By Monday Darcy was feeling much calmer. Fiona’s murder had been very upsetting, but Darcy had managed to bring her feelings under control and focus on her work. “You’ve got a new patient in room two,” Darcy’s receptionist, Stacy, said when Darcy emerged from the kennels that afternoon where she’d been checking on a corgi who had had a bad tooth removed that morning. Churchill the corgi, more familiarly known as Pudge, was sleeping peacefully in a kennel, cuddled up on his favorite blanket, supplied by his indulgent owner.
“Oh?” Darcy accepted the brand-new patient chart, labeled Alvin. The information sheet inside listed a three-month-old Labrador puppy, Spike.
“The pup is adorable,” Stacy said. “I should prepare you for the owner, though.”
Darcy checked the sheet again. The puppy’s owner was listed as Jerry Alvin. “What about him?” Had he given Stacy trouble already?
“He seems very nice,” Stacy said. “But he’s recovering from some kind of accident—his face is all bandaged and one arm is in a sling. I thought I should prepare you since it’s a little shocking when you first see him.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” She closed the folder, then opened the door to exam room two.
Jerry Alvin’s appearance was indeed a little shocking. Most of his head—with the exception of his eyes, ears and chin, was wrapped in bandages, and his left arm was enclosed in a black sling. He wore a black knit hat pulled down to his ears, tufts of blond hair sticking out from beneath it. “Hello, Dr. Marsh,” he said, rising to greet her, and offering his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Alvin.” She turned to greet the dog. “And hello, Spike.”
Spike, a dark brown ball of fur, seemed thrilled to see her, jumping up and wagging his whole body. Darcy rubbed behind his ears and addressed his owner once more. “What’s brought you in to see me today?”
“I was in a car accident.” Alvin indicated the bandages. “Got pretty banged up. Spike was thrown from the car. He acts okay, but I just wanted to make sure he isn’t hurt.”
“When did this accident happen?” Darcy asked.
“Yesterday. I hit an icy spot on the highway and ran off the road, hit a tree. My head went through the windshield. I guess I’m lucky to be alive.”
Darcy knelt and began examining Spike. The pup calmed and let her run her hands over him. “You say he’s acting fine,” she said. “No limping or crying out?”
“No. He landed in a snowbank, so I guess that cushioned his fall.”
Spike certainly looked healthy and unharmed. Darcy picked him up and put him on the exam table. “He has a little umbilical hernia,” she said. “That’s not uncommon with some puppies. Chances are he’ll outgrow it, but we should keep an eye on him.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.”
The hernia made her think of another puppy she had seen recently, with an almost identical umbilical hernia. Gage Walker’s lab puppy was a twin to this dog—same age and size. He even had the same cloverleaf-shaped white spot on his chest. A chill swept over Darcy as she continued to examine the dog. If this wasn’t the same puppy Gage had brought to her, then it was an identical twin. She glanced at Alvin. “Is something wrong?” he asked, leaning toward her.
“Nothing.” She picked up the puppy and cradled it to her chest. “I’m going to check something in the back right quick. It won’t take a minute.” Before he could stop her, she exited the room and hurried to the back. She found her microchip reader in the drawer of the lab table and switched it on. With shaking hands, she ran it over the pup’s shoulder. A number appeared on the screen. Darcy made note of the number, then carried the puppy to an empty kennel and slid it inside. The pup whined at her. “You’ll only be in here a minute,” she said and shut the door and slid the catch in place.
Then she hurried to the front office. “What’s going on?” Stacy asked. “Did something happen back there?”
“What do you mean?” Darcy pulled Gage Walker’s folder from the filing cabinet and spread it open on the desk.
“Mr. Alvin just ran out of here—without his dog.”
Darcy looked up. “What?”
“He couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” Stacy said.
Darcy went to the window and peered out at the parking lot. Only her and Stacy’s cars were visible. “Did you see what he was driving?” she asked.
“No.” Stacy folded her arms. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”
“Just a second.” Darcy returned to the folder and compared the code the microchip scanner had displayed with the code registered to the microchip she had implanted in Gage’s puppy, Admiral. They matched.
Stacy peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing with Gage’s folder?”
“The puppy back there—the one Jerry Alvin called Spike—is Gage Walker’s new dog.”
“You mean that guy stole it?” Stacy’s eyes widened. “So all those bandages must have been a disguise. But why bring it here?”
“I don’t know.” Darcy picked up the phone and punched in Gage’s cell number. He answered on the third ring.
“Darcy,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“Gage, I have your puppy, Admiral, here at the office,” she said.
“What? What happened? Where’s Maya?”
“A man who said his name was Jerry Alvin brought him in to see me,” Darcy said. “He was calling the dog Spike. As soon as I went into the back to check the dog’s microchip, he ran out the front door.”
“I’ll be right over,” Gage said.
Darcy went to the back and retrieved the puppy from the kennel. She wasn’t comfortable letting it out of her sight until its real owner arrived. Ten minutes later Gage walked into the office, along with Maya and Casey. The little girl squealed and ran to envelop the puppy in a hug.
“We got in from school just a few minutes ago,” Maya said. “We were frantic when we couldn’t find Admiral. Gage called while we were looking for him.”
“He’s perfectly fine,” Darcy reassured them. “Whoever took him didn’t hurt him.”
Gage took a small notebook from the pocket of his uniform shirt. “Tell me about this Alvin,” he said. “What did he look like?”
“That’s the thing,” Darcy said. “I can’t really tell you.” She explained about the bandages and sling.
“It looked like a Halloween costume,” Stacy said. “He said he’d been in a car wreck.”
“He told me he ran off the road and hit a tree,” Darcy said. “Even when he said that, I was thinking it didn’t sound right. He said his face went through the windshield, but wouldn’t the airbag have protected him from that? And even if he wasn’t wearing a seat belt, it seemed he would have been hurt worse. And do they really bandage people up like that—like mummies?”
“How tall was he?” Gage asked. “What kind of build?”
Darcy and Stacy exchanged glances. “Just—average,” Darcy said.
“Maybe five-ten,” Stacy said. “Not too big, not too little.”
“Hair color?” Gage asked. “Eye color?”
“He had a knit cap pulled over his hair, but there were some blond strands sticking out,” Darcy said. “And I was so distracted by the bandages, I didn’t notice his eyes.”
“How was he dressed?” Gage asked.
“Jeans, a dark blue or black parka and the hat,” Darcy said. “I didn’t notice his shoes.”
“The bandages and sling really drew all your attention, you know,” Stacy said. “I guess that was the idea.”
“Did you get a look at his car?” Gage asked.
Both women shook their heads.
Gage pocketed the notebook. “I’ll ask the neighbors if they saw anyone around the house this afternoon.”
“I’m so glad you thought to check the microchip,” Maya said. She held the puppy now, stroking the soft brown fur. “I don’t know what we’d have done if we lost him.”
The front door opened and Ryder entered. “Darcy, are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I stopped by the sheriff’s department and Adelaide told me a guy showed up at your office who had stolen Gage’s dog.”
“He did, but he ran away when I took the dog into the back room to check the microchip,” she said.
“I don’t understand,” Stacy said. “Why bring the dog here in the first place? It wasn’t sick or hurt, and he had to have realized that in a town this small, the odds were good we had already seen the puppy.” She tapped her chin. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think this guy was trying to seem older than he was. Like—I don’t know—a kid playing dress-up.”
“You think this was a kid?” Darcy stared at her.
Stacy scrunched up her nose. “Not a little kid, but maybe a teenager?”
“I have an idea,” Ryder said. “Maya, do you have a high school yearbook at your house?”
“Sure,” Maya said. “I have a copy of last year’s.”
“Could you bring it to us? Now?”
“Oh. Okay.” She took Casey’s hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s take Admiral home and get a book Trooper Stewart wants to look at.”
“Why do you want to look at the school yearbook?” Darcy asked.
“Just a hunch I have about who might have done this. You take care of your next patient and I’ll call you when Maya gets back with the book.”
Darcy vaccinated a dachshund, and Maya and Gage returned together with the Eagle Mountain High School yearbook. “You think those daredevil high school students were behind this?” Gage asked as he handed over the yearbook.
“I think it’s a possibility.” Ryder opened the book. “What year is Greg Eicklebaum?” he asked.
“He’s a junior,” Maya said.
Ryder flipped to the pages for the junior class and found Greg’s picture and showed it to Stacy and Darcy. They both peered at it, then shook their heads. “I was paying attention to the dog, not its owner,” Darcy said.
“That’s not the guy,” Stacy said. “The hair was a lot lighter, and I’m pretty sure at least some of it was real.”
“Try Gus Elcott,” Gage said.
Ryder found Gus’s picture, but it got a no also. “Try Pi Calendri,” Maya said.
“Who names their kid Pie?” Ryder asked as he turned pages.
“It’s short for Giuseppe,” Maya said. “Apparently, a lot of Italians settled in this area at the turn of the last century to work in the mines. The Calendris have been here for generations. The story I heard is that Giuseppe is Italian for Joe. Someone started calling him Joe Pi, then it got shortened to Pi.” She shrugged. “He hangs out with Dallas and Greg.”
Ryder studied the photograph of a mature-looking blond. He turned the page toward Stacy. “What about him?”
“Bingo.” She nodded. “That’s him.”
Darcy leaned over to take a look. “I think it could be him,” she said. “Something about the chin...”
Ryder closed the book. “Why would Pi Calendri steal our dog?” Maya asked. “He’s not even in any of my classes.”
“Why don’t we go talk to him and find out,” Gage said.