| |
THE REAR OF THE CAR crashed into Angela’s back yard fence. September clung to the steering wheel. She wasted precious seconds scanning the yard for Shadow—no sign of the big dog—before shoving the gear shift into drive. If the garage door wouldn’t open, she’d drive through it. Shadow must’ve found a way out of the yard. They’d meet up later. Now she had to escape.
Tires spun in the snow but finally caught. They propelled the car back through the splintered garage wall, and into the flimsy door. The car carried the accordion-fold barrier halfway down the driveway before it peeled off into the snowy roadway.
Macy yowled at the loud noises and abrupt acceleration. His claws clung to the passenger seat to keep from being flung back and forth. September braced herself when Macy launched himself onto the driver’s side headrest, rear end riding the perch while forepaws clutched September’s neck.
WHEN THE CAR ZOOMED toward him, Shadow shrank back into the small excavation. He shuddered, body freezing in place. The engine noise of the car over top of him made a good-dog’s ears hurt.
It reversed, tires kicking up snow and dirt when it sped back the way it came. The car punched back into the hole in the garage wall and out the other side with a scream of metal on wood.
Shadow cautiously emerged, still shivering. He shook off the dirt and slush coating his fur and padded cautiously to the breach in the building. He stretched his neck forward to sniff the opening and stared into the dim garage. Oil. Blood. Fear. His fur bristled and a soft growl bubbled deep in his throat. He sniffed more thoroughly, detecting the familiar fresh scents of September and Macy. Maybe the crashing car carried them away.
SHE SEARCHED THROUGH the fogged windows for a streak of black fur against the precipitation. Dim streetlamps had stayed on in the murky daylight but offered little help in the heavy snow. The sound of the crash impacts prompted doors up and down the street to creak open. Silhouetted figures sneaked peeks through windows. The attacker’s threat to target Shadow made her throat ache—now other people also were at risk.
Despite the worry for Shadow, her mind spun in dizzying circles. Angela dragged her into all of this, but Chris planted the seed years before. She couldn’t believe Angela had killed herself, especially after what Mr. Bleak said. But without the files, how would they figure out why she’d been killed? And, dear lord, why Chris had died, too.
She had to call the police. Her attacker probably had her cell phone now, along with the files. She reached overhead to stroke Macy, only now feeling the Reynaud’s tingling in her fingers. He head-butted her neck again. She looked out the windows, searching for Shadow. He had to be her priority.
Shadow wore his tracker collar all the time. But she needed her phone app to track him down. He had to know she drove the car out of the garage. He’d track her, too, if he could. She glanced at the clock on the dash. The weather would delay police response, but not by much. She had to find Shadow before the police arrived. They’d keep questioning her for hours, leaving Shadow unprotected and alone in this strange neighborhood.
HE HESITATED TO CLIMB through the opening, fearing a trap. The bad man in the house—he smelled his presence—had made September cry out in fear. But Shadow needed to find September, and his cat Macy, to protect them. That was his job. His ears swiveled, checking for danger. Finally, Shadow crept through the torn wall into the garage. He flinched when a squeak-sound overhead startled him and stared curiously up at the person swinging from the rafters. He whined. The death-smell came from her. She was beyond a good-dog’s help.
A door into the house proper hung partly open, with a tall ladder spilled on the garage floor. Shadow drew near, still listening carefully. Someone rummaged inside the house. Shadow pushed through the door and padded past the kitchen to the front entry on silent paws until he could peer around the corner at the stranger. The man muttered to himself, while digging through a large canvas bag that puddled on the hardwood floor.
September’s bag. Things she treasured and carried with her. They didn’t belong to this stranger.
A low growl bubbled deep in Shadow’s chest. The man had no right to paw through September’s bag. Shadow stalked closer, the fur on his shoulders bristled. He growled louder.
The man froze, then slowly turned his head. He locked eyes with Shadow.
Shadow added snarls. He showed his teeth and stalked closer, stiff-legged, a hair away from rushing the interloper. Snarls warned the man to drop September’s bag and go away.
Instead, the stranger stood in one smooth, fast motion, and swung the bag at Shadow’s head. When Shadow ducked, the man spun and lunged for the front door.
Shadow roared. He sprang forward. Teeth scarred one booted foot, pulling the man off balance.
The man swung the bag again and again, thumping it against Shadow’s head and neck until he loosened his teeth. With his other hand he unlatched the door, then backed out onto the icy front sidewalk, using the canvas satchel as a buffer against Shadow’s threat.
Following close, Shadow fell silent, keeping wary eyes on the stranger’s every move. Shadow could almost taste the greasy metal smell of a weapon. But as long as the man kept his hands busy clutching September’s bag, he couldn’t use the gun.
A car horn blared. Shadow’s ears flicked in response, but neither he nor the bad man looked away. Sometimes September beeped the horn to call a good-dog to come for a ride. This didn’t sound like her horn, though.
BEEEEE-EEEEEP! “Shadow! Baby-dog, come-a-pup. Please Shadow, where are you?”
This time, he couldn’t help himself. Shadow hazarded a quick glance at the small car at the end of the block. The same one that punched holes in the garage.
When he broke eye contact, the man whirled and loped away.
Shadow bounded after, tackled him, and the canvas bag turned a slow somersault through the air, papers spilling across the snowy ground. The bag landed with a burst of white behind nearby shrubs.
The man reached inside his jacket. Shadow didn’t wait for him to grab the gun. He’d done all he could. Now, he needed to rejoin September.
More strangers watched and murmured from nearby porches and stoops. Some gasped with surprise, pointing when Shadow rocketed past. The ice and snow hurt his paws, and he slipped twice, once going down on his tail, before righting himself.
Before he made it to September, though, a bigger car roared to life right behind him. It plowed down the street, clipping his tail. Shadow yelped more in surprise than pain. But the SUV never slowed, ignoring Shadow to target the little car that held September.
He barked a warning, and barked again. But the huge car continued its rush toward September. With a yelp of anguish, Shadow dashed after it, determined not to be left behind.
SEPTEMBER ROLLED DOWN the window, voice cracking as she yelled. “Shadow! Come-a-pup. Shadow, where are you?” Tears froze on her cheeks. She honked the horn once, twice, and a third long drawn out blat, praying he’d understand to come running, even though it sounded nothing like their own car.
More house lights switched on. Someone stepped out the front door of the house across the street, a child beside him.
An SUV revved behind her. Mr. Bleak! It gave chase, engine snarling with hungry determination to ram her car and finish the job.
September gunned the gas, tires spun and finally caught purchase. She shouted out the window toward the neighboring looky-lous. “Call 911.”
Murmurs and questions met her announcement. No time for explanations. She couldn’t wait. Mr. Bleak didn’t care about witnesses. She remembered his creepy, no-nonsense comment: “Nothing personal.” But this was very personal to her. Bleak’s four-wheel-drive navigated more securely than Angela’s lightweight car she’d borrowed. If she didn’t move quickly, he’d run her down in front of bystanders. He didn’t care, and probably wanted no witnesses. He’d maybe take them out as well.
More neighbors shrugged into coats and stood shivering with shared whispers at their open doorways as she sped away as fast as she dared, fish-tailing on the slippery road. Bleak’s SUV panted after her, quickly riding the bumper of September’s borrowed car in what became a slow-motion car chase.
She had to lead him away from Shadow. And pray the smart dog would know to follow.
