"Michael, can we go in?" Savannah asked.

"Don't know. They have tape across the door." He glanced toward the door and then back at Jim. Finally, he reasoned, "I don't know why not. It's our clinic." He started to move in that direction, but stopped when he saw Jim walking briskly toward them. "Jim, can we go in? We have animals in there that may need attention."

"Including our own cats," Savannah said, her voice quivering a little.

"Yes," Jim said. "We need to ask you some questions. Let's go inside." He opened the door and led the way.

Michael caught up with Jim and asked, "Where's Bud? He called me."

"I think they're questioning him."

Michael swallowed hard, frowned. "Jim, Bud said someone died."

"Yes," Jim continued leading Michael and Savannah into the waiting room of their veterinary clinic. "Please sit down here, will you?" He looked over at Michael, who was still standing. "Looks like you're healing up pretty good. Feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Michael said. As if he were on automatic pilot-not totally in the moment and apprehensive about what was going on around him, he added, "Savannah's still hobbling around with that knee-can't ride her horse." He fiddled with something in his pocket, and asked, "Can we go back and check on the animals?"

Jim thought about his request for a few seconds and said, "I guess that would be okay."

Before they could move forward, a man in street clothes walked into the waiting room from the back offices and motioned to Jim. "Wait here," Jim told Savannah and Michael. He strolled over and talked quietly with the man for a few moments before saying to the couple, "Okay, I'll walk with you to the pens now."

Michael and Savannah followed Jim through the waiting room and down the hallway. Before they entered the doorway to the recovery room, Michael stopped and looked in the direction of some commotion. He saw a yellow tarp covering what appeared to be a body just inside the back door to the clinic. The door was open and several sheriff deputies and other officials were milling around in that area-some talking on cell phones, others talking among themselves. Suddenly, his eyes connected with those of Craig Sledge, who nodded somberly toward Michael and Savannah. "Come on," Jim said, hastening them into the recovery room.

The veterinary team checked on the two patients, scooped out a litter box, and gave the animals clean water and a gentle petting to rea.s.sure them. As the couple closed the doors to the pens, Jim asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yes, seems to be," Michael said. "Now we'd like to see our cats-they're out near the...commotion...in that large pen. I didn't know there was all that activity out there. I'd like to bring them in here away from...all that."

Jim thought about it for a few moments and then said, "Yeah, go ahead."

As the trio walked toward the cordoned-off area, Savannah looked down at where the body lay under the yellow tarp. She slowed her pace, stared.

"Let's get the cats out," Jim said, in an attempt to keep the couple focused.

"Who is it, Jim?" Michael asked. "Anyone we know?" His speech accelerated, as panic gripped him. "It's not one of our employees, is it?"

The deputy frowned. He took in a breath and said, "No, it's not one of your employees." He looked over at the cats in the pen. "Let's move the cats and then we'll talk."

As they walked toward the large pen, Rags jumped up on the platform closest to them. "He's happy to see us," Savannah said. "Hi Ragsy. I missed you, too, boy." Walter sat on top of a small carpeted cat tree closest to the activity, watching intently. "Where's Buffy?" Savannah asked.

Michael looked around inside the pen from a series of different vantage points. "Oh, I see her in that pink tent thing over there." He then said, "Savannah, get Rags, would you? I'll take Walter. We can put them in separate pens in recovery. I'll put Buffy with Walter."

Savannah followed behind Michael toward the door to the pen. "I think she should go with Rags."

"Why?"

"She and Rags are closer now than she is with Walter."

Jim, who had been leaning against a wall across from the pen, took a couple of steps forward. "Okay, we can't stand here and argue-get the cats situated. I need to question you. You might also want to put a notice on the door that you're closing today."

"Oh, we are?" Michael said as he took the clasp off the pen gate. He looked over at the activity near the back door again and shook his head in disgust. "I'll have Bud call the clients with appointments today." He started to enter the pen and then stopped. "Where is Bud, anyway?"

"I told you, they're questioning him. He should be along shortly. I'll let them know you want to speak with him."

"I can make the calls, Michael," Savannah said as she entered the pen. Michael stepped in after her and closed the gate. He stood in the center of the pen, trying to digest what was happening around them. Just then another deputy walked toward Jim and called him out of the room. Savannah watched him join the other authorities as they all huddled near the body.

She tried to ignore the sick feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. A kitty hug-that's what I need, she thought. Kitty hugs always seem to make things better. She looked over at Rags-What's that he has? She walked closer and saw him pick up something with his teeth and shake his head with it in his mouth. He then put a claw in it and pulled while holding onto it with his teeth. "What do you have there, Ragsy?" she asked as she grew nearer. The cat dropped it again. This time it floated down to the floor. Rags jumped down, snagged the object in his mouth and leaped back up onto the perch, where he continued to paw and claw at it. Savannah reached over and picked up the large cat. "I missed you boy. Are you okay?" Suddenly, she felt overcome with emotion. She buried her face into his fur and started to cry.

"Awwww, honey," Michael said. He walked over and put his arms around her and the cat. He kissed the side of her head. "I know, honey-awfully close to home. Another tragedy. It...it just sucks." He gave her a squeeze and then rubbed Rags's head. "He seems to be okay, don't you think?"

"Yes, I think so." Before she turned to carry him into the recovery room, she looked back at the item on the perch. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and took a closer look. It's a piece of cloth from something. She looked around the pen and saw nothing in there made from this swatch of fabric. Hmmm, she thought to herself, it's a light-weight woven tweed fabric in browns with a little dark blue running through it. I wonder where it came from.

Just then, Deputy Jim walked back into the room. Savannah pushed the cloth swatch deep inside her jacket pocket and carried Rags out of the pen. Michael followed her with Walter in one arm and Buffy in the other. Once Savannah had placed Rags in a clean pen already supplied with a litter box, kibbles, and water, she turned and took Buffy from Michael.

"Hi there, sweet girl," she crooned, while hugging the little Himmie mix to her. "Here, you keep Rags company," she said as she set her gently inside the pen. After latching the gate, she walked over to a cabinet and opened it. She rummaged around for a few moments, eventually retrieving a soft flannel pad. She tucked it into the pen for Buffy to lie on. Only Rags thought it was for him and he promptly walked over and sat in the middle of the cushy blanket. Savannah smiled and shook her head. "Okay, I get it. You want to be pampered, too." And she went back to the cabinet, found another section of blanket and scrunched it into an opposite corner of the pen. She watched as Rags claimed that bed for himself, leaving the original one for Buffy, who immediately ambled over and settled down for a nap.

Savannah pulled a small pad out of the cabinet for Walter. After placing it inside his pen, she peered in at the black cat and he stared back at her through yellow eyes. "All set?" Jim asked, as he led the couple out into the hallway. Michael closed the door behind them. After taking only a couple of steps, Savannah looked back at the scene at the end of the hallway. She promptly b.u.mped into Michael, who had stopped to stare in that direction. Without a word, the two of them turned and followed Deputy Jim back into the waiting room.

"Let's sit here, shall we?" Jim suggested. Savannah and Michael sat next to each other against the wall and Jim pulled a chair out of the line-up and sat down facing the Drs. Ivey. "Michael, I need you to account for your whereabouts last night."

"What?" he barked.

Savannah's posture stiffened. She frowned at the deputy.

"Where were you last night, Michael?"

Michael squirmed in his chair, a scowl on his face. "I don't believe this. What's going on, Jim? Who is that back there?"

Jim stayed on track. He spoke without emotion. "Just answer the question, please."

Michael stared over at Jim, shaking his head in disbelief. "At home."

"All night?"

Michael could tell the deputy was serious. He knew he had nothing to hide, so he took a deep breath and said, "Yes. Let's see, I left the clinic around six, stopped at the deli for some sandwiches, and got home around...he hesitated...six-twenty, I'd say. Savannah and I had the sandwiches for dinner, we worked a little on my remodel project upstairs, and went to bed around ten."

"And you were home all night. You didn't go out at all?"

"No. What is this all about? Are you accusing me of something?"

Jim ignored the question. Looking over at Savannah, he asked, "Were you home, too?"

"Yes. I left the office at five-thirty. I brought the dog home with me. Oh, I did stop by my aunt's place to drop off some pharmaceuticals for their cats. Then Lexie and I came right home."

"Who's Lexie?"

"The dog."

"And you were home all night? Neither of you went out?"

"No," Savannah snapped. She clenched her teeth and pressed her lips together lest she say something she might regret.

"What's going on, Jim?" Michael asked. "Why all these questions? Who is it back there-under that tarp?"

Deputy Jim looked Michael in the eyes. He hesitated before saying, "It's Pete Gamble. He's been murdered."

Savannah's hands shot up to her mouth. Her eyes widened and she gasped. "Oh my gosh. Here? How...?"

Michael sat back in his chair, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Finally he asked, "What happened? What was he doing here?" He looked off into s.p.a.ce as if in a daze. And then he stood. He stepped into the center of the room and began pacing, raking his hand through his hair. He turned and said, his voice raised, "And you think that I..." he looked down, trying to gather his thoughts. He then stared directly at Jim and said slowly, "I am not a murderer." He pointed a finger at Jim. "You should know my character by now. I wouldn't kill someone just because they got in my face. What are you thinking?" He put his head in his hands and rubbed his forehead hard with his palms.

Savannah stood and walked over to him. "I'm sure he doesn't suspect you-he just has to ask these questions. It's his job, Michael."

Jim swiveled in his chair to face the couple. "That's partially correct, Savannah. It's my job. But dang, it looks suspicious finding him here, after all he has done to you in the past week. How do you suppose he came to be here-inside your clinic?"

"He was inside right there when you found him?" Michael asked.

"Yes and the door was wide open when Bud arrived this morning, or so he says."

Savannah walked over and sat down opposite Jim.

"Who has keys to the clinic?" Jim wanted to know. He picked up his notepad and pencil.

Savannah responded. "Michael and I, of course. Bud-he checks on the patients early each morning and, when advised, throughout the night. Scarlett, our receptionist, has a key, as do our cleaning people. That would be Iris and Cindy." She then caught herself and said, "No, not Cindy. She's out on maternity leave. Our new cleaning gal is Alyce." Savannah turned toward Michael. "Did you give her a key?"

"Yes," Michael said. "So it's me, Savannah, Bud, Iris, Scarlett, and Alyce who have keys."

"And Lisa has a key," Savannah said. "She's Bud's backup."

"Now why does..." Jim looked at his notes, "Iris have a key?"

Michael walked over and sat back down in his chair. He took in a deep breath. "She comes in and cleans the clinic a couple times a week after hours."

"And the new cleaning gal? What does she do, what is her schedule?"

"Well, she cleans and sanitizes cages, examining rooms, and so forth on an ongoing, as-needed basis throughout the day." Michael explained. "She sometimes comes in early to make sure things are ready for patients or she might stay late to prepare for the next day."

"Hmmmm," Jim said, rubbing his chin and fixing his stare on his notepad. "I'll need contact information for Scarlett, Lisa, and Alyce, if you don't mind." He looked up at Michael. "We have Bud here now and I know how to find Iris."

Savannah rose from her chair. "I'll get that for you," she said as she walked over to the reception counter.

Jim looked down at his notes again. "Now wait. Does the one out on maternity leave-Cindy-still have a key?"

Michael thought for a moment. "Um, yeah, I guess she does."

"I'll need her contact information, too, if you don't mind, Savannah."

Michael leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, and asked, "How?"

"Huh?"

"How did he die?"

"Stabbed," was all Jim would say.

Michael sat somber, a look of disbelief on his face. He then straightened his posture and asked, "What I want to know is why is he in my..." he turned his head and looked over at Savannah briefly and then continued, "our clinic? What was he doing here?"

Jim pursed his lips and shook his head slowly from side to side. "That's what we're trying to figure out. Why was he here, how did he get in and who was with him?"

Savannah walked over and handed Jim the piece of paper with the information he wanted. She took her place next to Michael.

Suddenly, they heard a familiar voice. "Good morning, folks."

Savannah and Michael looked up. "Hi Craig," Savannah said, her voice strained.

Detective Craig Sledge didn't look like he was there for a visit. He walked over to where Michael and Savannah sat and faced them, saying, "Michael, this doesn't look good."

Michael squirmed in his chair, rubbed one hand through his hair, and said, "Yeah, that's what Jim says. I'm some sort of suspect, it seems."

Craig stared down at the floor. "Gotta start weedin' people out. That's what we're doing now."

"I'd think this was some sort of a frame job," Michael said. "But the only one I can think of who would do such a thing is dead." He rolled his head slowly from side to side. Finally, he said, "This is insane." He looked up at the detective and then over at Jim and asked, "So did someone break into the office or use a key?"

"Looks like they knew their way in," Craig said matter of factly.

Savannah sat silent, tears welling up in her eyes. This must be how those innocent people I read about, who are sitting in prison, feel, she thought. Helpless. Absolutely helpless.

She looked up at the clock behind the reception desk and then jumped to her feet saying, "Oh! It's after seven. I'd better call the staff and then make calls to the morning appointments," she said. She hesitated and then asked flatly, "Can I do that, Craig?"

"Sure, go ahead." Craig then looked over at Michael. "I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Gosh, Craig, I can't think of anything that I haven't already told Jim."

Craig thought about it for a minute. He conferred with Jim and then addressed Michael. "Okay, buddy. You and Savannah don't have plans to go anywhere, do you?"

Michael stared at Craig, anger rising to the surface. He stood abruptly. "Well, h.e.l.l!"

Savannah looked up from the reception desk, phone to her ear, concern on her face.

Michael then turned toward Craig and said, "Do you know where Bud is? I need to talk to him about the patients. We do have a business to run here, you know."

"I think they're just about finished with him in there," Craig said while craning his neck to peer down the hallway. "Oh, here he comes now."

Michael walked over to the hallway entrance. "Bud, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," he said, looking a little shaken. "Did you see that dead guy?"

"No," Michael said." He looked over to see Craig and Jim walk out the front door with a couple of officials-from the crime lab maybe, or the coroner's office. Michael wasn't sure.

"He's an awful mess," Bud continued. "Someone sure must have hated him bad. Blood all over. I couldn't believe it when I walked up to the back door and found..." He shivered. "It was horrible."