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“Let me explain,” she began.
He cut her off. “You’re useless,” he said icily, “as a deputy, even as a woman. You don’t even know how to kiss, for God’s sake! Always watching me, trying to seduce me . . . as if I’d ever want some backward virgin who doesn’t know what to do with a man!”
The sting of those words went right through her. On top of the worry for Snow, it was just too much. “You go to hell, Dal Blake!” she said harshly, tears running down her face.
“That table had been in my family for three generations,” he said through his teeth. “It was all I had left of my grandmother. And you let someone just walk off with it!”
She took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry! You don’t know what sorry is, but you’ll find out. When Jeff knows what you did, he’ll fire you! No wonder you left the FBI. You can’t find your left foot with a fork!”
She turned and went to the front door. Her hands were shaking as she unlocked it.
“That’s it, run away!”
She did. She closed the door and locked it behind her. Then she went into her bedroom and collapsed into tears on the bed. It had been a horrible night. In many ways, it was one of the worst nights of her life.
She didn’t put on a gown. She lay down on the coverlet in her sock feet, still in her pantsuit, in case she had to rush back to the animal hospital. She thought of Snow, poor Snow, who’d been hurt trying to save stupid Dal Blake’s equally stupid antique table.
He was the most horrible person in the world, and she was sure that she never wanted to see him again.
Snow. She recalled so many happy times with the rescued dog, playing in the snow, chasing along paths in the woods, sitting by the fireplace at night, with just the light of the burning logs. Snow was more than a dog, she was a companion, someone to talk to, someone to keep her company. Snow was . . . like her child.
The tears came back, flowing like hot rivers down her cheeks, into the corner of her mouth.Please, she prayed silently,please don’t let her die because of me. I should have chased her, I should have stopped her.It was just one more foul-up in a life full of foul-ups. And now her stupidity was going to cost her Snow.
* * *
Belatedly, she recalled the job she was doing when the tragic events unfolded. She called Jeff at home on her cell phone.
“Snow was injured?” Jeff exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”
“They don’t know if she’s going to live,” she said, managing not to burst into tears. She wanted so badly to have someone to just hold her and let her cry. Fat chance of that. “I saw the thief. He had a big canvas bag, like artists carry their paintings in, over his shoulder. He was tall. I couldn’t see much, but he had on a gray overcoat.” She hesitated. “Oh, and Jarvis had blood on one paw. There was a smear of it on some paperwork on the desk in the study. It might belong to the perp. Jarvis was fine, but if he scratched the man, it might explain the blood.”
“That’s terrific detective work,” he said gently. “At least it’s something to start with,” Jeff said. “I’ll get Gil out of bed and send him over to Dal’s place right now.”
“Dal said I was useless,” she began, and her voice wobbled.
“Yes, he phoned me,” he said, and didn’t add what the man had said. “Never mind. I have no plans to fire you, okay? I don’t blame you for putting your dog’s life over trying to catch the perp, which it’s unlikely you could have done anyway if he had that much of a head start.”
“I want him. Bad,” she added coldly.
“So do I,” Jeff replied. “Don’t worry. Dr. Clay came to us from a prestigious animal clinic in New York City. She’s one of the best I’ve ever seen. She treats my dog, Clarence.”
“She’s very nice. Oh, darn,” she ground out. “It’s been a horrible night. But I’m sorry I let the man get away.”
“We’ll get him,” Jeff said. “I’ll phone Gil right now. You take care. If you need me, call, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
* * *
Gil arrived at Dal’s front door more than a little out of humor. He’d had the story from Jeff. This rancher had laid into poor Meadow without even giving her a chance to explain what happened. Typical Dal Blake—yell first.
“I’m here to get evidence,” he told an irritated Dal.
Dal didn’t even reply. He led the deputy to his study. Gil went to the desk and took out a kit to get a sample of blood from the paper.
“I need to see your cat. I hope you haven’t washed his paw,” he added. “There may be some dried blood on his claws. I’ll need a sample of it.”
