and the contents of my pockets onto the kitchen counter next to the phone. Then I went to the pantry, measured out his kibbles and supplemented that meal with a can of soft food especially formulated for elderly dogs.
As Highball pushed his gray muzzle happily into his dish, I patted him.
“You’re a good boy,” I murmured. “A very good dog.”
After that, I poured myself a big glass of water from the tap, took several gulps, quickly rubbed the back of my arm across my eyes, and refocused my attention on the present. Away from the inevitable day in the near future when I would have to bury my old companion.
As I did every evening when I returned home, I made sure pen and paper were handy, then hit the flashing message button on the answering machine.
The first was from Katie. Whispery, sincere.
“I hope you like your surprise.”
The answering machine announced that the message had been left at 12:42. I didn’t know what she was talking about. Not understanding the message upped my anxiety and, along with it, the acid level in my stomach.
Before playing the next message, I went to the fridge intending to cut myself a slice of cheese. And discovered the surprise. Katie had made me a cake. The kind usually reserved for the hotel’s guests on special occasions. Single serving, tiny and perfect, it was encased in a paper-thin layer of marzipan and sprinkled with something that made it glitter like an ornament. This cake was decorated with miniature roses. Yellow Cherokee roses.
Nice, I thought. It didn’t solve any problems, but it reminded me how sweet and thoughtful my sister could be. How hard she was trying to do the right thing. And the gesture gave me hope.
I picked up the cake, carried it back to the kitchen counter, and took a bite as I listened to the next message. Inside the marzipan wrapper, the cake was yellow with ribbons of dark chocolate dividing three uniformly thin layers.
On the answering machine, the next caller was Aunt Lucy. Her voice was calm and pleasant even though her message was all business. As was typical when we spoke about the Underground, Aunt Lucy’s message was deliberately vague. But it conveyed a wealth of information.
“I’m going out of town this afternoon, honey. To meet an old friend for dinner. I’ll be back before midnight. Thought you’d be pleased.”
She’d called at 2:00 p.m.
Though I didn’t envy Aunt Lucy the long drive to rendezvous with another Underground volunteer, I was happy for Jackie. Pleased she was on her way to a new life. Mostly, though, I was thrilled that she was well away from the Cherokee Rose. Now only regular guests remained for Katie to interact with, and I had a little more time to resolve the issue of her involvement with the Underground.
Maybe, I thought as I took another bite of Katie’s lovely cake, there was some middle ground. Maybe Katie could be convinced to focus on some other aspect of the Underground, one that didn’t involve direct contact with abused women. Like finances. Despite private donations, demand for services were a constant drain on Underground resources. My sister was clever, good with money and investments. She could really make a difference.
As I hit Erase, the phone rang again. Before I could review the last message.
“Oh, good. You’re still home.”
The relief that I heard in my grandmother’s voice was completely out of character. And absolutely alarming.
“What’s wrong?” I blurted, abandoning the last bit of cake on the counter.
“Our special guest checked out earlier, but I saw her husband a few minutes ago.”
I had no doubt that Gran was talking about Hector Townsend.
My first thought was that Jackie’d had a moment of doubt. Beatings destroyed a woman’s confidence, often making her believe she couldn’t survive apart from the very person who mistreated her. So sometimes, no matter how vigilant we tried to be, women traveling along the Underground contacted their abusers. Told them where they were. Jackie, I feared, had done just that. Called Hector to come get her, then changed her mind again. And escaped with Aunt Lucy. Leaving Gran to deal with an enraged, possessive and physically powerful man who could easily recognize her from the hospital. Might assault her to get information. Or just to get revenge.
“I’m on my way,” I said as I grabbed for my gun. “If he trespasses, call 911. Tell them you’re Officer Tyler’s grandmother and a man is threaten—