He doesn’t settle at all. Hepulls from me and paces around the room, talking fast and gettingmore amped up. I try to get him to sit down, but he’s not havingany of it. He’s in full freak out mode and I have no idea how toget him out of it.
After an hour of pacing hefinally halts. “Dad’s lawyer. I need to talk to him.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.“That’s a good idea, Denny.”
He whirls and heads for thedoor. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to take the boat home and be upearly to see the lawyer.”
“It’s late.” I follow him to thedoor, Stinky trotting behind me. “You shouldn’t cross the strait inyour boat when the weather is shit and it’s pitch black out. Whydon’t you just go back to the B&B and then leave early in themorning?” I have a flash of déjà vu—I remember all those weeks ago,telling him to get out, feeling relief when the boat drove into thenight.
“Sorry, Jade. I have to.”
When he grabs the door handle, Ihave to ask him. “Denny.” He stops. “The will. I was cut out of it,wasn’t I?
He lowers his head and doesn’tturn around. “Yeah.”
I let out a breath. “Thatasshole. Even in death he has to hurt me.”
“Do you need money?”
“It was never about the money. Iguess people never change.”
“I did.”
“Yes, Denny. You did.”
He turns around and looks me inthe eye. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Stay in touch.”
He turns back to the door, walksoff the porch and disappears into the darkness.
Chapter Eight
My cell rings, waking me from adeep sleep. I look at the screen but don’t recognize the number.Maybe Annie is calling from someone else’s phone—she left her cellhere. Quickly, I press answer and hold it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello,” a mature female voicesays. “Is this Jade?”
I roll over, blocking themorning sun from shooting into my eyes. “Yeah, it’s Jade. Who isthis?”
“My name is Janet. I think youmay have my dog.”
“Oh,” I say, looking down atStinky, who is taking up the bottom half of the bed.
“I was called by someone whoknows me. They said they saw your poster at the marina restaurantlast night.”
“Um, yeah, okay. Yeah, he’shere. Do you want my address so you can come and pick him up?”
As the words leave my lips, asense of sadness and despair comes over me.
“If you need me to.” She pauses.“To be honest, I’m kind of on the fence here.”
“On the fence?”
“It’s the fourth time Lacey’srun away.” She named a male dog Lacey? No wonder he was running.“I’ve had to search over hell’s half-acre four times now, and I’mgetting exhausted.” She sighs. “Lacey’s my husband’s dog, and heleft a few weeks ago. I think that dog will always be running. I’mdebating on whether to just drop him off at the SPCA inNanaimo.”
“He’s just missing his dad.He’ll settle down, I’m sure.”
“Maybe.” There’s a placatingtone to the word—like she feels she knows better. I just know, inthat moment, that the dog isn’t staying with her. Maybe she’ll dealwith him for another couple of days, but something in her tonetells me she’ll never be a dog person.
“I mean,” I say, “he can alwaysstay with me. I don’t mind. I’ve grown kind of attached tohim.”
“Is that right?” There’s reliefin her voice. “You’d sure be taking a load off my hands.”
Taking a load off her hands?He’s not a bag of fucking potatoes, he’s a being. A stinky being,but a being nonetheless. “I’ll keep him. Don’t trouble yourself.He’ll be happy here.”
She hangs up and I shake my headin disgust. I sit up and scratch Stinky’s ears. His tail smacksagainst the duvet. “Apparently, you and I are disposable. Don’tworry, I wouldn’t drop you off. Until my Annie comes home, you’reall I’ve got. Plus, she’s going to love you.” As soon as I say thewords, I can’t help worrying if she really will come home. Maybe inher vulnerable state of upset, some smooth talker crossed her pathand swept her away. Maybe even Raj…whoever the hell that is?
I flop back on my pillow. Themomentary joy of seeing the unknown number has left behind a freshwave of disappointment. Something else awoke in me, however. Aspark of determination.
I take Stinky out into the cold,misty morning, where he pees strategically on every bush along theproperty. Once back in the house, I go to the bedroom and retrieveAnnie’s cell phone from my bedside table drawer, where I’ve kept iton, charged, and it’s ringer on full volume, just in case.
I saw that she deleted hercontacts the day she left. I hadn’t searched her phone since. Now,I go through it thoroughly, even through the photos and apps.Nothing. It’s wiped clean.
I tap my thumb on the screen,thinking.
Recent calls. I hadn’t checkedthose.
I look. They’re empty, exceptfor one, made the morning she’d left. She’d made it after deletingeverything, then forgotten to finish the job. I tap the number andhold the phone to my ear, my heart thumping hard.
After three rings, a womananswers. “Annie?”
My breath hitches in my throat.“Hi,” is all I can manage.
“I thought you didn’t have yourcell?”
I clear my throat and try again,trying to sound upbeat and un-stalker-ish. “Oh, hey. This is Jade,Annie’s partner. I have her phone. I just wondered if you’ve seenher lately?”
There’s a long pause at theother end. Then, the woman cautiously tells me that Annie has beenstaying with her in Vancouver for a while. Apparently, she wentshopping in Yaletown and should be back later.
My hands are now shaking.“Right. I knew she was staying at a friend’s house, but I’dforgotten who. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“It’s Dawn.”
“Thanks, Dawn.”
“Yeah, no problem.” She sayscautiously.
I need to take advantage of herconfusion before her suspicion solidifies. “One more thing,Dawn.”
“What is it?”
“The morning Annie left, she putan address, your address, on the nightstand. I think it may havefallen off and I might have vacuumed it up—new dog, lots of hair. Iwanted to send Annie some flowers.” I hold my breath and wait.
“It’s that time of year,” shesays. Her voice is warmer. “Shedding time. Huskies are anightmare.”
It takes me a
