Woof at the Door (10 page)

I wondered if he might dream of the murder again tonight. I hoped vehemently that
he wouldn’t, then chastised myself for such a selfish thought. If Jax did have a dream
that detailed the murder—guess that would be a nightmare, really—it was my duty to
watch and take in every detail I could.

No, I didn’t want to see Mark Richardson get shot. But if I saw the whole thing, in
all its horrible goriness, maybe something . . .

I had a sudden thought and realized I’d been going about this all wrong. I had told
Kai to act as if the information I gave him was from an anonymous tip. What if I could
do exactly that? Call the hotline and give the cops the identity of the real killer?

I looked at Jax, who now slept peacefully across the doorway. If I saw the murder
through Jax’s memory, I could tell the cops but never reveal myself. Even if they
didn’t totally believe me, they’d have to look into it, right?

I had been to the crime scene. I had details in my head already; surely we could come
up with something.

Easing over to Jax, I bent and stroked a hand down his smooth body. He blinked up
at me, but I pressed his mind to relax. He did, letting out a long sigh. After a minute,
I carefully planted the seed of what I hoped would stir his memory.

Flipping off the light, I crawled into bed. Moss’s mind was still occupied with thoughts
of Charm. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was the garbled image
of a young jaguar.

My dreams were anything but what I’d expected.

CHAPTER 8

The next morning, I stumbled groggily toward the kitchen. It was early. Not even six
yet. Normally, I was still drooling on my pillow at this time of the morning, but
I needed to think. I needed a plan. I needed coffee.

I attempted to blink away the grit that seemed to coat the insides of my eyelids and
focus on the blur that was my sister.

Emma was perched at the dining room table, wearing her usual martial arts
Gi
and sipping what I knew to be a cup of green tea. She looked up at me and beamed.
“Good morning, Sunshine!”

I shot her a baleful glare. How my sister managed to be chipper and fresh after staying
out half the night drinking martinis I would never know.

Still smiling, Emma got up and followed me into the kitchen. “The kettle is still
hot if you want some tea. I also made coffee.”

“Bless you.” Sighing gratefully, I managed to offer her a feeble smile before pouring
myself a cup of coffee. I took a moment to breathe in the wonderful scent carried
out of the mug on spiraling waves of steam. I felt my brain waves begin to awaken.
Synapses stirred.

“I take it you didn’t sleep well?”

“I don’t think I slept at all.” I yawned, dumping an unhealthy amount of cream and
sugar into my mug. I took the first sip. Good and strong. Thank you, Emma.

“Want to tell me about it?”

I took another sip of the steaming coffee. I had woken up during the night a dozen
times. Thanks to the dogs, my head had been filled with a tsunami of memories and
thoughts that weren’t mine. And some that I was afraid were—like the dream I had about
Kai. I felt a flutter of embarrassment and pushed those thoughts away.

There had been other flashes. Images I hadn’t completely worked through yet and didn’t
understand, but nothing at all about the murder.

I rubbed a hand over my tired eyes, “Weird dreams and disturbing thoughts.”

“Did these thoughts concern Kai?”

I nodded. “I have no idea what I’m going to say to him.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Don’t start this again.” Frustrated, I clunked my mug down on the counter, sending
coffee sloshing onto my hand. “If I tell him the truth, he’ll think I’m nuts.”

“You should have figured out how to reveal your gift to people a long time ago.” Emma
handed me a paper towel. “Then you wouldn’t be in this position, all stressed out
about what to do.”

“You’re saying that this is my fault?” I wiped my hand and tossed the paper towel
on the counter. It had always been so easy for Emma. People loved her. If she claimed
to be Elvis reincarnated, they would still love her.

“I’m saying you should have the courage to accept yourself for who you are.”

“Courage? Accept—” I sputtered the words like a five-year-old.

“You’re special, Grace.” Emma poured out the rest of her tea and set the cup in the
sink. “You need to accept that. Be honest. With everyone. I’m not just talking about
Kai. I’m talking about the people you work with at the zoo, and at the Humane Society.
I’m talking about your clients. Have you ever considered that you’re being selfish?”

“Selfish? I bend over backward for animals that need me. I get up in the middle of
the night to find missing parakeets!”

“But you never tell anyone how you manage to do it. Have you ever thought that there
are people that love animals just as much as you who feel terrible and foolish because
they failed to understand why their dog suddenly won’t walk on a leash, or professionals
who doubt themselves because they aren’t as good as you? You waltz into their lives
and,
voilà
, problem solved.”

“So, I should subject myself to ridicule to make people feel better?”

“Ridicule . . .” Emma said the word slowly, like it was foreign. “You, dear Sister,
are not afraid of being laughed at.”

“It’s easy to say when you’ve never
been
laughed at.”

Emma smiled. But it wasn’t a good smile, or even her wicked, Emma grin. It was a smile
filled with pity. “I know it’s safer to never let anyone get close, but you’re going
to have to someday.”

I felt my temper reach its flashpoint. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Emma crossed her arms and tilted her head, the way she’d always done when ready to
cut to the quick. “What are you really afraid of, Grace? If you tell Kai the truth,
are you afraid he won’t believe you, or more afraid that he will?”

“What?”

I watched as Emma turned and walked toward the front door. “Think about it. I’ll meet
you down in the dojo in fifteen minutes. There’s a
Gi
in the bathroom for you.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “You can work some
of that anger out on the mat.”

• • •

Thirty minutes later, I lay sprawled on the padded training mat, glaring up at my
sister. “Tell me again—” I gasped, attempting to suck air back into my lungs. “Why
am I doing this?”

“Because you promised you would. And it’s a great way to get your mind off all this
stuff with Kai and Jax and LaBryce. In chaos there is clarity.”

“What?”

Emma bent down to grab my hand and hoisted me back onto my feet. “If you don’t worry
about what you’re going to do, maybe you’ll figure out you already know.”

I half expected her to tag a
Grasshoppa
on the end of the sentence.

“Do you always get all Zen when you come down here?” Emma had turned part of her garage
area into her personal dojo. It was decked out with a wall of wooden staffs and practice
swords called
shinai
. Which, I had been told, were made with split bamboo so 911 was not called when you
struck your opponent on the head. A shrine on the wall to the right of the training
mat was decorated with a real sword and a picture of an old Japanese guy Emma called
O Sensei
. On the far side of the mat, she had placed an array of boxing gym–type equipment.

Emma patted me as I caught my breath. “Being Zen is kind of the point, Sister.”

“I thought it was learning to kick ass.”

“That, too. Now, almost ninety percent of attacks on women come from behind. So, turn
around, and this time, I’ll attack you. Just try to move like I showed you.”

I turned my back. “When? While you were planting me into the floor?”

“Exactly. Okay, remember to use my momentum—”

Emma hurled herself forward and made to grab me around the neck. I took hold of her
arm and tried to imitate the movement I’d seen her do. To my amazement, I felt her
slide past me.

Emma stumbled then turned, grinning. “That was better. Last time you couldn’t even
get your feet in the right position. Try again, and put your hips into the movement.”

I turned around and Emma launched her attack.

We continued practicing until finally, with almost no effort, I slammed my sister
onto the mat.

Stunned, I stared down at Emma. “I did it!”

“Yes, you did.” She smiled up at me proudly and hopped to her feet in a move straight
out of the last Charlie’s Angels movie.

“You’re really amazing, Em.”

Emma beamed and brushed a feathering of stray hairs away from her face. “If I had
a dollar for every time I heard that.”

“I mean it.” I felt all my lingering anger melt away. I thought about the reason Emma
had trained in self-defense and martial arts for the past six years. I thought about
Jennifer Weston and the bruises on her arms.

“I think Mark Richardson’s ex is being abused.”

Emma’s smile flickered, then died. I told her about my meeting with Jennifer in the
bathroom. And about the way she tried to brush me off when I saw the marks on her
arms.

“Do you think she killed him?”

“I don’t know. If she did, it would be self-defense, right?”

“Grace, that’s not for you to decide. If Jax remembers the murderer was Jennifer,
you have to tell the police.”

I shook my head. “I think about you and that bastard Anthony.” I gritted my teeth
at the thought of the man who had almost beaten my sister to death. I could still
remember walking into the hospital and seeing her lying like a battered doll in that
bed.

“If it hadn’t been for Anthony, I wouldn’t be who I am.” Emma forced a smile. “I’m
stronger and wiser. Not to mention a hell of a lot richer.”

The details of my sister’s divorce from real estate mogul Anthony Ortega had been
kept low profile. In return, Emma had gotten a huge settlement.

“No price is high enough for what he did to you.”

“On the contrary, I got everything I wanted. My life,” Emma said lightly.

I could feel anger boiling up again. “He’s lucky I didn’t have Moss back then. He
would have made a great snack.”

Emma laughed. “Look who’s getting all fired up again. Come on, let’s go take that
aggression out on the heavy bag.”

I followed her to the other side of the dojo. Thinking about Anthony Ortega had pissed
me off. I marveled at how well my sister always handled the subject. Leave it to Emma
to find the positive in every situation.

Emma handed me a pair of boxing gloves. “Now just do what I do. Picture Anthony’s
face right here in the center of the bag . . . and go to town.”

• • •

An hour later, I stood on the beach with the dogs, watching the rhythmic flow of the
Atlantic. Emma had been right. Working out with her had given me more than just sore
muscles. I had come to a decision.

I can count my close friends, human ones anyway, on one hand. I had to help LaBryce.
But that did not involve telling Kai the truth. At least not the “I’m an animal empath”
part of the truth—I wasn’t ready for that. As Emma had suggested, I planned to get
Kai alone and see if I could work some magic. I only had a few minutes before I had
to head in and go to LaBryce’s to meet him. Apprehension flooded through me.

What are you really afraid of? Are you afraid Kai won’t believe you
—
or that he will?
My sister’s words bounced though my head.

So, what was the answer? It was true that I had been hurt before. The first man I
had ever fallen for had rejected me because of my abilities. I hadn’t fully realized
until today just how much I had been hiding behind that one incident. In reality,
that wasn’t why I never opened up to anyone. It had been at first. But I’d gotten
over Dane Harrington years ago.

I thought about Hugh Murray, the zoo vet. Emma was right, I hadn’t ever given him
a chance. Why? What did I really dislike about Hugh? That he had hung all over some
girl
after
I had made it clear I would never go out with him? That he was hunky and rugged and
knew it? Take away the idea that he might just pick up on my telepathic ability if
he were around Moss and me for any amount of time, and I had to say, there wasn’t
much about him not to like.

I had used my experience with Dane as an excuse for a long time. A sort of litmus
test to show how rotten people could be.

I breathed in the warm, salt-laced air and sighed slowly, turning away from the rolling
waves.

If I was honest with myself, I had to admit, deep down, I wasn’t really afraid of
rejection. I was afraid of acceptance, and all the vulnerability that came with it.

I didn’t like the realization that I was being a coward. Cowardice was pretty high
on my list of things I did not want to be afflicted with. Right up there with the
stomach flu and thong underwear.

As the dogs and I made our way back from our romp on the beach, I had to wonder: What
if I told Kai the whole truth and he
believed
me? The door I had kept locked would be wide open then. I would have nothing to hide
behind. No reason to play Ice Queen and push him away.

Thinking about it made me feel queasy.

Moss, who had been watching me with a mixture of concern and protectiveness, nudged
under my hand.
Sick?

“I’m okay, big boy.” I gave his head a reassuring pat.

He whined softly, unconvinced.

I knelt down and looked into his eyes. Not doggie eyes. Moss’s were the almond, black-rimmed
gold of his mother’s. I’d seen his gaze transform burly men into blubbering boys.
Many who’ve looked at Moss see a rapacious beast. I only see my friend.