The rest of us cleared the fence and rolled onto the grass of Crowley’s backyard to catch up with Madeleine. Then we crawled to a back door that led to the garage, our breathing loud and ragged. The neighbor’s porch light snapped on and the sliding glass door opened. CindeeRae covered her mouth with one hand, and March turned his wide glowing eyes toward me, shaking his head like it was all over now. Madeleine glared at us all, and for a second I didn’t know which was more frightening: getting caught or being the object of Madeleine Brown’s wrath.
A man’s head peeked out to search the rubble for criminals, and I sucked in my breath and held it. We flattened ourselves against the backside of Crowley’s house; if the man looked over, he would easily spot us.
The man finally pulled the door closed and turned off the porch light. We waited until the house light also went out before we all let out a big huff of air.
Madeleine slid down the house until her butt rested on the ground. “I’ll wait here for you,” she whispered, her cell phone clutched in her hands. CindeeRae, March, and I stood frozen against the backside of Crowley’s house, looking toward the door. I swayed when I leaned forward. Maybe I would be the one to faint. March placed a warm hand on my arm to steady me, and I shook my head to clear the light-headedness. None of Crowley’s lights came on. Maybe he was a deep sleeper.
CindeeRae rested her hand on the doorknob. Everything hinged on us being able to easily sneak into the garage and pick the lock into the house if the van wasn’t open. I had once watched a news program with my parents that claimed the majority of home break-ins came through the garage where the door to the house wasn’t secure. After that program, Mom insisted we change all the locks in the house and add a dead bolt to the door that led from the garage to the kitchen. Hopefully Crowley hadn’t watched the same program.
CindeeRae turned the knob, and the door opened with a creak. We stood outside the half-opened door, listening. I heard the hum of a freezer, but nothing more. We tiptoed inside.
I turned on my headlamp and motioned for March and CindeeRae to do the same. A circle of light blinded me for a second, and I squeezed my eyes against it, swatting at March’s face so he would turn away.
We stood still for a moment and then looked around, the beams from our headlamps dancing around the garage. Under any other circumstance, March and Mr. Crowley might be besties. The garage was spotless, Crowley’s tool bench organized with hooks that included white outlines for every screwdriver, wrench, and hammer. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were stacked with identical boxes, all labeled, and in some cases, dated. Too bad we didn’t need camping gear or vinyl records or Mary’s hospital bills from 2010 to 2014, because those would all be easy to find.
As I walked to the house door, I nearly bumped into the van parked in Crowley’s garage. The image of a dirty van squealing to a stop in front of me flashed in my mind, and I realized this van was the same size and shape the other one had been. I grabbed March’s arm and shined my headlamp on the mud-packed side of the dognapping van. Seeing our excitement, CindeeRae came over and stood with us, our shoulders touching. We gaped at the van like we had discovered fossilized dinosaur poop.
“Genki?” My voice filled the garage like an overloud radio accidentally switched on.
A chorus of barks erupted from inside the van. March and I looked at each other, immediately blinded by our headlamps. I pulled mine down to my neck and pushed my hood from my head.
“We’ve got to go.” March breathed the words, quieter than a whisper, and began pulling on my arm. We had been prepared to pick the lock to Crowley’s house if we needed the keys to open the dognapping van. Now I felt stupid. Why hadn’t we expected the dogs to make any noise before we could even get them out?
“I’m not leaving until we get Genki,” I said, yanking on the passenger door handle. The van was locked, but I activated the alarm, which echoed in the garage.
March covered his ears with his hands, and I ran around the van, testing each door. CindeeRae cupped her hands around the driver’s window, then jumped back, startled. I took her place, pressing my nose against the window.
It was Genki.
He lunged at the window, pedaling his paws against the glass, and I pressed my hands harder against the surface, wishing I could get to him. The scruff of his neck was dark and matted. Had Crowley already dug the microchip from the back of his neck?
The back door opened and the light snapped on. I dropped to the floor, looking around for March and CindeeRae, who had ducked, too.
On the ground, half-hidden beneath the van, lay a manila folder with the label Processes and Procedures written in slanty script. I grabbed it and shoved the folder under my hoodie. March raised his eyebrows, hands still plugging his ears, and I shook my head, uncertain why I thought the folder so important.
“What the…” Crowley yelled over the alarm, scanning the garage before he caught sight of us.
James Crowley stood at the hood of the van, less than five feet from where we crouched. He wore flannel PJ bottoms and a white tank top, showing off his massive shoulders.
The three of us stood, close enough that our arms rubbed together. I looked past Crowley to the back door of the garage, Madeleine standing in the door frame with her phone clasped in one hand like a bomb detonator. If we tried to run, he would easily block our way and probably lock us in his basement while the car alarm covered our screams. As if reading my thoughts, Crowley pointed a key at the van and silenced the noise. The garage echoed with Genki’s angry barking.
“My papergirl,” he said, like he had just discovered the punchline to a funny joke, “delivers to my back door now?”
He stepped toward us, and we scrambled backward, barely staying on our feet as we reached the back of the van. CindeeRae took the lead, inching us to the other side of the garage while March pulled his flip phone from his back pocket and tried accessing the call screen, not trusting Madeleine to the job.
“Listen very carefully.” Crowley’s voice echoed in the garage as the three of us wound around the van. Genki leaped at each window we passed, his bark growing hoarse. “We’re going to pretend like this, right here, is a little nightmare. It’ll stop once you climb back into your beds tonight. I’m not sure I can promise as much for your dog.”
We reached the hood of the van, with enough room that one quick dash would take us away from Crowley. And Genki.
Crowley’s voice rose. “Leave now and your puppy will be sent to a happy place.” He placed the palm of his hand on the driver’s window. Genki snapped at it, his teeth glinting in the low light of the garage.
Crowley continued. “But tell anyone what you’ve seen tonight…” He pulled his hand away from the driver’s window and pretended to lunge at us. We jumped. March dropped his phone and it skidded under the van. “And you’ll never see your dog again.”
Genki moved to the passenger seat, and even through the tinted windows, I could see his paws slipping on the dashboard as his eyes locked on mine. My chest felt like it was collapsing. If I couldn’t save Genki, I had to be sure he wouldn’t go somewhere bad, somewhere scary. My legs heavy, I backed toward the door, my cheeks slick with tears. March and CindeeRae backed away with me.
“I’m so sorry, Genki,” I cried, fumbling through the garage door. I only started to run when March grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the fence. CindeeRae and Madeleine ran ahead, stopping only to wave us on. As we picked our way back to March’s house through the cold, dark air, I could hear Genki’s bark fade into the night behind us.