Aggie, of course, had heard about the incident but hadn’t realized I’d been the one to catch Bryte.

“Doesn’t surprise me a bit,” she confided. “That Neil always had a temper, especially when it comes to his dogs. I wonder if she did it on purpose. Marcie, that is.”

“Well, it seems to have worked out okay.” I shrugged. “I saw Marcie with her boyfriend this afternoon, and they had both dogs.”

Aggie looked at me alertly. “Her boyfriend?”

I groaned inwardly. I don’t mind listening to gossip now and then, but I really hate to instigate it. I tried for a quick change of subject. “I think I saw prime rib on the buffet, and I promised Cisco I’d bring him back a treat. Does anyone want to check it out with me?”

Sarah took me up on it immediately. “Congratulations on your win!” she said as we slid out of the squeaky vinyl seat. “I can’t believe Brinkley almost ruined your run. Next time I’ll make sure we’re on the other side of the fairgrounds.”

We laughed about the incident, and the conversation was successfully diverted to our individual runs as we all went to survey the buffet. We relived our triumphs and our training trials all through dinner and didn’t think about Marcie again until she actually walked into the dining room.

She’d changed from her muddy shorts into jeans, but she still wore my sweatshirt. Her eyes looked puffy and her face looked shadowed, and I hesitated about waving to her, particularly considering the way she’d snubbed me earlier. Aggie, however, had no such reservations.

“Marcie,” she called, waving her over. I remembered they were both members of the sponsoring agility club. “Come sit with us.”

Marcie had a trapped expression on her face as she hesitated, glancing at the exit, but in the end she really had no choice but to come over and join us. I scooted over to make room for her.

“Hi,” she said. She smiled, but her eyes looked haunted. The incident with Neil that afternoon must have upset her more than she’d indicated at the time. “I didn’t know I’d see you here, or I would’ve returned your sweatshirt.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I assured her. “I’ll be at the site tomorrow.”

“We had the buffet,” Ginny said. “It was pretty good. The fish was actually crispy.”

“I’m not staying,” Marcie said. “I just came in to see if I could get some yogurt for Flame. Her stomach’s a little upset.”

We all made sympathetic noises. There is nothing worse than staying at a hotel with a sick dog.

“I hope she didn’t pick up something contagious,” Sarah said, and Marcie shook her head.

“No, Bryte’s fine. Flame has always been sensitive. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I’m glad Neil didn’t take Bryte home after all,” I said. “I’m looking forward to seeing her run tomorrow.”

Marcie flashed a look to me that seemed, for the briefest of moments, laced with terror. Then she apparently remembered I’d actually been there when Neil took Bryte away, and she recovered herself with a quick, “Yes. Right.” She cleared her throat and added, “Actually, of course, Neil only lives a few miles away now, so he probably would’ve brought her back for the trial tomorrow.”

Aggie seized on this. “Really? I didn’t know he’d moved.”

Marcie nodded, running a hand over her throat in a nervous massaging motion. “He has an apartment in Pembroke. It doesn’t allow dogs, even though he sneaks them in sometimes, so it’s just temporary.”

“I can’t imagine Neil in a place that doesn’t allow dogs,” Ginny said.

“But you still have your beautiful place back in Derry, right?” Aggie persisted. “Gorgeous farm,” she explained to the rest of us. “A huge training building, regulation agility course, fenced and cross-fenced… We have club picnics there sometimes.”

Sarah said, “I’m confused. I thought Neil owned both the dogs. Are you just boarding them?”

“No.” Marcie’s tone was bitter. “They’re my dogs. We co-own Flame, Shine, and Thunder, but he talked me into signing over Bryte to him when she was six months old. People do stupid things when they’re in love, but that was by far the stupidest one I’ve ever done.” I could see her jaw tighten from where I sat. “They live with me, though. He’s not allowed to take them off the property except for shows. That’s our agreement. I don’t trust him out of my sight with those dogs. You wouldn’t either.”

The curiosity practically sparked across the table, but only Aggie had the courage—or the tactlessness—to ask what we were all thinking. “How come?” she inquired. She leaned in close across the table, her huge bosoms nudging her tea glass, her tone confidential and inviting. “You know, everybody’s heard he amps his dogs up with meds. Somebody said he uses shock collars.”

Marcie stiffened. “That’s ridiculous. I would never allow anyone to abuse my dogs.”

Everyone at the table could feel the situation deteriorating, but Aggie soldiered gamely on. “Well, of course not, but you know there are some people who would do anything to win. And there’s a lot at stake at this level.”

The sound of the silence from Marcie was like ice cracking. I think everyone at the table, with the exception of the two women in the end seats, wanted to slide under it, myself included. And then Ginny, God bless her, turned to me and said brightly, “Say, Raine, I was meaning to ask you, where’s that handsome fellow of yours tonight?”

I blinked at the non sequitur, then smiled. “Paying for dinner, as a matter of fact,” I replied cheerily. “Let’s order dessert.”

* * *

I fed Cisco the leftover tidbits of prime rib that I sneaked out of the dining room wrapped in a napkin in my purse, and even though I made him do a trick for each one, he looked at me with such an expression of worshipful adoration on his face that I laughed out loud with delight and let him gobble the last few bits directly from the palm of my hand, no tricks required. Seriously, there’s nothing better in this world than the unconditional love of a dog. Nothing.

The room telephone was ringing when I came back from washing my hands, and I knew I had to answer it.

“You forgot to turn on your phone,” Miles said.

“I didn’t forget.” I sat down on the bed and kicked off my shoes.

“Uh-oh. Bad day after I left?”

“No. What makes you say that?” I knew my voice was stiff, but I couldn’t help it.

He paused. “Are you mad at me about something?”

“What makes you say that?”

He said slowly, “Okay.” Then, “I have a breakfast meeting in the morning, so I think I’ll stay over.”

I was both relieved and disappointed. “Okay. Good. That’s a good idea.”

There was another pause. “So how did you do in your last event?”

“We lost.”

“Ah, well. Win some, lose some, right?”

“Jumpers- with- weaves,” I said sourly, remembering it was all his fault we’d lost. “That’s our best thing. We lost.”

“Everybody has an off day.”

“I guess. Whatever.” But it was our best thing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just a game.”

“Okay.” A note of impatience, or perhaps frustration, crept into his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I think we need to slow down,” I blurted.

“What?”

“You. Me. I just think we might be moving too fast, that’s all.”

There was a beat, and the silence made me wince. When he spoke, his tone was guarded. “What brought this on?”

I licked my lips. I wished I’d never spoken. “It’s just… you don’t even know me. I don’t know you. We hardly know each other. I don’t think we should rush into anything, that’s all.”

“I hadn’t planned to.”

“Good.” I swallowed. “That’s good.”

He said, “Is there something about me that you just discovered you don’t know?”

I was taken aback. “Well, no. I was just thinking… Look, it’s not something we have to talk about now…”

“Because we’ve been not knowing each other for over six months now, and this is the first I’ve heard you complain.”

“I’m not complaining. It’s just—”

“Are you mad because I left this afternoon?”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly.” That was sincere, and he could tell it.

“Then it must be something I said.”

I hesitated a split second too long. “Listen, Miles, let’s not do this now, okay? I’ve got to be up at six and I’m really tired.”

He said, “You know I’ll figure it out, don’t you?”

I was actually squirming. “Really, I’ve got to get some sleep. Good night, okay? And don’t call back, please, because I’ll be sleeping. You should sleep too. Good night.” I hung up quickly and sat there for another half-minute or so, staring at the phone, willing it not to ring. It didn’t.

Good.

I took Cisco out through the sliding doors to the courtyard for his last toilet break of the day, changed into my nightshirt, and was in bed by nine. I tossed and turned for ten or fifteen minutes, hearing every noise from the corridor outside, wishing the conversation had gone differently with Miles, but exhaustion and the gentle rhythm of Cisco’s soft snore eventually lulled me into a dreamless sleep.

What seemed like only moments later, I was jerked awake by the shrilling of the bedside telephone. I rubbed my eyes open, staring at the red numbers of the digital clock. 11:45. Cisco stood beside the bed, tail wagging, wondering if it was morning. “Miles, you wouldn’t dare,” I muttered as the phone rang again. I fumbled for the receiver and snatched it off the hook.

“What?” I said ungraciously.

“Miss Stockton?”

I frowned. The voice on the other end was male, but it wasn’t Miles. “That’s right.”

“This is the night manager. I’m afraid there’s been a problem with your credit card. We need you to come to the front desk and clear it up.”

I blinked, looking again at the clock. “Now?”

“Yes, ma’am. You do have a dog in your room, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. So does everyone else in this wing.” I reached out to stroke the canine in question. “Do you know what time it is?”

“If you could just confirm your room number for me we might be able to straighten this out over the phone.”

Alarm bells started to clang belatedly, and I sat up straighter. “Who is this?”

The connection was broken.

Most people who travel on the dog show circuit are women, and most of them are traveling alone—except, of course, for their built-in canine bodyguards. Fortified with a mostly false sense of confidence born from the fact that their traveling companions were only a few thousand years ago tearing mastodons limb from limb and could, theoretically, still do the same to a human, they engage in what might otherwise be considered risky behaviors: walking in deserted areas after dark, loading and unloading their cars in the pre-dawn hours of the morning, fumbling over door keys with their arms full, and worst of all, leaving their room doors propped open with the latch while they run down to the ice machine or take their dogs out to pee “just for a minute.” They are natural targets for savvy con artists or worse, and every year you hear one or two tragic stories. Fortunately, you also hear about all the latest scams, and this one, now that I was awake, was starting to feel a little obvious to me.

I dropped the receiver back into the cradle and fumbled in the dark until I found the switch for the bedside lamp. My throat felt a little dry as I pulled the phone closer and squinted at the numbers printed there. I dialed the front desk.

A pleasant woman’s voice answered, and I asked to speak with the night manager.

“This is the night manager,” she said.

My head started to hurt. I identified myself and said, “Some man just called here saying he was the night manager and that I needed to come to the front desk to straighten out a problem with my credit card. I think he was trying to lure me from my room.”

I heard computer keys clacking in the background. “Please remain in your room,” she replied quickly, either reading from a protocol manual or very well trained. “There is no problem with your credit card, Miss Stockton. Do you feel you are in any danger now?”

“No, but you have a lot of women traveling alone who are staying here this weekend. If there’s some kind of weirdo playing pranks…”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll send a security guard to your room right away.”

“No, don’t do that,” I groaned. “I don’t want to talk to a security guard. It’s almost midnight. All I want is to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand. We’ll take care of the problem.”

“But don’t send anyone to my room. And don’t call here, either. I’m sleeping.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m terribly sorry you were disturbed.”

“It’s okay. Just… good night.”

I hung up and turned off the light, sinking back against the pillows. Eventually I heard Cisco circle his bed a few times and plop down with a sigh. But I lay awake for a long time, staring at the dark and listening to the faraway barking of a dog.





~*~