Dog Days Page 8

The throng was gathered around me once more, and having heard the exchange, cheered when I hung up.

  “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate the support, but do apologize for ... well, for the complete and total loss of control. I hate drama queen divas. Hate being anywhere near them. I really really hate being a bitchy whiny one myself. So—”

  Court stepped forward and gave me a hug. “It’s okay. We were worried, too. This sleaze ball needs to be stopped. Besides, there’s no need to apologize. We all think of you, sort of, as mom. When you’re upset, we’re upset.” He looked at the eldest of the crew, and made a face. “You’re a little old to be her kid, but—”

  With a smirk, Paul interrupted. “She broke numerous records giving birth to me.”

  Everybody laughed, even me, and it broke the palpable tension.

  I turned to Wyatt. “One more to check.”

  “Who? I’m sure it doesn’t mean your parents.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that it did.”

  “Then—?”

  It dawned on him.

  We said the name at the same time. “Harley!”

  “We’ll be back.” Wyatt grabbed my arm and his hat as we hurried out.

  Gage’s truck spewed dust and grit as it whipped around the corner and into the parking lot. “MOM!” Both boys slammed out of it on the run, both doors hung open. “What’s going on? Are you all right?”

  In the haze of warm fuzziness over their safety, I hadn’t taken into consideration their reaction to my hysterical questions.

  But, geez, they must have broken the land speed record to get here so fast.

  There were hugs all around as I attempted to calm them with the only explanation I had. Someone had sent a threatening note, and I wanted to make sure they weren’t the target.

  They didn’t look pleased, or in any way satisfied with my answer. I wouldn’t have been. But when we explained our mission, they capitulated, sort of.

  Gage took charge. I guess being the eldest he felt it was his right. “We will be expecting a better, more thorough clarification about this. Tonight. We’ll be at—” He paused, his gaze on Wyatt. “Who’s house later?”

  I looked at him, too. He shrugged.

  Eye roll. “I have a garage.”

  “All right. We’ll be there. Seven-ish.”

  Hmm.

  Wyatt took hold of my elbow. “We’ll be expecting you.”

  “Wait a minute. How’d y’all get here so fast?”

  Gage looked at his brother. “We were in town already.”

  “Both off on the same day? That’s unusual.”

  “Not so unusual. Besides, what difference does it make? You scared the … crap out of both of us. We needed to make sure you were all right. Besides, I can make a run from my place in seven minutes, if I hit all green coming through.”

  I didn’t like his defensive attitude, or knowing that he knew exactly how long … but it wasn’t worth the effort to go into it any deeper, at the moment. We were on a mission. And I could get more out of them tonight … after they grilled me.

  Wyatt cleared his throat. “I hate to break this up, I really do, but we need to go check on Harley.”

  Dawson stepped back, face wet. “I love you, Mom.” He looked at my man, pointing. “You’d best take care of her.”

  Wyatt gave him a solemn nod. “With my life.”

  Dawson made his way to Gage’s truck, and with one more look back, climbed in.

  Chapter 9

  … WEDNESDAY EVENING…

  * * *

  … August 19th…

  * * *

  AFTER BEING FED and straightening the kitchen, the boys, and my man and I settled in the living room.

  Harley was sitting on Dawson, who was lavishing adoration all over him. A definite defense mechanism. “Mom, you need to keep us more in the loop about stuff like this.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have been keeping a closer eye out for you.”

  “Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you. That, and the fact I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Do Nana and Pops know about this?”

  “God, no. They’d never let me out of the house.”

  Wyatt shifted to grab his coffee. “Duh.”

  “It’s bad enough that Wyatt knows.” I glared at him. “I’m being smart, not going anywhere alone—mostly. We’ve got Harley. Plus Wyatt’s teaching me to shoot.”

  “And,” the man inserted his two cents. “We’re going to get her a handgun and a permit to carry concealed. I’ll feel better and she’ll be more protected.”

  “Not to mention, my peace of mind will increase, knowing I’ve added tools to my arsenal, and can fight back if I need to.”

  Gage looked at Dawson. “We need to learn, too, if you don’t mind a couple more students. The world is getting crazier every day. We need to be able to protect ourselves and whoever we happen to be with at the time.”

  “Of course, handguns wouldn’t have done much damage when you got shot. He was too far away.” Dawson eyed his brother. “But if we’d known then what we know now, we could have let him know we were armed. Maybe things wouldn’t have escalated so far.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t think so, but it can’t hurt to take precautions.”

  “Will you set it up for us? Let us know when and where?”

  “Dude, we need firearms before we learn to shoot them.” Gage looked at Wyatt. “Would you go with us, so we get the right handguns?”

  How cool was that? My boys wanted his input, needed his help, and valued his opinion.

  My guy had to take a breath. Yeah, Wyatt’s a softy that way. “Absolutely, to both. Just promise me you won’t go for the macho stuff, okay? Yeah, the Glock is popular. A lot of law enforcement types carry them. Not because they like the gun, but because they don’t have to clean it, and it will still fire. It is a good gun, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best choice for you.

  “I carry a .45 caliber Kimber 1911. It’s not as heavy as it looks, and it’s accurate—if you’ve got a good aim. I prefer it over anything else. Kimber has other versions of it, but I like the Tactical Custom II. Y’all may disagree. We’ll have to take a trip over to the gun shop in Jenson City, and have a look.”

  “Would Mom be able to use yours? I mean, physically? Would it be a good fit for her, too?”

  “Depends on her. Technically, yes, she should have no trouble with it, but she might want something smaller than a .45.”

  “Great.” Gage relaxed in the chair. “Now. Mom. What’s really been going on?”

  “Yeah, and for how long?”

  DAD AND I were halfway down the aisle when I saw Becca—in a very sweet sleeveless, summery leaf-green gown, honey-brown hair flowing out behind her—running up the outside aisle. She looked to be shouting, too, and was pushing people down and waving with one hand, her firearm in the other.

  Harley was barking.

  Dad’s hand tightened in mine.

  “No!” Panic bubbled. “No, no, no, no, no! This can’t be happening!”

  I saw the moment Wyatt and his groomsmen realized something was wrong. Wyatt was moving towards me, fast.

  His mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear anything over the screams of the crowd.

  My father jerked and fell away from me. I stared down. Blood was pooling beneath him. My dress was splattered with … red.

  Everything was blurring.

  “Oh My God! Dad!”

  Crouching, I scanned the pews. People were scattering, or sitting dazed and bloody. Others pointed at me, horror on their faces.

  Dear God, the gun was aimed at me.

  NO, beyond me.

  Wyatt!

  I tried to look, to see—

  Someone pulled at me.

  “No!” I resisted. I had to get to Wyatt. “Let go! Let. GO!”

  They didn’t.

  Harley was still barking.

  Wild.

  Frantic.

  SHRILL.
r />   And LOUD.

  I was shaking … being shaken. It didn’t stop.

  “Maggie!”

  Wyatt.

  “Wake up, sweetheart. Wake up.”

  Harley’s wet nose against my neck was cold.

  I gasped.

  Abrupt reality.

  Darkness and the chilliness of air-conditioning. Not the blistering brightness of the sun.

  Were we all dead?

  No.

  Thank GOD!

  My heart, bouncing like a ping pong ball inside my chest, was trying to keep up with the mad rush of icy blood through my veins. My lungs weren’t functioning at their normal sedate capacity, either.

  Wyatt held me at arm’s length and, as I stared (still not able to fully focus), pulled me close.

  I clung.

  Sweet, sweet man. We weren’t dead, or hurt.

  “Good God, Maggie. You scared the hell out of me. Harley, too.” His voice was husky, and vibrating, and not in a good way. “What were you dreaming?”

  Dreaming? It was all a … a dream?

  Thank GOD times two!

  I took a deep breath. “Our wedding.” The heart rate was slowing, but not the scared-ness. That would take a while to fade.

  Hyperventilating was a threat, though.

  Laughing was a mad urge. And I had a feeling that once started, stopping might not be possible.

  “Didn’t sound like you were enjoying it much.”

  Safe in my man’s arms, eyes closed, I tried to get my lungs under control. “There was a shooter.” I sounded calmer, but wasn’t. Not inside. “Dad’s … Dad’s blood was all over my dress. People—our friends—were hurt, or running. There was sporadic gunfire. Screams. Chaos. Horrible, horrible, chaos.”

  “Aw, baby.” His arms tightened. “You know it was only a nightmare, right? You’re safe now.”

  “Yeah.” Harley nosed between us, licking my face—which he knows I’m not fond of—as I continued to cling to Wyatt with one hand, and rubbed the other over my pooch’s furry head and body. Even he was trembling. “But it was real before I woke up.”

  Wyatt kissed my forehead.

  “I need to walk around a bit, get some water.” My hands, steadier, held his face. “Thanks for the rescue, lover.”

  We kissed.

  Harley jumped off the bed as I threw back the blankets. “Be right back.”

  “Don’t go far.”

  NOW THAT I was truly awake, the rational side of me knew it couldn’t have been real. One, my boys were going to give me away, not my dad.

  No, that wasn’t much of a comfort.

  Two, my dress was the wrong color.

  Three, Wyatt had been moving too fast.

  And four…. There was a four, something elusive, something … floating in the foggy nether regions of my brain that I just couldn’t quite catch. Something else that hadn’t been right about the scene I’d witnessed.

  I stood at the kitchen sink, a glass of water—as yet untouched—on the counter.

  Wyatt came up behind and wrapped his arms around me. Kissed the top of my head. “I love you.”

  I laid my hands over his, basking in his warmth and strength. “I love you, too.”

  “I’m glad it was only a dream.”

  “Your lips to God’s ear. Except—”

  “What?”

  “If we would have gotten the shooter before he hurt anyone else, then all this would be over and done with.”

  He turned me to face him. “And what about the alternative?”

  I snuggled in. “It was my dream. It might have started out bad, but I can change the ending to anything I want. Right?”

  “I thought you didn’t know it was a dream?”

  “Don’t change the scenario. I like it just fine knowing I can control the outcome.”

  “You worry me.”

  “God, Wyatt. It was so scary.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “But there’s something I’m missing.”

  “Missing?”

  I nodded against his chest. “I’m the watcher, but participating, too. I saw my dad fall, and bleed. But something else wasn’t right with what I was seeing.” I sucked in a breath as the image came whooshing back. “Oh my God! I can see the shooter. Sort of.”

  He leaned away, looking me in the eye. “How do you sort of see someone?”

  “When it’s a dream.” I squinted. “I can see someone aiming a shotgun. The way he’s standing is familiar, but I don’t know who he is, or how I know, or from where. And in trying to remember everything about what is going on, I can’t even tell you if it was a male or female, although I’d bet my life he’s a he.

  “There aren’t any discernible features, not even what he’s wearing. It’s like this black silhouette is pointing a long gun, a shotgun, past me, at you. You’re rushing up the aisle towards me (which was one of the other things wrong with the scene) and he has you in his sightline.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. That’s the strange part, well it was all strange, but that part was … odder than the rest. Up to this point, in reality, he’s seemed to focus on terrorizing me. In my dream, he’s trying to eliminate you from the picture.”

  “Also a form of terrorizing you.”

  A sigh, and I leaned in. “Oh, most definitely.”

  “But still. It’s only a dream, your fears being revealed.”

  “You’re right, but, Wyatt, I’m sure my brain is telling me that I know who this is. And that he knows me. But then, we already knew that.”

  “We did?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s obvious. He uses my maiden name.”

  “Technically….”

  “Technically, what?”

  “He might just be a whack job fantasizing about you. If he’s lived here all his life, he’d have known you before you hooked up with Bernie, even. Or maybe he just looked you up in an old yearbook.”

  A lightbulb in the far reaches of my brain went on, and I blinked. “That’s brilliant! Of course.” I grabbed his face for a kiss. “You’re a genius.”

  Harley danced around us, yipping.

  At a quiet command from Wyatt, the pup stopped both, and sat looking expectantly at his master.

  “Thank you.” His hands were on my shoulders. “But you need to explain that.”

  “What I need is to find my yearbooks. Maybe I can pick him out. Oh, but I don’t think he graduated with me. Do you know anyone who might have a yearbook two years prior to when I graduated, and two years after?”

  “My brain isn’t as active as yours at 3 in the morning.”

  “Umm. Okay. Could you think about it, at least?”

  “I will do that. Maybe not right this second, though. Do you think it could be that easy?”

  I shrugged. “Just another avenue to pursue that we haven’t thought of before. It may not pan out, but it’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

  “I do. But how do we find the yearbooks?”

  “Well, I have mine. Oh, and the two before me.” I paused, thinking. “Ah, maybe I do. Could be in the attic in one of the fifty million boxes that are up there.”

  “I don’t think I have mine anymore.”

  “Hmm. I wonder if the school keeps copies.”

  “Maybe.” He kissed my mouth. “That’s a great idea. Why don’t you call them in the morning? Right now, what say we try to get some sleep?”

  I slipped my arms around his waist. “We make a great team. I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

  He gave me a squeeze. “Can’t imagine mine without you, baby.”

  Harley barked. Apparently, he agreed.

  Chapter 10

  … THURSDAY…

  * * *

  … August 20th…

  * * *

  THE DAY DAWNED a stubborn stormy gray. Rain fell in wind-scattered bursts, and thunder rolled over the town like a kettle drum gone amok. Lightning flashed and the lights and other temperamental electronics in our makeshift offic
e winked and blinked in its wake; which in turn, caused a rash of raucous yells from the crew who were trying to write reports, and had to keep rebooting their PC’s.

  I had the same affliction.

  I called the high school about whether they kept copies of yearbooks. Used to speaking with Evelyn Forbes, I was surprised to hear a student answer the phone. She, apparently, wasn’t aware of any yearbooks, and didn’t know whom she could ask.

  “Is Miss Forbes available?”

  “No. She had an emergency and won’t be back until next week sometime.”

  Rolling my eyes, I thanked her and hung up.

  Yes, the school was open. School secretaries work all summer (thus the wonder about Ms. Forbes), but are usually the busiest in the weeks before the new school year starts.

  I was about to call the library when Rick and Becca approached my desk.

  “I don’t think you should be on the phone anymore, Maggie. That storm is too close, and I wouldn’t want you getting electrocuted. Becca and I will go over to the school and see what we can find. Then we’ll mosey on over to the library for you. It’ll be safer all around.”

  Smart kid, that.

  “Thanks, Rick.”

  Court, Paul, Declan, and Gus were keeping me company, until a call came in over the radio for help out on Route 17, and Declan and Gus went to help. Which, duh, left me with Paul and Court as babysitters. Not that I mind. It’s good to have company. That crazy bastard is … crazy. And as I was still shaky about that wild dream last night, I could use it.

  Yes, Wyatt was in his office, but he…. I was worried about him, too.

  Okay, you would think a high school would have a copy of all the yearbooks, wouldn’t you?

  We’d soon find out, either way.

  If the school, or library possibilities fell through, perhaps the Historical Society would have some.

  AN HOUR OR so later, Rick and Becca returned. The library had some copies, but not all—and none of the ones we were interested in. The high school, surprisingly, didn’t have any but the current class.

  If it hadn’t been so late in the day, and if it had been Friday, the Historical Society would have been an option to check. But they’re only open on certain days, and at certain hours, and today wasn’t one of them.