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Play Dead Page 7

by Jane B. Mason


  I did my best to get a quick visual in the dim light. Not tall, not short. Heavy. Fur on his face. The smells were easy: doughnuts, wool, and cigars — could be scents he picked up from the house. But the fear … that was definitely coming from him.

  The man staggered, then grew taller. His eyes were almost invisible in the darkness. “A dog?” he croaked.

  I growled.

  “Come here, pooch. I know how to deal with your type …”

  I stood my ground. I wasn’t afraid. I’d been trained to take down bad guys. I could take him down in two seconds. I waited for the right moment, then lunged. My body knocked into his. He stumbled. And then …

  I didn’t see his hand go into his pocket. I should have heard it, but couldn’t. I only saw the Taser when it came out. I only saw it as he squeezed the trigger.

  Electrodes exploded out of the gunlike weapon and hit my back, unleashing electricity and pain. Every muscle in my body seized up. I had no control. I dropped to the ground. The man stood over me while I struggled to breathe. His sneering face seemed far away.

  My body twitched, jerking out of control. I couldn’t move my legs. Not even when they were being pulled. When I was being dragged across the lawn. My back ached. My vision blurred. Somewhere in the distance the alarm was still wailing.

  “Just the place for you,” a voice said. The man? Yes, the man. The bad man.

  I felt myself being shoved through an opening onto a hard surface. Concrete. There was a new pain in my back. Sharp and stinging. The electrodes were out and I could move again. Clang! The sound jolted my senses as I struggled to my feet. It was a door slamming. But not a regular door. A metal door. A cage door. The man had put me in the cage!

  “That’ll teach you not to come sniffing around here, dog,” he snarled through the fence. The cage smelled awful. It made me gag. I couldn’t stay in here!

  My body tensed again — this time with fury. I crouched and lunged, throwing myself against the fence. It bowed with my weight, but forced me back. I landed hard on the cold cement floor.

  The man laughed. “Nice try, mutt. But I’d make myself comfortable if I were you. You’re not going anywhere.”

  I sprinted to the edge of the prison cell, my nose against the chain link. I snarled. Foam spilled out of my mouth. The man stepped back, afraid. I could see the fear in his eyes. Smell it rising to the surface of his skin.

  Then he slipped the Taser in his pocket and disappeared into the night. The bad man got away.

  I barked even though I knew it was useless. I hadn’t even considered a Taser. I’d trained with them, but I’d never felt one. I never wanted to again. I pawed at the concrete. I’d failed. Why hadn’t I watched his hand? Why hadn’t I heard it?

  “No, Dodge. No. Bad dog!” Mark’s voice thundered in my head, and I whimpered. I was bad. I was trapped. I was a trapped, bad dog.

  I heard the sirens coming from a long way off. They made me want to howl out the danger. They also made me want to hide. Everything was going wrong.

  I’d set off the perimeter alarm to get the rest of the force on the scene. That was part of my plan. Being tasered and locked in jail wasn’t. Neither was letting the bad guy get away.

  The sirens quieted. Patrol cars tore into the driveway. Then came slamming doors. Voices. Smells. My head throbbed. My thoughts came slowly. I smelled hot brakes. Cold coffee. The Mom.

  The Mom was here! My ears twitched. “Rowf!” I let out a short sharp bark. Then I wished I could take it back. I had no business crying for help. Crying wouldn’t help anybody. Especially Cassie.

  Cassie.

  I crawled to the darkest corner of the cage. I kept my mouth clamped shut so I wouldn’t cry again. I remembered the look The Mom gave me outside the bathroom. She knew it was me who’d been prowling around the Ward mansion. I wasn’t supposed to be here, then or now. If The Mom found out, she’d shorten Cassie’s leash even more.

  No crying for help. I had to get out on my own.

  The sun was sinking. The lights from the patrol cars made strange shadows in front of the house. I looked at the latch on the cage. I turned my head from one side to another. It was a double latch. Made for fingers and thumbs. Fingers and thumbs working together. It would be hard to open. Maybe impossible.

  I tried pushing the latch with my snout. Then my teeth. I tried paws. Snout and paws. Teeth and snout. Teeth and snout and paws. I wanted to tear the thing off. I wanted to chew it up and spit it out. I wanted to eat it. I tried, but it only tore up my mouth.

  I licked my nose. It tasted like metal and blood. My blood. I closed my mouth on a whimper. There was nothing I could do with the lock. All I could do was sit. And wait.

  I pictured Cassie’s face. I was waiting for Cassie. Cassie will come.

  Just sitting and waiting, I couldn’t help thinking about before. About Mark. About Mark telling me I was bad. About Mark never coming back. Maybe Cassie wouldn’t come, either. Because I was bad. I’d been spotted twice. I’d been tasered and captured. I was not a good dog anymore. This is why they kicked me off the force, I thought. Because I am bad. I am not fit for duty.

  I lay down and covered my nose with a paw so I wouldn’t whine. I heard a car engine. Not a patrol car, a small one. Headlights flashed over the house as it pulled into the drive. It came around the corner of the house and parked. The door opened. I smelled the person inside. Laundry soap and eggs. My hackles rose. Louisa Frederick.

  Fwap. Fwap. Fwap. Fwap. My feet slapped the pavement as I ran alongside my bike. I’d ridden over a nail right after I’d left the station and had a totally flat tire. My lungs were on fire and I had a stitch in my side, but I didn’t dare slow down. I was pounding my way home so I could get a different bike and my dog. I needed both ASAP, especially Dodge. We had to get over to the Ward estate to see what Mom was on to. I had a feeling it was big.

  I rounded the corner and was on Salisbury Drive — the home stretch. I thought about calling Dodge. If he heard me, he’d be out the back door and over the fence in a flash.

  Gasping for breath, I dumped my bike on the lawn. I pushed open the door and dropped down to one knee, ready for a big doggie welcome. Instead, Furball meandered by. She looked at me quizzically and dragged her tail under my nose.

  “Phwuh.” I blew her fuzzy tail away and rubbed my itchy nostrils. “Hi, Furb,” I panted, giving her quick stroke. Furball was okay, but let’s face it: A waggy-dog greeting beat a cat’s aloof “hello,” paws down.

  I heard some noise and stumbled toward the living room, where Sam was doing homework with the TV on. That meant Dad was out and Owen was “in charge.”

  “Have you seen Dodge?” I asked. It was a dumb question. If Dodge were home, he’d have covered me in dog drool by now. Sam looked up, shaking her head.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m going out. See you later.”

  I rolled Owen’s bike out of the garage, ignoring the voice that told me I should ask him first. My legs were longer than they’d been the last time I’d ridden it, and my feet just reached the pedals. I sat up higher than I did on my bike, too. I pedaled as hard as I could, letting the houses slip past.

  The wind picked up as I got closer to the ocean, and the temperature dropped. Shivering, I realized I was really hoping Dodge would be there to greet me. By the time I skidded to a stop outside the gates, I was anxious, exhausted, and chilled. Two empty patrol cars were out front, lights silently flashing. I stashed Owen’s bike in a bush and crouched behind the wall to scope out the scene. The driveway was quiet, but there were lights on in a few downstairs rooms. Whatever was happening, it was happening inside.

  Pulling my hoodie up over my chilly ears, I snuck over the wall. I picked the closest window and squeezed between some well-manicured shrubs. They offered little protection, and I felt pretty exposed. I looked around, half expecting Dodge to appear behind me. But the only thing at my back was the cold wind.

  I peeked over the windowsill and spotted Mom inside with two other
officers, Walker and Gentry, and Louisa Frederick. Gentry was wandering around, so I stayed low. Walker was taking notes, looking from Mom to Louisa and back.

  Mom had her game face on. I knew the look well — she used it for investigations both on the job and at home. Louisa’s lips were pinched, and her eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead. She looked offended — or maybe defensive.

  I was dying to hear what they were saying and pushed gently on the window sash. The wood casing was old, but it slid smoothly. A centimeter gap was all I needed.

  “You set both the perimeter and the house alarms?” Mom asked.

  “Yes. The perimeter alarm was installed several years ago, but I’ve only been using it since Mr. Ward passed away.”

  “And the house alarm?”

  “Always used.”

  “And you set it when you left?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it didn’t go off. And when you came back, we had responded to the perimeter alarm and found the house unlocked. And yet nothing is missing.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Do you get many trespassers? Besides dogs?”

  My face flushed.

  “No,” Louisa admitted. I prayed she wouldn’t mention the girl who’d accompanied her “runaway” dog. “We set the alarm high, so dogs and wildlife won’t trigger it.”

  Only people, I thought. I wriggled uncomfortably.

  “I suppose I was getting nervous. It’s a big house and I’m here alone, and now people are showing up interested in Mr. Ward’s money.”

  Mom started to pace, and I moved into the shadows. Her flashlight bounced around the room like a laser. She was definitely looking for something, but what? She held the light on a portrait of an old guy and a hunting dog. I was confused at first, then saw what she’d noticed. It was crooked.

  With her back to me, Mom crossed to the painting. She said something I couldn’t make out. Louisa got up. She stepped around the big desk and took the portrait off the wall. Behind it was a metal door with an electronic keypad — a safe.

  Louisa stepped in close, working the code. When she stepped back, the safe was open. She waved her hand toward the dark box carelessly. “See? Nothing here,” she said without bothering to look inside. I snuffed. She’d probably cleared out the valuables when Ward went missing. After all, she had the code.

  Mom flashed her light into the safe and stepped closer. When she stepped back, she held a large envelope in her hand. Louisa pulled a total fish face — mouth opening and closing with nothing coming out. Mom looked like she held Boardwalk and Park Place in a hot game of Monopoly as she tugged some papers out of the envelope. I’d recognize that victory smile anywhere, and knew what it meant. Mom had found Ward’s will.

  My mind reeling, I turned my back to the wall and slid down below the window rim. Why on earth hadn’t they checked the safe before? It was such an obvious place to look …

  Unless they had looked, and it hadn’t been there. Louisa knew the code and she was surprised to find a will in the safe. She had obviously looked before. Something was up.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to be able to stick around and sleuth it out. I could hear Mom on the phone with the station. More cops would be showing up shortly, in cars, with headlights. I needed to get out of there or risk getting caught. Besides, I was getting pretty freaked about my lack of Dodge. Where was he?

  I closed the window noiselessly and ran in a crouch back to the wall. Hopping over, I pulled Owen’s bike from the bush. There were leaves stuck in the spokes, but I didn’t bother to pull them out. I just jumped on and started pedaling. When I got far enough from the house, I turned on the headlight, grateful that Owen had one. I had to keep my eyes peeled for a big German shepherd with black ears.

  I loved sniffing — what dog didn’t? But there were times when I wanted to turn my nose off. The smell in the cage was dogawful. It smelled like loneliness. And pain. And misery. Whatever had happened in this cage was bad. Very bad. I shuddered for the pup who’d endured it.

  I walked from the gate to the back, to the gate, to the back. I tried to focus. I had to calm down. I had to get out.

  I couldn’t bark to let The Mom know I was here. But it helped a little to know she was nearby, that someone from my pack was close. And she was probably digging up something on the case. I wanted to dig up something on this case, too. That was why I’d come.

  I had to calm down. I had to get out.

  Cages rattled me, even when they smelled good. They made me feel trapped and exposed at the same time.

  The latch on the gate had my spit and blood on it. I shoved it with my snout one more time. Ouch. Chewing metal can make a mouth hurt. And I wasn’t going to get out that way. I scratched at the floor. Maybe I whined. Just once. I wasn’t getting out that way, either.

  Then I froze. I lifted my nose. The wind was blowing, and I smelled something good. Something great. Cassie!

  I looked around. It was hard to see in the dim light. The smell was gone as fast as it had come. I opened my mouth to catch a little bit more. I closed my mouth and huffed. Cassie. I didn’t smell her anymore. I thought maybe I’d imagined it. Maybe I was so desperate, I’d imagined Cassie’s smell.

  “Rowf! Rowf!” I barked as loud as I could. Come, Cassie! I could feel the wind taking the sound from my throat. “Rowf! Rowf! Rowf!” I barked again and again. But my girl didn’t come.

  I put my paws on the fence and whined. I walked to the gate, to the back, to the gate, to the back. Faster and faster.

  Forget calm.

  I wanted out. Out. Out. Out. I walked to the back. I looked up at the top of the fence. It was taller than the Sullivans’. Almost a medium dog taller. I pictured myself leaping the fence. I whimpered. I backed up until my hindquarters were touching the chain link.

  I ran, crouched, and leaped. There wasn’t room to get enough speed, but I jumped higher than I thought I could. My front paws cleared the chain link. My head was over! My chest! I was out! But I started going down too soon. My back end didn’t clear.

  The sharp angry fence caught my belly. It bit through the fur. It tore. I yanked my legs free and fell hard. I landed with a thud. The air flew out of me. But I was outside the fence. I was out. I was free.

  I was up and running before I felt the pain. Freedom carried me. I thought it would carry me all the way to Cassie. But when I tried to clear the rock wall I missed.

  Still, I was out. I could catch up. I ran through the gates. The road moved like a snake. My legs felt squishy. I ran a few more steps. I barked. Or tried to. A gurgly noise came out of my throat. That was not my bark.

  I tasted blood. My blood. It came out of my throat. And then my legs stopped working. They didn’t freeze, like with the Taser. They crumpled, and I crumpled with them. I could not catch up lying down. I dragged myself off the road, into the bushes. I would be fine. I just needed to rest. Just a little rest. Then I’d catch up with Cassie. I’d … catch … up.

  I searched for Dodge the whole way home, pushing my panic aside. I told myself he was working on the case somewhere. Digging up evidence. Or he was at home, waiting. Yes, he was at home.

  Chucking Owen’s bike on the lawn, I took the steps in two strides. I pulled open the door, ready for some doggie drool. I got Sam’s scowl instead.

  “Do you know where Mom is?” She stared at me like a kid in a horror movie whose head was about to spin like a top. “There’s nothing for dinner and I’m starved!”

  I could tell. When Sam gets hungry, she gets mad. I stood there hoping she wouldn’t attack me and tear my arm off like a drumstick. It was way past dinnertime.

  Dinnertime! My jaw dropped and I reached into my pocket for the list of stuff I was supposed to pick up … and prepare. Not. Good.

  “Uh, Mom’s working late. I’m on dinner,” I said in a hurry. I darted away from Sam into the kitchen. I yanked open the freezer and scanned the frosty shelves. Meatballs. A chicken. Some peas.

  Next, th
e pantry. I found rice and canned tomatoes. And pasta? Yes! There was pasta. I dug in a basket and found a sad onion and two cloves of garlic. I got the water on for noodles and started chopping.

  I clanged and banged around the kitchen, throwing dinner together. I also kept an eye on the front window for Dodge or headlights. Neither appeared.

  The smell of sautéing garlic brought Owen up from his basement cave. He slouched into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. After a minute, he scanned the floor and bent over to look under the table.

  “Where’s Dodge?” he asked.

  I stirred the noodles and tried to remain calm. “I don’t know,” I said, biting my lower lip.

  Owen didn’t say anything. He looked worried, which didn’t help. Then he set the table, napkins and all, which did. A little. I hoped he’d hang out and keep me company, but he ambled back down to the basement almost right away.

  I stirred frantically, trying not to cry. I was officially and totally worried about my dog. My elbow knocked a parmesan rind and it slipped off the counter. My eyes welled. There was no Dodge to appreciate the spill.

  I hoisted myself up and went back to the fridge. I found a not-too-floppy head of lettuce for salad. There were a couple of cherry tomatoes on the counter, and I cut them in halves. I chopped carrots and celery. I didn’t usually put celery in salad, but I needed the distraction. Plus it made it look like I’d been home longer.

  Once or twice I held still and listened for a bark or a scratch.

  By the time my parents came through the door I was a total wreck. “Sorry we’re late,” Mom said. “Mmmmm, smells good.”

  “Finally!” Sam whined. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

  I served up five plates of spaghetti, hoping Mom wouldn’t notice the menu change or ask about the shopping. Unfortunately, I had a couple of things working against me: Mom noticed everything, and Sam had a big mouth.

 

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