Page 9 of Vetted for Vengeance
“Why do you think I can save the dogs?”
“You broke into an illegal puppy farm and knocked out the owners and staff. You brought us all here. So either you hate puppy farms, or the Brothers Grimm owe someone money and you're some kind of incentive.”
“Money. I was after the money.”
“Which you would have got after hunting the house. We sold ten pups last week, all cash, and it's still in the safe. You got that, right?”
He wasn't there for the money. That was clear the minute he told me he'd put Honey back to bed. Well, his motives were clear the moment he opened his mouth, but that's best left as my secret for now. I know exactly who he is.
“You're really more worried about the dogs than yourself?”
“You really find that hard to believe?” I huff. “I thought you cared, too.”
“I do not.” His words are sharp and blunt, not the tone I’m used to hearing from him.
I take a sharp breath, fuming at his words, at my captivity, at the fact that no one is there to feed the dogs. “Honey could be in labor. She could be having her puppies all alone. No one checking. No one there to help her.”
“So, what do I care?”
“You’re a monster.”
“You're dehydrated.” That is probably true, but nowhere near the point.
“You're all false kindness, pretending you care about people and animals. But it's all fake, isn't it? Just acting up for the camera, because deep down, you only care about the money. Just like everyone else.”
Silence fills the room. He doesn't reply.
“Oh.” I just played my trump card because I got frustrated. I revealed I know who he is, now he has no choice but to kill me.
The calm voice. The careful questions. The clinical way he talks about everything.
I’ve watched him on television dozens of times while cleaning kennels and bottle-feeding puppies. I listen to his podcast every night while I try to sleep.
Dr Rhys Calder.
The vet who saves animals.
And apparently, he kidnaps people too.
“Oh god.” Stupid me. Only open my mouth to put my foot in, as my father always used to say.
I back away from… the wall in front of me. When my back hits the other wall, my body gives up before my mind catches up. My knees buckle and I sit, hunched in a ball, as if I can make myself smaller. Harder to notice. Harder to end.
Chapter seven
Rhys
My mysterious man is even more intriguing now that he is awake. And somehow, he knows who I am. Not that he said directly, but it was definitely implied. He knows I work with animals and that I'm on TV. That complicates things; or improves them. I’m not yet sure which.
The only way to know for sure is to enter the room and show him my face.
I pick up his phone once again. My ghost of a man has no one of consequence in his phone book. No social life. No late-night calls, no endless message chains, no family contacts filling the screen.
Just practical numbers. No favorites. No friends. No family. Just function.
Doctors. Vets. Emergency services.
All things that suggest he lives near the puppy farm, but no real interactions with the area.
