Dog Days Read online

  She decided to reconsider jealousy as a possible motive. The other dog-club members certainly made ideal suspects, but she still couldn’t bring herself to believe that one dog lover would inflict such agony on another.

  Kate ran hot water into the mixing bowl and added a squirt of dish detergent. Few things about the situation made sense. But the fact remained that Kisses was missing. He didn’t wander off; he was intentionally taken while he was asleep in his tote.

  Kate felt sorely tempted to call Skip and see if he had come up with any new leads, but he’d already fielded enough phone calls from Renee. Besides, he would only ask if she’d thought of anything new, and she had nothing to tell him.

  Kate leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter and sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility bear down upon her. Renee and Skip were both counting on her, and she was letting them down.

  She closed her eyes and whispered, “Lord, none of us knows where Kisses is, except the person who took him—and you. Please help us find him.”

  A sense of peace filled her. Jesus told his disciples that God knew when a sparrow fell to the ground. Surely that meant he had his eye on Kisses as well. And none of this had taken the Lord by surprise, Kate reflected as she washed up the bowl and utensils. He had known this would happen long before it actually occurred.

  And he had the situation completely under control. Excitement stirred within her at the thought.

  In fact, she could already see signs that he was at work, even down to the smallest details, like Renee asking her to help out with the dog show. If Kate hadn’t attended the dog-club meeting, she never would have realized how passionate people could become about this sort of thing.

  She smiled as she dried her cooking utensils and started putting them away. If God had guided her this far, she could trust him to keep leading her every step of the way.

  Kate laughed at the thought of her earlier dilemma about whether she should help out with the dog show. At the time, the decision had seemed so monumental, but reality had a way of shrinking things down to their proper size. Kate froze in the act of closing the drawer where she kept her measuring cups. An image of herself walking along Copper Mill Creek filled her mind, almost as if she were actually standing there instead of in her own kitchen.

  She squeezed her eyes shut again and shook her head. What had prompted this vivid picture?

  “Is there something you’re trying to tell me, Lord?”

  Kate put the mixing bowl back in the cupboard while she retraced her Monday afternoon walk step-by-step.

  What was it that had tickled her memory so? She remembered walking and praying, rounding the curve in the creek, and drawing nearer to the bridge...

  The bridge! Kate gasped. Scenes sped through her mind like a video on fast-forward. The angry voices, Brenna Phillips, the object that fell into the creek with a loud splash.

  Kate sucked in her breath. Did it have something to do with the object that had fallen into the water?

  She closed her eyes and replayed the incident, remembering the flash of white as it plummeted toward the water. Kate’s eyes flew open, and she pressed her hands against her mouth.

  Kisses’ new tote was white.

  Alarm bells went off in her head. Surely she hadn’t seen Kisses’ tote plunging into the creek! Or worse, the tote with Kisses in it. Her breath caught. Could she have witnessed Brenna’s companion—or partner in crime—getting rid of the evidence? Kate swallowed hard against the knot of fear that rose in her throat. Could it be that Kisses wasn’t just missing but was gone altogether?

  Tears welled in Kate’s eyes as she envisioned the devastating effect it would have on Renee. And on her, if she was honest.

  But such a scenario would mean that Brenna Phillips had been involved with Kisses’ disappearance. Kate shook her head in disbelief. Being involved in a criminal act seemed completely out of character for the cheerful teen who seemed to be making such progress in her spiritual walk.

  Kate checked the cookies and decided she could try slicing them again. This time the knife cut through the log more cleanly, and the slices bore an even more striking resemblance to tiny stained-glass windows. She set half the cookies on a serving tray and arranged the other half on a decorative plastic plate. She would take the plate to Renee and enjoy the rest with Paul later that evening.

  The scene on the bridge haunted her thoughts. Could sweet, lively Brenna Phillips really be a part of something as ugly as a dognapping?

  Every one of us is only a step away from doing something wrong. The words from one of Paul’s sermons on grace echoed through her mind. It was possible that Brenna had made a bad choice that had led her into an activity she would normally have no part in. And if that was the case...

  Should she tell Skip about her suspicions? The thought of implicating Brenna without proof made Kate’s stomach turn.

  If only she could know for sure whether Brenna had any connection to Kisses’ disappearance. Kate weighed her options and came to a decision. She would go back to the bridge and look around, see if she could find something to put her concerns to rest.

  She stretched a length of clear plastic wrap over each batch of cookies and carried the plastic plate with her on her way to get her keys and handbag.

  She’d take the cookies to Renee, then backtrack to the creek to do some sleuthing. Even if she didn’t have any progress to report to Renee, she could at least offer support and reassurance. And she could ask whether Renee had received any calls in response to her flyers.

  AFTER DROPPING OFF the cookies at Renee’s house, Kate felt an even stronger sense of urgency about locating Kisses quickly. The flyers hadn’t brought in any response, and Renee’s despondency was deeper than before.

  Kate parked her Accord in the same place she’d parked two days before and retraced her steps along the creekside path. She wasn’t entirely certain what she was looking for, but she felt sure she’d know it when she saw it.

  She slowed as she reached the serviceberry bush that screened the bridge from sight and tried to recreate the scene in her mind. She’d become aware of the voices by the time she had reached that point.

  Kate stopped and looked along the edge of the creek to where it rounded the bend past the bush, trying to get a sense of whether anything appeared different.

  It all looked the same to her. Water trickled over the rocks, and sunlight dappled the ground. She could see nothing unusual, certainly nothing to spark any interest.

  She stepped around the serviceberry bush and made her way toward the bridge.

  Which side had that white object gone over? She couldn’t be sure. She had only gotten a quick impression, a flash caught out of the corner of her eye. Not enough to imprint any details in her mind.

  Kate halted about fifteen feet from the bridge and studied it carefully. She couldn’t see any telltale white threads snagged on the railing.

  Maybe she would have more success on the bridge itself. Kate approached the bridge and walked onto it for a closer look.

  Brenna stood about...here. Kate had never been able to get a clear view of the second person on the bridge. Who had thrown the object—whatever it was—into the creek?

  She examined the length of the railing on both sides, then the boards under her feet. Once again, her search yielded nothing.

  Before she descended to ground level, she stood in the center of the bridge looking downstream. Nothing unusual stood out, so she returned to the creek bank and continued.

  Kate searched the bank, the rocks, any clumps of grass where something flung over the side of the bridge might have caught and held.

  In a couple of places, she spotted clumps of debris and a few empty soda cans that lay in the clefts along the bank, caught by the swirling water. But no white leather tote, and no little dog.

  Kate didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. She still wasn’t any closer to determining what she had seen that day, but at least there wasn’t any evidence that
Kisses had met his doom on that spot, and for that she was grateful.

  Of course, she couldn’t be positive the tote hadn’t been tossed over the bridge. Kate wondered how far a leather tote would float downstream. And would it have been watertight? Would Kisses have been protected while sailing down the creek like baby Moses in his papyrus basket? That is, if Kisses had still been in the tote. Whoever stole Kisses may have taken him out of the tote before getting rid of the evidence. She stood on the edge of the bank and stared downstream.

  “Kisses, where are you?”

  More thoughts filtered through her mind. If the person who took Kisses still had him, was the little dog being well cared for?

  Kisses was used to a pampered existence and constant affection and protection. Was he being neglected or abused? Was he locked up in a cage? What was happening to him right then?

  With an effort, Kate put the brakes on her gloomy musing. Renee’s overactive imagination must have been rubbing off on her.

  She turned back and followed the path to her car, feeling somewhat dejected. She hadn’t found Kisses; neither had she found anything that pointed to Brenna’s guilt. Then again, she hadn’t discovered anything to exonerate the teen either.

  Still, she hesitated calling Skip Spencer to point an accusing finger at a sweet young girl who might not have done anything wrong.

  This wasn’t a decision she wanted to make on her own. She needed to talk to Paul.

  Just thinking about sharing the burden with him made it seem lighter. Paul would give her wise advice. Kate decided she’d talk to him after choir practice.

  “HAVE YOU EVER run across a family named Newcomb?” Paul asked when Kate returned home from practice that night.

  Kate shook her head and crossed the living room. She moved a throw pillow out of her way and sank onto the couch.

  “No, that name isn’t familiar. Why?” She patted the cushion next to her.

  Paul joined her and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “A fellow named Daniel Newcomb came into the church a couple of days ago looking for work, and I’d really like to find out more about his situation. Maybe we can find a way to help him.”

  He told Kate about the trouble Daniel had keeping a job.

  “He’s a nice young man, but he seems desperate to make some money. He’s got a wife, two kids, and a puppy to support.

  “He’s under a lot of stress. I think he just needs a listening ear. I’d like to get to know him better.”

  Kate snuggled closer. “If a listening ear is what he needs, he went to the right place.” She grinned. “In fact, I need a listening ear right now. I’m really torn about something I saw, and I need to hear your thoughts on it.”

  Paul tightened his arm around her shoulder. “Sure, hon. What’s up?”

  “Remember when Skip asked me if I had any idea who could have taken Kisses?”

  Paul nodded. “You told him you didn’t.”

  “I still don’t. Not really, anyway.” Kate turned so she could look up at Paul. “But I’m wondering if I might have stumbled across a lead.”

  She recounted what she’d seen and heard at the bridge the previous Monday. “I went back today, looking for something that would give me some clue as to whether Brenna might be involved in this. I hoped that if it was Renee’s tote I saw falling from the bridge, there might be a scrap of leather or some thread caught on the bridge or floating in the water—some clue to let me know one way or the other.”

  Interest flickered in Paul’s eyes. “And what did you find?”

  “Nothing. Not a scrap of leather, not a sign of Kisses, not a single thing. I don’t have evidence of any wrongdoing. I don’t know for sure if what I saw has any connection with Kisses’ disappearance. But the timing makes me wonder.”

  “I see your dilemma. You don’t want to withhold evidence that could help Skip in his investigation, but you don’t want to accuse Brenna unjustly.”

  “That’s just it,” Kate said miserably. She slipped out of Paul’s arms and turned so she was facing him. “I don’t know whether I have information worth passing along or not. Do I have any right to implicate Brenna without proof?”

  Paul drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “That’s a tough one. Let me ask you this: What would you do if you did have evidence that pointed to Brenna’s involvement?”

  Kate didn’t hesitate. “Like it or not, I’d have to tell Skip.”

  Paul nodded. “The way I see it, you have a clue that might lead to solving a crime. Determining whether it’s important isn’t up to you. Working that out is up to Skip. Let law enforcement do its job. With no other leads, you’ve got to be willing to take the chance of being wrong if it turns out there is a connection.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to cause trouble for Brenna. On the other hand, if she was involved in Kisses’ disappearance, I’d want Skip to investigate. It might be the only way to find Kisses. But what if I’m wrong, and Brenna had nothing to do with it? I’m honestly not sure what to do.”

  Paul’s clear blue eyes lit up when he smiled at her. “But I know someone who does. We need to pray about this.”

  “You are so right.”

  They joined hands and bowed their heads, and Kate lifted up a prayer for wisdom. Paul added a request of his own for God to work in whatever way he chose to bring Kisses back home.

  When they lifted their heads, Kate squeezed his fingers tight. “That was exactly what I needed.”

  Paul reached out to stroke her cheek. “Feel better?”

  Kate nodded. “I know what I’m supposed to do now. I need to tell Skip.”

  Chapter Eight

  After Paul left for work the next morning, Kate picked up the phone and dialed the number for the deputy’s office.

  The dispatcher who answered told her that Skip was out on a call. “It shouldn’t take long, though. Would you like me to take a message?”

  “No, thanks,” Kate said. “I’ll call back later.”

  She spent the next hour in her studio working on a couple of small projects before making a second call to the deputy’s office. This time Skip was in, so she drove into town, preferring to discuss such a sensitive matter face-to-face rather than over the phone.

  Skip ushered Kate to a wooden chair near his desk and listened attentively while she told him what she’d seen and heard on Monday and about her unsuccessful attempt to find any corroborating evidence the previous day.

  When she finished, he shook his head. “Well, it isn’t much to go on. But since it’s the only lead we have, I’d better check it out.”

  He stared off into space and drummed his fingers on the desktop for a moment, then looked back at Kate. “I’d hate to think that any of the kids around here would be involved in something like this. Then again, it might be just the kind of thing a kid could get himself—or herself—mixed up in, and then not know how to get out of.”

  Kate had to suppress a grin. Skip wasn’t too many years older than the kids to whom he was referring, and yet here he was talking as if he were a gray-haired old man.

  “I need to talk to Brenna,” Skip continued. “Do you know offhand where she lives?”

  “She and her mother live south of the Mercantile on Smith Street.”

  When Skip started to scoot his chair back, Kate held up her hand. “Brenna probably won’t be home right now. She has a summer job at Emma’s Ice Cream Shop, and Thursday is one of her days to work.”

  Skip hitched his chair forward and drummed his fingers on the desk again. “I’d hate to talk to her at work. Whether she has anything to do with this or not, my being there and questioning her would start a lot of talk. Brenna’s never been in any trouble, but that doesn’t matter much where gossip’s concerned. Do you know what time she gets off work?”

  “Usually around four thirty, or a bit after,” Kate told him. “I’ve called her a few times about youth-group activities, and if I remember right, she’s usually home by five o’clock.”


  Skip nodded. “What about her mom?”

  “Lisa works the day shift at Fancy Fabrics in Pine Ridge. She won’t be home until five thirty or so.”

  Skip thought a moment. “That might work. It’s not like I’m trying to get any incriminating information from her, and I don’t want to stir up any trouble between Brenna and her mom.”

  He looked at Kate hesitantly. “Would you mind going with me? She’d probably feel more comfortable talking to me if you were around. Besides, I’d like her to hear the story straight from you.”

  Kate scribbled the address down on a scrap of paper and pushed it across the desk to Skip. “I can do that. Shall I meet you there around five?”

  “That sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  Kate checked her watch and decided to swing by the library before heading home. She knew that Livvy had a budget meeting around lunchtime and probably wouldn’t be up for an extended visit, but Kate felt the need to touch base with her friend, if only for a moment or two.

  She found Livvy inside her office, going over some paperwork. Kate tapped on the door frame and waited until she looked up.

  “I know you’re busy, so I won’t stay long. I just wanted to pop in and say hi.”

  Livvy dropped her pencil onto her desk and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms wide. “Don’t rush off. I’m glad for the break. Having to deal with the budget is one of my least favorite parts of the job, but I think I’ll have everything in order before the meeting.

  “Anything new on Kisses?” Livvy gave Kate a wicked grin. “I saw all the flyers papering the town. Let me guess. You were recruited for manual labor on top of your detective duties?”

  “A grandmother’s work is never done,” Kate quipped. Both women laughed.

  Kate settled into the chair opposite Livvy. “No one has responded to the flyers yet. It’s like the poor little dog dropped off the face of the earth. To tell you the truth, I’m stumped. I haven’t turned up any solid leads. And Skip’s not having any more success than I am. There is...”

  She started to mention Brenna’s possible involvement, then clamped her lips shut. That would be moving into the realm of gossip, even with her closest friend.