Plain Jane by Fern Michaels

hooks.
    â€œOkay, okay, calm down,” Jane said as she hooked the leash to Olive’s collar. The crazy dog loved going for rides even more than she loved pig ears. On occasion Jane had tried to fool her and sneak out of the house without taking her, but Olive always knew and came running, dragging her leash behind her. It was like she had a sixth—She stopped herself from completing the thought. Dogs were “sensitive” to certain weather conditions, earthquakes, and their owners’ moods, but they did not have a sixth sense.
    With Olive at her side, Jane walked through the house, turning off the lights she’d turned on a little while earlier. “I know this isn’t going to make any sense to you, Ollie, but my gut tells me I need to do something about Mr. Ramsey. If that means getting personally involved, then so be it. My patient is my first concern. No, that’s not true,” she said, bending to pet Olive. “You’re my first concern.” Olive looked up at her expectantly. The excitement of going for a ride had made her forget her fear. Wouldn’t it be nice, Jane thought, if my patients could be cured of their fears so easily?
    Thirty minutes later, Jane pulled into a parking space a block away and around the corner from the Ramsey house. “I’m going snooping, Olive, and while I’m gone I want you to be a good girl.” She turned off the ignition. “I’ll leave the windows down for you, but you need to remember the rules, no jumping out like you did at the grocery store last year, no whining to get someone to come over to you, and no barking.” She put her right hand under the dog’s chin and looked her square in the eyes. “Yes, I know all your tricks. I’ll be back in ten minutes, and if you do anything bad, I’ll know it.”
    Jane closed the car door and shook a warning finger at Olive. Confident the dog would be good, she headed toward the Ramsey house. It was raining. Rain was good. People would go indoors if they were outside. She turned the corner and walked down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the Ramsey house to the next corner, then came back on the other side.
    Pale yellow light shone through the windows, but no outside lights were on. The streetlights were dim, two of them on the street burned-out. She was soaking wet by the time she tiptoed up the Ramseys’ driveway to the back of the house. Sucking in her breath, she waited to see if she had triggered any motion lights. Either Brian Ramsey conserved electricity, or he didn’t worry about unwanted visitors. Remembering there was no outside furniture, no outdoor grill, and no hoses to trip over, she found her way easily to the back windows.
    As before, the kitchen window gave her a clear view of the entire kitchen, a small hallway, and part of the dining room. Everything was as clean, as tidy, and just as bare as it had been the last time she’d been there. The only difference was that the light over the stove was on, giving an orangey, yellowish glow to the kitchen. She left the kitchen window and moved quickly and quietly, her heart hammering in her chest, to the far side of the house to peer into what she thought was the master-bedroom window. A night-light above the baseboard allowed her to see that the bed was unmade and empty. She continued around to the front of the house, hoping to see someone, something, anything!
    Rain dripped down inside the collar of her jacket as Jane stealthily crept up to the narrow stoop to peer into the living-room window. Shivering, she hugged her arms to her chest. A quick glance up and down the street told her no one was in sight. Off in the distance she heard Olive bark. An answering response came from the opposite end of the street.
    Jane inched upward to look in the window. Brian Ramsey was sitting in a hunter green leather recliner, a bottle of beer in his hand and a package of cigarettes in the breast