Page 72 of Sanctuary of Secrets

Jax hung up, set the epinephrine pens on the table next to the milk, and phoned the sheriff. He hoped the man actually believed him, because he had a tough time believing it himself.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Seyla, this is Sheriff Harlow. We got the results of the analysis on the milk and the epinephrine pen. Both were tampered with.”

Seyla’s new cell phone pressed against her ear, as cold and hard as the news she’d received. She collapsed into her office chair, ignoring Janet’s scowl. She’d worked more than enough overtime to cover a five-minute call. Especially one this important. “How?”

“Epinephrine pens can be damaged if the user twists the top off wrong or takes it off sideways.”

“So we can’t be sure it was tampered with, right?” A flash of hope shot through her.

“Problem is, the damage far exceeded that caused by an accident, wear and tear, or rough handling. There are indented grooves from some kind of tool. Pliers, if I had to make a guess. We weren’t able to lift any prints from it besides yours and Jax’s, unfortunately. Regarding the milk,” the sheriff added, a note of disbelief behind the words, “someone added shrimp powder to it. Good thing they used such a high concentration, or you might have been alone by the time it took effect. The way I see it, what they intended for evil ended up being the best thing that could have happened. I can’t believe you couldn’t taste it.”

She would have if she hadn’t been distracted by Jax and her world falling apart. She should have been focused on the sanctuary, not some guy. Especially not a guy intent on destroying the same thing she wanted to save.

“Seyla?”

“Sorry. Sorry, Sheriff. I’m still reeling from this. What did you say?”

“I understand. I said I sent some officers to board up the window Jax told me sustained damage during the second break-in. Contact me if anything else occurs. While we’re doing all we can, there isn’t much to go on.”

“Thank you.”

“We also found traces of gunpowder on the sample swab your veterinarian collected from Cairo’s nose after the incident at the fair.”

Seyla’s heart ached with compassion. Poor Cairo. “I saw her licking the ground near the fence. Whoever did this must have laced some meat with it. It’s a practice in dog fighting. It burns, making the animal angry and agitated.”

“Dr. Waters suggested the possibility. Can you let her know we confirmed it?”

“Of course. The confirmation will help her tailor a treatment plan for Cairo. Thanks, Sheriff.”

“No problem. I wish I could do more. You take care, now. Oh, and Seyla? I’m sorry about that article in the paper. I know you guys do a good job over there. It’s a shame your reputation is being dragged through the dirt like this. I want you to know that none of the details were leaked from this office.”

“Oh, I know. Jax saw Victor Soros ducking out from behind a car after we finished talking to you. He must have listened in on the entire conversation.”

“Even so, I’m sorry. Jax mentioned the creative revisions his comment underwent to fit Victor’s narrative. That guy has written some rather incendiary articles pertaining to our office, too. I know how harmful that can be to public relations. I wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” Seyla hung up, eyeing her phone on the desk.

So the sheriff had been bitten by Victor, too? Perhaps someone should bite back. But how?

What was that saying about not fighting battles on multiple fronts at the same time? She’d run out of safe zones.

Seyla eyed the wall in front of her. Something was missing. Her plaque with her title on it. Again. She searched around the desk and found no sign of it. Hoping she was wrong, she peered into the trash can beside the desk. There it sat, on top of a bunch of crumpled trash. Again. So it had fallen, bounced off the desk and landed in the trash. For the third time this week.

She glanced at Janet. The woman instantly became engrossed with shuffling paperwork. Convenient.

Or had she become paranoid?

Maybe it was for the best if the sanctuary closed. God appeared to be slamming every door to protecting this place. Who was she to argue? She’d come to the end of herself. She was fighting too many battles on too many sides, and she had no strength left to give.

Disgusted, Seyla got up and rambled outside to the enclosure of Damascus, a gray wolf rescued by the sanctuary last month. Shot several times and left for dead, he’d been found by a hiker who’d contacted the sheriff.

Now he clambered across the swing bridge to hunt for the strands of spaghetti and meatballs they’d strategically hidden to help him practice foraging skills.

Watching Damascus happily exploring and gallivanting, stopping sometimes to roll around in an area they’d squirted with vanilla extract for him to find, made Seyla’s heart lighter somehow.

He’d come so far, from his miraculous survival to his astonishing progress to date. At the top of the bridge, he stopped to acknowledge her with eyes she was sure knew more thanpeople would ever realize. Off he ran again, racing to the pool to dive in and splash around.

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