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The doors opened on the top floor. I slipped from under Zack’s arm and rushed out. “Robin,” I called down the hall.
“We’re in your office,” Robin’s voice called back.
In my office, Heather sat on my sofa, Robin sitting beside her, holding the hysterical woman in her arms.
“I’m so sorry, Andi,” Heather blubbered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. He had a gun.”
“Oh, Heather,” I said, dropping to my knees in front of the sofa. “You had to give him the dog. You had no choice. What did the guy look like?”
“Like this?” Zack asked, pulling out his phone and holding it up so Heather could see.
“Yes! That’s him. He had a gun,” she repeated, falling back into Robin’s embrace and wailing loudly.
I grabbed Zack’s phone and looked at it. “Fuck. Randall Branson. Why does he want this dog so badly?”
“I can answer that,” Dee said, speaking for the first time since they left the restaurant. “Baxter is worth five million dollars.”
“What!?” I said, whipping toward my sister.
“Lillian left money for the person who inherits Baxter to make sure he lives in luxury and is never mistreated, just in case he outlives Lillian. The rest of her estate has been designed as a trust foundation for animal rescue that goes into effect upon her death.”
“She left her grandson nothing?” Zack asked.
“That’s right. She addresses why in her trust, but I don’t think that’s important—the why, I mean. Just that she didn’t.”
“That’s probably what he tore the house apart looking for,” I said. “Lillian’s will or trust.”
“I bet he found it, too,” Zack said. “He knows the dog gets money, and he doesn’t.”
“That must really have pissed him off,” I said. “But this plan to kidnap the dog is crazy. What is he thinking? Ransom?”
Zack shrugged. “Not clear, but let’s be honest. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said.
Zack turned to the patrol officer. “This guy has been staying at the Red Bird Downtown Suites near the Cotton Bowl. Get dispatch to send a patrol car. Maybe he was stupid enough to take the dog there.”
The patrolman nodded and walked away.
“I hate to say anything,” Dee said, “but the money angle only goes into effect when Lillian is dead, and last I heard, my client is kicking ass in rehab.”
Zack and I exchanged a glance. No words were needed. We raced into the hall.
“Stairs?” Zack asked headed toward a labeled exit door.
“No. Elevator is faster.”
The elevator opened and we jumped in. I took Zack’s hand for the minute ride down. Just touching him calmed my frayed nerves. As soon as the doors opened, we sprinted off toward my illegally parked car since his unmarked sedan was now blocked by a delivery truck.
“I need that park anywhere card,” I reminded him as we ran.
“Yeah. I’ll see what I can do. Give me your keys.”
“Don’t need them with me in the car. Key fob is in my pocket.”
One press of the engine button, and my Mercedes sedan roared to life. Zack stomped on the accelerator, and the car shot from the drive. I hit the flashers, hoping other cars would see us and get out of the way.
As we neared the hospital, Zack badged a medical center security car cruising the area. The guy rolled down his window. “Emergency,” Zack said.
