Forever Home Page 7

  “You provided rent rolls for each of the tenants for the past ten years, and they seem rather soft. Do you have any comparables for similar properties nearby?”

  Izzy unzipped her portfolio and dug through her papers. She pulled a stapled packet of four pages out. “Here’s a list of current comps and what I think you can get at the property. I think you’re right; the rents are soft. There’s room for a new owner to increase the profits.” Her conscience twinged at that. Brad didn’t have room in his budget for a rent hike. But she only spoke the truth. He wasn’t paying market rate, and pretty soon he’d have to. It wasn’t her fault if he wasn’t prepared.

  Lifting a pair of glasses from the chain around her neck, Mrs. Gianapolis perched them on the end of her nose and scanned the documents. “And why are the rents below what the neighbors are getting? Is there something structurally wrong with the properties?”

  “No, the buildings are twenty-eight years old and showing a bit of wear and tear, but nothing of consequence.” Izzy bobbed her foot up and down. “The owner admits he hasn’t been as aggressive about keeping rents raised to match inflation as he should have been. And he didn’t have a management company to advise him.”

  “I see.” She flipped a page. “Are there any pictures of the property available?”

  “Not until the owner decides to sell.” The pictures Izzy had taken were in the marketing material she’d prepare when, or if, Burker finally decided to list the lots. But the shots would put anyone the least bit familiar with the area on notice of which property was under discussion. “When I get a letter of intent from an interested buyer with a number my client finds agreeable, and he decides to sell, then we can proceed with a tour of the property.”

  “Hmm.” Settling deeper into her chair, Mrs. Gianapolis ran her finger down the margin of the paper. “I don’t like all this secrecy. Whoever the owner is, this seems like a silly way to do business.”

  “He’s worried about losing his tenants if they think he’s going to sell. Surely a prospective new owner can appreciate his caution.”

  “Can’t say that I do.” Mrs. Gianapolis tipped her head, a dark curl brushing her shoulder. “The way I see it, you rent a property for a fair rate, provide decent accommodations, and renters will come. No need for secrecy.”

  Izzy agreed. And she’d tried to bring Bob around to her way of thinking. Many, many times. But the streak of paranoia running though his bones flowed deep. When he wasn’t worrying about the government confiscating his property, he was nattering on about his tenants abandoning ship and leaving him with empty buildings, thereby devaluing the investment properties. Izzy had to work with what she had. And what she had was a pain-in-the-ass client with some sweet lots that could earn her an even sweeter commission. So she played the hand she was dealt.

  “The property specifics are all laid out in the proposal. You are getting the full picture even without the photos.” Izzy bobbed her foot, noticed what she was doing, and stilled. “And that picture is two blocks of prime investment property.”

  “Hmm.” Mrs. Gianapolis didn’t look convinced. “Any Superfund sites or environmental factors that require remediation?”

  “No, and I would have included that in the proposal.” The back of Izzy’s neck tensed. She’d never done business with Mrs. Gianapolis before, so the woman had no way of knowing that Izzy was a straight shooter. But still, the small insult burrowed under her skin.

  “That’s good.” Mrs. Gianapolis laid the papers down on her desk, and looked at Izzy. Unblinking.

  Izzy shifted her weight. “Are you interested in keeping the property as retail sites?”

  “Heavens no.” She shook her head. “The money is drying up in strip malls. Industrial space is what I’m looking for.”

  Izzy’s heart sank. That would be a kick in the gut for all those tenants. One in particular. She set her shoulders. Not her concern. “Based on what you know, what price—”

  Her phone rang, the wind chimes tone not sounding soothing at all under the irritated gaze of Mrs. Gianapolis.

  She pulled it out to silence it. “As I said, we want…” The number of Ana’s soccer coach was on the display, and Izzy’s stomach rolled. There were a lot of ways a little girl could get hurt at practice. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Without waiting for a response, she slipped into the hall and answered.

  “Mr. Gallagher, is something wrong? Is Ana hurt?”

  “I don’t know if she’s hurt. She never showed up for practice.”

  “What?” Izzy checked her watch. Ana should have gotten out of school forty-five minutes ago. The soccer field was only three blocks away, and Ana made that walk two times a week, every Tuesday and Thursday, for her practices after school. It wasn’t a walk she could get lost on. The rolling in her stomach turned to pitching waves.

  “I’ve already called the school,” Mr. Gallagher said. “She was there for her last class.”

  “Okay.” Izzy pinched her forehead between her thumb and her fingers, felt blood pounding beneath her temples. “Okay. Let me know if she shows up. I’ll go look for her.”

  “Will do. And keep me informed on your end.”

  Izzy shoved the phone in her pocket and hurried into the office. She gathered up her portfolio and purse. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. We’ll have to reschedule if you have more questions.”

  “But I have questions now.” The woman stood and rested her hands on her hips. “This is quite unprofessional of you.”

  “I know, but it can’t be helped. I’ll call you to set up another time.” She spun and hurried for the door.

  “Mrs. Lopez, if you want this sale I’d advise you not…”

  But Izzy was already gone. She ran for her car, throwing her purse and portfolio into the passenger seat and pulling out of her spot, tires squealing.

  Ana had probably forgotten she had practice and taken the bus home. She’d never forgotten before, but there was a first time for everything, right?

  The wireless connection of her SUV finally synced up with her phone, and she called home. No answer. She called again. Nothing. She called her neighbors. They hadn’t seen Ana. She went through a list of Ana’s friends. None of those parents had seen her daughter. By the time she hit her driveway, Izzy was so tense she had a hard time uncurling her body to get out of the car. Why hadn’t she bought her daughter a cell phone? In her quest not to spoil Ana, she had traded away her daughter’s safety. A quick call would have cleared this up. And the GPS locator in the phone, a tracking device on her kid that twenty minutes ago she would have found creepy, now seemed like the most sensible of solutions.

  She flung open the front door. “Ana!” No backpack in the entrance hall for her to trip over. No sound of the TV from the living room. “Ana!” She raced upstairs to her daughter’s bedroom. Empty.

  Her body began to shake. She took a deep breath. Another. Ana was going to be fine. Izzy would get back in her car and drive every street between her school and home. She tripped on a stair, and only her tight grip on the banister kept her from tumbling down. She reached the bottom in one piece and stalked to the front door, pulling her keys out of the doorknob. Izzy got back in her car and planned the grid pattern that she’d drive to search the streets for her daughter. Forcing calm, she started the ignition and backed out of the driveway. And made one more call. To the police.

  * * * *

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

  Brad closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Patience, he told himself. Pretend Dax was just a big dog who needed a lot of training. Nothing to get irritated over.

  Looking back at his computer, Brad moved the box on the screen and the text turned bright pink. “What the hell?”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t look good.” Dax, their new volunteer, or slave labor, as the guy had cheerfully told him and Gabe when he’d reported in for
his community service hours, leaned over his shoulder and smacked his gum.

  “Do you mind?” Brad gritted out. He changed the text back to white and moved to save the changes to the Forever Friends website.

  “Dude, if you hit save, that announcement is going to show up on all your pages, not just the events page.”

  A pulse pounded behind his eye. “I’ve only added it to this page, so it will only show up on this page.” Brad had set a date for the award banquet, called the local papers to run an announcement, and was now updating his website. It should have been easy. But the damn page had frozen twice, deleting his updates before he’d saved. Gabe had taken off after Dax’s tenth “dude,’” leaving Brad to answer the phones or else risk Dax scaring any potential dog adopters away with his utter lack of knowledge. And all the dogs had chosen today to throw attitude with nonstop barking that was driving him out of his ever-lovin’ mind.

  Once he hit Save, at least one more chore would be done. One Save and Publish click later, and he sat back in his chair, satisfied. “There.”

  Dax leaned around his shoulder and commandeered the mouse. He went to the Forever Friends website, and the damn announcement was on the front page, a random block of text hovering over a testimonial. Dax clicked on the About Us tab and Contact tab, and that damn block of text was on every one of them. “See?”

  Brad’s jaw ached. “Do you have anything useful to contribute besides telling me what I’m doing wrong? Like how to get this friggin’ thing to work?”

  “Nope. Computers aren’t my jam. I know just enough to be dangerous.”

  “What is your jam?” Brad asked, making finger quotes around the last word. “Besides scaling courthouse walls. You an adrenaline junkie?”

  Judge Nichols had told Brad what Dax had been arrested for when he’d hand-delivered him to the shelter. The ass had free-climbed the two-story brick courthouse carrying a flag and a roll of duct tape.

  “Anywhere in the outdoors, and anything that can take me there.” Dax clicked to another page. “And I didn’t climb the courthouse for a thrill.” A smile split his face. “Although it was fun. I did it on a dare. A buddy bet me I couldn’t plant a flag at the top like George Cass did in 1873.”

  Brad gave him a look from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think our former mayor planted a pirate flag on the courthouse.”

  “It was National Talk Like a Pirate Day.” He shrugged and peered at the computer screen. “I think your whole site is screwed.”

  Brad snatched his mouse back, and the computer chose that moment to freeze. Again. “Goddammit!”

  “You shouldn’t swear,” a cheerful, high-pitched voice said from the doorway. “The puppies might hear you.”

  Brad’s head snapped up. “Ana?” He stood and knocked Dax aside. Striding to the girl, he leaned over her and peered down the hall. “Where’s your mom?”

  She shrugged, and kept her shoulders up by her ears for a full five seconds. “Work, probably. I came to see the puppies.”

  Brad ruffled her hair. “You did, did you? How’d you get here?”

  “Walked.”

  “You must really want to see those dogs.” Brad stretched, hearing his back crack in a couple of different spots. Perhaps what he needed was some playtime with puppies, too. He looked back at Dax. “You seem to know what you’re doing with the website. Fix it, will you?” Without waiting for a response, he herded the girl through the exam room and into the kennels. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having a court-appointed lackey. If he and Gabe didn’t kill the guy, they could have some fun with it.

  “It’s about time for the dogs to have their afternoon snack.” Brad pulled a treat bucket off the wall. “You want to help me?”

  “Yeah.” Ana scooped a handful of biscuits out and cradled them to her belly. The dogs descended en masse, and she shrieked.

  Sliding the handle of the bucket over his arm, Brad leaned down and put his arm around the girl. The dogs swarmed about his legs, yapping and pushing for a prime position. “Start tossing the biscuits out. Try to make sure each dog gets one.”

  Stephanie, the yellow lab, got the first three cookies. Ana pointed her finger. “She’s sneaky.”

  “Stephanie likes her cookies, that’s for sure.” Brad gently brushed the dog aside with his legs. “But we’ve got lots of treats, so keep doling them out.” They walked around the kennels, a trail of dogs following them as if they were the pied piper. Ana made sure each dog got a treat, even the one in the cage, breaking the biscuit in two and shoving the ends through the chain-link.

  “Why’s he the only one locked up?” she asked.

  “That’s Max Payne. He’s on a time-out.” The three-year-old husky had been found in a culvert with cigarette burns on half his body. He snapped at the other dogs, snarled at humans, but Gabe was working on that. If anyone could bring out a dog’s sweet side, it was Gabe.

  “Is your mom going to come pick you up?” His spirits lifted at the thought.

  Ana bent to give Stephanie a hug. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”

  Uh-oh. Izzy didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d take kindly to her daughter not being where she was supposed to be. Even though he had probably six inches on Izzy, if she went into mama grizzly mode, he’d be a little nervous.

  “Dax! Could you come here, please.”

  Dax poked his auburn head through the top half of the Dutch door. “You paged me?”

  “Can you play with the dogs and Ana for a minute while I make a call?”

  “Sweet. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m losing money not working, this gig wouldn’t be half bad.” He swung open the bottom part of the door. “Hey, Ana. I’m Dax. S’up?” He jerked his chin and held up a hand for a high five.

  She giggled and slapped his palm. “Hey. I came to visit the puppies my mom saved.”

  “They’re napping in their basket.” Brad pointed to the corner where Vi and her babies rested. “They need lots of sleep, so play gently with them.”

  Ana nodded and headed off to the corner. She dropped to her knees and carefully lifted the black-and-white pup into her arms.

  Brad walked through the exam room, across the hall, and into his office. He tried to imprint that sweet look on Ana’s face into his memory. He had a feeling that Izzy’s expression when she came to collect her errant daughter wouldn’t be so cute.

  He dialed her cell phone. After four rings, her harried voice came on the line. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Izzy. It’s Brad. I—”

  “I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back.” She disconnected, and Brad pursed his lips.

  He redialed.

  “Look,” she said when she picked up. “Now is not a good—”

  “Ana’s here.”

  Brakes squealed, and he heard honking. Izzy cursed. “Hold on a sec.” A few moments passed. “Okay, I pulled over. Repeat that? Ana is there with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “At the shelter?”

  “Yep.”

  “And she’s all right?” Her voice wavered, and it finally dawned on Brad that she’d thought her daughter was missing.

  “She’s fine,” he said, his voice going gentle. “Are you okay?”

  Several juddering breaths came over the line before evening out. “I’m fine. Her soccer coach called, said she hadn’t shown up…”

  “I was going to ask you to take it easy on her for walking over here, but I didn’t think how she might have scared you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Now I’m rethinking my position. Maybe she deserves a little punishment.”

  “Have no worries on that account,” Izzy said grimly. “A punishment will be forthcoming. I’ll be there in ten.”

  She made it in eight. Izzy’s body was as rigid as rebar, her lips a white slash as she clicked down the hall to where he stood at the door t
o the exam room. “I’m sorry about this.” A muscle twitched in her jaw. “I’ll make sure it never happens again.”

  He rested his hands on her shoulders, gave her a squeeze. “It’s okay, Izzy. She’s safe.”

  She nodded, blinking rapidly.

  Folding her into his arms, he held her close and rubbed her back. She stood stiff, not bending an inch until he repeated in her ear, “She’s safe.”

  A hushed whimper escaped her lips, and finally, finally she sank against his body. She clutched the T-shirt at his sides and rested her forehead against his chest. “You don’t want to know all the horrible scenarios that were running through my head.”

  “I can imagine.” The tri-cities were low-crime areas, but still. The world could be one screwed-up place. Having a child must mean constant worry.

  Izzy stepped back and smoothed her hands over the cotton covering his chest before dropping them to her sides. The motion wasn’t meant as anything more than a simple thank you, an acknowledgment that she was once again the steady, put-together Izzy he knew and that his small act of comfort had helped get her there. But it meant more to Brad. It was the first contact that she’d initiated. The first sign that maybe he was making a dent in her armor.

  “Well, where is my little flight risk?” she asked. “In with the dogs?”

  He nodded.

  Pivoting on her heel, she strode through the exam room. That flicker of softness in her face was gone, replaced by a look a drill sergeant would be proud of. Little Ana was in for a serious reckoning.

  He followed her into the kennels, closing the bottom half of the door behind him. Vi had her head in the girl’s lap, and Dax was sitting next to them, a puppy in each hand. Ana looked up at them, delighted. “Look, Mom! She’s eating from my hand.”

  “Ana Noemi Lopez.” Izzy fisted her hands on her hips. “What the devil do you think you were doing by skipping soccer practice and coming here?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you know how much trouble you’re in? All the trouble you’ve caused?”