Trail Of Danger

When he tried to phone Abigail at home and got no answer, he left messages, which she apparently ignored. Checking with her place of employment didn’t help either. She’d been put on medical leave.

Consequently, he decided to visit in person, parked as close as he could, about three blocks west, and walked over with Jessie. Reed let her sniff along the narrow sidewalk because she wasn’t on duty. Street-side trees that had once enhanced the old neighborhood crowded the four-and five-story brick apartment buildings as if in a battle for dominance. Eddies of sand and trash waited against the curbs for city trucks to sweep away.

After reaching Abigail’s building, he found her name on the tenant list and pushed the worn brass intercom button. “Ms. Jones? It’s Reed Branson.” There was no answer, no buzz to unlock the front door. He tried again, speaking more slowly and identifying himself as a K-9 officer. The result was the same.

Not good. Even off-duty he needed to watch his professional image, so he hesitated before randomly pushing other buttons. A tenant leaving solved his problem. Reed grabbed the edge of the exterior door before it could close behind the other man, nodded pleasantly and slipped inside with Jessie.

Reed chose to take the stairs to the third floor rather than chance riding an elevator that was probably older than his grandfather. The halls were swept clean, which was a plus, but the ancient building exuded an aura of age and use. Cooking odors seeped into the hallways, reminding him of the street fairs he’d attended around the city.

His knock on Abigail’s door was not demanding—until he got no response.

He called to her. “Ms. Jones? Abigail? It’s Reed Branson. And Jessie. Are you all right?”

Still no answer. He knocked again. Louder. Called out to her. “Abigail?”

Frustration made him want to force his way in but what if she simply wasn’t home? A quick trip back downstairs and he was knocking at the superintendent’s door.

An apartment dweller across the hall stuck her graying head out of her own apartment and gave him a scathing look. “Hush. You’re spoiling my show. I was about to find out if Reginald really murdered his half brother.”

It took Reed the space of several heartbeats to realize she was referring to the plot of a daytime soap opera. “Sorry. But I can’t get the tenant in 312 to come to the door and I’m worried. Do you know if she’s gone out?”

“Not likely. She would have said. Does she know you?”

“Yes.” Since he was in civilian clothes he flashed his badge wallet. “Officer Reed Branson. I was the one who helped her when she ran into trouble a couple of nights ago.”

“Well, in that case, thank you.” She stepped out. “I’m Olga Petrovski.” A ring of keys jingled in her hand as she locked her door behind her. “That poor girl’s a basket case and nobody seems to care. She’s turning into a worse hermit than she was before. Doesn’t even have a cat for company. Can you imagine?” The woman led the way up the stairs, surprising Reed with her ease of movement in broken-down shoes that looked as if they were about to fall off.

“You have keys? I thought Mr. Rosenbaum was the super.”

“He is. But he’s in Jersey visiting his daughter. When he’s gone, I handle the building.” She squinted at Jessie. “That dog better be house-trained.”

Reed paced her. “She is. Jessie’s a police officer, too, K-9 unit. We’re just not in uniform today.”

They reached Abigail’s door. The woman knocked gently. “Abby, honey. It’s Olga. You need to open up so we can check on you. Please?” Casting a worried look at Reed, she spoke aside. “Like I said, I look after her and she never goes out these days. She has to be in there. You didn’t scare her, did you?”

He shrugged. “Not purposely. She seemed to be doing pretty well when I saw her in the hospital right after the incident but she’s not returning my calls.” Glancing at the woman’s fisted hand he said, “I think you should use your key.”

She did. The door swung open slowly. “We’re coming in, dear. It’s Olga and...”

“Officer Reed Branson,” he called. “I brought K-9 Jessie, too. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

Still there was no reply, no sign of the apartment’s occupant. Heavy drapes were pulled, shutting out most of the available daylight. The odor of pizza or something equally spicy lingered, although he couldn’t spot takeout containers. Abigail Jones’s home was spotless yet unwelcoming. She had created her own dungeon and locked herself away in it.

Reed unclipped Jessie’s leash and quietly ordered, “Seek.”

Seeming to sense the need for finesse, Jessie didn’t give voice to her quest. She merely snuffled along the carpet, clearly on the trail of something or someone. Reed came next, followed by the acting super.

The K-9 entered a bedroom and circled the bed, then barked once at a closet door. Reed moved in. “Abigail? Ms. Jones? It’s the police. Your friend Olga from downstairs is here, too. She let us in.”

He eased open the door.

* * *

Abigail pulled her knees closer. Instinct warred with the part of her mind that knew there was no real danger. She wanted to stand up and act more normal, but some inner power refused to let her move.

A clicking pattern on the bare floor jarred her. She heard heavy breathing and her heart stopped for a moment before she realized the noise was a dog’s panting. A broad wet nose poked through a crack in the door. The bloodhound!

Jessie panted against Abigail’s cheek, then slurped her ear with a tongue wide enough to cover it. That was enough stimulus to snap her out of her fugue.

She focused first on the affectionate hound and rubbed her droopy, velvety ears, then forced herself to look up at Reed and Olga. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Reed said.

Olga followed with, “Are you all right, hon?”

The ridiculousness of her location triggered Abigail’s wry wit despite feelings of unease and embarrassment. “Fine and dandy. I always sit on the floor of my closet. Doesn’t everybody?” When Reed offered his hand, she took it and let him pull her to her feet. “In other words, no.”

“I get that,” he said. “How about coming out here with us? I’d like to have a talk.”

Abigail managed to overcome lingering reluctance by keeping one hand atop the dog’s broad head. “I’m sorry I caused worry. It’s just... I don’t know. For some reason I couldn’t make myself come to the door when you buzzed and then knocked.”

“How about my phone calls? I left messages. Did you get those?”

“I—I must have. I probably didn’t recognize your number and I didn’t listen to anybody who had a deep voice.”

“I’ll go make some coffee,” Olga offered. “You two have a seat and visit.”

Abby chose the sofa, relieved as the police officer took an easy chair. Even in jeans and a polo shirt instead of his uniform, he had the bearing of someone in command. Someone to trust and lean on in times of trouble. Beyond the fact that she found him handsome, there was an unexplainable attraction. That, she attributed to his heroic actions. Why wouldn’t she admire somebody who had rescued her the way this K-9 cop had?

To her delight, Jessie jumped onto the couch and plopped her enormous head in Abigail’s lap. It was a relief to rhythmically stroke the tan fur. “I think she likes me.”

“No doubt. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes. Thanks. I don’t know what came over me.”

Reed sobered. “Have you seen a doctor since you left the hospital? It’s normal to be uptight after a traumatic event, but it’s troubling to see you so fearful. I think you should seek professional help.”

Her hand stilled. “You think I’m crazy?”

“No, no.” Reed leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. “What I’m trying to say is that sometimes we need to talk it all out, to try to make sense of whatever has happened to us. Posttraumatic stress can hit anybody. Surely you’ve seen it in some of the homeless kids you work with.”

She nodded.

“Then you know it’s not a sign of weakness, Ms. Jones, it’s a manifestation of your mind’s self-defense mechanism. We all get scared sometimes. It’s when we get stuck in that emotional state that it becomes a problem.”

Abigail’s fingers slipped under Jessie’s collar and she wiggled them. Pure bliss filled the dog’s soulful brown eyes and she actually sighed in contentment. Searching for a smidgen of similar peace, Abigail asked, “So why don’t I remember my attackers?”

“Short-term amnesia, I assume. A health care professional can tell you more.”

“No way. I can’t afford to be judged mentally unstable. It might cost me my job. I won’t abandon those kids. It’s bad enough that I’ve stayed home as long as I have.”

“Surely no one holds that against you.”

Abigail huffed. “I do. I haven’t been able to push myself to set foot out of this apartment all weekend.”

“The trip home from the hospital went all right?”

“Yes, but I thought...”

He leaned closer. “What? You thought what?”

“You’re going to think I really have lost my mind. I thought I heard the voice of one of my attackers on my way home in a taxi.”

“The driver?”

“No, no. Passing on the sidewalk. A man yelled and he sounded so menacing I almost jumped out and ran.”

“Where was this? What street?”

“I’m not sure. I covered my eyes.”

“I can take you over the same basic route, if you want. Maybe he lives or works around there.”

She was so astounded by his suggestion, she was temporarily speechless. Finding her voice, she finally said, “Do you think I want to find him? No way. If I never run into him again it will be too soon.”

Even as she was speaking, Abigail somehow knew a repeat encounter was possible. It didn’t matter how big the city was or how carefully she moved through it, she could meet her attacker again. And until her memory recovered, she was a sitting duck for any evil he had planned. If only she could remember more. Put faces and descriptions together and help the police.

But those memories were all gone, sunken into an abyss of her own making and leaving her a prisoner in a cell with invisible bars.

FOUR

Watching Abigail unwind while petting Jessie gave Reed an idea. If she continued to refuse to see a doctor about her mental hiccup, perhaps he could help her another way.

“Jessie sure took to you. You must be a dog lover, too.”

He noted a flush of her cheeks. “I don’t really know. I mean, I’ve fed strays before but I’ve never had a pet of my own.”

“Not even when you were a kid?”

The warmth he’d sensed was swept away by a scowl and a shake of her head. “Sometimes I wonder if I was ever a child.”

Concerned, he regarded her soberly. “You’re serious.”

“Very.”

“Care to explain?”

“Not really.”

Although Abigail rested her hand atop Jessie’s head, Reed noticed that she had ceased stroking. The friendly bloodhound did her best to encourage further attention, finally rolling onto her back, all four paws in the air, tail thumping the sofa cushions.

Reed waited for Jessie’s antics to relax Abigail again before he mentioned his idea. “Since you’re so naturally good with dogs, how about volunteering to foster one of our extra pups.”

She scowled at him. “Do what?”

“We received an amazing working dog as a gift from the Czech Republic. Unfortunately, there must have been a miscommunication because Stella delivered a litter soon after she arrived.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Abigail looked so astonished he decided to play up the underdog, literally.

“After her pups were weaned and tested for various abilities, most of them qualified for our training program and are being fostered.” Reed paused for effect. “One little female is right on the cusp of flunking out and we’d like to find her a new foster home to see if lots more one-on-one attention helps. I’m not asking you to commit to giving her a permanent home but it will help her develop to her full potential if she’s well socialized and loved while she’s young.”

Abigail was shaking her head. “I have enough problems without adding a puppy.”

“You wouldn’t have to keep her. Just get her off to a good start.”

“Me? I can hardly handle my own life these days and you want to add an impressionable youngster to it?”

Shrugging, Reed blew out a breath that was so evident it even caught Jessie’s attention. “I just figured, since you were so good at rescuing needy kids, you might be willing to do the same for an innocent animal.”

Judging by the way Abigail was looking at him, Reed could tell she wasn’t totally buying his analogy. “It’s true. All of it,” he insisted. He pulled out his phone and paged through the photo files, smiling and holding it out for her to view once he located the shot he wanted. “This is Midnight. Look at those sad eyes. How can you refuse to help her?”

The instant Abigail saw the picture, her whole body reacted and she pouted. “Oh, poor thing. She looks so lonely all by herself.”

Reed let her take his phone so she could study Midnight in detail. She may have told him no but her body language said otherwise. All he had to do was be patient.

“What a sweet face. And those floppy ears. Will they stand up like a German shepherd’s when she’s older?”

“No. We did genetic testing on the litter. They’re purebred Labs like their mama. The only difference is, Stella’s coat is yellow. That’s going to be another problem in placing Midnight if she doesn’t make it through our program. Black dogs are statistically the last to be chosen at the pound.”

“You’re not sending this poor baby to the dog pound!”

“Well, I hope not, but...”

It was all Reed could do to keep from grinning. When her eyes met his he could tell she realized he’d been leading her on.

Abigail began to smile and slowly shook her head. “You’re good. I could use somebody with a smooth technique like yours at work. You could charm those wild kids into shape in no time.”

His grin escaped with a quiet chuckle. “Does this mean you’ll take the pup?”

“No.” She handed his phone back to him. “But I will agree to meet her, no guarantees. You could fill a book with all the things I don’t know about raising a dog.”

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you.” He stood before she could change her mind and called out to Olga. “I’ll take a rain check on the coffee, ma’am.”

“You’re leaving?” the older woman asked, peeking around the corner from the kitchen.

“Not for long. I’ll be back ASAP. I promise.”

Already thinking ahead, Reed signaled to Jessie, clipped her leash to her collar and headed for the door with a brief wave goodbye. His intention was to leave before Abigail thought it through and had time to change her mind. Once she met Midnight he was pretty sure she’d fall in love.

With the dog, he added to himself when a stray thought intruded to remind him how attractive the young woman was.

Reed shook off any whispers of impropriety. He had not come there looking for romance. He’d sought out Abigail because of a sense of duty. When he’d rescued her he’d stepped into her life enough to care, which was not necessarily a wise reaction. Nevertheless, he was determined to do what he could to help. This was a win-win situation. A needy pup would help Abigail heal as well as benefit the less than stellar young dog.

He jogged down the stairs with Jessie at his side. Midnight might still blossom in the right foster home even though she’d done poorly so far. As long as he stuck around long enough to get Abigail and the pup off to a good start there was a chance of redemption. He could already see her taking Midnight to work with her when she was ready to go back. A loving puppy would help reach the street kids, too, and perhaps show aptitude as a future service dog. They needed the nonjudgmental acceptance K-9s provided.

Together, Reed and Jessie broke out into the sunshine and headed for his SUV. There was a spring in the dog’s gait and she almost looked as if she was smiling.

Reed empathized. He was pretty happy, too. If the narrow sidewalk hadn’t been so crowded he might have jogged back to his vehicle instead of settling for a brisk walking pace.

Suddenly, Jessie gave a tug on the leash that jarred Reed out of his reverie. He paused. Looked behind him. Heard the bloodhound growl and saw the hackles on her back bristle.

“What is it, girl?”

Jessie never took her eyes off the people who had just passed. Reed scanned the group. There were too many for him to pick out which one had excited his K-9.

Given the probability that someone nearby was carrying drugs, he wasn’t too surprised. Even though Jessie wasn’t trained to sniff out illegal substances, she had smelled them often enough on subjects she had tracked.

But that didn’t mean he was on board with the uneasy feelings Jessie’s behavior was bringing out. The sooner he picked up Midnight and returned to Abigail Jones’s apartment, the better. For everybody.

* * *

As far as Abigail was concerned, Olga’s presence was a plus. She would never have asked her friend to keep her company, but since she was already there, she hoped she’d stay.

The older woman emerged from the kitchen carrying two steaming mugs. “That one has a lot of nerve.”

“He promised he’d be back.”

“I hope he’s happy. He made me miss my soap.”

“We can watch it here,” Abigail offered, blowing on the hot coffee before chancing a sip. “My cable box lets me run programs back to the beginning. You won’t miss a thing.” She reached for the remote. “What channel?”

“You want I should stay? I don’t want to bother you.”

“Yes, please. It’s no bother. I—I don’t like being alone all the time.”

“So get yourself a fella,” Olga said, taking the remote from her and quickly locating the correct TV channel. “Girl like you shouldn’t have any trouble attracting a decent man.” She smiled. “What about the one that just left?”

A shiver raced up Abigail’s spine and prickled the nape of her neck. “I’ve seen enough bad relationships to stay away from all of them.” She blushed. “I’m not letting any guy move in on me the way...”

“The way what?” Olga asked.

Abigail lowered her gaze. “The way my mother used to. That was almost as bad as her insisting I call every one of them Daddy.” Embarrassed beyond words, she wished she hadn’t spoken so bluntly. So truthfully. Yet now that she’d started to bare her soul she yearned to go on.

“What about your real papa?”

“I don’t even remember what he looked like. My mother got mad at him once when I was little and destroyed every picture. I have nothing to remember him by.”

“Did you ask her? Maybe she kept some for herself.”

Shaking her head, Abigail took another sip before continuing. “I haven’t seen Mama since I was sixteen. I have no idea where she even lives.”

Olga began patting her free hand. “All right. I’ll stay.” She lifted her own mug as if in a toast to the soap opera. “Now we watch my show. I know some people say I’m foolish to want to see what happens, but you can learn a lot about life this way.”

“I wish my life was as easy to understand,” Abigail said softly. “I thought I was on the right track, helping homeless teens and doing good for society. Now I wonder.”

“Nobody ever said doing the right thing was easy. That doesn’t mean it isn’t still right.” Olga paused until the drama switched to a commercial, then said, “You keep the dog your friend is going to bring you, Mr. Rosenbaum will probably raise your rent.”

Abigail hadn’t thought of that but it fit with the way her days had been going lately. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. She had just about decided to tell Reed to take Midnight back where she came from when Olga added, “Of course, there’s nothing like a big dog barking to scare off thugs.” She chuckled. “Might not be such a bad idea after all.”

* * *

Three flights of stairs and a frightened, gangly puppy were a bad combination, Reed mused, breathing hard as he carried wiggly, floppy, excited Midnight up to Abigail’s. Before he had time to put his furry burden down, Jessie barked. The door was jerked open.

He set the pup on its big feet and smiled as he straightened. The look of astonishment on Abigail’s face added to his amusement.

Eyes wide, she snapped her jaw closed and pointed. “That’s a puppy?”

“Uh-huh. She’s about five months old. They grow pretty fast at first.”

“Yeah.” Remaining in the doorway, Abigail held her hands apart to demonstrate something about the size of a domestic cat. “I was expecting, you know, a puppy. Little? Fluffy? Cuddly on my lap?”

“Midnight will cuddle you. Give her a chance.”

Although she did step back, Reed could tell she was anything but sold on his idea even before she said, “All right. Come on in. But this is not going to work.”

Jessie was first through the door and already on the couch by the time Reed was able to coax Midnight inside. Instead of compliantly trotting along on the end of the leash as she had at the training center and coming up the sidewalk from his SUV, she threw herself down, splayed out on her belly, and was sliding across the wood floor, inch by inch, while he tugged and cajoled. Astonishing! If she’d been trained to resist he’d have understood, but this was a puppy who was supposed to be leash-trained.

Abigail began to laugh. “Well, that’s good if I need my floor dusted. What other tricks does she do?”

“She’s pretty good at eating,” Reed joked, knowing he was blushing. “I promise you, she was behaving perfectly when I picked her up at the kennel and put the harness on her. This is very unusual. Working dogs need to be confident and unafraid.”

“Maybe she senses my moodiness,” Abigail offered. “Don’t judge her by one incident. I’m sure she’ll be fine once you take her back to where you got her.”

“Mind if I catch my breath first? She wasn’t crazy about climbing stairs, either.”

Laughing, Abigail said, “What? A big, strong guy like you can’t carry a puppy up three flights without getting winded? Does your chief know how out-of-shape you are?”

Reed started to argue, then realized she was teasing. “She was hard to hang on to,” he said. “I almost dropped her a couple of times until I figured out she liked her front legs draped over my shoulder.”

Abigail laughed again. “Can I get you a cup of coffee now, or would you rather have a sports drink?”

“Plain water’s fine, thanks.”

Eyeing Jessie and realizing the bloodhound wanted to follow Abigail, Reed unsnapped the pup’s leash and gave Jessie a release command.

Off they went in Abigail’s footsteps, one after the other, as if they were both tracking. Curiosity moved him to continue watching. He circled an easy chair and walked softly across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen.

What he observed was a Rockwell picture of Americana. Abigail was standing with her back to the refrigerator door, a bottle of cold water in each hand. The dogs were sitting politely at her feet, tails sweeping arcs on the floor, and acting as if their favorite human was about to serve the tastiest treats they’d ever eaten.

He waited to see what would happen. He wasn’t disappointed. She began to speak to the dogs as though they were hers.

“What do you girls want, huh? A drink of water? I can probably manage that, but I’d better ask the officer first.”

Jessie stayed in place. Midnight, excited by the kind tone of voice, wiggled and circled at Abigail’s feet. Then she glanced over at her canine buddy and managed to resume a seated position without quivering too badly. The pup was smart, all right. She’d learned to beg after one impromptu lesson.

Waiting to see what happened next, Reed was startled by the loud ringing of a cell phone. He watched Abigail pale as she set the water bottles aside, reached for her phone and looked at the number. It must have been familiar because she quickly answered.