To Catch a Treat (2 page)

two

It was seven o'clock.
Neal had to get his hike started. I could sense his discomfort as he looked down discreetly at the watch on his wrist. “Sorry,” he said. “It's a really hard story.” He gave Janelle a warm hug. “We need to get going now, though.” After another sympathetic glance at Janelle, he started herding us all toward the rear door beside the enclosed spa.

Reed and I remained with Janelle. “I want to hear what happened,” I told her. I really did. A dognapping? How terrible.

“I guess we can talk as we walk,” she said. I had a sense, though, that she felt relieved at the reprieve. I gathered that it might be hard for her to describe what had occurred, even if her dog's disappearance was always on her mind.

But I did want to hear about it.

Janelle hurried to join the others as Neal, at the top of the steps, waved the baton he always used to show his group where he was. He called it his staff, which was intended as a kind of pun, since he viewed the baton not only as a way to stay visible to his followers, but also as his assistant. He used it to lead his gang on trails, especially up and down hills, and it was his walking stick when the path was level. It was a bright, glossy red, about four feet long with a crook at the top.

I'd lied somewhat to Janelle when I'd said this was my first hike with Neal. I'd accompanied him on a couple when he first followed me to Knobcone Heights, California, and became a part-time tour guide here. I'd wanted, then, to help increase the size of his crowd. That had been three years ago or so. His crowds these days tended to be substantial, and had picked up again over the last couple of months after a lull, so I hadn't been a member of one lately. Until now.

I waited till the entire group had gone down the concrete steps to the lakeside beach, both people and dogs—except for Reed and Hugo, who stayed back with Biscuit and me. “What was that about?” Reed asked.

“I guess we'll find out together,” I replied as Biscuit and I headed down the steps. “Soon, I hope.”

At the bottom, I waited on the back portion of the sand for Reed and Hugo to catch up, then held back a little as Neal again called out to his tour group, waving his staff. “Neal's smitten with Janelle,” I confided quietly to Reed. “I don't know anything about her except what I just learned: she's pretty, and she's sad, which I certainly can understand if her dog has been stolen.” Shuddering at the very idea, I bent to hug Biscuit. Then, because Hugo was right beside her, I hugged him, too.

I knew I'd never be able to bear it if I lost a dog in any manner, dognapping or otherwise. It was bad enough that dogs didn't live as long as their human family members—a fact I was all too conscious of as a veterinary technician.

I noticed that Janelle had quickly caught up with Neal. As we started walking along the waterfront, she stayed with him. Apparently she didn't want to discuss her lost dog with me.

Or maybe she was as smitten with my bro as he seemed to be with her and wanted to get to know him better. After all, best as I could tell, they'd met only a couple of days ago.

The sand was dry and the air was cool here along the lake. I was glad I'd worn a sweatshirt—one I'd had specially made. Like some T-shirts I'd acquired, it had a Barkery and Biscuits logo on the front. This one was blue. I'd obtained a variety of colors, and I gave them out to my shops' staff, as well as some particularly good customers now and then. Not to discriminate against my other store, I'd also had shirts made up for Icing on the Cake.

The craggy cliffs at our left side were tall, and the Knobcone Heights resort was not the only hotel, nor home, to grace their top. Fencing ran all along the upper areas in the interest of safety, which seemed a good idea to me.

On our right was the lake, wide and fairly calm, with a hint of waves caressing the shoreline. I believed the waves were caused not only by wind but also by the many boats that traveled back and forth. Although there were often swimmers and sometimes sunbathers along the shore, here on the side of the dock where boats were frequently moored, I didn't see any now—but of course the evening was getting late.

I did, however, see a flock of ducks splashing in the water. Overhead a large bird soared—a falcon, I believed. And beyond the far side of the lake, more mountaintops were visible.

I shrugged away my concerns about Janelle's dog, at least for now, and smiled as I lifted my chin and inhaled the fresh air. Reed and Hugo walked on my right side and Biscuit on my left.

Reed was a great-looking guy, with what I'd call “a ruggedly handsome face,” as they say in romance novels. He had thick, wavy black hair, and a hint of five o'clock shadow that I'd come to realize he always got this late in the day.

The walk was utterly enjoyable. I was glad I'd accepted my brother's invitation this time.

“So how are things going at your shops?” Reed glanced down at me in the fading daylight with his dark brown eyes. He asked me this often, usually when we had a moment to talk when I was at the clinic on a shift. But Reed and I had coffee together fairly often. Dinner sometimes, too.

I liked the guy. A lot. But I didn't think I was ready to really dive into a relationship. Besides, there were a couple of other men who'd expressed interest in me lately, and I'd decided not to commit to anyone, just let things take their course.

“Things are going very well,” I said. “As always, I could use some more help, but Dinah's doing great as a full-time assistant. And my new part-timers are learning things just fine.” I'd previously employed another part-time assistant, inherited from my friend Brenda when she'd sold me Icing on the Cake and moved away. But that assistant, Judy, was no longer with me.

“If you find someone else, can you schedule more time at the clinic?”

This was a long-standing issue. I'd been told that the veterinary hospital was looking for at least one more vet tech. I had even been warned—by Reed—that I'd better concentrate more on that part of my career if I wanted to have any time at all scheduled there. But that had been partly due to a terrible mix-up that had since been resolved. The head vet there, Dr. Arvus—Arvie—Kline, had always remained on my side, as Reed seemed to be now. And they had hired only one more vet tech, not a bunch.

That was another reason why I was somewhat reluctant to get closer to Reed. He had almost threatened me about my schedule at one time, and he hadn't, at first, given me the benefit of the doubt.

“We'll see,” I said now, in response to his question. As much as I loved being a vet tech, my new ventures occupied a lot of my time, as they should. Though my choice was not to give up entirely on my former career, I was dead-set against doing anything to jeopardize my new one.

We were lagging a little, so I picked up my pace to catch up with the last of the hikers on Neal's outing. There were about fifteen of them, dressed, like the others, similarly to Reed and me—jeans, sweatshirts or hoodies, and athletic shoes. Some also wore knit hats, although the temperature seemed a bit too warm for that. At least I didn't see anyone wearing gloves.

There were, additionally, seven dogs besides our two, of different breed backgrounds and sizes, all the way from what appeared to be a Yorkie mix to an energetic pit bull. We all walked along the path at the edge of the beach, not on the empty road that paralleled it.

“Any interesting cases at the clinic that I'm not aware of?” I asked Reed. We were keeping things fairly neutral now, which seemed a shame. And since I thought that way, I realized that, no matter what I'd been telling myself, I liked it when he seemed romantically interested in me.

“None that I can think of,” he said. “We have a senior cat with respiratory issues hospitalized with us, and a dog whose heart murmur we're monitoring overnight. Of concern, sure, but not unusual, either of them. And both seem to be responding well to treatment.”

I smiled, glad to hear that. We soon reached the end of the nearly straight path, which, like the road, turned to circle the far side of the lake. The entire group had gone around the corner ahead of us.

That's when I noticed Janelle lagging back. In a minute, she was walking with Reed and me. She was a little taller than me, slim in her jeans and hoodie, and her shoes were bright purple, contrasting with the beigeness of the sand.

“Hi,” she said. “Isn't this great? I'm so glad Neal invited me.”

“Me too,” I said, purposely vague about whether I was glad he'd invited her or invited me.

“Where do you come from?” Reed asked. I glanced at him. His expression was friendly, but I didn't think he was flirting—and I gave him a brownie point for that, since Janelle was attractive.

“Santa Monica,” she said. “I've always enjoyed walking on the beach there, too.”

“Now that's really a beach,” I said. “I enjoyed it, too, when I worked in LA.” That had been several years ago, after I'd studied to become a vet tech; a short while thereafter, I'd moved here. “But I'm delighted that Knobcone Heights has this one.”

“Yes, this is really nice. I haven't seen everything here, of course, but I like this town a lot.”

And do you also like my brother
? I thought, but I didn't ask. That was between them.

But one thing wasn't—and I had to ask. “If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine,” I began, “but if you do, I'd like to hear what happened to your dog.”

She stopped so quickly that I thought she'd tripped. I reached out my free hand to steady her, but she just stood there for a second, not falling, not moving. Then she spoke hoarsely. “Like I said, I know from what your brother told me about you that you're a real animal lover, especially dogs.” She looked toward Reed, who had also stopped with us. “If you're a veterinarian, I guess that's true of you, too.”

He nodded. “You've got me pegged.” He smiled, clearly trying to be friendly and encouraging. I added another plus to my feelings about him.

“Okay.” Janelle kept her head down but started walking again, following Neal's crowd, which had gotten a ways in front of us. “Here's what happened. My dog is named Goliath. I call him Go. He's a purebred black Labrador retriever. I'm a photographer by profession—and you can guess how many photos I have of him.”

Her grin seemed full of irony as she raised her head and looked from Reed to me. We continued walking briskly.

“I'd love to see them,” I encouraged her.

“Sure. Maybe. Anyway, I take—took—Go nearly everywhere with me. One of the most fun things was going to dog parks all over Los Angeles. There are even a couple in Beverly Hills and West LA, and several in Santa Monica.”

I'd never been to dog parks in LA's West Side, but figured those in affluent areas like that were probably quite nice, maybe even spectacular.

“Anyhow,” Janelle continued, “I got to meet a lot of other dog lovers that way. Made a lot of friends for Go and me. Took a lot of fun pictures that I could sell to the owners, or even online or to media outlets. Then I started hearing really sad rumors of dognappings that were going on here and there. From what I gathered, it was mostly purebred dogs who disappeared, or designer dogs like cockapoos or labradoodles. I felt really sorry for the owners but … ” She stopped walking again, seemed to need to catch her breath, then continued both walking and talking. “I never believed that could happen to me. I mean, I'm an ordinary person with a wonderful dog, sure, but I'm not wealthy. I couldn't really afford to pay a ransom—although from what I gathered, the people whose dogs were apparently stolen weren't often contacted for money, at least not at first, so some assumed their dogs were being kept as pets or even being resold.”

In some ways, the latter made more sense to me. If the pets truly were stolen, it might be easier for the dognapper to get away with it if no one knew what really happened, rather than contacting owners who might be able to bring authorities down on them.

On the other hand, to resell purebreds and make money off them, wouldn't they have to be able to prove to buyers that the dogs had pedigrees?

“But it did happen to you,” I prompted Janelle. “How?” I didn't see her as the kind of person who'd let her dog loose without supervision in dog parks or at home, or leave him in a hot car, or do anything else careless enough to make me shudder.

“It happened so fast. And unexpectedly. Some of the dog parks have off-leash fenced-in areas so your dogs can get more exercise, usually by playing in packs. Of course, people who have animals with aggression issues aren't supposed to let them loose in those areas. Go was anything but aggressive, and I always observed the dogs who were loose before letting him off his leash there. I'd done so that day, about a month ago, and as always I watched him carefully. But there was a dog altercation at one end of the fenced-in area, and it sounded pretty fierce. I wanted to make sure Go wouldn't be affected, so I moved toward that location, hoping to help. He was loose, but I kept watching him, but then someone called frantically for help and I turned away. It felt like just an instant. And by the time I stepped in, the fight was over. All the people in the area seemed to have congregated there also to try to help. And when I moved away from them to get Go … I couldn't find him.”

She'd been doing so well with the story, just getting it out. But now Janelle sobbed. “No one saw what happened, but he was gone.”

three

As sorry as I
felt for Janelle, the first thing to cross my mind was that Go could have gotten distracted, as dogs do, and run off. His disappearance didn't mean—necessarily—that a person had been involved. Having heard about possible dognappings, Janelle might have jumped to conclusions.

But as if she read my mind—or maybe because she'd told this story often before—she continued. “I looked everywhere around there for him. I called him, and so did other nice people who were around. I had flyers made later that day and posted them everyplace I could think of, even at the nearest veterinarians and doggy daycare facilities and pet stores. I posted all sorts of notifications on social media sites, too. But I never heard anything more.”

We kept walking on the dirt path next to the beach. Low-cut weeds grew along the waterside, and more substantial bushes grew on the other shore, at the lake's end. The air smelled moist and earthy and wholly pleasant.

Janelle strode beside me, and so did Biscuit. Reed and Hugo had dropped a little behind us, and I doubted Reed had heard all that Janelle had said. We all walked a little more briskly now to catch up to the other hikers.

Or maybe I was just following Janelle's determined lead. When I glanced toward her, she was staring ahead as if she couldn't bear to look at me and risk seeing scorn at her losing her dog. But what she would actually see was pity. And concern. I didn't blame her. I felt sorry for her.

It crossed my mind that someone could have found Go and taken him in, then fallen for him and perhaps chosen not to turn him over to an owner whom they assumed was careless.

“In case you're wondering,” she said, “Go had an ID tag on his collar, plus he was microchipped with my contact information. But no one ever contacted me, and although I notified the microchip company, they didn't hear anything either.”

“I'm really sorry to hear of your loss,” I said, knowing those were the same words people said to others who'd had beloved family members die. Pets are family members, and although Go might not be dead, perhaps he was dead to Janelle. In any event, he was lost to her, at least for now.

I felt awful as she stumbled beside me on the path, and I reached out to steady her. At the same time, Biscuit moved in front of me to check her out, nearly causing me to trip on the leash.

“Careful,” Reed said from behind us and reached out to steady both of us, one hand on each of our backs.

“Thanks.” Janelle's voice came out in a raspy croak. When I looked at her she had tears running down her face. Damn. I certainly hadn't meant to make her feel worse.

I decided to try to change the subject, at least a little. “So what brought you to Knobcone Heights?” I made my tone sound cheerful, as if I was a representative of the town encouraging tourists to visit. In some ways, all of us who lived here had that kind of aspiration, since our town was fairly small and thrived a lot on having outsiders come to our shops. Even the veterinary clinic's business was bolstered by people who came with pets, since they sometimes got ill or injured. Pets of those who lived here were the majority of our patients, though, and that was probably a good thing. It would certainly turn tourists off to think that visiting animals were in jeopardy in our town.

“Oh, I just needed to get away,” Janelle said.

I glanced at her again as we continued walking, my breathing a bit faster than when we'd started out. There was something about her tone, too lighthearted all of a sudden, that made me sure her answer was a lie. But she still walked quickly, looking down toward her purple shoes as if to be sure she wasn't about to trip over anything. Her hair swept forward enough that I really couldn't see her expression.

Then she stood up straighter again, slowing her pace as she looked at me. Although she appeared sad, there was a kind of resolve I hadn't seen before on her pretty face. “Thanks so much for listening to me, Carrie. It's hard to talk about Go, but I feel better afterward when I do. I'm just hoping … well, I want to get him back someday, and if he was dognapped he's at least still alive. I'll do anything I can to find him.”

“I understand,” I said. “And if there's any way I can help, please let me know. I'm always around. When I'm at my shops, I may need a few minutes to get away—but I will.”

I didn't know her well, and neither did Neal, at least not yet. And he might never. But I understood and appreciated animal lovers and could definitely read her pain. I meant it. If I could help, I would.

“Thanks.” Janelle bent momentarily to give Biscuit a pat on the head without breaking stride. When she was fully upright again she said, “Right now … well, I want to catch up with Neal and maybe finish this hike with him.”

“I get it.” I smiled at her, which in moments resulted in smiling at her back as she sped forward.

Reed was immediately beside me. Biscuit and Hugo didn't slow their pace as they continued along the narrow dirt path, and neither did we humans.

“Tell me what that was all about,” Reed said. “I heard part of it. She lost a dog?”

I briefly told him about Janelle's belief that her Goliath had been dognapped nearly right in front of her at a dog park while she'd been distracted.

“That's a shame,” he said. “I assume she's tried the usual stuff like flyers to find him?”

I repeated what she'd said: everything from flyers to social media. “It all happened down the mountain, in Los Angeles,” I said. “She said she was here to get away from it all. I gather she's not likely to stay very long, which could be a bad thing for Neal.”

“Did she take a leave of absence from her job?”

“She said she's a photographer. Maybe she's freelance. I'm not sure.”

“Okay.”

When Reed grew silent, I observed him instead of the trail. There was an intense expression on his face as he looked ahead. I wanted to know what he was thinking, so I asked.

“I'm just trying to come up with some other avenues for Janelle to try to find her dog. From what you've said, sounds like she's done a good job of the usual stuff. But what if her dog really was stolen?”

“I'm wondering that, too,” I agreed. “She didn't tell me if she'd contacted any authorities, but I'd guess she did, considering the rumors that a lot of other dogs had been stolen lately from around where she lives.”

“Then you think she's a fairly smart woman?” Reed looked toward me. “Worthy of your brother's interest?” His grin only made me smile back.

“That remains to be seen.” I wouldn't find out right now. “Hey, why don't we catch up with our fellow hikers? I think it's time for me to get to know them—especially the ones with dogs.”

“Going to invite them to the Barkery?”

“How did you guess?”

We increased our speed so that soon we were in the middle of the group that followed in Neal's footsteps. There were nearly as many women as men, and some of the hikers appeared to be couples. I still wasn't pleased with myself for neglecting to bring samples from both the Barkery and Icing, but, practically speaking, I wouldn't have been able to carry a large amount anyway. I wasn't even wearing a backpack. And my lack of treats didn't prevent me from being friendly.

I introduced myself as Neal's sister—as well as being the owner of two premium bake shops in Knobcone Heights. I issued a lot of invitations to the smiling hikers—including promises to hand out samples to those who visited either or both of my shops tomorrow.

Because I'd thought our hike would only involve walking around Knobcone Lake, I was a bit surprised when Neal, still ahead of us, turned left onto Pine Lane, a road heading up the steep hillside near some small lakeside hotels. This was nearly opposite where the resort sat at the far side of the water.

In this area, some pretty sumptuous estates overlooking the lake lined the streets and the ridge. I'd never visited any of these homes, although one person who lived up here was my friend Wilhelmina —Billi—Matlock. I hung out with her often at Mountaintop Rescue, the animal shelter she ran in Knobcone Heights, or at my veterinary clinic whenever she brought some of the animals in for treatments or shots. She also owned the Robust Retreat, a posh day spa and fitness club. I got together with her for coffee or meals when we could both work it in—not always easy for either of us, especially since we both had multiple careers. She was particularly busy, considering that in addition to her two businesses, she was also on City Council.

Despite how we were becoming good friends, she hadn't been at my small home and I hadn't been at her large one, although I knew where it was.

I was buddies with Billi's fellow City Council member Les Ethman, and his home was up here, too. Not the rest of the Ethmans, though; although they were one of the town's most elite families, and Neal's bosses at the resort, their estate was in a different affluent area. But many of the town's wealthiest residents did maintain their vast homes here. And even though I knew that some of the hikes Neal conducted included the hillsides and remote views of the estates located there, I hadn't thought today's tour was one of them.

Without explaining why to Reed, I tugged Biscuit's leash lightly and hurried ahead to catch up with my brother. Janelle was beside him, unsurprisingly, on the sidewalk along the unexpectedly wide street. Or maybe it wasn't so unexpected, considering the people who lived here and the limos they might ride in to reach their homes.

Neal held his red staff in his left hand and was pointing at a large wrought-iron gate with his right one.

I was a bit out of breath as I caught up. “Hey,” I said, “aren't we off our planned route?”

My bro looked at me with his blue eyes that resembled mine and smiled without slowing down. “Hey yourself, and the answer's yes. I imagine my paying guests will be glad there's no additional charge for this detour that'll show them some of the fanciest homes in the area.”

“It's my fault,” Janelle chimed in. She didn't look out of breath at all, which I was sure added more bonus points for her on my brother's scorecard. “I did my research on Knobcone Heights before I came and know that some families here are pretty well known and wealthy, and some of the ones I've heard of in LA also have vacation homes in this area. I asked Neal to show me where. I hope it's okay with you and the others.”

“I'm fine with it,” I said. “Don't know about the others, though.” But when I turned around, I didn't see irritation on any faces, just a bit of awe as they looked past a fence toward the mansion beyond.

“Who lives here?” asked a young woman holding a leash with a Rottweiler mix on the other end.

“The Frenches,” Neal replied without even hesitating. He'd obviously done his homework, possibly for prior hikes he'd led. It might not be particularly kosher to give out specific information, in case someone used it for some ill purpose like planning a theft, but it wasn't as if chatter about who lived where wasn't available online anyway.

“Whose place is that?” called a guy without a dog who stood with a group of other men. He pointed to across the street, to where a stone mansion was barely visible behind the trees lining its fence.

“The Morgans,” Neal said, and he continued walking up the hill. Of course, we all followed.

The road was quite steep and I panted as we walked. We passed two more estates, on each side of the street, whose owners Neal named before we reached a road off to the right that lay flat along the mountaintop: Vistaview Place. I was glad to get there.

We headed right, toward where a tall wrought iron fence circled a green, well-landscaped yard with a huge house beyond it.

“And whose—” began the first woman who'd asked questions.

“The Arnists,” Neal responded before she finished.

“Oh,” Janelle said, and she stopped walking. At the other homes, she had barely seemed to glance beyond their circling fences, but she appeared interested in this one. In fact, she stood still, her hands around the metal of the fence, and peered through it.

The mansion was constructed of huge gray stones. It was a couple of stories high, and definitely nothing I'd ever be able to afford. It was a gorgeous place, possibly the epitome of a minor palace. I could see why it would attract attention.

Janelle's seemed glued to it, her frowning expression intense and unreadable. Fascination? Anger?

Neal waited with her for maybe a minute, then said, “We'd better get going. I know this area's pretty spectacular, but we really need to end this hike soon since it'll be getting dark, and coming up here added quite a bit of time.”

“I understand.” Janelle's voice was almost a whisper, and she had her head cocked just a bit, as if she was waiting for the mansion beyond the fence to call to her.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration on my part, but I still had some kind of sense that she was really enraptured by this place.

She didn't follow Neal when he first set off, and she seemed to aim a longing gaze at the mansion before joining him.

I really wondered what Janelle was thinking, but I suspected she wouldn't tell me the truth if I asked.

Surely she wasn't casing the place, prepared to come back and rob it later—was she? If so, why this house above the others?

Or was she thinking she could survive without her dog if she only had someplace like this to come home to?