Kaleidoscope Eyes Read online

  “It’s not—?”

  Suddenly she heard what sounded like a scuffle, and then Killian was on the line.

  “Annie?”

  “Killian.”

  At her flat tone, he snorted. “Well, don’t you sound cheery?”

  Annie massaged her temples. “What do you want, Killian?”

  “And so polite too.”

  She scowled. He was right to sound miffed. She was being a twit. “I’m sorry, Killie. I was asleep when Ryan called.”

  “Asleep? This time of day? Shouldn’t you be working on the window?”

  Shouldn’t you two find something other than my window to fixate on? Annie trudged into the kitchen, pulled a glass from the cupboard, and turned on the faucet. “Yes, I should. But as I just told Ryan, it’s not coming.”

  “Not coming? What do you mean ‘not coming’?”

  Two gulps of cold water didn’t make her feel any better. “The window. The scene. The wonderful, creative way of making people see God in a new light!” She plunked the glass down on the counter. “It’s just … not there, Killie. I’m as short on ideas as I am on time.”

  If she’d hoped for encouragement, she was in for a disappointment. “Annot Christine, get over yourself!”

  Annie held the phone away from her ear, staring at it, then pulled it back in place. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Yes, your art is inspiration. But it’s also just plain work. And that’s what you haven’t been doing lately. Working. You’ve been running around, messing with training for these searches and whatnot, and letting yourself be distracted from what really matters. Your art.”

  “Killian … ”

  “You saw how people reacted at your showing. They love your work, woman. But they won’t wait for you forever. You’ve got a window of opportunity here, and you need to grab it with both hands.”

  Annie leaned against the counter. Her head was pounding. “But no pressure, right?”

  “Pressure? Of course there’s pressure! What did you expect, that your calling would be easy?”

  No. She hadn’t expected that.

  She just hadn’t expected it to be quite this hard.

  “Listen, I’m sorry, Annie. I don’t want to nag you—”

  Too late.

  “—but you’ve got to get it together, my friend.”

  He was right. Yet again. But she just wasn’t in the mood to admit that. “Killian?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Good-bye. And get to work.”

  Annie thumped the phone on the counter, then glared down at Kodi. “Get to work. Did you hear that? Get to work.”

  Kodi’s head wagged to and fro. “Arrowww!”

  “That’s right. Get to work, he says. Well, I’ll show him! You know what I’m going to do?” Annie stomped to the front door and pulled it open.

  Kodi stared at her for a moment, then walked through the door, padding outside and heading toward the studio. As she watched the dog, Annie felt her anger melt away Laughing, she went out too, pulling the door shut behind her.

  “What else?” She followed Kodi to the studio. “I’m getting to work.”

  Mission accomplished.

  Jed couldn’t hold back a grin as he exited the post office into the bright sunlight. Okay. So he was being smug. And with good reason.

  Genius. That’s what he was.

  Pure genius.

  Sure, the flowers and chocolates had cost him a small fortune. But unless he’d seriously miscalculated—which he seriously doubted—they’d worked their magic. Miss Ice Maiden’s edges ought to be thawing by now. When this last delivery hit her door, well, good ol’ Will said it best: “If you want to win anything—a race, your self, your life—you have to go a little berserk.”

  And so he had. But it was worth it because the payoff would be getting what he wanted.

  Annie Justice and her dog. On his show.

  Needless to say, Jed was staying close to his cell phone. This was one call he was not going to miss.

  FIFTEEN

  “What a man really wants is creative challenge …

  so that he may have the expanding joy of achievement”

  FAY B. NASH

  “If we are out of our mind, it is for the sake of God.”

  2 CORINTHIANS 5:13, NIV

  SEPTEMBER 28—A CATTAIL DAY (GREEN AND AUBURN)

  It was no use.

  No matter how many sketches she did, how many ideas sparked, they all fizzled. Annie couldn’t count the number of times she’d filled her trash can with crumpled pieces of paper.

  This window was going to be the death of her. Either that, or the death of her career.

  She glanced at the clock. The mail should have arrived by now, and she could use a break. She stood, calling to Kodi. The dog bounded toward her, delighted with the chance to go for a walk, even if it was just to the mailbox.

  They walked down Annie’s long driveway, and she put Kodi in a sit-stay as she opened the gate and went to the box. She sorted the pile of mail as she walked back, closing the gate behind her and giving Kodi a release command.

  “Junk mail, bill, bill, junk mail … ”

  Wait a minute. What was this?

  Annie lifted the envelope. Looked like a card of some sort. But there was no return address.

  And no postmark.

  Tucking the rest of the mail under one arm, Annie opened the envelope. Hmm. No card, just a folded piece of white paper. She pulled it out and unfolded it.

  She recognized the print right away. The message hit her a second later.

  THE DOG WILL DIE. AND ITZ

  UR FAULT.

  Annie dropped the paper and stepped back from it like it was a snake about to strike. Kodi dropped her head to sniff at the paper, and Annie grabbed the animal’s collar, jerking her back. “Kodi, no!”

  The dog yelped like she’d been mortally wounded—her typical drama queen reaction to discipline. Annie fell to her knees and threw her arms around the animal, hugging her close. “I’m sorry, girl.”

  Annie’s voice was as shaky as the rest of her.

  How had this person found her address? Her phone number was unlisted. Her address wasn’t published anywhere that she knew of. Not even on the Internet.

  The awareness that someone who wanted to hurt Kodi knew where she lived was almost more than Annie could take. She surged to her feet. “Come on, Kodi. Let’s go call your uncle Dan.”

  She’d only gone a few feet when she heard the driveway buzzer go off. Spinning, she stared at the gate, ready to take on whatever threat awaited her or Kodi.

  The UPS man stood there, eyes wide.

  Annie blinked, then looked down at her watch. Ten-thirty, on the dot. Just like the last two days. Chin set, Annie marched to the gate. Kodi obviously sensed Annie’s growing anger, because she padded right next to Annie, practically Velcroed to Annie’s leg.

  Annie didn’t even try to stop the dog as she jerked the gate open and grabbed the two large envelopes and three yellow roses from the deliveryman. “Who sent these things?”

  If the poor guy’s eyes were wide a moment ago, they were huge now. “I don’t know. I just deliver them.”

  “Can you track them?”

  His nod was quick and jerky. He looked like a rabbit on speed. “Yeah. Sure. All you gotta do is go on-line and type in these numbers.” He held his pen out to her. “Sign here, please.”

  Annie stared at him for a minute, then took the pen and scribbled her name.

  The man kept his gaze fixed on Kodi as he slipped his pen back in his pocket. “That’s a good-sized dog.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  He shifted, clearly nervous. “I’m, uh … I’m supposed to tell you to open the blue envelope first, then the red one.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  The man beat a hasty retreat to his truck, and Annie carried the envelopes inside. She slammed them down the kitchen island.


  Enough really was enough.

  Blue one first, eh?

  Not on your life.

  Grabbing a steak knife from the silverware drawer, she picked up the red envelope and slit it open, spilling its contents on the island. A parchment document and three photos fluttered out. Trepidation tripping along her nerves, Annie picked up one of the photos.

  A black and tan German shepherd looked out at her, the name “Gonzo” written across the bottom of the photo. The other two photos were of shepherds as well—“Raven,” who was mostly black like Kodi, and “Dove,” who was all white.

  Annie laid the three photos side by side on the island and thought her heart would break. All three dogs had that shepherd grin on their fuzzy faces, but there was something in their eyes … something deep and compelling. Something timeworn and trial tested, but trusting in spite of it all.

  Annie picked up the document that came with the photos. “THANK YOU!” was emblazoned across the top of the paper. Thank you? For what?

  Frowning, Annie read on.

  A donation has been made in your name to the LA German Shepherd Rescue Foundation. Thanks to your generosity, three beautiful German shepherds who were rescued from shelters the day before being euthanized will be supplied with food and shelter for an entire year! Gonzo is a handsome three-year-old boy who was once abused and neglected but now is with us, waiting to find a new home with a family who will love him. Raven and Dove were rescued from a puppy mill. Though they were neglected and mistreated, their spirits remain strong and they lavish love on all they meet. And because of you, all three will know a year of security and care.

  Tears washed Annie’s frown away.

  Okay, no way this envelope came from the same person who’d been sending her the gifts. Everything about it was different. She touched the three photos, then looked down at Kodi, who sat beside her. Dropping down to a crouch, Annie circled Kodi’s strong neck and hugged. Kodi leaned in to her, as though consoling her mistress’s jumbled emotions.

  Annie pressed her face against Kodi’s fur. How could anyone hurt such beautiful, tenderhearted animals? She would never understand that.

  Not in a million years.

  Kodi whined, and Annie let her go with a shaky laugh. “Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to blubber all over you.”

  She stood and picked up the document again, turning it over. There, on the back, was a Post-it note.

  Okay; now that you’ve opened the second envelope first, please open the first one second.

  Annie stared. Read the note again. Then stamped her foot. Kodi jumped and barked, scolding her.

  “Well, I’m sorry! But this is driving me nuts. Who is sending this stuff?”

  And how did that person know her so well?

  Grabbing the blue envelope, Annie slit it open. Inside was a folded envelope and a DVD. A note card-size envelope was taped on the DVD case. Annie pulled the envelope free and opened it. The enclosed ivory note card was elegant in its simplicity.

  The writing inside was bold and masculine.

  Miss Justice, the flowers and candy were an apology for bothering you. Sponsoring the dogs is to honor you and Kodi for all you do for others. No strings attached. I promise. But I’d really like you to see what we’re about. Please watch the tape. If you still don’t want to do the show; just mail it back to me in the enclosed postage-paid envelope, and I’ll leave you alone. But I’m hoping you’ll reconsider.

  —E J Curry

  Director, Everyday Heroes

  Ordinary People with Extraordinary Spirit

  Changing the World

  Annie looked from the note to the DVD to the pictures of the dogs then back to the DVD. She glanced down at Kodi, who cocked her head. The message was clear.

  Why not?

  “Okay fine.” She picked up the DVD and took it to the living room. “Ill watch it.”

  Kodi came to settle at her feet while Annie started the show. The first episode was about a police officer, and by the middle of the show, Annie had to admit she was drawn in. There was something so noble in the officer … and in the way the voice narrating handled everything. The narrator’s insights were both moving and challenging. When the episode was over, Annie actually felt … good. Then another episode began—this one about firefighters. It didn’t take long to be enchanted by the men working together in such a hazardous environment. One man even talked openly and honestly about his faith.

  Later in the episode, when the firefighters went running toward the window of a burning building where a child was trapped, Annie could hardly breathe.

  She perched on the edge of her chair, hands clutched together as she watched and prayed. Of course, she knew the show was taped, not live, but she couldn’t help it. She was so afraid something was going to—

  The explosion hit her with an impact that was almost physical. She stared at the screen, tears streaming down her face. As the camera panned the destruction then went dark, the narrator’s voice came on again.

  “A good man died that day. A man who lived his life to serve others and a God he believed in. A lot of us are struggling right now, wondering how that God could let a man like this die so needlessly But we can know this much: Ken Hall lived a life worth honoring. As do his brothers at the station. These men put everything on the line for us. For you. For me. And though they never ask for thanks, that’s what we’re giving them tonight. So thanks, guys.”

  “And thanks, Ken. Rest well. You deserve it.”

  The screen went dead, and the only sound in the room was Annie’s blubbering. She blew her nose and pushed out of her chair, retrieving the DVD from the player. This E J was right—the show was good. And uplifting. And she could see why they wanted to feature someone like her and Kodi.

  But …

  A show like this wasn’t just about honoring people who put themselves on the line for others. It was about ratings as much as about doing good. And when that kind of agenda was present, things could get complicated.

  She had Serafina’s window to work on. She needed to focus to do that. Besides, what if these TV people came and there wasn’t a callout? How exciting would that be? “Okay, folks, here we have a K-9 search and rescue dog sleeping in the house … in the yard … in the art studio … Wait! Watch for it! Yes … she’s rolling over!”

  What was she supposed to do? Sit around hoping someone got lost? No—no way. And having strangers underfoot wouldn’t exactly be conducive to creativity. Nuh-uh. No thanks.

  She looked down at her snoring dog, then took the DVD back to the kitchen, put it in its case, and slipped it into the envelope. She pulled a sheet of stationery from her desk and wrote her reply: “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Annie Justice”

  She set the envelope on the island, where she’d see it and remember to get it in the morning mail.

  And though Mr. E J Curry might be disappointed, he’d just have to accept one immutable fact: She and Kodi were not star material.

  That decided, Annie reached for the phone. Time to do what she should have done a half hour ago instead of watching that tape.

  Call her brother and turn the threatening note over to him. Then pray he caught the creep. Before any other surprises found her.

  SIXTEEN

  “It’s the constant and determined effort

  that breaks down all resistance,

  sweeps away all obstacles.”

  CLAUDE M. BRISTOL

  “I will give them singleness of heart.”

  EZEKIEL 11:19

  SEPTEMBER 30

  Jed usually liked surprises.

  Usually.

  But this surprise was far from pleasant.

  His cell phone hadn’t rung. And he didn’t understand it. He’d been so sure Annie Justice would call when she received the envelopes.

  How could she not call? His plan had been perfect!

  He eyed his cell phone.

  He’d checked the battery. Fully charged.

  Signal? All bars present
and accounted for.

  The ringer was on. The volume was cranked. There was only one reason it sat there, silent as a tomb.

  She wasn’t going to call. He should have accepted that after the first twenty-four hours. But he’d kept telling himself she just needed time.

  “Hey, you got a package.”

  Jed turned just in time to catch the envelope Andy tossed his way He could tell by feel that it was a DVD. Frowning, he turned it over and read the postmark.

  His frowned shifted into a scowl. So much for his so-called genius. Man! He’d pulled out all the stops on this woman. He’d been so sure he’d win her over.

  Face it, Curry. You’ve lost your edge. First Ken, now this. If you can’t even convince some woman from the sticks to let you film her, it’s time to give up.

  “Bad news?”

  He didn’t answer Andy Just tossed the package on the counter.

  “You’re not going to open it?”

  “What for? She wouldn’t have sent the disc back if she’d agreed to do the show.”

  “She … ” Understanding lit Andy’s features. “Annie Justice.”

  “Right.” Jed grabbed a coffee mug, went to the coffeemaker, and poured—but what filled his mug could hardly qualify as coffee. He grimaced and was about to dump the thick black liquid when Andy peered over his shoulder.

  “Day-old sludge, bud?”

  Jed’s fingers tightened on the mug. “It’s fine.”

  “Yeah—” Andy took the carafe and dumped the rest of its contents—“if you like drinking used motor oil.” He started a fresh pot of coffee, then picked up the package, tore it open, and upended it on the counter. A folded letter and a DVD slid out.

  Jed turned away. So Miss Playing-Hard-to-Get had sent a note, had she? Well, he didn’t need to read it. Any more than he needed Andy to tell him what was and wasn’t good. Coffee was coffee, right? Just heat it up and drink it. He slid the mug into the microwave and jabbed the Beverage button.

  Andy scanned the letter, then waved it in the air. “Her stationery even has a German shepherd at the top.”