We weren’t totally alone in the back parking lot. Twosedans, a white one and a black one, were parked a few spots away from us. Kat stood between the cars, wearing a dark blue power suit and a scowl. She was talking with a balding man in a black suit. The odd juxtaposition of Kyle’s boss and the police sparked wild, suspicious thoughts. Were she and Kyle in some branch of law enforcement? Were they in on the plan to arrest me? What the hell had Kyle Rogers gotten me into?
“You’re not taking her anywhere without me,” Kyle called, catching up to us with fast, long strides.
Bella, on her leash, trotted happily beside him, oblivious to my humiliation, confusion, and suspicion about the man she clearly adored.
The cop not guiding me by the shoulder held up his hand. “Stop right there, buddy.”
Kat stepped between them, hands on her hips, penetrating gaze fixed on the young officer. “He’ll ride with me, but we’re coming to the station.” She glanced across the parking lot at the man in black as if challenging him to defy her.
We all stood still, barely breathing, waiting. The man scowled, but nodded. Whoever he was, he must be the boss of the cops, because they fell in line with the plan.
“Okay, but we can’t have the dog in the station,” the cop near Kyle said.
“The dog is part of the investigation,” Kat said.
Questioning, investigation, packets of drugs. I glanced nervously at the man in the suit, wondering if he thought I was some kind of criminal. He looked bored and uninterested. But I didn’t trust him for a hot minute.
The cop reached for Bella’s leash. “Then I’d better take her, too.”
Kyle stood in front of the dog. “Do. Not. Lay. A hand on her.”
A chill slid down my spine. Kyle’s voice was as hard as steel and even colder.
The cop took a step back. He was wearing a belt with a gun, a Taser, a baton, and a radio pack on it, and had a body cam pinned to his shirt. Kyle didn’t have a weapon on him, but it was the cop who acquiesced to the dark, commanding tone.
I hadn’t glimpsed anything like this before from Kyle in the short time I’d known him. Granted, that hadn’t been that long. Did Ireallyknow him? A wiser woman might have been wary of a man who looked and sounded like he did now. But he was defending a battered dog, and my knees went a little weak from something entirely different from fear.
When the first officer moved me closer to the police car, panic clawed up my throat. The familiar combination of tears in my eyes, tightness in my chest, and almost unquenchable urge to scream overwhelmed me. The first time in my life I’d been overwhelmed by it had been on the day when I was nine years old that I’d realized my mother’s illness could be fatal.
Then I’d felt Dad’s hand on my shoulder, telling mewe just need to keep the wheels on, Cami. Not lose hope. Not give into the fear and grief. Not have a meltdown. But I was the only one in the family who did that every day while the others took turns letting the wheels roll right off. Still, I’d managed to hold myself together then, and I would do the same now.
A warm hand on my shoulder and a wet nose on my forearm startled me out of my thoughts.
“You’d better treat Dr. Vaughn with kid gloves.” Kyle’svoice, so close beside my ear, was deeper, darker, and even more ominous than it had been a minute earlier.
“He’s right,” Kat, said. “You need to remember the doctor is a witness, not a target.”
Kyle and Kat were on my side. This time, I didn’t have to face my panic alone. I would process the meaning of that later. For now, I took strength from Kyle’s strong presence beside me.
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered to him, because if I’d had any doubt that was true, he’d laid it to rest.
If Katand Kyle and Bella had followed us, I had no proof of it. I neither saw nor heard them. Then again, how could I, since I was placed in a small, windowless room with a metal table and two chairs.
There was a camera in one corner, and a large mirror hanging on one wall. I wondered who was behind it, watching me. I made a mental note to remain calm at all times. I was being watched, recorded, and possibly profiled. For what purpose, I didn’t know, but I’d watched enough true-crime TV shows to know this footage might be used against me someday, even though I’d done nothing more egregious than rescue an abused dog.
The officer uncuffed me and motioned for me to sit. He returned a minute later with a bottle of water and a clean glass, then left me alone, closing the door behind him.
After what seemed like at least an hour, although I couldn’t be sure because I didn’t have my phone and there was no clock on the wall, a man wearing a gray suit and a white shirt open at the neck joined me. He asked me a series of questions about finding Bella, the state she’d been in, myexam of her, the operation I’d performed, the chain of custody of the drug packets. I answered everything completely and honestly, except the inquiry about where and how I had come across Bella. I still didn’t lie. But I skipped a few details. I said I’d come across her on Centennial Street, which was the address of the pet supply store. I simply failed to mention I’d been inside the store and had liberated her from her collar and leash.
When I’d answered every one of the questions on his interminable list, he stood to leave. I rose as well, expecting to follow him.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Vaughn,” he said. The look on his face was more annoyed than actually sorry. “You’ll need to stay here a bit longer.”
He left, and the room was silent again. Over the next few hours, additional detectives appeared, introduced themselves, asked the same list of questions, then disappeared. Each time I was left alone, I grew more frustrated and upset.
In between question-and-answer sessions, to calm myself and keep from screaming, I stretched, paced, and hummed while trying to remember the words to all my favorite songs. Every time the urge to scream and run and cry returned, I took long, slow breaths and practiced gratitude, making mental lists of people I was grateful to know and things I was grateful to have.
After the second round of questions, a uniformed officer, a woman who must have been younger than I was, delivered a lunch sandwich for me. Turkey and Swiss on rye, in a plastic box with condiments packets on the side, and a cup of fruit salad. I recognized the fare from the deli down the street.
