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“I don’t think so,” she said with a decisive nod. “Those eyes are unmistakable. Like the Hale eyes. Once you see them, there’s no denying who you’re looking at.” She narrowed her own. “She returned the artwork I loaned her with a nice write-up on all four pieces,” she said. “But I’m not convinced there isn’t something untoward going on. Edna told me she trained under a Professor Hugo Dickstoker, but I haven’t found anyone by that name in New York, and some rather unsavory sites come up when I do a search.”
I made a small sound that was equal parts laughter and annoyance at this pompous meddler before covering it with a cough. “I believe Aurora mentioned that she didn’t study in New York. She trained overseas, but I can’t remember exactly where. Sweden…or France, or maybe…Transylvania.”
Mrs. Bellamy frowned, her eyes moving to the side. “Oh.”
I gave her a thin smile. “Anyway, I’m sure you have much more important issues to focus on, Mrs. Bellamy. I heard the Ladies League’s golf outing was a huge success and that you have another one coming up in the fall.”
She preened a little just as I’d known she would. “Oh, it was an extraordinary success. I took it over from Dottie Cavendish, you know, as she needed time to settle her,” she glanced around and then lowered her voice, “divorce. Anyway, we outdid all prior years, and I can’t imagine the board won’t transfer the event to me permanently.”
“Ah. Well, that’s…great. It was nice seeing you.” I turned, bringing my arm close to my body so she couldn’t reach out and grab me again, and walked quickly toward the door.
“You too, Gage,” she called. “Remember to be cautious with—”
“Virginia, hello!” I heard a female voice behind me say, and I hurried toward the door as Mrs. Bellamy began conversing with the woman who had called her name.
Well at least I knew that Mrs. Bellamy was suspicious of Rory’s credentials. If she was looking into the woman she remembered from years ago, then she was also poking into Rory’s background. Which meant we had to work fast.
I stepped out onto the street. Now that I’d gone out the front door, I’d have to circle all the way around the club to where the parking lot was located. I swore under my breath. I had a meeting in ten minutes.
When I got to the corner, I started to turn when I spotted a woman holding a gaggle of dogs walking along the path on the other side of the street. I stopped, a grin breaking out over my face. Rory. She stopped too, staring over at me, her mouth parted slightly and a look on her face I couldn’t read. She looked sort of sad, or worried or…I wasn’t sure. I moved toward the edge of the sidewalk, lifting my hand in a wave. She hesitated, but then transferred the handful of leashes into her other hand and waved back.
As she did so, one of the dogs suddenly lunged, my gaze flying to the critter that had caught the dog’s eye. Rory’s shoulder was yanked and she tripped forward, attempting to grab the leashes with both hands. It all happened in a flash. Rory was pulled, all three dogs now riled and barking, the one in the lead—the little lunatic with the Burberry sweater—taking chase after the three raccoons that I registered as a mother and her two offspring.
The squealing, clawing mother raccoon ran into the street with the two tiny raccoons behind her, Rory barely managed to pull back on the leashes hard enough that the dogs came up short, and an approaching car, music blasting from the windows, turned the corner and hit the fleeing mother raccoon.
Brakes screeched.
Rory screamed.
Dogs continued to bark.
And somehow, without even being aware that I’d moved, I was across the street, taking the leashes from Rory as she fell to her knees next to the still racoon.
“Holy shit!” the teenage boy who’d jumped out of his car said, bringing his hands to his head as he looked down at the—most likely—dead raccoon. “I didn’t even see her. She came out of nowhere.”
Rory’s sobs rose as she put her fingers to the raccoon’s neck, obviously searching for a pulse. “The babies!” she howled, pointing to a bush where the two tiny creatures had hidden.
Oh, Jesus.
I tied the still-barking rambunctious dogs to a nearby tree. “Quiet!” I said, making my voice deeper. All three of them stopped barking and lay down, panting with the exertion of just having caused major mayhem and orphaned two baby raccoons.
I squatted down next to Rory and took in the unmoving raccoon.
“I really, ah, gotta get to work,” the teen said.
I’d forgotten he was there. “Go on,” I told him. “It wasn’t your fault, and there’s nothing to be done for this animal.”
Rory’s wails increased, and the teen cringed, backing away to his car, getting in, and pulling off, the loud bass of whatever song he’d been playing fading away. “The babies,” she moaned, tears dripping down her chin.
The babies. I crept over to the bush where they were hiding, leaning in and easily catching them, even though they tried to flee. My God, they were newborns.
Rory dropped her head, her chest heaving as she sobbed. My heart constricted and I felt something akin to panic. Do something. “She…she…she,” Rory sobbed, barely able to catch her breath.
Adrenaline flooded my system, the need to fix this for her a drumbeat of desperation inside me. I very suddenly understood why wars were declared and battles fought, why men donned armor and strapped on weaponry and sailed into enemy territory with a singular mission in mind: fix this. I clutched the two babies who were squirming in my arms and emitting high-pitched cries. “Stay here. Maybe their mother can be saved.”
Rory’s head rose, her tear-streaked face registering blatant hope. That spark of hope propelled me across the street and down the block, the two wriggling babies in my arms continuing to cry loudly and piercingly.
I burst through the front door of the club, members shrieking and diving aside as I ran through the lobby and then burst outside, heading toward the tennis courts where I’d seen Easton Torres, Haven’s brother, earlier. One of the raccoons managed to crawl out of my hand and scramble up my chest, coming to perch on my shoulder.
