“Can—can I see the dog?” I ask.
“Of course.” She touches my arm lightly in a show of support, and then leads me to the car, where Maverick jumps up enthusiastically in anticipation of our arrival.
She opens the door cautiously, quickly grabs the leash, and leads Maverick from the car.
My heart nearly breaks at the sight of him. He’s a mutt, for sure, but one with some Boston terrier mixed in, just like Cody. Maverick darts toward me and presses his snout between my legs.
“God, he’s a sweetheart,” I say, reaching down to pet him.
“He really is. Jamie was totally besotted with him, and the feeling seemed mutual.”
“And you’re saying he actually adopted him? He wasn’t just thinking about it?”
She nods. “The adoption was finalized a week ago. He’d completed all the paperwork, provided references, and paid the fee.”
“But why didn’t he take Maverick with him?”
“Maverick developed a skin infection, and we didn’t want to release him right away. When he improved earlier this week, we left several messages for Jamie, obviously not knowing what had happened. I feel sick about this.”
And at that moment everything sinks in for me, making my heart hammer. Jamie had fallen in love with a dog and gone through the adoption process. He was waiting to bring Maverick home. Which means there’s no way in the world he would have killed himself.
12
IDROP TO MY KNEES SO I CAN GET CLOSER TO MAVERICK, BUT I’Mreally buying a moment to slow the colliding thoughts in my head.
“What if I take Maverick—at least for now?” I say, glancing up at Gillian. She looks like the kind of woman I’d enjoy grabbing a cup of coffee with if circumstances were different.Jamie didn’t take his own life, I tell myself again.He didn’t take his life because ofme—or for any other reason.
Which means someoneelsetook his life. It’s what I thought at the very beginning. He was murdered.
“I wish I could say yes,” Gillian says sympathetically. “But everyone is required to go through a formal application process before we turn over a pet. What I can do is give you one of our cards, and if you’re interested, you can fill out an application.”
Rising to stand, I accept the card. “Thank you,” I say.
“Again, I’m so sorry about Jamie. He seemed like such a lovely man. He’d even done some volunteer work for us several years ago, helping us come up with a strong financial plan.”
I try to smile. “That sounds like Jamie.”
“We’ll return the adoption fee, needless to say. I’ll have it credited to the card he used.”
She turns, giving Maverick a gentle tug and ushering him into the car again. Once seated, he gazes at me with mournful brown eyes, as ifon some level he knows that he’s going back to his cage at the shelter, where he’ll have to begin the process all over again. I have to fight off the urge to weep in front of him.
As soon as Gillian drives off, I hurry back into the house, grab my phone, and scroll through my address book for the number I saved for Detective Calistro. It goes straight to voicemail, but five minutes later, as I’m pacing the kitchen, he returns the call.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Reed,” he says. “How can I be of help?”
Wasting no time, I present what I’ve just learned, doing my best to sound calm and rational because I know my theory might strike him as flimsy. Hopefully Calistro is a dog lover who will understand the significance.
There’s a pause after I speak, and I pray it means the detective is carefully weighing my words.
“Thank you for the information,” he says finally, with perfunctory politeness. “I’ll make sure it’s passed along to the state police, who, as you know, are working in conjunction with us.”
“Today?”
“Pardon me?”
“Will you be able to share it with them today?” I say. “Because... doesn’t each day matter tremendously in this type of investigation?”
Does he think I sound ridiculous, spouting off some nugget I’ve picked up watching Investigation Discovery shows?
