The Marine's Last Defence. Angi Morgan
was wearing a ball cap.
“Whatever,” Griffin said, not trying hard to sway his partner. “Suicide works. She’s surrounded herself with the business for the past two years. Everything she has is tied up in it. When it goes up in flames, our hometown will think she was too depressed to start over.” He put his hands on his hips, a gesture she’d seen a thousand times when he was ready to move on from a subject. “When will you do it?”
Oh, my Lord, they really are going to kill me, she thought, panicking. Why? What did I do?
“Listen, Tyler, you’re the one who screwed up. Too many fingers in the pie. You should never have involved the local cop who’s getting greedy. The higher-ups want them both gone, along with all traces of the connection to us. You’re damn lucky they don’t want you gone.”
Who have you gotten involved with, Griffin?
Sabrina’s heart pounded faster than Tweetiepie, the miniature Chihuahua she’d groomed at the truck stop that afternoon. Her hands shook even while she was plastered against the wall. She wanted to close her eyes and have someone explain why this was happening. Could someone wake her up from this nightmare so she could go back to her simple life of boarding pets?
Her thoughts drifted through her last conversation with Griffin. As far as she knew there had been no indicators that he was upset with her. But, then again, how did your best friend speak to you three hours before casually mentioning no one would miss you if you were dead?
Wait. Flames? Had he said flames?
Was Griffin speaking in metaphors or were they really going to burn the clinic down? “Gone...all traces.” She had to get to the police. No. The stranger had mentioned involving a cop. Which one? They didn’t mention anyone by name. Who could she trust? But they couldn’t all be bad. Right?
What could she tell them if she did trust them? She’d overheard her business partner plotting to kill a “she,” but unfortunately there were a lot of “shes” in Amarillo, Texas.
She’d look like an idiot. Griffin continued his discussion with the stranger. She couldn’t distinguish their words as they walked to the rear exit. She dropped to the floor and crept around the corner into the operating room.
Griffin was right about one thing—she had no other life outside the clinic or pet sitting. He was also right that every dime she had was tied up in her half of the business.
But right now, she needed help.
No one worked in the clinic on Sundays. She made a special trip with the house-call van once a month, working with truck drivers. It was five o’clock and she’d spent the afternoon grooming dogs at the I-40 truck stop and let Amber borrow her car for a baby shower. If she hadn’t finished an hour early, decided to restock the van while waiting on her assistant’s return, she wouldn’t have a clue about their plot to kill her and burn the clinic.
She’d been so dumb. Well, not anymore. It was time to get closer, find out what they were doing.
On her hands and knees, she scooted across the painted concrete floor. Staying close to the counters and then behind the stainless steel exam table, she was careful not to knock any of the rolling trays full of instruments. She’d never felt comfortable in this room. It wasn’t organized and certainly didn’t function effectively according to what she’d seen over the past two years.
There were many times she’d wondered how Griffin made any money. Now she knew. He made it illegally. She dared to look around the side of the table. There wasn’t enough light in her section of the room for her to be seen, but she was still very careful.
“So we’re agreed. Tonight,” the stranger said. “Get your cop friend to patrol nearby. I’ll nab the girl before the fire’s set and make it look real enough.”
“You think it’s necessary to burn the place with the animals inside?”
“You want the fire to look genuine, don’t ya?”
The stranger was near the back door. She caught a tilt to his lips when Griffin’s back was turned. Her stomach twisted in fear. Whoever this stranger was, he enjoyed killing. Animal or human, that smile indicated he looked forward to it.
She swallowed the bile in her throat and hid behind the island table again. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. They were going to kill her.
What should she do? Remember his voice. Remember that deadly smile and his thin, flat lips. She had no evidence, no proof that someone wanted her dead. And from what she’d overheard, they’d planted evidence that she was responsible for something. Dear Lord, she didn’t even know where to start. She knew nothing about police procedures except that they needed more information than she had to begin an investigation.
Fading daylight briefly filled the room as the back door opened and closed. The sound of the dead bolt turning echoed through the cold room. Oh, no, the van was parked out front now. How long had they been here? Would they notice? Would they come back?
Silence.
She sank to the floor. There was nowhere to hide and if they did return, what could she do?
The faint whine of an abandoned pup bolted her into action. No one was going to kill the animals left in her care. She tugged on one of the rolling tables and opened a bin. She yanked a scalpel, wielding it like a hunting knife. She could defend herself a little, maybe deter them long enough to race out the front door.
Explanation or no, she could get to the police to save her own life. Panda and Pogo barked.
The animals. She had to get them out of the building. She took a peek through the windows and didn’t see any cars. She ran through the clinic to the back of the boarding kennels and unbolted the door, slightly propping it open for quick access. Then another dash through the building and out the front, moving the van to the back.
Thank goodness she didn’t have a lot of animals at the clinic or being boarded for the weekend. The three dogs and kitty would fit inside the van and be safe. She closed the van door with a sigh of relief, dropping her forehead to the cooling metal. She could meet Amber at the house and have her drive the animals to their owners.
Then she would drive her car directly to the police station and take her chances. Crazy sounding or not, she had to report Griffin to the authorities.
“Back early?”
She yelped like one of the puppies. “Oh, Griffin. You scared the living daylights out of me.” Her partner jerked her away from the van in a constricted grip. “You’re hurting me.”
“Don’t play dumb, Sabrina. I saw you loading the animals. You heard us inside and are moving them before we torch the place.”
She pulled. His grip tightened. “I don’t understand any of this, Griffin. What’s going on?”
“Get inside.” He shoved a gun in her ribs. “Now.”
“Don’t do this. Don’t kill me, please. Whatever the problem is we can work it out.” She stumbled as he propelled her through the door. “I’m sure the police can sort through everything.”
“No, they can’t. I don’t give the orders. I follow them. My office.”
The gun was securely in his hand and she shuffled through the kennels sideways, unwilling to turn her back to him. What if he had the same maniacal smile as the stranger?
Had Griffin shot someone before? He couldn’t have. He wasn’t the man who drowned kittens—he was the veterinarian who saved them. Right? But he was an excellent marksman, who wouldn’t miss when he fired.
How am I ever going to get away from you? she wondered.
“Is it drugs? Money laundering? Who are you working for?” she asked, stalling. Think, think, think. She couldn’t allow herself to be trapped in his office. There was no way out. Only a slit of a window, high above her head.
“None of the whys or whos matter