CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After tossing and turningall night, Roberta woke with her eyes swollen, her sinuses stuffy, and her voice ragged from sobbing most of the night. The house was eerily quiet. Taylor must have left for the set already. As unsettled as things were between them, it was good that he’d stayed with her last night. Now, Bling stretched beside her and meowed for his breakfast. Her cat’s presence, while comforting, accentuated her missing pups. They were the one constant in her life, traveling with her from town to town, always happy, never complaining. She snatched up her cell phone, searching for messages related to her dogs’ whereabouts. The hollow in the center of her chest ached when she found none. She started making calls to the police and to animal control while she made coffee but every phone call she made led to nothing but more tears.
A knock at the kitchen door drew her attention. She swung the door open, finding Sara Field, pale-faced with eyes reddened, on the other side.
Sara stepped forward wordlessly, wrapping her arms around Roberta. They both cried as they hugged and swayed, trying to comfort one another. A few minutes later, they drew apart.
“Did you find them?” Roberta’s eyes searched her friend’s.
Sara gestured toward the deck’s table and chairs. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve heard nothing.” They sat down, wiping their eyes.
Roberta captured Sara’s free hand and squeezed it. “Please tell me again. What happened?” She hoped she could glean some helpful information by hearing Sara’s story again.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Sara began to tell her story for the umpteenth time. “Diane is sick with worry. She left your place to walk a few dogs for me. The back door was pried open when she got back, and the dogs were gone.” Sara’s voice quivered as she recounted the details. Her eyes welled with tears again.
“Then what? Did she call the police or you first?”
Sara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and snuffled. “She called me first, and I came over. I think she was hoping I had picked them up for some reason. As soon as I got here and saw the door, I called the police to report the break-in.”
Roberta grimaced. Tears overflowed her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her palm. “W-what did the police do? Did they search for them? Did they bring a K-9 unit?”
“Uh, no. No K-9 unit.” Sara said, eyes downcast, hands framing her face to cool her cheeks. “They searched the house and yard, then took a statement, but since nothing appeared taken—”
“My dogs were taken!”
Sara took Roberta’s hands. “I know, honey. I tried to explain to them, but they didn’t listen.” She hesitated, then continued, “They said there wasn’t much they could do but dust for prints, which they did.”
“What then?” Roberta asked, wishing the police had done more to find her babies. If she had been here, she would have demanded they set up search parties and maybe even called in helicopters to search the area. But she hadn’t been here. She had been home in Massachusetts.
Breaking eye contact, Sara said, “They left. They said they’d call if anything came up on the prints, and I should check with the animal control officer in town.”
Roberta sat silent, staring over Sara’s shoulder into the quiet and empty yard except for the few scattered dog toys. They looked so forlorn, so lost without their furry playmates.
“That’s when I called you,” Sara gave Roberta’s hand another squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”
After Sara left, Roberta entered the house to shower. As she walked into the bathroom, she found Taylor’s note taped to the mirror.
Bertie,
Sorry to have to leave without saying goodbye. I didn’t want to wake you.
I’ve gone to LA for a screen test. Back tonight if possible, tomorrow at the latest.
Let me know what’s happening with the dogs.
Taylor
Roberta’s heart sank further, knowing she didn’t have the comfort of Taylor’s close presence. She picked up her phone to give him a call but just as quickly put it down. There was nothing new to report and weeping over the phone in his ear would be too pitiful and embarrassing.
She walked out the kitchen door onto the deck and out into the yard with nothing else to do. Her eyes veered toward the mailbox. Four days had gone by since she had arrived home and emptied the mailbox. She wandered over to it to retrieve her mail. Sorting through the stack of junk mail as she walked back up the driveway, she stopped short, her breath held. Tucked inside among the junk mail was a note with no return address and a Pittsburgh postmark.
For the return of your precious pets, bring
$10,000 to Point State Park at six p.m. Monday.
Do not contact the police. Come alone.
After you hand over the cash you will be told