Chapter 12

Doreen didn't even touch the Chinese food again, until she heard Mack at the front door, then noted the clock—dinnertime. She bolted to her feet, just in time to see him walking in the front door. Something was just tired and worn out about him tonight. She stopped and whispered, "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, are you?"

She smiled back. "I'm fine, but just for a moment there, you appeared… defeated somehow."

"No, not defeated," he countered cheerfully, "but definitely some times are easier than others, and today has been a bit of a whirlwind."

"But we're getting somewhere, right?"

He chuckled. "We are, and, if I could just keep you out of trouble, we might get to the home stretch on this one."

"That sounds good," she replied, "but you can't blame me for investigating it though."

"Of course not," he quipped, with an eye roll. "Yet somehow it feels very much that I should be able to."

She snorted at that. "Wishful thinking isn't allowed."

He burst out laughing, then walked over, pulled her into his arms, and gave her a big hug. As he stepped back, he smiled and added, "I needed that."

"Anytime." She looked up at him and grinned. "Dinner, however, will be microwaved."

He shrugged. "I can live with that, especially on days like today. Not cooking a meal is a gift right there."

"Sometimes it's just hard to come up with ideas, wondering what I want to eat, isn't it? I had never realized what a challenge that was."

"That's because you've never really been in a position where it was your job to do it."

"No, and I'm not sure I would ever sign up for that job either," she replied, with a shudder. "Do you know how hard that would be?"

He chuckled. "Housewives the world over do it all the time."

"I'm not housewife material," she admitted candidly. "You do know that, right?"

"Know what?"

"That I would make a terrible one."

His lips twitched. "Are you warning me about that?"

"Oh, I probably should, since everybody seems to think that I'm supposed to put you out of your misery, now that Mathew is gone."

His eyes widened. "Do I look miserable?" he asked cautiously.

"It's not so much that you're miserable, as much as you're waiting. At least that's the word on the street."

"Wow, who is it that has me waiting?"

She winced at that. "I guess I did do that, didn't I? But—okay, fine—I didn't really mean to put you on a waiting list. I was just trying to find closure in my own way."

"I get that," Mack noted. "You didn't see me pushing, did you?"

"Well…"

He eyed her and held up his thumb and forefinger, almost touching. "Maybe just a tiny bit," he replied, his chuckle infectious.

She walked over to the bag of Chinese food and asked, "You want to grab a couple plates? We'll serve this up and then just heat up the plates."

He brought out two large plates and asked, "What are we having?"

"I don't even know," she said, looking over at him. "So that could be a bit of a problem."

He shrugged. "I'm hungry enough to eat cardboard, so it really won't matter to me."

"You like all Chinese food anyway, don't you?"

"I do," he muttered. He opened up the first container and nodded. "This one is a noodles dish, so I'm good with that," he said, rubbing his stomach. He served up half of the noodles on his plate, filling more than half of it.

She frowned. "Wow, that's a lot of noodles."

"Mr. Woo's been very generous. Next time I want Chinese food, maybe I should order in your name."

She snickered. "I don't think it would do you much good."

"Why? Did you save his grandmother or something?" he muttered.

"No, I don't think so. I don't think I've had anything to do with any cases involving him or anything related to him."

"Maybe not," Mack stated, "but it sure seems he's grateful for something."

"I don't know if he's got any business after this whole Mathew deal," she shared. "I did feel bad because I couldn't even go back to pick up what I'd first ordered, and that made me feel terrible."

"I'm sure he wasn't too bothered."

She shrugged. "He didn't seem to be very happy about it, but I think he got over it."

"I'm sure he did. You can't always worry about everybody else."

"I can't, or I shouldn't? And, besides, it's easy to say but hard to do."

"Ah, I get that," he agreed, with a sigh. "You're always trying to help out the underdog."

"Isn't that why you became a cop?" she asked. That grin of his flashed again, reminding her just how cute his mannerisms were and how it had been such a rough day that she hadn't had a chance to see much of him. She handed him the next box. "Let's open this one."

"It appears to be chow mein or something, filled with loads and loads of veggies."

She smiled at that. "Now that's my kind of a dish."

Generously he put half of the container on her plate, making it quite full. She gasped. "He really has given us lots this time, hasn't he?"

"Absolutely." Mack pointed at the third one. "What's in there?"

"I don't know, so let's find out," she muttered. She opened it up and froze, then looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh? No room for uh-ohs today. Today is not the day for it," he declared, sounding stressed.

She flipped around the container, which held a chicken omelet dish, but on top of, spelled out in strips of some vegetable, was a clear SOS.

"SOS?" he repeated, staring at her. "What's going on?"

She shook her head. "I don't know," she whispered, "but it can't be good."

He closed his eyes and whispered, "The trouble is, what time did you get this?"

At that, she realized what he meant. "Oh no." She raced for her car keys.

"No, wait, wait, wait. You're coming with me."

And she realized that of course he was coming; she wasn't alone this time. "We have to go, and we have to go fast. Oh, why didn't I look at this earlier?" she cried out.

"Because you'd just eaten at Bernard's, so obviously you wouldn't have seen it earlier," he stated. "Let's just go down, nice and calm, and see what's going on." He led the way outside, and she automatically grabbed the animals and brought them along. He stared at her, then at the animals, "Really?"

"Stop. Let's just go. We don't have time to argue." He didn't say a word afterward but hopped in the driver's seat, as she loaded the animals into his truck, and they all drove to the restaurant.

"What time were you there?" he asked her.

She pondered that for a moment. "Somewhere just after Bernard's, so two-thirty or three p.m."

He glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard and saw it was already five.

"Oh my God, if something's happened to him, it'll be all my fault," Doreen wailed.

"No, it isn't," Mack disagreed. "If something's happened to him, it'll be because of whoever did something to him. You had nothing to do with it."

"It seems to be my fault," she stated, staring at him.

"I know, but that doesn't mean it is."

Yet she wasn't so easily appeased.

By the time they pulled up in front of the restaurant, she frowned at it. "It's quiet."

"He's closed," Mack suggested.

"He's never closed."

"Mr. Woo has to close sometime." Mack hopped out, looked at her, and ordered, "Stay here."

She glared at him. "I'm not a puppy dog."

"Good. Then I won't have to tell you to go home or sit right now," he said, with a note of humor. "Just behave yourself for a minute and let me check this out." Then he quickly raced up to the door and opened it. She watched as Mack disappeared inside, feeling a sense of relief because it hadn't been locked. So, maybe Mr. Woo was okay.

Mack came out a little bit later, but a frown was on his face. He came over to the vehicle. "Nobody is there."

"What?" she cried out, bolting out the door. "He's always there. Did you check the kitchen?"

"Of course I checked the kitchen," he replied, with a note of exasperation.

"Mr. Woo has to be in there. He just has to." She raced inside, Mugs and Goliath racing with her.

When she got to the counter, nobody was there. She walked around and pushed her way through the swinging doors into the back. All the stoves were turned off, but food was still out everywhere, as if he'd just literally stepped outside but didn't return. She stared for a long moment, then turned to face Mack. "Oh my God," she whispered, "something's happened to him."

Mack nodded, his face grim. "I've called forensics."

She nodded slowly. "I'll check out the back."

"Wait, dang it," Mack said.

Yet she was already out the back door, racing into the alleyway. She stopped when she got out here, looking for a sign of anyone. Despite the awkward relationship they had at times, Mr. Woo was a good man. She really hoped nothing had happened to him, but obviously something had. Now she had to solve it before something seriously bad happened to him. Still, for all she knew, they were already too late.

Feeling horribly guilty because she hadn't checked out her food and found the SOS in the first place, she ran up and down the alleyway with the animals, looking to see if Mugs picked up on anything, but he didn't appear to.

Finally she returned to the kitchen, where Mack searched, looking for clues. As she stepped inside, Mack said, "Don't touch anything."

She nodded. "I won't," she whispered. "But no sign of him out back, no sign of him in the alleyway anywhere."

His face was grim, as he nodded. "Yeah, I got that message." He took a deep breath. "I'm looking for information as to where he lives."

She stared at him, then pointed straight up. "He lives upstairs."

"Really?"

She nodded. "At least I assume so. An apartment is up there." With that, they looked around for an internal staircase. Spying one door that may have led to a pantry, she opened it up and cried out, "Here, Mack, here."

She bolted up the stairs, calling out, "Mr. Woo, Mr. Woo, are you up there?"

No answer came. She opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped into a small apartment. It was clean, neat, and very sparsely furnished, but obviously very well kept. Everything looked neat and tidy, except for one thing—a bloodstain in the middle of the floor. She raced to it, and, as she came around the corner of the small couch, she found Mr. Woo, lying in a pool of blood. She dropped beside him, her fingers immediately going to his neck. "Mack," she cried out.

"I'm right here," he replied. He checked out Mr. Woo's pulse and said, "He's alive." He phoned for emergency assistance.

"He's awfully pale," she noted, frantically looking up at Mack.

"He's survived this long. Let's just hope he stays strong."

She nodded. "Oh my gosh," she whispered, trying to hold back the tears. "Why would anybody hurt him?" she asked.

"It could be what's behind all this," he murmured. "Somebody obviously thinks he saw too much or heard too much in connection to Mathew's death."

Doreen frowned and muttered, "Saw too much. They probably didn't realize he was in the store when they killed Mathew."

Mack nodded grimly. "That would be my take on it too."

"So whether he knows anything or not, it'll put him in danger. And if anybody realizes he's still alive—"

"I know. We're on it."