Chapter One from Houseful of Strangers by Linda Barrett

Monday, April 18th
Forest Hills, Queens

She packed Billy’s picture last.  The one with him wearing his dirty Little League uniform.  He’d scored the winning run a moment earlier, and she’d been there, camera in hand.  Her boy...

Alison Truesdale bit her lip and slammed the suitcase shut. Her trembling fingers groped for the locks until she heard them snap into place.  That’s when she had to pause for air.  For oxygen.  She inhaled.  Exhaled.  Then one vertebra at a time, she eased to her full height.  And inhaled again.  Deeply.

Okay.  She could do this.  She could leave her home which  wasn’t a home anymore, but a hideout.  She could leave this bedroom where she’d slept alone for the last two years.  She could leave the bed where William’s arms had cradled her, where she was used to feeling his leg thrown casually over hers, where she’d given love and received it for fourteen years from a man who’d known he belonged right next to her.     

She had no choice but to keep on going, but God damn it!  Survival was overrated.       

A soft whine near her ankles caught her attention and she scooped Shadow into her arms.  “We’re almost ready, girl,” she whispered to the black curly-haired Schnoodle.  Billy’s dog.  Billy’s shadow.  And for the last two years, all hers.

She cuddled Shadow now, then put her back down and hoisted the suitcase to the floor.  She scanned the room with a critical eye for personal items.  Tenants would be moving in the next day, tenants who understood that Billy’s room was off limits.  She quickly rechecked each dresser drawer as well as the master closet and found nothing–just as she’d expected after sending William’s clothes to Goodwill and hers to her parents’ place in Massachusetts. 

As she clasped the handle of the suitcase and stepped toward the door, her eyes fell once more on the bed.  King size for a tall man.  She felt the corner of her mouth lift.  Yeah...  She and William had indulged in some great adventures there.  She blinked quickly and hurried from the room, down the flight of stairs, Shadow at her heels.  When she stepped outside onto the front steps, she slammed the door behind her.

#

Bayside, Queens

Fifteen-year-old Danielle O’Connor pointed out the street sign to her two new friends.  “Jupiter Place,” she said.  “We’re here, and we’ve got a job to do.”

“At your old house,” said Raven, shading her eyes and peering down the long city block.

“That’s exactly right,” said Dani softly.

The sun shone brightly that day, and Dani needed to feel its warmth on her face.  She’d woven her hair into one long braid which hung down her back.  April in the city smelled clean, hinted of promise...a promise of something.  She didn’t know exactly what, but she liked the tang in the air.  Especially combined with the familiar rush of adrenalin coursing through her now in this place, on this street.

“Nice spreads and big ole oaks,” drawled Houston.  “A good hood.”

Dani glanced at the boy.  A kid from Maine with a craving for Texas....  “All the houses look alike,” she said, “and the oaks have been here forever, but your accent’s getting better, cowboy.  Keep practicing.  And keep your mind on what we’re doing.  Hear me?”

Maybe it was time to go off on her own again.  After two years on the streets, she’d learned that sometimes life was easier simply taking care of herself.  But sometimes she liked the company.  Last year, she’d returned to her old street by herself and had achieved great success.  She chuckled silently as she pictured the shambles she’d made of her father’s house. 

He’d deserved it and a lot more.  “An alcoholic.  A crazy cop,” the neighbors had called him.  “No wonder they threw him off the force.”  Dani had heard the whispers, had seen the empty bottles strewn around the house, had smelled the stuff.  And she’d worn purple bruises throughout her childhood.  Maybe if her mother had been alive...   She reached for the gold four-leaf-clover she wore around her neck and stroked it.

“We’re going to walk slowly down the block,” she continued to her friends.  “Just three kids killing time.  And when we get to his house, we make sure it’s empty before we go in.”  She paused and stared at Raven.  Dani didn’t know her real name and didn’t want to.  “Better take off the do-rag, Raven.  We don’t want attention.”

“You worry w-a-y too much, Irish.”  But the girl pulled her head gear off. 

Irish.  Dani’s name on the streets.  “I don’t worry, Raven.  I plan.”

She’d learned to plan ahead two years ago, when she matured, when her breasts began to grow, and her hips widened, and John O’Connor had done other things to her...made her do things....  She swallowed hard.  No matter how she’d cried and begged, and invoked her mother’s name, and held onto her gold charm...nothing helped.  Except...now she did what she could.  Revenge was really very sweet no matter what some people said.

She scanned both sides of the street.  Jupiter Place was quiet at two in the afternoon.  The younger kids were still in school; the older kids probably had other activities.  Like a track team.  Dani took a breath as different memories assailed her, then gazed down at the running shoes she wore.  They fit just right--not too snug, not too loose--exactly as her coach had taught her long ago, and that made her happy. 

She’d learned early not to waste efforts when she stole.  Take it right the first time.  Her next shopping trip would include jeans in a taller size.  She had grown a couple of inches, and her boobs had sort of flattened out, which was fine with her.  But her pants were too short.        

“The house we want is on the other side of the street, almost at the corner,” she said.  “Let’s just sort of meander.”

Raven rolled her eyes.  “I don’t care about the rag, but we don’t need no hundred dollar words around here, girl.  What’s me-and-her?”

“Easy, darlin’, easy,” said Houston.  “That’s just her way.  Makes her feel mighty fine to know those big words.”

“Makes her feel mighty high.  Higher up on us is what.”

Next time, Dani thought, she’d definitely come alone.  Having a pair of lookouts with attitude wasn’t worth the additional safety they brought. 

“How about,” she began, “I’ll get you something special when I go shopping again.  Maybe... earrings?”

Raven’s eyes shone as Dani knew they would.  The girl was easy to figure out.  And cheap pierced earrings were easy to lift.

Dani checked out all the cars parked along the curbs as they covered the length of the street until they were across from her former home.  She checked out the common driveway behind the attached row of brick houses.  John O’Connor’s car wasn’t anywhere.  She smiled at her companions. 

“He can’t afford a new one, so we’re okay.  I’m going in through the back.  Raven comes with me and will stand at the  door, and Houston...you keep a low profile out here in front.  I won’t be long."

She let herself in with her key, and stopped short in the kitchen.  Spotless.  No way would her father do women’s work.  A cleaning service?  She doubted it.  Moving silently through the room to the hallway, she climbed the stairs to the second floor, hoping to retrieve anything that belonged to her–clothing, books, anything at all-but paused outside the master bedroom when she detected the fragrance of perfume.  She peeked in.  Sure enough, on the dresser was a lady’s mirrored tray with girl stuff, like her mom once had.  Images of her mom’s worried face flashed through Dani’s mind as she stared into the neat room.  I feel sorry for you, lady.

She started to scan the rest of the room and immediately spotted the gun.  His gun.  The gun he’d bought after his retirement.  “Once a cop, always a cop,” he’d said.  The gun was now laying in a holster over the back of a chair.  So careless...so inviting.  Dani grabbed the gun belt and rushed back to the kitchen, took a paper napkin and lifted the weapon from its resting place.  She put it carefully into the freezer compartment of the fridge.  Then she lay the empty belt across the kitchen table.  Her calling card.  He’d go crazy when he saw the gun was missing.  How long would it take him until he searched the freezer?   She chuckled silently.  Oh, yes.  This was good.  Very, very good.

#

She found Dr. Mitchell’s house easily enough.  His mailbox stood in front of a soft yellow two-story structure set back from the road.  She turned into a wide circular driveway which also branched straight back to a three-stall garage.  Just as she was deciding where to park, a yellow Lab, weighing at least 60 pounds and barking with excitement, ran to the car.  Alison braked and turned to Shadow, who she’d let out of the traveling cage awhile ago.  Her dog riveted at attention. 

“I guess we’re in the right place, Shadow.  But you’re no match for that big girl.”

She shifted into park, took Shadow into her arms, and opened her door, ready to make friends with the family’s representative.  As Alison emerged, the Lab’s tail wagged hard enough to create a breeze.  Still holding Shadow, Alison scratched the Lab under her chin.  The dog immediately closed her eyes and tilted her head back.  Long mewling whines came from her throat.  She was singing.

Then Shadow, all seventeen pounds of her, jumped out of Alison’s arms, stood next to the Lab and whined along in two part harmony.  A dog chorus.  Unexpectedly, Alison began to chuckle. “No wonder I love dogs.  You guys are funny.”

“Then you’re in the right career,” said a soft voice.  “Hello and welcome.  I’m Ruth Mitchell.”

Alison looked up to see a trim woman and a big man, his right arm in a sling, walking toward her.  She focused on the woman’s brown eyes peering at her beneath wavy salt-and-pepper hair. 

“Happy to meet you,” Alison said, extending her hand.  It was taken gently.

“That pesky arthritis is softening my grip,” said Ruth. 

“I’ll remember that,”  Alison replied, now turning toward Ruth’s dark haired son whose left hand rested on the leather belt holding up his jeans.  “I’m Alison Truesdale,” she said.  “I guess I won’t shake your hand either.”

He nodded, a tight grin appearing, but then transferred his attention to the canines.  “A Schnoodle,huh?  Interesting choice for a vet.”

“Why’s that?  I’d say a Schnauzer-Poodle mix is an excellent choice for anyone.” 

But the vet wasn’t smiling, in fact, he seemed disturbed.

“So are you susceptible to dander and air born allergens?” he asked.  “Because if you are, you can get behind the wheel again tomorrow morning and go back where you came from.”

Relief mixed with annoyance.  His concerns were unfounded, but his rudeness was disappointing.   

She raised her chin and stared into his eyes.  “Do you think I’d have become a veterinarian if I were allergic to animals?” 

“I don’t know why women do anything,” he retorted.  “A Schnoodle is the perfect dog for someone with allergies.”

That someone had been William, but the barracuda here didn’t need to know that.  “Shadow is a perfect pet for anyone,” said Alison.   “I’m a licensed veterinarian, and you seem to need help.  If you don’t like working with women, you shouldn’t have hired me.”

Silence beat against her eardrums.  Had she actually used energy to fight back?  Had she cared that much?  The doc studied  her as if she were a strange specimen on a petri dish.  Only his mother smiled.  

One out of three.  Alison didn’t like the odds.  Suddenly, six months seemed like a very long time.    

#

The woman didn’t seem strong enough to carry her suitcase, let much less deliver a calf in trouble.  Bony elbows.  Small hands.  If she gained a few pounds, he’d call her, slender.  Eric Mitchell stood in the driveway trying to absorb his new reality.  He needed help.  Dr. Alison Truesdale had been right about that.  But he’d made a mistake.  He should have settled for a rotation of veterinary students from Cornell University, his alma mater.  They’d have wanted a chance to work hands-on in a real practice and earn a little money, too.  But they also needed to graduate.  No one student could give up a semester to work with Eric.  And he didn’t have time to train a new student every week or two.  Ergo, Dr. Alison Truesdale.  With her Schnoodle and her own matching head of dark wavy hair.

The thought made his lips twitch.  Dogs and their owners.    “I don’t care if you’re male, female or Martian, Dr. Truesdale.  I need an associate with the stamina for a large animal practice.”

He liked the way her gaze met his.  Open.  Unafraid.  Some of the old-time farmers in the tri-county area needed to be dealt with directly, just like that.  If they wanted to survive. 

“Time will tell, Dr. Mitchell.  Won’t it?” she replied. 

He was about to comment, when, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a small jean-clad whirlwind coming at him from the direction of the barn.

“Dad, Dad!  Rosie ate a whole pound of starter.  I think she really liked it....”  The boy stopped just short of crashing into him as soon as he noticed their visitor.

Eric put his good arm around his son.  Raising a calf was Joey’s first 4-H dairy project, and his enthusiasm rivaled Tiger Woods’ love of golf.  “Great work, son.  Gradually increase the starter, give plenty of water, and soon she’ll be weaned.” 

He urged Joey forward. 

Turned to introduce Alison Truesdale.

And saw trouble.