Don't Close Your Eyes by Carlene Thompson Page A

clearly annoyed by Ted’s chattiness. “Get back to headquarters as soon as possible and don’t talk to any reporters. I’ll prepare a statement for later.”
    Ted’s eyes flicked with resentment before he marched back to the patrol car. The sheriff had been a bit sharp with him, but Ted’s nonstop talking would fray anyone’s nerves.
    “All right, Dr. St. John,” Meredith said. “Let’s get going. You don’t look so good.”
    Natalie took a couple of steps toward the sheriff’s car, then looked back at the dog. It lay on the grass, its amber gaze fastened on her. She hesitated for a moment, then tapped her thigh. “Come on, girl.” The dog immediately ran to her.
    Meredith stopped. “I thought that wasn’t your dog.”
    “It isn’t, but it’s hungry and in need of medical attention.”
    “It’s also not too clean.”
    “Are you saying you won’t let it in your car? Because if so, I can call my father.” Natalie was afraid he’d tell her to do so. “Dad is at the hospital now—he has a patient in critical condition—but I guess I can wait out here for him.”
    Meredith sighed, and she thought he half-suspected she was lying. “Okay, both of you get in. I can’t just leave you here.”
    Thank goodness, Natalie thought. Meredith opened the rear car door. The dog hesitated. Natalie slid in and patted the vinyl seat. The dog hopped up beside her.
    After Natalie told him her address, they drove in silence
     
    for a few minutes. Finally Meredith said, “You going to put an ad in the paper for that dog?”
    “Maybe.”
    “You don’t sound too anxious to find its home.”
    “I have a feeling it was dumped. Lost dogs usually have a collar and tags.”
    “And you’d like to keep it.” Natalie looked in the rearview mirror and saw him smiling. He held his head low, tilted, and looked up at her with those incredibly blue eyes. “You remind me of my daughter.”
    “How old is she?”
    “Eleven. Her name is Paige. She wants to take in every stray she sees.”
    “So did I. Bunnies, baby robins, you name it. Does Paige have any pets?”
    “A male cat. Ripley. Last year an elderly woman’s house was burglarized. She was afraid to live alone afterward. Went to stay with her daughter who wouldn’t accept the cat.”
    “So you took him in for your daughter.” Natalie thawed toward him a fraction. “That was nice of you.”
    “The kid was driving me nuts begging for a pet.” Even though he referred to his daughter as “the kid,” his voice was warm with affection. “So you’re a vet. Where do you practice?”
    “A big clinic in Columbus called Anicare.” To which I might never return because it means working with Kenny, Natalie thought. “There are ten veterinarians on staff and we only take referrals for difficult cases. I’ve lived in Columbus for twelve years.”
    “But you grew up in Port Ariel.”
    “Yes.”
    “Come back often to visit?”
    “Twice a year.”
    “And you were friends with Tamara Hunt.”
    “She and Lily are twins. I’ve known them since I started first grade. We also shared an apartment in Columbus when we attended Ohio State.”
     
    “And you’ve stayed in close touch with Lily and Tamara since then?”
    “Yes. They’ve both visited me in Columbus. I talk on the phone with Lily every couple of weeks. Tamara about once a month.”
    “So you know Mrs. Hunt’s husband. What’s your impression of him?”
    Natalie hesitated. She thought Warren Hunt was a pompous bag of hot air, but her opinion was largely a matter of instinct. “I attended their wedding and I’ve been around him maybe five or six times since then. I wouldn’t say I know him.” She ran a hand over the dog’s head. “Is Warren under suspicion, Sheriff Meredith?”
    “Nick,” he said absently. “And it was just an idle question.”
    Natalie doubted this. He was making friendly conversation—even telling her to call him Nick—because he wanted to put her off guard. But how could he