Love To The Rescue (5 page)

“Wilson told me you were practically drooling over the extremely attractive Ms. MacArthur when you attended the B and E at her house this morning.” Garrett chuckled while he struggled into his jacket.

“Wilson has a big mouth. She should keep her opinions to herself.” Kevin glared at his pal. If the female officer had noticed his interest in the victim, had Amy noticed him staring at her, too?

“Why don’t you just admit you’re attracted to her?”

Kevin silently admitted to himself that he’d been extremely attracted to Ms. MacArthur. He wasn’t certain his mouth hadn’t dropped open when she clambered to her feet on the front lawn. He closed his eyes, recalling her endless legs in tight jeans and those sexy snake-print heels. His eyes popped open again. Initially, she’d looked so frightened and lost, he’d had the urge to reach for the ends of the pretty two-toned blue lace scarf that was loosely wrapped around her neck, pull her into his arms, and kiss all the fear away. But he also recalled how nicely that silky powder-blue top strained across her breasts when she pulled her shoulders back and stiffened her spine, prepared to face the situation head on.

“Are you still thinking about her, Robertson? Are we talking love at first sight here?” His partner smiled broadly and chuckled.

“Go to hell, Garrett.”

Officer Wilson popped her head around the corner. “I’m meeting a girlfriend for drinks and a bite to eat. You guys want to come along?” Sally smiled in anticipation.

“Not me. I’m dead on my feet. I’m heading straight home.” Kevin wondered how she could sound so damn perky after a twelve hour shift when he was ready to drop in his tracks. Sally was a bit younger than his thirty-one years. Must be the stamina of youth.

“Me neither, Sally.” Garrett smiled back. “Promised my mother I’d drop by on my way home and fix the lock on her garage door.”

“Okay, good night, guys.” Sally turned and walked away.

“Good night, Sally. See you tomorrow. Lover boy and I are heading out, too,” Garrett called over his shoulder as he strode down the hallway.

Kevin uttered an unflattering response to Garrett’s comment, and he heard Garrett laughing. Kevin grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, searched for his truck keys among the mess of papers on his desk, and then headed outside.

He drove his black Ford F150 pickup home and pulled into his designated parking spot outside his townhouse. His home sounded eerily quiet when he entered. Before he fell into bed, totally exhausted, he gently kissed the one person in the world who meant everything to him.

Only one more shift and then days off. For the hundredth time today, his thoughts drifted to Amy MacArthur. The young thief who’d turned her life upside down had been claimed by his wealthy parents and placed in a local rehab center. The place had a remarkable reputation, and Kevin felt certain the kid would get the help he needed. If he’d even give the program a chance. The little shit seemed pretty rebellious, and his parents admitted he’d been totally out of control: skipping school, hanging with a bad crowd, involved in drugs and shoplifting. He hated the fact he couldn’t assure Amy that she had nothing to worry about. The kid wouldn’t be back. But he couldn’t discuss the case with his own mother if she were alive. Or a wife if he had one. Nobody. Never mind the victim. At least, not until his case went to court and only if it became a matter of public record.

“I guess only time will tell if this Blaine guy gets his act together,” he speculated aloud.

Just before he drifted off, he wondered if the gorgeous Ms. Amy MacArthur had been able to fall asleep yet.

****

Amy had tossed and turned in her king-sized bed until well past two o’clock in the morning, contemplating the pros and cons of dog ownership. Although she would never admit it to her friends, the idea of owning a dog had grown on her in the wee hours. And what better warning if that teenaged punk returned again to frighten her, or worse. In fact, an unexpected excitement overtook her as she showered and dressed this morning before she and Leslie left her house at ten o’clock on the dot.

Contributing to the conversation over breakfast proved extremely difficult. All Amy could think about was dogs! Now, an hour later, Amy pulled her Lexus into the Calgary Humane Society’s large parking lot. “We’re here.”

Leslie released her seatbelt, grabbed her purse off the floor. “Good. Let’s find you a new friend. Hopefully, one that growls really long, barks really loud, and has lots of sharp teeth.”

“Remember, I have to live with this animal, as well as keeping him around to scare off the burglars.” Amy frowned. “I don’t want a dog that frightens me, too.”

Amy hopped out of the car, and her mind wandered back in time. When her husband was alive, they’d come here one Thursday afternoon just to look at the dogs. But the two of them had loved to travel, and Allan considered it selfish and totally unfair to own an animal that would spend almost half its time boarded at the kennel. She’d agreed with him, sadly, but she’d also known he was right.

Amy hadn’t enjoyed a dog’s companionship in years. Not since she lived at home, attending high school. For as long as she could remember her family always owned a German shepherd, and she missed taking one of those special dogs for a walk after dinner every night.

Amy smiled, recalling one of Allan’s favorite jokes. Part of a Rita Rudner routine about being married for awhile, and she and her husband longed to hear the pitter-patter of little feet. They bought a dog—it’s cheaper and you get more feet. Allan laughed uproariously at that punch line; his sense of humor had kept her in stitches for the entire three years they were married.

And then he died.

She could count on one hand how often she’d really laughed since.

Now, here she was, standing outside the Humane Society building, happily anticipating the possibility of adopting a dog. Totally her decision, without anything standing in her way. She travelled out of town a couple of times a year to writers’ conventions or on an occasional holiday with Leslie. But certainly nothing like before when she’d accompanied her husband all over the world for weeks or even months on end when he was busy with his consulting assignments.

As she and Leslie walked toward the main door, Amy experienced a brief flash of uncertainty. Would she qualify? She owned a house with a huge pie-shaped back yard. She worked from home so her pet wouldn’t be left unattended for hours on end. And with the insurance money she received after Allan died and her writing revenues, she could easily afford the ownership costs. She’d even slipped out of the house while Leslie was in the shower early this morning, purchased everything a large dog would require, and then some. Any dog of hers would want for nothing. But she’d kept the receipts, just in case.

Uncertainties continued to worm their way into her mind. Was she responsible enough to own a dog? When she lost herself in her writing, she frequently forgot to eat. Could forgetting to feed your pet be considered cruelty to animals? Probably, and she could be charged, hauled into court, and ordered to pay a hefty fine. How embarrassing would that be! And the dog would never forgive her, would develop an inferiority complex, believe himself unworthy, become traumatized for life.

“I’ll set the alarm on my cell phone during every writing session, and then I’ll remember to take a break.”

“Did you say something, Amy?” Leslie met her eyes.

“Just thinking aloud.” She felt herself frowning. Maybe they wouldn’t have anything bigger than a beagle, and she would have to leave without a new family member. That scenario saddened her immensely.

She’d come to adopt a dog, she realized, not because her friends thought she
needed
one but because she
wanted
one. Ever since Tiffany first suggested the solution to her situation, the idea grew in her mind like an over-fertilized dandelion.

Amy MacArthur wanted a dog of her own.

“Okay. Let’s see if they have any suitable animals.” Amy slung her purse strap over her shoulder and accompanied Leslie into the building.

****

Today, Kevin was spending the majority of his shift at the court house, testifying in a case involving a suspected drug dealer. He’d discovered the outstanding warrant one stormy night about six months ago when he clocked the guy speeding on Deerfoot Trail, the north/south thoroughfare through the city. He’d arrested him without incident. Testimony wasn’t his favorite part of the job, but if his appearance in court helped remove this scum from the street, even for a few years, it was well worth his time.

Kevin caught himself smiling whenever his thoughts wandered to Amy. And they wandered almost constantly. He yearned to run his fingers through the beautiful sun-kissed hair that would probably hang well below her shoulders when released from the ponytail. He imagined feeling its silky texture in his hands and a floral-scented shampoo teasing his olfactory senses. Her full lips had just begged him to kiss her, and she would run her hands up and down his back and then slip them under his shirt while he embraced her tightly and gently drew her against his aching body.

The bailiff called another witness and Kevin shook himself out of his fantasy. He paced outside the courtroom waiting for his turn with the lawyers. After another fifteen minutes passed, he slumped into a nearby chair. Twenty minutes later, he was finally called to testify, and he dragged himself off the hard wooden seat and entered the courtroom.

Hours later, nearing the end of his shift, Kevin phoned Sally Wilson.

“Do you suppose Amy MacArthur called Victim Services?”

“I doubt it. After the initial shock wore off she seemed somewhat in control. Perhaps the support of her friends will be enough.”

“I hope so.” Kevin wondered if Sally heard the doubt in his voice or if she detected his uncommon interest in this particular victim. He considered all his cases important, but Ms. MacArthur had taken his breath away. There was just something about the young widow...

“You’re really concerned about this woman, aren’t you?”

For a second, Kevin considered the possibility Sally was psychic. She’d certainly tuned in to his train of thought. Nah, just perceptive and kind-hearted.

“Yeah, I’m concerned. She’s a nice person and she certainly didn’t deserve this crap.” Kevin’s hand fisted.

“Maybe you should follow up on the case. Give her another call.”

Kevin heard the hint of humor in Sally’s voice. “You’re as bad as Garrett. Never pegged you for a matchmaker.”

“Did I say anything about matchmaking? I’m solely expressing concern for the victim of a senseless crime. Suggesting you follow up with said victim.” Sally sounded quite serious and totally professional. And then Kevin heard the little laugh that escaped her.

“Solely concerned for the victim? Why do I detect a white lie here? Talk to you later.” Kevin hung up the phone and shook his head.

He grabbed the handset again, started to punch in Amy MacArthur’s number which he knew from memory already, and then returned the receiver to the cradle. Maybe tomorrow he’d call.

Maybe.

It was probably too late now to call her tonight. Of course, he wouldn’t be on duty again for four days. Oh hell, she’ll be fine, he decided. She’s a mature, intelligent woman. If she wasn’t doing okay, she would have called about the support services.

Wouldn’t she?

Shortly after finishing the last shift of his rotation, he stopped at the local watering hole. He played some pool and downed a beer with his buddy. At ten-thirty, he drove home and fell into bed. Immediately, his thoughts turned to Amy, and smiling, he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 4

Amy held the door open for Leslie and followed her into the Calgary Humane Society building. She spotted a cat enclosure to her left, and a pretty tabby kitten and a ginger-colored cat peeked out at her. Amy smiled at the furry duo and proceeded to the reception desk while Leslie talked to the felines through the glass.

A middle-aged woman greeted her with a smile. “May I help you?” she asked, in an English accent.

Amy smiled back. “I’d like to adopt a dog.”

“Excellent,” she replied. “Just take a chair and I’ll call one of our adoption counselors to come up front to help you. May I give her your name?” The woman picked up the phone.

“Amy MacArthur. Thank you for your help.” Amy retraced her steps to the middle of the room and seated herself beside the windowed cat room.

“Aren’t they cute?” Leslie settled herself on a chair opposite Amy.

“Yes, but I’ve got my heart set on a dog.”

“I didn’t mean for you.” Leslie tilted her head. “I’m seriously inquiring about that little yellow cat sitting on that padded perch. She high-fived me through the window when I put my hand up to the glass. I think she likes me.”

Amy shook her head. “Better call Rick and ask him first.”

Leslie met Amy’s eyes, looking sheepish. “I already did while you were talking to the receptionist. He told me to go for it.”

“Then there’s your answer.” Amy grinned. “It was meant to be.”

“You think?” Leslie’s eyes lit up.

“Definitely. Cats are much easier to care for than dogs. Just leave her with some food and water and her litter box, and she won’t mind you being away from home working at the salon all day.”

Just then a slim middle-aged woman, smartly dressed in designer jeans, a yellow and white striped cotton t-shirt, and a fitted yellow jacket, strode up to them. “Are you Amy?” she asked.

“Yes.” Amy leapt to her feet and shook the woman’s outstretched hand.

“I’m Mrs. Swainson. Come on back to adoption processing. I see you have the application and survey papers with you.”

“Yes. I found them on your website, printed them off, and filled them in last night.” Amy followed the woman past the Humane Society store and down a long hallway, with Leslie on her heels.

“Good, that will save some time.” The woman seated herself at an interview desk and motioned for Amy and Leslie to take the chairs opposite.