Drool Baby (A Dog Park Mystery) (Lia Anderson Dog Park Mysteries) (12 page)

"I'm sorry I missed it. Maybe you could show me?" She cajoled.

He stood up with her in his arms and headed for the bedroom. "Maybe I could." He kicked the door shut and placed Lia on the bed. "It was like this." He
rearranged her arms with one stretched over her head and the other across her forehead. "You pretend to be asleep. I'll go out and come back in again."

She shut her eyes. Maybe she drifted off. She never heard him enter. She became aware of twin touches, gentle as a wish, delicate as fairy wings, on the
insides of her upper arms. She kept still as the sensation floated up both arms to her wrists, then off her fingertips. Fingertips traced down her neck to
the front of her shirt, slowly unbuttoning, smoothing the fabric back as each button was undone. She felt his breath, softly blowing on the thin, exposed
strip of flesh from her collarbone to her waist. He followed this with soft kisses back up to her collarbone, then nuzzled and kissed the inside of one
arm, then the other. He continued this torturous assault up to the palms of her hands. Then it stopped. She felt the loss of him then, and considered
opening her eyes. Suddenly she felt cold steel around her wrists, heard it ratcheting shut.

Her eyes flew open as her arms jerked reflexively. The steel bit into her wrists. The cuffs were wrapped behind a post in her headboard, preventing her
from moving her arms more than a few inches. She felt a frisson of helplessness and opened her mouth to protest. He silenced her with a kiss, deep and
probing.

His breath warmed her ear. "Trust me?"

She nodded desperately as she felt his hand on the button of her jeans.

Lia, Jim, and Peter sat atop a picnic table at the rear of the park. It was early. A light mist overlay the park in the predawn. There was a crisp feel in
the air. Honey and Viola were playing tug-of-war with a stick while Chewy refereed, making calls in shrill yips from the sidelines.

Peter shook his head. "Six A.M.? It's still dark out. How do you do this every day?"

Lia bumped him companionably with her shoulder. "Sunrise is so pretty. Drink your coffee and enjoy the morning."

"Artists," Peter snorted.

Lia screwed up her face in a mock-quizzical expression. "Jim, who was it that said we needed to meet first thing?"

Jim pondered. "It wasn't me. Nope, wasn't you. Must have been our leader, here."

"Our fearless, except-when-it-comes-to-waking-up in-the-morning leader?"

"That would be the one."

"Oh, almost fearless leader," Lia batted her eyelashes, "How may we serve you?"

"Jim, hold onto my coffee for a minute, I think somebody needs a good swat."

"Can I interrupt," Jim asked, "or is this a private moment?"

"Sure Jim," Peter said. "What's up?"

"I got an interesting call yesterday. A friend of Bailey's from out of state. Somewhere South, from his accent. I can't figure out how he located me. Said
he found out she was in trouble and he wants to help."

"How strange," Lia commented.

"Huh," Peter said. "What does he want to do?"

"He says he's good with computers and research. I'm thinking, if he checks out, we could use some help with background information."

"What did you tell him?" Peter asked.

"Not a thing. I just said I'd get back to him." Jim shared the rest of his conversation with the man called "Trees." ". . . He says he's a member of
Crystal Bridge, under the name 'ClimbTrees.' I went and checked out his posts. Mostly stuff about white light and crystals and spirit guides. I don't know
about all that, but he seems pretty harmless."

"I think I know who you're talking about," Lia said. "Bailey said something about wanting to go down to Tennessee and meet him. She's been friends with him
online for ages. He saved her hard drive a few years ago."

"How did he do that if she's never met him?" Jim asked.

"She mailed it to him. Said she owes him her life. He saved all her financial stuff, everything."

"I wish I could run a background check on him. There's no way to do that, if he won't give you his name," Peter said.

"First Frank, now this guy," Lia said. "You're like a 'help Bailey' magnet."

"I don't know what I am," Jim groused.

Soon after, Charlie and Jose arrived, followed by Nadine, Marie, Terry, and a host of other weekend regulars with a horde of dogs.

Jim and Peter wandered off to hang with the menfolk. Nadine and Marie migrated over to Lia's table.

"What are you doing all alone back here?" Nadine asked. "I can't believe that nice boyfriend of yours just abandoned you."

"'Fraid so. Too much togetherness lately, I guess."

"How's that going," Marie asked. "Thinking about making it permanent?"

"We're tiptoeing around each other a bit. He works a lot of evenings, so it's not like we're in each other's hair all the time. But I still like having my
own place. It's the snoring, for one thing."

"That handsome young man snores?" Nadine asked.

"Like a freight train." Lia crossed her fingers and privately begged forgiveness for the lie. "You ever have that problem with Lou, Nadine?"

"You get used to it, in time. But we finally opted for separate bedrooms. Too many midnight bathroom trips after he started having prostrate problems. I
can't say I miss the noise."

"Another reason I don't date men. Women have such delicate snores. No hairy, sweaty bodies, either," Marie volunteered cheerfully.

"Oh, I don't know, a hairy, sweaty body might be fun," Lia said. "Not that Peter is either hairy or sweaty."

"You girls make me blush," Nadine said.

Lia did not see a good opening for talking about Terry's fall. She figured she'd done well with her first foray into covert action, and was feeling smug by
the time Peter rejoined her. "How'd you do?" She asked.

"Charlie is not our guy," Peter said.

"What did you find out?"

"His route is on the east side of town, over in the Kenwood area."

"Sounds like torture for Charlie and his red-neck, West Side roots."

"Maybe so, but it puts him out of the area for Terry's fall. Did you get anything out of Nadine?"

"Separate bedrooms. I still can't see her as a pistol packing granny, but I guess she has to stay on the list."

I had an epiphany of sorts. It occurred to me that there may be a way to make a stranger killing more satisfying. I thought it must be the eyes. If I could
watch the eyes as someone was dying. To see it in their face as the life force fades out.

It would have to be someone whom I could physically overpower, in a relatively safe environment. While it would be handy to remove those with worthless
lives who live on the fringes, such people are close to animals. Having animal instincts, they are likely fight back. Such people have to fight to maintain
their miserable place at the bottom of the food chain. I decided someone with a soft, suburban background would be best.

The trick was to isolate them, remove the risk of getting caught. This part stymied me for several days. Then I thought back to my trip to Red River Gorge,
and I realized there was an easy way to accomplish this.

I thought about taking Baby with me. Baby could be an asset in diverting apprehensions. But managing a dog along with other logistics could be troublesome.
Baby whined at being left behind. I promised that if this time worked out, I would consider taking my darling along on another outing.

It was midnight when I left. I stopped several streets from my house and pulled up behind a new car. I put on my wig before I got out. I used a screw
driver to remove the license plate. I chose a new car because the screws had not been on long enough to freeze in place. I replaced my license plate with
the one I removed. I had already removed the plate from the front of my car.

I drove out I-74, past the Indiana border, to the westbound rest area near Batesville. This was only forty miles on the highway, but a state away, in
another jurisdiction. The building was an ugly, blocky thing in the middle of a prairie. It was surrounded by young saplings. The only attractive attribute
of this place was the view of the night sky, which I quite enjoyed. It was good to have something beautiful to look at, since I did not know how long I would be there.

I contemplated parking my car in the back, where it would not be seen. I decided that seeing a person at a rest area with no car out front might alarm
someone, so I left it in front. My car is generic enough, and I had borrowed plates. I was safe enough, in this regard.

I sat on a picnic table to wait. It was twenty minutes before a car pulled up. I knew this by looking at the cheap watch I had purchased to replace the
phone I left at home. I would not chance being traced to this spot at a later date.

A couple exited the car. This would not do. I needed a single woman, someone older than myself, if possible.

I waited another two hours and fifteen minutes. In that time, a family with a dog and two children in an SUV stopped. The parents were arguing. A large,
burley man in a truck stopped. Two young men stopped, with the back of their car crammed with boxes. I imagined they were going to college.

In all that time I stayed at the picnic table, in the shadow of the shelter. I only got up on occasion to stretch my legs. I did get a cup of coffee from
the vending machine. I was careful to wipe my prints from the coins I used and wore gloves while drinking my coffee. My wig was hot and uncomfortable, so I
allowed myself to take it off when the rest area was vacant, and put it back on when a car approached up the access road.

Finally, a woman got out of an old Toyota with Kentucky plates. I could not tell her age, but her posture was bent and she looked tired. I felt, in that
moment, like a predator about to cull the herd.

I strolled up the walk to the main building and went into the rest room ahead of her. I entered a stall and waited. She took her time. Eventually, she
finished up in her stall and went to the sink to wash her hands. My heart pounded as I exited my stall and walked behind her.

I held a wire that I had bought at a craft shop. It had a toggle at each end, so the wire would not cut my fingers. She was looking down at her hands when
I crossed my arms. I raised them up over her head and brought them down, looping the wire around her neck.

She looked up in surprise as I pulled the wire tight, garrote style. She stared at me in the mirror, not comprehending. She did not know me. I watched
confusion and fear play out on her face while I pulled the wire tighter and tighter.

First she scrabbled at the wire, but that was useless. Then she batted ineffectually over her shoulders, at my hands. Her eyes popped and her tongue bulged
out and slowly, she began to sink to the floor.

I kept the garrote tight as she went down in a heap on the floor and I pulled her head back so I could watch her eyes. Her eyes stayed locked on mine as I examined her face, looking for that moment when everything ended for her.

I never did see the light go out. I gradually became aware that her expression had frozen. Whenever that moment had been, the moment of life departing the body, I had missed it. I stood there
and stared down at her, absorbing her face, thinking I should be experiencing something more. But she was gone. I did not need to linger.

I took a deep breath, willing my heart-rate to slow. I stripped off my gloves, turning them inside out. I shoved the wire into them and the bundle into my
pocket. My wig had twisted around during our struggle, so I straightened it.

I walked out into the lobby and saw a man standing there, watching the
bathroom door. He walked over to me.

"Was anyone else in the bathroom with you?" he asked.

"No, why do you ask?"

"I was meeting my wife, Karen, here at the rest stop. That's her car out front. But I can't find her. I thought she was in the rest room."

"I haven't seen her. Do you suppose she's walking around outside? It's easy to miss someone in the dark. Maybe she was around back when you drove up."

He grabbed onto this suggestion gratefully and followed me outside. As he walked around back, I got into my car and drove away. I got off the highway at
the next exit and took the backroads to Cincinnati. I could not chance being seen by the highway patrol after he found his wife.

It was four-thirty when I got home. I finally realized that the couple must
have been transporting a second car. It was a mistake that could trap me. I considered this as I showered to wake myself up, then got ready to take Baby to
the park.

I arrived at the park earlier than usual, before any of my friends. I sat and sipped my coffee while I took stock of my situation. I had to believe that if
they did not find me in the first hours, I would escape detection.

I had the wig and the borrowed plates to protect me. I was in a different state. I had no connection to this woman. I built a shield out of these facts,
and I eventually calmed. I would get rid of the wig, the wire, the gloves, each in a separate place. Then there would be nothing to connect me.

I had thought it would be best if I did not talk to my target at all before I killed her. That was wrong. I should have chatted to her long enough to make
sure she was traveling alone. Who would guess this one woman was being followed by her husband?

He might be able to describe me to the police. He at least knew my height and build. He probably knew the color of my car, maybe the make. It was doubtful
that he had the license plate number. If he did, that would pull him into Cincinnati. On reflection, If I needed another license plate, I should get it
away from Cincinnati. Perhaps I could have stopped in Harrison.

I do not believe I will be repeating this experience. I felt adrenaline, but no exultation. For the risk I took, it was not the reward I wanted.