After a hot shower, I dried my hair and did my makeup. It didn’t take long. My hair is short so I don’t have to do much with it, and I use minimal makeup. I dressed quickly and headed back downstairs to the office. Both cats stayed upstairs, but Hero settled in his bed near my desk.
Although I usually arrive before Claire, I don’t actually open the office doors until she gets in at nine. However, I check messages and handle other basic chores. We didn’t have any voice mails or urgent emails. This wasn’t unusual. We average ten cases a week with two or three involving Hero. That may seem like a lot of missing animals, but we cover a very large and densely populated area. My house is located in a small neighborhood in the north part of a medium-sized city, which is sandwiched between two large cities and surrounded by about ten other small towns and communities. We are the only agency within a hundred-mile radius that specializes in finding lost animals. We get a lot of work. Claire and I will never be rich, but we live comfortably. Expenses are low, and with the inheritance from my aunt, I don’t have to worry about money.
Even though we didn’t have any new cases, there was still work to do. The two hundred dollar non-fundable deposit we charge covers the first two hours of a basic search. Often that was all we ever did for a client. We either found the pet during that time or the client decided that was all they wanted. Because a lot of people can’t afford to continue a search or pay to have Hero involved, we also offer a cheaper alternative. We keep a list of missing pets. Most of our searching is done online or by phone. When working an active case, we ask about the animals on the list as well. For thirty dollars a month, we keep a pet on our list for three months. Unfortunately, the list can get quite long.
Claire and I are sticklers for tracking and documenting the time we spend on a case. As we both often work on the same one, we have a program we use that allows us to input the information into the same record. We can then export that data to the invoice we send our clients. We also record all our phone calls and track our Internet searches.
There were two active cases on file. One was a missing snake. We don’t get snakes often. This one was only the third since I had opened the agency. The other two clients had requested the advanced search, and Hero had found the snakes in the client’s home. It is amazing the places a reptile could manage to hide. This client didn’t want to pay for Hero so I didn’t like our chances for finding this one.
The other case was Caldwell’s. We had legitimately spent about an hour and a half calling the shelters and rescue groups. Claire had contacted the local shelter and gotten a picture of the black Great Dane, which she had emailed to Caldwell. He had responded after we closed that the dog was not Buddy. I decided to spend the next thirty minutes wrapping up that case. I called the two shelters nearest Caldwell’s home again, searched several social media sites that post pictures and descriptions of lost and found animals, and then contacted the Great Dane Rescue Society of Myers County. No Great Dane matching the description Caldwell gave me. Of course, I knew there wouldn’t be, but now I could prove I had done everything I normally do for a basic search.
Claire arrived just as I was processing the invoice for Caldwell. After quickly greeting her, I placed the call to Caldwell hoping this would be the last time I had to speak with him. He answered on the first ring.
“Good morning, Ms. Prescott. Have you found the dog?”
“No,” I replied. I gave him the breakdown of our efforts and told him his two hours were up. I didn’t phrase it quite like that, but even so, Claire rolled her eyes at my words.
“I’m very disappointed, Ms. Prescott,” Caldwell said when I finished.
“Without more to go on, I don’t think we will be able to find Buddy.”
There was a long pause. “What about doing the advanced search you advertise?”
This time I was the one who paused. What was he up to now?
“We can try using my search dog, but I would need something that smelled strongly of Buddy.”
“I believe I can find something,” Caldwell replied. “I’ll be in touch.”
Now this was going to be tricky. I truly believed Caldwell was looking for Simba even though the Great Dane was not his. If he was going to get something that smelled like the dog, he was even more serious than I had thought. I needed to know what was on that chip.
With Claire available to answer the phones and continue the search for the snake, I decided to concentrate on the case I was now calling the Lost Great Dane. Simba was the key to this little mystery. Someone owned him and had the tooth implant put in. So far, that someone was still unknown. I did a search for missing persons as well as recent deaths in the area. Other than the tooth implant and the leg injury, which could have happened anytime, Simba was in good health. He had some basic training and was well-behaved. Whoever owned him had taken reasonable care of him.
The list of deaths was long, but the list of missing persons was even longer. I ruled out anyone under the age of twenty-one. It seemed unlikely someone young would have owned the dog by themselves. I also removed anyone that lived with someone. If a person who died or went missing lived with someone else, that person usually kept the animal at least for a while. Finally, I sorted the list of those who died by type of death. A violent death often frightens an animal. A gunshot or physical fight might cause the pet to run away.
“Claire,” I said as I stood and walked over to her desk. I handed her one of the lists. “Would you contact the people on this list and see if the missing person had a dog?”
Claire took the list and glanced at it. “Sure. You think Simba might have belonged to someone who went missing?”
“Maybe. It’s probably a long shot. Simba seems the protective type. He would probably have stayed with his owner if he could.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Keep it vague,” I told her. “Just in case.”
Claire nodded. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to check on a few of these deaths. See if one of them might have owned a Great Dane. First though, I’m going to do a little background search on Carl Harrison.”
“Who’s Carl Harrison?”
So much had happened since I had last spoken to her I forgot Claire didn’t know what was going on. I quickly filled her in on everything.
“Okay, wait,” she said, holding up a hand. “Simba had a microchip in his tooth implant? You didn’t mention that yesterday.”
“Well, yeah, sorry. You were talking to Mrs. Kearns when we got back from the vet’s.”
“Uh-huh,” she said shortly. “You were followed home. Do you think it’s dangerous for us to be here?”
I hadn’t really thought about that. I didn’t feel like I was in danger, but Claire didn’t have my training or experience. She never went out in the field and hadn’t trained as a private investigator. I probably should have warned her before she came in. When I looked at her, I saw a spark of excitement in her eyes. Claire lives a fairly sedate life. She loves her family, but I think sometimes things become a little routine.
“I don’t think there is anything to worry about, but you should go home if you feel uncomfortable.”
She huffed and was silent a moment. She glanced outside. I, too, looked out the window. I didn’t see any unknown vehicles or anyone loitering. We knew most of the neighbors. When I first opened the agency, there had been some people who were concerned about having a business in a residential area. I had all the proper permits, but some were still upset. The swaying factor had been my aunt. Everyone had loved her. The fact she needed me nearby when she was so sick had won over the neighborhood. By the time she passed away, they were used to Lost and Found Pets. It also helped that I gave them a discount if they needed our services.
All of that should have worked in our favor, but the fact they were also used to strangers coming to my house for help might make it hard for them to realize that someone might be a threat.
“No,” Claire said. “I guess this is no different than someone being upset or angry about their pet. Remember Mr. Long?”
Mr. and Mrs. Long had been going through a nasty divorce. Mrs. Long had hired us to find her lost Pomeranian. Hero had tracked the dog right to the door of Mr. Long’s new residence. He hadn’t been happy. One of the reasons for the divorce was that Mrs. Long was tired of being a punching bag for her husband. The man had a nasty temper.
“Yeah, that got a little ugly.”
“But I handled it,” Claire stated.
Claire had been the one Mr. Long had confronted as I was out on another case. She had managed to defuse the situation and contact the police before Mr. Long had harmed anyone. I didn’t like that she might be in danger, but I had confidence Claire could handle just about any situation.
“Yes, you did,” I replied. “I have to go see Halie, but other than that, I should be in the office. We don’t have any appointments so we can leave the doors locked and the alarm on.”
Claire gave me a look, reached into a drawer, and pulled out her stun gun. It matched mine. I started laughing, and she joined in. With a smile still on my face, I returned to my desk to start the search on Harrison.
Carl Harrison was listed as a forty-six-year-old stockbroker. He owned a condo in San Diego, had a car loan, and had two credit cards with reasonable balances. He had a couple of parking tickets and had once been arrested for public intoxication. Everything about him appeared to be normal and above board. So why had he been following me?
The police had believed his story about not being able to find the address of the friend he was visiting, but I knew how to spot a tail, and the man had definitely been following me. I couldn’t find any connection between him and Caldwell. It was time to take it to the next level and ask Halie to conduct a search.
Before I logged off the computer, I pulled up a basic search window. With a furtive glance at Claire, I quickly input the name Nathaniel Bennett. Up to this point, I had been trying not to think about what Caldwell had told me, but the name kept buzzing around in my head. I got several hits off the name alone. I narrowed it down to location, and a few clicks later I was rewarded with a picture. The Nathaniel Bennett family had recently attended a fund-raiser for autistic children. The picture consisted of a man, a woman, and two children who appeared to be in their teens. I stared at the man. Caldwell was right. I did have his eyes.