Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [22]
“He’s a smart dog.”
She smiled. “You want him?”
“I have four dogs, three of which I took from you. April will shoot me if I bring home another. Besides, I think he’s more your style. Even Yoda seems to like him.”
True, Claire thought. “We’ll see what happens. It’s only been two weeks. Maybe his owners went on vacation and the house sitter lost him.” She could hope. But the truth was a lot of people simply abandoned their dogs and cats when they moved, or when the pet became too much work. She wanted to strangle those people. Instead, she found good homes for the animals, no matter how long it took.
“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” Jim asked. “April is making lasagna.”
Claire liked Jim and his wife, but she always felt like a third wheel. They’d been married for years, but still acted like newlyweds. It reminded Claire that no matter how many guys she dated or friends she went club-hopping with, in her heart she felt isolated and alone. Until Mitch.
“I have a date, but thanks for the invite. Tell April I said hi.”
Claire watched Jim drive off, then closed the door and walked down the hall to her office.
Facing the rose garden in McKinley Park, her Tudor-style house wasn’t large, but it was charming. She kept her dogs outside, though they had access to the enclosed sunroom. Neelix, her orange and white cat, had the run of the place. It was because of Neelix that she’d met Dr. Jim in the first place. She’d just bought the house in McKinley Park four years ago when she’d witnessed a teenage boy throwing rocks at a stray cat in the park. The cat was shrieking. Claire had wanted to chase down the punk, and she’d certainly had enough adrenaline to get in a few good licks, but the poor, undernourished injured cat was lying there, trying to get up, dazed. The cat’s back leg was broken. Claire picked saving his life over revenge.
She didn’t always choose so wisely.
No one claimed Neelix, so she’d kept him. Nursed him back to health. He went from a six-pound skeletal feline to a thirteen-pound fat, lazy cat.
Neelix opened his eyes, not moving from his spot at the end of her bed when she walked in. She scratched him behind the ears, then turned into her office, a converted walk-in closet. Her bedroom originally had two closets—a large walk-in, and a smaller closet. She had taken the doors off the walk-in, removed the shelves and poles, and turned it into her office. It fit a desk, a small file cabinet, and a short bookshelf. Comfortable and functional.
She flipped on her computer screen and Googled the Western Innocence Project. Nearly every state had an “Innocence Project,” which was generally affiliated with a law school where lawyers and students took on criminal appeals pro bono if they felt that the convict had been unjustly convicted. Many of the cases came from DNA evidence, often older cases where new forensic technology enabled them to extract DNA from a rape or murder and match it—or not—to the individual convicted of the crime.
She didn’t know what she was looking for. She’d talked to the director, Randolph Sizemore, Esq., once before when he had told her that Oliver Maddox wasn’t an employee of the Project nor was the Project working on the O’Brien case. However, it might be worth talking to him again. Maybe he knew where Maddox went. Maybe she hadn’t asked the right questions.
Spontaneously, she dialed Sizemore’s direct line. She’d uncovered it after speaking to him in January, but hadn’t had cause to use it.
“Randy Sizemore.”
“This is Claire O’Brien. I’m calling about Oliver Maddox.”
Silence at first, then, “Hello, Ms. O’Brien. How can I help you?”
“Do you remember me?”
“Of course. I made a note of our conversation in my journal. You claimed that Oliver said he was working with my institute on behalf of your father.”
“That’s what he told me, but I know that he was an intern last summer.”
“True. I have no new information.”
“Do you know that Oliver Maddox is missing? He’s been missing since January 20.”
There was silence on the other end. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I spoke with