Chapter 32
Aiden tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles stood out stark white, and his hands ached. A trip that should've taken twenty minutes was taking twice as long because Joe demanded to come along. He slid a glance at his partner.
Joe lounged on the front passenger seat picking at a ragged cuticle.
Aiden hadn’t wanted to wait for his partner. Hell no. Candace was missing. Abducted, for Christ’s sake. Every second counted. Every. Damn. Second. But Joe insisted. He’d even gone so far as to threaten to go to the captain if Aiden didn’t swing by the precinct and pick him up.
Aiden blew out a breath, striving for calm, and swerved around the corner. The rear of the car fishtailed on the pavement, leaving rubber skid marks on the asphalt.
Joe, who refused to wear a seat belt despite regulations, let out a surprised whump as his right shoulder slammed against the passenger-side door.
As childish as his actions were, Aiden smirked. Served the jerk right. He jammed his foot on the gas, and the powerful SUV shot down a straight stretch. They passed through a heavy industrial area on the outskirts of Briggston. The street was lined with garages, their service bays open and cluttered with heavy-duty rigs and stacks of discarded tires and rusty mufflers.
A factory, with boarded-up windows and plastic bags, broken glass bottles, and old newspapers flattened against its dingy brick walls, looked like it had been closed for years.
Without slowing, he wrenched the wheel and skidded into the parking lot of a rundown strip mall and bumped over the cracked and buckled pavement.
The SUV bucked over rain-filled potholes, bouncing Joe out of his seat. The top of his head smashed against the padded roof. Cursing, he rubbed his head and resettled on the seat, clutching the sides of the seat cushion. “Jesus, man. Who taught you to drive?”
Aiden ignored his partner and focused on steering the heavy vehicle around the deep potholes. He sped past a nail salon, a massage parlor, a liquor store with heavy metal bars covering its front window and glass door, and a thrift shop.
He jammed on the brakes. The vehicle squealed to a stop, raising a spray of gravel. “We’re here.” Ripping the keys from the ignition, he thrust open the door and leaped out of the car and charged toward the row of small, rundown businesses.
A hand grasped his arm and drew him to a halt.
He shot Joe a glare. “What the hell, man?”
Joe didn’t release his hold. “Whoa, partner. You can’t go in there hot and heavy demanding answers. We need a plan.”
Aiden thrust off Joe’s hand. “Oh, yeah? Watch me.” But he didn’t move. As much as he hated to admit it, Joe was right. The son of a bitch who took Candace could be in there holding her captive, prepared to kill her if the cops burst through the door. He sucked in a steadying breath, fighting the rush of adrenaline that had spiked through him the second he discovered Candace was missing, “How do you think we should do this?”
“You own a dog, so you know the drill. Walk in there like you want to make an appointment…you know, for shots or something.” Joe shrugged. “Get a feel for the place. Find out if the doctor’s in. See if you can talk to him.”
Aiden nodded. Joe’s plan made sense. Maybe if he saw the guy, he’d get a read on him, be able to tell if he was involved. “Okay.” He shot Joe a look. “What are you going to be doing?” He half-expected Joe to say he’d wait in the car in case backup was needed, but for the third time that day, his partner surprised him.
“I’m gonna walk around back and make sure no one takes a flyer out the back door.”
“Sounds good.”
Joe headed off, and Aiden sucked in three long, steadying breaths, pasted what he hoped was a pleasant smile on his face, and strolled toward the vet clinic. A neon sign, with several burned-out letters, hung above the door and read “Briggston Animal Care Hospital.” Beside it was a smaller, flashing sign indicating the clinic was open for business.
The place had seen better days. A long, jagged crack spidered across the large, dusty front window as if someone had kicked it. The white trim had yellowed, and a small pile of last fall’s leaves clustered against the crumbling foundation.
As he approached the door, it opened, and an elderly woman stepped out, cradling a small, whimpering dog in her arms.
He grabbed the door and held it open.
She smiled and squeezed by him. “Thank you so much. My poor little Bitsy is upset.” Her arms tightened around the scruffy pup. A white gauze bandage was wrapped around the dog’s quivering middle. She petted its head. “Poor Bitsy. Did that mean vet hurt you?”
Unable to resist, Joe smoothed a light hand over the tiny dog’s velvety head.
Bitsy raised her head and looked at him with sad, sorrowful eyes and whimpered again.
“What happened to this poor little pooch?”
The woman made a kissy face at the dog. “My little girl had to get spayed.” She planted a kiss on the dog’s head. “I know, sweetie,” she cooed in baby talk. “Mama’s sorry, but you know it had to be done, and Dr. Tammy says you’ll be fine in a few days.” She looked up at Aiden, and the tiny lines around her mouth deepened. “The neighbor’s male cane corso has been sniffing around my poor sweet Bitsy.” She shuddered, and her gray bob bounced. “No way was I going to allow that to happen. My poor girl—”
Aiden had stopped listening. Dr. Tammy? He frowned. That wasn’t the name of the vet they were looking for. He cut off the woman’s tirade against the unneutered cane corso in mid rant. “I thought the vet here was Dr. Strawski.”
She tutted. “Oh, no. Dr. Strawski hasn’t worked here for years. Dr. Tammy took over the practice—” She paused and wrinkled her forehead. “—maybe fifteen, twenty years ago? Maybe more?”
Aiden opened his mouth to pepper her with questions, but Bitsy took that moment to squirm in her owner’s arms and let out a piteous whimper.
“Oh, dear. I have to get this poor baby home.” The woman hurried past Aiden and headed to a small compact car parked in the lot.
Some of Aiden’s adrenaline faded. From what the old lady said, the perp they were looking for hadn’t worked there in years. Was this another dead end? He opened the door wider and stepped inside and wrinkled his nose at the heavy stench of antiseptic, urine, and bleach common to all veterinary clinics. A chorus of frantic barking echoed from the back of the office. Tracker hated going to the vet, and it was all Aiden could do to drag him there for his annual shots.
He approached a desk with a young, attractive blonde-haired woman sitting behind it talking on the phone. She smiled warmly at Aiden and held up a finger, indicating she wouldn’t be long.
He used the time to check out the waiting room.
A wooden bench was set against one wall and three plastic chairs against the other.
A man sat on one of the chairs holding a struggling and meowing black cat on his lap.
A black rubber mat covered the cracked linoleum floor. Posters of pet rescue societies and advertisements for high-end pet food covered the grungy white walls.
“How can I help you?”
He swung back to the receptionist and reached into his pocket and tugged out his wallet. Flipping it open, he showed her his badge and ID. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.” No point pretending to be a customer if Strawski was long gone.
Her smile faded. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m looking for Dr. Strawski. Is he in today?”
Her eyes widened. “Dr. Strawski? The only vet we have is Dr. Tammy.”
He studied her, searching for signs of subterfuge, but her confusion seemed real. “Let me talk to Dr. Tammy.”
She jumped up from her desk. “Of course.” She hurried across the room and opened a closed door. The barking increased in volume and eased when the door closed behind her.
He glanced at his watch and frowned. Time was ticking. Every passing second was one second longer Candace was in danger, one second closer to when the Feds took over. He was about to follow the woman, when the door opened, and the receptionist and another, much-larger, gray-haired woman in navy-blue scrubs stepped into the waiting room.
The receptionist followed and returned to her desk.
The older woman’s gray hair was skinned back from her weathered face in a tight ponytail. She was tall and broad shouldered and looked like she wouldn’t have a problem wrestling a pregnant cow to the ground. “I understand you’re looking for someone.” Her voice was brisk and no-nonsense, making it clear he was interrupting a busy day.
The bells above the door chimed, and a man walked in, restraining an excited golden retriever on a leash.
As soon as the dog spotted the cat, it lunged and started barking.
The cat yowled and attempted to claw its way up the owner’s neck.
Dr. Tammy stepped to the interior door and motioned for Aiden to follow.
The door closed behind him, cutting off the excited barking. He was in a small exam room.
The vet leaned against a padded counter and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “How can I help you, Detective?”
“I’m looking for Dr. Strawski. Our records show this is his place of business.”
She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “This is my clinic now. I’ve leased it from Dr. Strawski ever since he retired fifteen or so years ago. That probably explains why his name is still on the business license.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are looking for him? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
Aiden cursed under his breath. Another dead end. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he went, would you?"
“I’m afraid he’s dead.”
"Dead?” Aiden’s heart sank. “Are you sure?” Damn. Their one lead was dead in the water. Literally.
She nodded. “I used to pay him directly, but for the past ten years, my rent checks go to a real-estate company.”
Damn and double damn. Aiden gritted his teeth. This trip was a waste of time. He stared at the institutional clock on the wall ticking away the seconds. Every cell in his body demanded he get the hell out of there and dig up another lead, but Candace’s life was at stake, and so he asked one more question. “Do you mind if I have a look around?”
The furrow between Dr. Tammy’s brows deepened. “What're you looking for, Detective?”
He ignored her question. The vet clinic was a dead end, but he wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t at least search the place.
She blew out an aggrieved breath. “Okay. Go ahead, but all you’re going to find are sick dogs and cats.”
She followed on his heels as he looked into each room of the small clinic. She was right. There were lots of miserable-looking pets lying in metal cages whining. The sight broke his heart, but the vet was helping them, and when they recovered, their owners would come and pick them up and take them home. He turned back to the vet. “Thanks for your cooperation. I’ll get out of your hair.” He opened the door that led into the waiting room.
“Detective Farrell?”
He paused and looked back at her and arched his brows.
“I don’t know if this’ll help, but Dr. Strawski’s son is still around. Maybe you could talk to him.”
Aiden’s heart jerked. “His son?” This was the first he’d heard of a son.
“He comes and helps out every week or so. He’s a bit—” She grimaced. “—different, but he loves animals, and so I let him help.” A frown creased her brow. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in months. I hope he’s all right.”
Aiden’s gut pinged with the certainty this was the man they were looking for.
“Can you tell me what he looks like?” And there was the clincher. “Does he have a beard?”
“Why, yes, he does.” She smiled. “His father had a beard as well. They looked a lot alike. No question they were father and son.”
His heart rate sped up to the quadruple digits, but he had to be certain. He pulled out the composite sketch Candace had helped create and showed it to the vet. “Is this him?”
She nodded.
Bullseye! “What’s his name?”
“Abraham. Abraham Strawski.”
Got the bastard. “Do you have an address?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.” She threaded her fingers through her short hair. “I pay him under the counter. You know, in cash. I know it’s not right, but this place doesn’t make a lot of money.” She gestured at the crated animals. “People around here don’t have much, some are homeless, others are seniors living on a fixed income. They can’t afford veterinary fees, so they come here. I help them.”
“You’re not a qualified vet.”
“No, but I know what I’m doing. I help these animals.” Her eyes watered. “Are you going to shut me down?”
A small, mixed-breed dog lay in the crate in front of Aiden, a bandage wrapped around the emaciated creature’s back leg.
A cat paced inside another cage, pawing at the metal bars, meowing.
Aiden knew the law. He should report the woman for operating an illegal animal clinic. But that would close her down, and then what would happen to the animals? He blew out a breath. “No, I won’t report you.”
“Thank you, Detective.” She smiled for the first time. “You must be an animal lover.”
Maybe so, but he’d just agreed to look the other way and ignore a criminal offense. Would he ever learn?