Canine Protection
Autorzy
Linda O. Johnston
Lektury
17,4K
Rozdziały
22
Chapter 1
With her black French bulldog, Lorrie, leashed beside her, Harper Morsley strode through the glass door at the front of Barky Boulevard, the doggy day care center in the middle of the town of Chance, California, amused at the loudness of the dogs and people playing games there.
Oh, yes, she strode in with Lorrie, hoping to present her usual confident air as a prominent and popular journalist showing up to interview people for her next article on animals—usually pet rescues or pet-sitters, but also wildlife or any other ideas she had that her vast readership might like. She wore an attractive beige knit shirt, clingy dark pants and slight heels that were easy to walk in.
Perky, strong and on top of the world was the image she intended to present.
Even now, when her world was falling apart.
She entered a large room, with mats on the floor and small wood-slatted enclosures along the walls. Those walls were light blue—maybe so the color could be seen by dogs, whose ability to see colors was limited.
And, yes, dogs were present, lots of them on the floor throughout the room, playing with each other and a few people who teased them with toys. Dogs of all sizes and backgrounds, from Chihuahuas to German shepherd mixes. A few were barking or jumping as the people called out to them. They all appeared to be having fun. And Lorrie, in a halter so she wouldn’t get choked, pulled a bit on her leash, clearly wanting to join in.
“Sit,” Harper said, and happy about it or not, Lorrie obeyed. Not surprising. Her beloved pup was smart. She was also obedient, partly because Harper had learned a lot about animal training in her career.
Harper smiled, and her mind began making notes as it always did in locations where dogs were being cared for in one way or another. But she stood beside Lorrie and just watched for now, even as a couple of the people sitting on the floor—a teen and a grinning lady—glanced at her. Harper wasn’t here to research a story, not exactly, although she couldn’t help hoping one would evolve from this situation. Maybe more than one.
But if things were as she suspected around here, she would have to be damn careful about what she said and how she said it.
And even more...well, she was here because she didn’t just want to write a story.
She wanted to save her own life.
But this wasn’t the place she thought she needed to go. She’d been told to come here though, to start the process, whatever it might be, and to meet Scott Sherridan, the director of the Chance Animal Shelter. The shelter was located near the edge of town from what Harper had determined.
He was going to interview her. Which seemed offbeat.
She was used to interviewing other people for her articles, not the other way around.
But Scott wasn’t going to write about her. From what she understood, he would decide if she could become a resident, temporary or otherwise, at the shelter.
She couldn’t help hoping for that outcome at the moment, if her assumption was correct, and the shelter took in people in danger to keep them safe, without letting the world know their location, and what the shelter was really about.
She didn’t see anyone who might be Scott, although she wasn’t certain what he looked like. She had definitely done her usual thing of conducting research on the Chance Animal Shelter, her initial goal, but as far as she could tell, Scott didn’t have anything to do with Barky Boulevard. And the online info on this doggy day care site was a bit limited, even though the few reviews raved about the day care and all it did to take care of pups being dog-sat. Not much about the people connected with it though, except that the owner’s name was Andrea.
And the reports on Chance Animal Shelter, were limited too, which didn’t surprise her, although a few social media posts showed pets cared for there who’d found new forever homes. But she hadn’t seen any pictures of Scott.
There weren’t any men in the room older than maybe their early twenties, and she figured Scott, with his responsibilities, was most likely older.
So where was he?
As she scanned the room, she saw an older woman at the far side rise from where she’d been kneeling to do a tug-of-war with what appeared to be a border collie mix. The woman walked in Harper’s direction.
“Can I help you?” she asked, glancing down at Lorrie, then back up into Harper’s face.
“Oh, I’m supposed to meet someone here,” Harper said. She noticed that a door at the far side of the room had started opening, and a moment later, a man walked out.
“Are you meeting Scott here?” the woman asked.
“That’s right.” Harper wondered what she’d been told. What anyone had been told. This meeting was supposed to be confidential. But still, it was in a public place so it wasn’t surprising staff had been told she was expected.
“Harper?” the man asked as he maneuvered toward her through the mélange of dogs and people. He was tall and wore a gray sweatshirt over jeans, and was fairly good-looking. With his background and appearance, she had an urge to interview him—which was ridiculous under the circumstances, regardless of his experience saving animals.
Not now, at least.
“Yes, that’s me.” She smiled. “Are you Scott Sherridan?”
“That’s right. Why don’t you come this way? We can talk in the office.” He gestured toward the door he had just exited, then began walking back to it.
“Of course.” Harper weaved through the crowd along with Lorrie, who tried to stop and trade nose sniffs with a few dogs, mostly larger ones. “Come, Lorrie,” Harper said, and once more her pup obeyed. Harper continued toward that door, but even as Lorrie traded more nose sniffs, Harper couldn’t help stooping now and then to pat the heads of some of those dogs. Heck, she loved animals, especially dogs. That was why she’d embarked on the career she had. The career she loved.
The career that had somehow gotten her into trouble, and she didn’t know how or why.
Well, she needed to step back and take care of herself right now, and Scott Sherridan just might have the best way for her to do that.
As she got closer to him, he gestured for her to enter that doorway first, but she and Lorrie were still working their way through the nearby dogs. He smiled as she walked past with her pup and entered the next room, which appeared to be a regular office, with a large desk and several chairs, as well as photos of dogs on the walls.
But those photos weren’t what stopped Harper from continuing on.
The man in the room did.
She gasped as she saw him. She wasn’t expecting to see him here—or anywhere, for that matter.
Bryson Crague stood near the desk, watching her.
Bryson, the man she had once thought she’d loved.
Why was he here? She knew he cared for animals too. But why did the LA cop happen to be in this doggy day care center, in this town, where she’d needed to come possibly to save her life?
“Hi, Harper,” he said. Oh, yes, it was Bryson, as if she’d doubted it. But she definitely recognized that deep, sexy voice she hadn’t heard in years. “So what’s really going on with you?”
He didn’t exactly sound friendly. But he might be friends with Scott, maybe even associated with the shelter she was here to learn about—and to hopefully do more than visit.
He looked the same as she remembered—oh, so well. Tall, broad-shouldered, utterly handsome with his dark hair, including a hint of facial hair. Wearing a muted blue plaid shirt over jeans.
How should she handle this?
“Hi, Bryson,” she said carefully, drawing closer and holding out her hand for a shake as if they were business associates, or someone she was hoping to interview for a story.
But who was he now? At the moment, she wasn’t really working on one of her articles.
He’d asked her a question though. Was he attempting to interview her? Ha! But she decided to respond.
He reached out and shook her hand. It felt strange—and good—to feel his warm, hard grip. She started to recall what it felt like to have that hand elsewhere...and threw that thought out of her mind.
“What’s really going on with me?” She searched his deep brown eyes, trying to see what was actually inside his head. “Oh, not much different from when you knew me. I’m still writing a lot of stories featuring animals for a lot of publications, print and online and wherever. How about you?”
She wondered what he thought, seeing her. Oh, she didn’t think she’d changed much in the past three years—had it been that long? She still had wavy blond hair. And her face? Well, not gorgeous but not bad-looking either, she believed, and she added makeup in a way she thought was attractive, or hoped so. She was far from being a model, but she wanted to look as good as possible since photos of her were often used at the end of her stories, to show who had written them. No, she wasn’t as appealing as the animals who were the subjects of her articles, but she wanted to enhance how they were featured.
“And you’re writing a story about the Chance Animal Shelter?” Bryson’s tone sounded demanding and maybe a bit angry.
But before she could respond, intending to reassure Scott that wasn’t what she had in mind—not now, at least—Scott intervened.
“Harper and I need to talk,” he said, looking at Bryson. “Maybe someday she’ll write a story about our animal rescues, but right now we’re going to discuss some things going on in Harper’s life to determine if she can visit the shelter in another capacity for a while.”
“That’s what I understand.” Bryson’s tone sounded a bit more cordial. “But I want to be sure Harper understands that she can’t just—”
“Assuming the shelter is what I think it is,” she interrupted, “there’s no way I’ll disclose that to the world. And if I can get some help there—”
“Let’s talk about what’s going on in your life now,” Scott said, “and see if we can be of some help.” He had shifted closer to Bryson. They remained near the now-closed door. “If we can hang out here in your office, Bryson, we can discuss it—assuming you’re okay with Bryson hearing too, Harper. But since you two know each other, maybe he can help.”
Harper doubted it. But she suspected if she made a fuss, made it clear she didn’t really want the man she’d been so attracted to once to hear how her life had taken a bad turn, that might make it more difficult for her to get Scott’s approval.
If the shelter was the kind of place she thought, she could use some time there to reorganize her life. Feel safe, at least for a while.
But this was Bryson’s office? Things must have changed a lot in his life. Maybe she would hear what had happened.
She said, “Sure, that would be fine with me.” She made herself smile at Bryson. “It’s always good to talk to old friends again.”
She hoped.
Okay, he’d known she was coming.
At first Scott had just asked if it was okay if he interviewed a possible new resident, a potential “staff member” at the Chance Animal Shelter, somewhere secluded at Barky Boulevard. He’d said the person might need some protection at the moment, but because of her career in the public eye, he didn’t want to conduct his first interview at his shelter, with its highly secret underlying purpose. He wanted to feel certain the meeting with his interviewee would be as discreet as necessary.
And Bryson guessed almost immediately who that interviewee was when Scott indicated she had a career in the public eye as a well-known, popular journalist who wrote mostly articles about animals.
Harper Morsley.
And here she was, beautiful as ever. As well-known and popular for her broad-reaching articles on animals and animal protection as Scott had indicated.
But why was she in danger? He forced his breathing to slow. Shouldn’t give a damn, but he did. A lot.
He wanted to hear what was going on in her life. And would he be able to help protect her?
It wasn’t really his business, not anymore. But if someone was after her, wanting to hurt her—or worse—he wanted to know. And if he could do anything about it...? His fists clenched, but he made his hands relax.
Scott asked Harper to sit on one of the chairs at the side of the room. “Would you like anything to drink?” he asked her. “Water or coffee?”
“No, but thank you.” Her gaze toward the shelter director did seem grateful...and pleading. And Bryson again had an urge to get closer and even hug her.
Scott sat beside her. Bryson wanted to stand by the door and observe but figured that might appear too remote, or even critical, so he instead took a seat at Scott’s other side. Fortunately, the row of seats was a bit uneven, allowing him to watch Harper’s face. She blinked her beautiful green eyes, looked directly at Scott, then down again.
But then she straightened her posture, once more the smart, determined journalist he knew her to be. “I assume you want to hear why I would like to spend some time at Chance Animal Shelter, assuming it’s the kind of place I’ve heard it is.”
“Where did you hear it?” Scott asked sharply. “And from whom?”
Harper closed her eyes briefly and looked down. “As I told you when I first contacted you, I interview a lot of people so I can write stories about animals. I happened to be conducting one of those interviews at the Care Forever Animal Shelter in Ventura, California, when...well, I received one of the threats I’ll tell you about. I guess... I guess the horror I suddenly felt must have been obvious, since one of the security personnel there that I knew asked what was wrong. I told him a little about it, and he was kind enough to let me know he’d heard a secret—a place I might want to go check out, a different animal shelter that is covertly reputed to be a shelter for people in danger too. I did some research before contacting you and only learned that you hire some homeless people to help with the animals you take in. But—Well, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get in touch with you and ask more about the Chance Animal Shelter and... I guess what I said might have made sense to you, Scott, since you invited me to come here and talk.”
Bryson tensed. What kind of threats had she been getting? From whom? Bryson wanted to learn more, a lot more, and go after whoever had scared her.
Although—Was she really scared? He hadn’t talked to Harper for a long time. Was this some kind of ploy on her part to learn more about the shelter after hearing rumors about it?
He would protect the Chance Animal Shelter from danger too. That was more his responsibility now...kind of. He was currently a resident of Chance, after all. And an animal aficionado. A friend of Scott’s as well as a volunteer at the shelter—and someone who truly cared about animals and people in danger.
Like those the shelter took in.
And like Harper?
“Okay, then,” Scott said gently. “Tell us about those threats.”
Bryson watched Harper closely. Her eyes welled up, and she bit her lower lip before speaking. Sure, she could be a good actress. But her distress looked real, raising his urge to get close and hug her.
Instead, he just listened, and glanced at Scott, who listened too.
“I... Well, I write freelance for a lot of publications, both online and in print, but primarily for three magazines—Pup Rescue Forever, Puppies, Kittens and Humans, and Pets and Love. Over the past couple of months, each time I had an article published in each magazine I’ve received some good reviews and some nasty ones, which is not unusual. And also recently I’ve received at least half a dozen emails that trash what I’ve written and say something like the person sending them knows where I live and intends to come there and hurt me, or more, if I don’t stop writing my trash. Soon. Lately they’ve been a lot worse. They’ve threatened my dog too.” She glanced down and patted her little companion on the head. The pup looked up at her and seemed to sense her fear, since she stood and licked her owner’s hand.
Harper smiled briefly at that, as Scott said, “Could you tell who it was, where the emails came from, or anything?”
“Not at all. The name used in those emails was always something like Angry Reader, and they used a general email address.”
“Show one to us,” Bryson said. What was this all about?
Was Harper really in trouble? It certainly didn’t sound good, but she was creative. If she made this up...but why would she?
“Here’s the most recent, worst one,” she said. “The one I was looking at when the security guy suggested I look into this shelter.” She brought it up on her phone’s email link and showed it first to Scott, then Bryson.
It took a short while for them each to read it, and what it said caused both men to sit up straighter. Bryson couldn’t help growling. “Damn.”
It was critical, and particularly nasty. It ended, “Your dear articles are mostly cute but not real. You’re not trustworthy. And so, if you don’t stop writing, you will be killed. Soon. Like an animal. And in case you’re wondering, I know where you live. I’ve even visited nearby. Watch for me.” Bryson glanced at Harper after he finished reading it and saw that Scott had too. Harper’s smile was forced and it was obvious she’d tried to remain calm as the men read it.
“Any idea who sent it?” Scott demanded.
“No. I googled it, as well as all the others as they came in, but couldn’t find anything. I even showed some a while back to a cop at a local police station, who told me they couldn’t do anything when it’s just online harassment. They told me to check with an online private investigator, but all I could find were expensive sources who didn’t seem to suggest anything helpful. Meanwhile, not only did I get those horrible emails but so did my editors, and we all saw some nasty critiques on social media and—” She hesitated, then continued, “Fortunately, I’m the only one being threatened, or they all might stop buying my stories. But they’re always asking me if I’ve seen the nasty reviews online and telling me that maybe I’d better stop writing.” Her voice cracked a bit, but Bryson made himself remain seated.
“Anyway, I first saw the message I just showed you a couple of days ago in Ventura when I returned to my car in a parking lot after interviewing someone at Care Forever for an article. I obviously reacted, since that security guy I mentioned saw how upset I was and asked what was going on. I didn’t tell him much, but enough that he suggested I look into Chance Animal Shelter, in case it was what he’d secretly heard about.” She looked intensely at Scott. “Is it?”
“What did he tell you?” Scott countered.
“That your facility, though it’s reputed to hire homeless people to help care for the rescued animals, also rescues people in trouble.”
Bryson knew that was true. And if Harper was telling the truth, Chance Animal Shelter might be perfect to help her out.
But if she’d staged all of this to give her access to research a story? Bryson assumed that’s what Scott was wondering...and he couldn’t help wondering too.
It certainly seemed extreme.
“And if it were that kind of facility, you wouldn’t write any articles about it?” Scott demanded.
“Not about that aspect of it, and only if it made sense to write something about the rescued animals.”
Scott nodded. “I appreciate that.” He seemed to hesitate. “But whether or not it’s what you believe, I’ve been looking into your stories and I’m just not sure if you’d be right for our facility, even with those threatening emails that don’t have an identified source.”
In other words, Bryson figured, he wasn’t ready to trust Harper.
Was Bryson? Could he be sure Harper hadn’t faked that message and was just making claims about more? He really doubted she’d do something awful like that, even to help research a story.
Still, for the rescue facility’s sake, Bryson would prefer more proof.
But if Harper actually was telling the truth...
“Tell you what,” Bryson said. “How about if Harper moves in with me for now? I have a spare bedroom in my apartment, and she could help us here at Barky Boulevard while I keep an eye out for anyone after her. She could visit Chance Animal Shelter at first and maybe move in there later, depending on how things go. And in case you’re wondering, Harper, I have no intention of trying to restart the relationship we had before. I’d just like to make sure you, and the rescue facility, are both as safe as possible.”
“Great idea,” Scott said. “Thanks, Bryson.”
And then Bryson looked at Harper, waiting for her response.
“Thanks, Bryson,” she said hoarsely...and it hurt him to see the tears running down her face.
What did she really think?
And were she and her story for real?
