Copper Lake Confidential - By Marilyn Pappano Page 0,81

into her own pajamas. When she’d crawled into bed, she’d been pretty sure she wouldn’t sleep, but at some point, fatigue had won out.

Now she felt as if she’d never closed her eyes, never drowsed. The room was dimly lit by the bathroom light, and she could tell at a glance that nothing was out of place. Clary was stretched out on the far side of the bed, breathing evenly. The doors were closed, the desk chair propped against the one leading into the hall. Her bathroom door was just the way she’d left it, open wide enough to give light, not enough to be too bright.

So what had wakened her?

A low sound came from across the room, raising the hairs on her arms. Slowly she sat up, pushing back the cover. A shadow lurked near the hall door, big and fuzzy and—

Scooter, she realized and tried to swallow back a great laugh of relief. The feeling lasted for only a moment, though, because the dog was still staring at the door, still whining.

Her cell phone sat on the bedside table. Should she call Brent? Stephen? Awaken one of them from a sound sleep to tell them—what? That the dog wanted something? Not being a dog person, her best guess, given his concentration on the door, was that he needed to go out. Dogs sometimes did that in the middle of the night, didn’t they? Take care of business, maybe chase a few scents around the yard before returning to bed?

It was so damn easy to overreact, she thought as she fumbled her feet into flip-flops. She’d been so nervous the past week. Her doctor had warned her this trip could bring a lot of emotions to the surface. Brent had cautioned her, too, and she’d been well aware of the risks entirely on her own. She’d been so fixated on being normal, so sensitive to any indication that she wasn’t, that she didn’t know how to react to anything anymore.

This wasn’t a situation to overreact to. Scooter was a dog. Dogs sometimes had to pee at night. He was at the door, politely asking to go out, and by God, she would let him out without making a big deal of it.

“I’m coming, sweetie,” she murmured. She pulled the chair from its place in front of the door, then opened the door. The dog shot off down the hall as if launched from a cannon. She could tell by the slaps of his paws that he’d reached the bottom of the stairs before she’d turned the corner at the top, and she smiled. Clary hadn’t been potty-trained so long that these emergency gotta-go-right-now! episodes were forgotten.

In the faint light from the kitchen, she saw the golden glow that was Scooter, tail wagging furiously at the door, and picked up her pace. Shut off the alarm, unlock and open the door, hurry hurry, and the dog launched himself far enough to avoid the stone patio and land in the grass. Within a second or two, he’d disappeared into the shadows.

Arms folded across her chest, she surveyed the room while she waited. At 9:00 a.m., the second dealer would be here, this one looking at the smaller, collectible pieces—the Tiffany lamps, the ivory carvings in Mark’s office, the paintings and sculptures and so on. Once he was gone, she would work on the two nurseries. She would keep the chair she’d rocked Clary in, some clothing and books given to Clary by Macy’s friends, a few family heirlooms—an eighteenth-century sterling rattle, some ancient tatted bibs, a few crocheted dresses. She didn’t want anything from the other nursery.

Scooter barked a few times, drawing her attention back outside. The lights on the back fence showed him walking, nose to the ground, occasionally stopping to look around. He followed a trail only he could see to the side of the pool, sniffed the hook a few times, then wandered a bit more. He came back to the house by a different trail and nosed the door a few times before he would step back and let her close it.

When he looked up at her, she would have sworn he was smiling, letting her know he’d done his part in keeping them safe for the night. “Aw, you’re such a good boy. I’d give you a treat if I had any, but how about a good scratch?”

Though his ears perked up at the mention of a treat, he was satisfied with the rubbing and started