Page 24 of Vanish From Sight
“And Aiden?”
She smiled, looking off to a cruiser that rolled in. “He’s fine with it.”
“So have you set a date for the big day?”
“No.”
“A long engagement?”
“Haven’t decided.”
“Not getting cold feet, are you?”
“As if I would tell you. See you around, Noah.” She lifted a finger. “Oh, by the way. Ethan was hoping he might see Axel at some point. You think you could arrange a get-together?”
“I’ll speak with Kerri.”
“He keeps talking about getting a dog but I’ve told him it may not work for our lifestyle, besides, there’s the cost of food, the ongoing vet bills for checkups and then you’ve got to get them chipped and…”
“You’re a genius.” Noah wagged his finger at her.
“What?”
He waved her off. “Nothing. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Noah hurried back into the station to arrange to get a key to Thomas’ home in Saranac or have him go with them to collect the three dogs.
“Everything okay?” Callie asked. He brought her up to speed on what he’d learned from Thomas and the conversation with Lena.
Thirty minutes later,they pulled up to an old, weathered, single-wide mobile home just off Margaret Street in Saranac. Paint was peeling off the sides and the roof was sagging in the middle. Surrounding the yard was a chain-link fence. From the moment they approached, Noah could hear dogs barking.
Eager to expedite his release from jail, Thomas was more than willing to take them there so they could collect the animals. He inserted a key and the door creaked open, revealing a small, dimly lit interior. A Yorkshire terrier jumped up at Thomas. Not far behind were a bulldog and the golden retriever he’d mentioned.
Once removed, the dogs would be checked for signs of neglect or mistreatment, to make sure they were healthy and well-fed. At a glance they appeared to be in good condition.
“What do you call him?” Noah asked, eyeing the retriever and petting him. The dog responded by licking his hand.
“I haven’t given him a name yet. Didn’t want to if I was going to take him to the shelter.” Thomas kept emphasizing that, as if he wanted to ingrain in their psyche that his motivation was purely to help. Unfortunately, because of his ties to the dog and his confession, they would have to keep him a while longer to ensure he wasn’t involved in the disappearance of the woman.
Out of sight but clearly heard, his mother called out. “Thomas?”
“It’s me, Mom.”
“Who’s with you?”
“Just some friends,” he said, his voice wavering. He lowered his voice to speak with Noah. “Can I see her before I go back?”
He nodded and walked with him through the cramped single-wide home. One of the things that struck Noah was the musty, damp smell mixed with stale air. The space was small, cluttered, with barely enough room to move around. The tiny kitchenette had a small sink, stove and refrigerator crammedagainst one another. The cabinets were stained and chipped, and the countertop cluttered with food containers and takeout boxes. The odor of stale food lingered, giving the impression that sanitation wasn’t a strong point and that it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. The sink had a few unwashed dishes, the trash looked as if it needed to be emptied.
The light above them cast long shadows across the worn linoleum flooring, past a faded couch covered with a threadbare blanket and lumpy, worn cushions. Noah navigated his way past a rickety coffee table that took up most of the space. He eyed a few framed pictures on the walls, old and faded; one had fallen off a hook and was on the floor.
They continued past a small bathroom, with a tiny sink, a toilet and a shower stall that would allow for one person only. The tiles were cracked and stained and there was the faint smell of mildew in the air. Not the best environment for someone that was ill but times were hard for many, and government didn’t offer much in the way of health care for those without good insurance.
Further down, they passed a smaller bedroom and another cramped bathroom before arriving at his mother’s room which was just big enough to fit a twin-sized bed and a small dresser. The walls sported old ’80s style floral wallpaper. The air was stuffy. The bed was covered in worn, mismatched sheets and surrounded by medical equipment and supplies. There was an IV pole to one side, with a big bag of clear liquid hanging from it. Various tubes snaked away to the arms and nose of the woman. She was frail, her eyes open. Her skin was pale and translucent, making her look almost ethereal.
She reached out a gnarled hand.
“Hey Mom,” Thomas said.
