Swearing, he called the detective. “Hi, it’s Weston. I’m at the lawyer’s office. I can’t get into the front door. It’s locked, but I’m looking through a window I can barely see through, and it looks like somebody’s on the floor in there.”
“Be right there,” the detective said, his voice brisk. “It would be pretty shitty timing if it happened to be the lawyer in this case,” he said and hung up.
“It wasn’t just shitty timing,” Weston thought. “It could be catastrophic.” He headed back to the front door and rattled it again. There should be another door. He walked around back and found a second door. It was unlocked. With the dog at his side, he pulled it open, propped it open with a rock and stepped inside. Immediately the smell of death assailed him. Shambhala let out a whining howl. He reached down and comforted her.
“You’re right, sweetheart. That’s not something either of us wants to smell again, is it?” He debated going in, then realized the detective would have his hide for potentially damaging a crime scene. As it was, he didn’t have to wait long because the detective was here in a matter of minutes. Weston stood at the open door, as the detective drove up into the parking lot. As soon as he saw him, the detective frowned.
“Have you been in there?”
Weston shook his head. “No. As soon as I opened the door—which was already unlocked—we could smell it, and we stopped.”
“I hope so,” he said, “because I won’t be happy if you compromised the scene.”
“I didn’t,” Weston said calmly. “I do know how this works.”
“Maybe.” The detective went in, took one look around, came back out, already on his phone. He looked over at Weston and said, “It’s the lawyer. It’s his office, and he’s dead.”
“Anybody else in there?”
“Not that I saw. I’d like you to stick around, so we can get your statement.”
He nodded. “Any chance I can go ahead and take a look?”
The detective just looked at him with a hard glare.
“I do have some experience with this and obviously have a personal interest here,” he said with a shrug.
“All the more reason not to,” the detective said smoothly.
At that point, Weston realized he really would get shut out. He nodded and stepped back with Shambhala. They waited outside until a young officer came over to talk to him. Weston gave him the little information he had, then drove off, heading straight to the feedstore. It looked like Daniela would need a new lawyer.
Chapter 12
It wouldn’t be so bad trying to get some work done, except for the fact that Daniela kept getting phone calls with nobody on the other end. After the third call from Private Caller and yet nobody there, Daniela slammed down her phone beside her in frustration, only to see Sari looking up at her with tears in her eyes. Immediately she felt terrible and raced over to pick up her little girl. She tossed her in the air, playing with her until the sunshine came back into her face.
“It’s fine, silly,” she said. “I don’t know who’s trying to get a hold of me though.”
“Daddy,” she said.
At that Daniela froze. “No,” she said. “It’s not Weston.”
“Doggy,” the little girl tried again.
“I don’t think the doggy knows how to use the phone yet.” She walked into the kitchen to put on the teakettle and realized Weston had been gone for a couple hours already. She sent him a quick text, asking if he would make it home for a six o’clock dinner.
She got a strange answer back.
Yes, if I can make it.
She didn’t know what that meant, but, if they weren’t having steak, she needed to do something else. But, for her and Sari, dinner didn’t have to be a big deal, only if she was expected to feed him too.
When she’d made a cup of tea, she headed back, and, as she sat down, her phone rang again. She picked it up, saw it was a Private Caller, and she clearly and succinctly told the other person to take a hike. Then she hung up. As she slammed down the phone again, she thought she heard a voice. But she checked, and the call had ended. She waited for a call back, but there was nothing. She started thinking there might be a problem, and what she had taken as an interfering prank caller with time on his hands might have been a person in distress. She frowned at that.
It was hard, almost impossible to get back to her work now. And when the phone rang again a few minutes later, she picked it up with relief when she saw it said Private Caller. When she hit Talk, she said hello; again there was nothing. “Are you in trouble?” she asked. “Do you need help?” She strained to hear any answer, but there was nothing. Finally, she put the phone back down and ended the call.
“Stuff it,” she said. “I don’t know who it is, but they can stop hassling me.”
When Weston got home, she’d get him to take a look at it. But she hated to depend on him more than she already was. Just having him here when Angel was causing trouble was huge. But she didn’t want it to become a habit, and she didn’t want him to think that she couldn’t live without him. Because, at some point, he would go home. If she didn’t move to a state where he lived, chances were she would remain alone.
The phone rang yet again, and she stared at it with growing frustration. Finally she picked it up. “Hello.” This time she heard laughter on the other end. Her stomach sank. “Is this Angel? What’s wrong? Are you high on drugs again? You’ll never get your daughter back if you’re just a druggie,” she demanded. “Leave me alone.”
“Oh my, you’re getting a little unnerved,” Angel said. “What’s the
