Read Online A Stranger's Touch by Roxy Boroughs - Free Book Online Page B

hope and despair jostled around in her stomach, causing a constant commotion that left her feeling as brittle as glass.
    A dog barked as she got out of the car. Closing the door, she turned in the direction of the booming sound. From across the gravel parking lot, a boxer approached them. The large, brindle-colored animal wore a collar, but no leash.
    Maggie looked around for the owner. She didn’t see anyone. Typical. The dog probably belonged to the storekeeper. Still, it was careless to leave it running around freely. The animal might be as docile as a rabbit, but it could still scare the crap out of someone.
    Apparently, it took more than a big boxer to alarm Stafford Webb. As he approached, the dog stopped barking, sat, and cocked its head to one side. Stafford murmured to the animal, words she couldn’t make out, then he crouched down and petted it.
    She approached slowly, hands clasped over her belly . “Are you in communication with this dog?”
    “I’m not Doctor Doolittle, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    A smart-ass psychic. Just what she needed.
    Taking Stafford along seemed like a good idea back in Calgary, when she’d allowed her desperation to overrule logic. But if he planned to use his feelings instead of his fancy-assed training to find Davie, then the man was no use to her.
    She’d check around town to see if she could rent a car and tell him to go back. She’d rely on her plain old police investigative skills from now on. But first, she’d flash her son’s picture in front of the store’s clerk.
    “Davie’s afraid of dogs.”
    Maggie felt as if she’d been sucker punched. She held out her arms to balance herself. “How did you know that?”
    “He was around a dog...when he was little...and the dog hurt him.” Stafford rested his right hand on his left forearm, then inched his fingers upward. “Here.”
    The ginger ale curdled in her stomach. Stafford indicated the exact spot Davie had been bitten. By Ron’s Rottweiler.
    Ron had the dog when they married. Maggie never liked the animal and had always been wary of it. Around Ron, the dog was a hundred and twenty pound puppy. When Ron was away, watch out.
    Davie had been playing near Shylow. When he reached to grab a block, the Rottie chomped down on his arm. Maggie told Ron to get rid of the dog and took Davie back to her father’s house until he complied. One of their first big fights.
    “How do you know? Did the dog tell you?”
    Stafford stood up and met her gaze. “He tried...but I don’t speak German.”
    Maggie blinked. Did he just make another joke? She sent him her best don’t-fuck-with-me glare.
    “Sorry,” he said, his mouth forming the trace of a smile. “I’m a dog lover. Seeing this one reminded me of an impression I got from the knapsack. I told you, it takes me a while to figure out how all the information I receive fits together.”
    He tilted his head, looking a bit like a playful puppy himself. “So, am I right?”
    She took a breath. Then another. “Most kids are afraid of big dogs.”
    She wasn’t sure why she didn’t admit the truth. But she was positive he didn’t buy her subterfuge. An eyebrow raised in her direction convinced her of it.
    “Let’s go in,” she said.
    She could hear his footsteps, feel his gaze following her. She climbed the two steps into the store and went inside.
    Behind the counter was an older man, probably in his late fifties. He was made up of circles—a round bald head, a round beer belly and two pudgy round arms. His skin was oily, like he hadn’t bothered to shower that day. Maybe that week.
    “How ya doin’?” the man asked, to the accompaniment of a soft tinkle as the bells attached to the door fluttered against the glass.
    “Not so good,” Maggie replied, trying to win the man’s confidence by taking on his speech patterns. When concern appeared in his eyes, she continued.
    “I’m looking for a seven-year-old boy.” As she put Davie’s photo on the counter,