The Dog Town Collection

by Sandy Rideout

  Beau began barking halfway down the drive. Bridget hit the brakes and inched down the last twenty yards. At the bottom sat a white van. Its lights switched on suddenly, illuminating the entire parking area.

  Bridget cursed quietly when she saw Officer Miller get out and stand beside an empty dog crate.

  Chapter 20

  It was still dark on Sunday morning when Bridget squelched up the path and shone her flashlight on the slick, wet chow-chow. She could have waited in the car for the others but standing in the driving rain was more tolerable than sitting still. Her phone pinged repeatedly. She didn’t bother checking. Her friends would respond to the 911; she had no doubt of that.

  Duff was first to arrive, clomping toward her in bright yellow rain boots. Bridget couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Duff without heels. Like everything else, it felt wrong. “Hey,” she said, shining the light on the ground for Duff. “Watch your step.”

  Pushing her hood back a little, Duff said, “I’d say the same to you, my friend. I hope you’re not thinking about extracting Fritz.”

  “It would be impossible to get him out of animal services. It’s a maximum security prison.”

  “Then why are we here?” Duff gestured to the bronze dog towering over them. “By definition, a meeting at the chow is about an urgent rescue.”

  The flashlight beam wobbled. “Well, I can’t leave him there, either.”

  “We’ll try diplomatic channels, Bee. We could have discussed that over coffee at Boners.”

  “I didn’t want anyone to overhear.” She looked up and let the rain fall directly into her eyes. “Besides, the rain suits my mood.”

  Car doors slammed, and Maisie and Nika called good morning to Cori. Then the swishing of Gore-Tex and splosh of boots was all they heard until the women entered the clearing.

  Nika and Maisie gave Bridget a hug, but Cori was all business. “How did this dog cop justify seizing Fritz?”

  “Someone had called to complain about the noise of an aggressive dog at Sullivan’s and knew Fritz was staying there. The wildlife center confirmed the possum attack to the CCD, and that was cause to seize. The dog cop said he was a threat to public health.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Cori said. “He’s had all his shots. At worst, he’s a risk to possums and garbage bins.”

  “Obviously someone is spying on both Sullivan and me, and ratting us out to the CCD. Probably the same person who cut my wires. I feel sick about it.”

  “Me too,” Duff said. “Hopefully the police will be able to put the pieces together. In the meantime, we’ll try to get Mike to reason with the CCD.”

  “Mike’s gone over to the dark side. He won’t do anything.”

  “I agree,” Cori said. “We could at least discuss extracting Fritz.”

  Duff started to protest but Bridget raised a gloved hand. “Let’s hear her out.”

  Pushing her hood back, Cori let the rain soak her fine, dark hair. “I have a guy.”

  Maisie swivelled. “You have a guy?”

  Cori gave her a look, the effect of which was lost in the dim light. “I mean a man inside animal services. A friend of the mafia.”

  “Why haven’t we heard this before?” Nika asked.

  “Because he’s a valuable asset. The kind you don’t waste on just any rescue. He could lose his job for helping us.”

  “Then we can’t risk it,” Bridget said. “I won’t do that.”

  “We need an above-board way of handling this,” Duff said.

  “I’ve already called Mike and he’s not answering,” Bridget said.

  “Same here,” Duff admitted. “But it’s still early.”

  “We could go to the media,” Nika said. “Seizing one of Bridget’s prize dogs would look bad.”

  Duff shook her head. “Fritz is no angel. He attacked a possum and they’re known for being docile.”

  “Media would cause blowback,” Cori said, agreeing with Duff for once. “The mayor will shut down the pageant if there’s negative press.”

  “I’ve got to do something,” Bridget said. “I feel like I’m in the crosshairs.”

  She looked at Cori, hoping for answers, but Cori looked down. “Let’s bide our time. There’s too much riding on this to make any missteps.”

  Bridget wiped the rain out of her eyes and looked up at the chow. It was light enough now to show his regal muzzle. “Boost me up, you guys. I’ve always wanted to see what he sees.”

  “Bridget, don’t. You’ll break your neck,” Duff said.

  Nika unfurled her scarf and tossed it to Bridget. “Wipe him down first.”

  Maisie and Cori knelt so that Bridget could step onto their knees. She reached up to dry off the back of the chow and then pulled herself up, with a push from behind. Slapping the chow’s shoulder, she said, “Good boy.”

  From the chow’s back, she looked down the valley at the city nestled between the hills, warm with golden lights. But the hills behind the city were hulking and ominous, and she shivered as rain ran down the collar of her coat.

  “What do you see?” Maisie called. Her turned-up face was like a drenched flower, with drooping golden petals of hair.

  “Same old city, but it feels different now.” She slid off the chow and the girls reached out to steady her. “This might be the last pageant.”

  “Don’t say that,” Nika and Maisy chorused.

  “Just being realistic,” Bridget said. “Times change.”

  “I doubt that will happen, but let’s make this a great one, regardless,” Duff said.

  “Agreed. We’ll focus on City Hall and sponsors today. Frank gave me a couple of days off for working the split shift yesterday.”

  “I borrowed a truck to collect some supplies,” Cori said. “Ride with me, Bridget?”

  “I’ll come, too,” Duff said.

  “Two-seater,” Cori said.

  They slip-slid down the trail to the parking lot, catching each other again and again as mud filled the treads of their boots and they lost traction. Finally, Duff went down hard, cursing a blue streak. “This is what comes of not wearing heels,” she said, as the others hoisted her to her feet.

  “Make sure you change before we meet at City Hall,” Bridget said. “Appearances count, Duff.”

  “Very funny.” Duff’s hood had blown back and her auburn hair puffed out with the dampness.

  Bridget smirked. “All I’m saying is that this is survival of the fittest, and the fittest always have good hair.”

  Laughter rang out as they made their way to their cars. No matter how bleak everything seemed, they managed to find a bright spot. It was the mafia magic.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” Bridget asked Cori.

  They were sitting in a rental truck in darkness half a block from the Animal Services building. It was situated on the eastern edge of town, among warehouses and big box stores, so that residents wouldn’t complain about barking.

  “My guy inside offered to help,” Cori said. “I didn’t ask. In fact, I tried to talk him out of it.”

  “Why is he willing to jeopardize his job for Fritz?”

  “He works here because he wants to help lost and abandoned animals. Now he’s seeing the City of Dogs distancing itself from pets in real need.” Cori took a swig of cold coffee and grimaced. “This is how revolutions begin.”

  “With a Fritz?”

  “With a Fritz. An innocent victim of a political regime.”

  Bridget pulled off her balaclava, ran her fingers through her hair and put it back on. “I don’t want to start a revolution. I just want my dog back.”

  Cori put the coffee cup in the holder. She was wearing black gloves, but the middle finger—her flipping finger—was neon orange. Ready to flout the establishment at the least provocation.

  “Bee, you know you won’t be able to keep Fritz after this,” she said gently. “He’ll need to go to a safe house outside of Dorset Hills, where he can’t be recognized.”

&n
bsp; “Like witness protection.”

  “Exactly. And when the hubbub dies down, we’ll make sure he’s placed in a great home, I promise. The less you know, the better.”

  The clock on the dash seemed to advance slowly, but as midnight approached, time suddenly sped up. They both started breathing harder—Cori out of excitement, Bridget out of fear.

  “So, when the lights flash twice, we go in the back door, find Fritz and get out in under five minutes,” Bridget said.

  Cori nodded. “My contact will shut down power from the front lobby and keep it that way for exactly five minutes.” She grabbed Bridget’s arm. “You’re good with this?”

  Bridget wasn’t good with it at all. She’d rescued many dogs from neglectful or abusive situations, but never from the City that was supposed to celebrate all things canine. “Remember when we rescued Fritz?” she asked.

  “How can I forget? Middle of February in a snow storm and that little guy was alone in a backyard with only a plastic planter for shelter. We turned his life around, Bee.”

  “And I’m not giving up on him now.”

  The numbers switched over to midnight, and precisely on cue, the lights in the Animal Services building switched off. They pulled down their balaclavas.

  “Let’s do this,” Cori said, opening the door and swinging down from the truck.

  Bridget did the same, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice came from the darkness. “Wait!”

  Both women spun. Sullivan Shaw was standing behind them on the gravel shoulder.

  “Get back in the truck, Bridget,” Sullivan said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Saving you from doing something stupid.”

  Bridget and Cori looked at each other. “Duff.”

  “She figured you wouldn’t leave this alone,” he said. “Give me your balaclava. I’m going in with Cori. It’s my fault this happened.”

  “It’s not your fault. Just get in your car and go before you’re seen with us.”

  “Let him do it, Bee,” Cori said. “Give him your hat.” When Bridget didn’t move, she added. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

  She wasn’t sure if Cori meant Sullivan or Fritz. “I want to do it myself.”

  “Get into the driver’s seat and be ready to roll when we come out. Now, Bridget.”

  When Cori used that tone, dogs were known to pee out of fear. Bridget pulled off the hat and threw it to Sullivan. “Be careful, both of you.”

  The two dark shapes, one tall, one tiny, raced through the parking lot and around the corner. Bridget circled the truck and clambered into the driver’s seat. The minutes ticked by on the clock. Just as Bridget was starting to panic, they came back. Sullivan was cradling something in his arms.

  Cori opened the door and practically catapulted into the passenger seat. Sullivan passed up the dog, and said, “Drive.”

  The big truck seemed to lumber on the getaway, but soon they were on the main thoroughfare. Fritz squirmed out of Cori’s arms to climb onto Bridget’s lap, his plastic cone battering the steering wheel.

  “Easy, boy.” He licked away the tears rolling off her chin. “You’re going to have a great life, just like I promised.”

  Bridget expected Nika and Maisie to be waiting when she finally got home around three a.m. The person filling the open doorway was far larger. She sucked in a panicky breath before realizing it was Sullivan standing with Beau. Relief flooded through her in a rush that left her wobbly as she climbed out of her van. Sullivan ran down the stairs and caught her in his arms. She leaned into his chest for a few minutes, acutely aware of his hands sliding under her jacket and closing around her waist. He kissed the top of her head and worked his way to her hairline. It was delicate and exquisite, and she may never have moved if Beau hadn’t goosed her derriere.

  Jumping, she hit Sullivan in the chin, hard enough to hear his teeth clack together. “Oh, sorry,” she said.

  “Nothing a root canal can’t fix,” he said, hugging her harder.

  She tried to relax, but once more, the long muzzle gave her a sharp poke. “Leave my butt alone,” she said.

  Sullivan’s hands travelled down from her waist. “I don’t think I can do that. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that I won’t.” Holding her closer, he looked over her shoulder. “Look, Beau. We had a good talk earlier. You’re going to stand down and let your lady leader relax. She’s had a tough day.”

  “That she has.” Bridget let Sullivan turn her and press her against the van to limit Beau’s access. “A tough month, actually.”

  “Fritz is all right?” When she nodded against his chest, he added, “I feel terrible. I promised you I’d keep him safe.”

  “Stuff happens,” she mumbled into his soft plaid shirt. “All you can do is roll with it.”

  “Like rolling with a possum loose in my car, you mean?”

  Bridget pulled away to stare at him. “It got out?”

  “On the highway, when I was going a good eighty clicks. There was this ripping sound and suddenly it was climbing all over making these squeaking noises and reeking of sewage.”

  She pressed her hands against his chest so that she could see him better. “Then what happened?”

  “Well, I screamed like a girl, if you must know. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

  Grinning, she shook her head. “You were a hero. A knight in makeshift armor.”

  “And how I wished I had that welding mask when the possum crawled over my headrest before it settled under the driver’s seat for the rest of the ride.”

  “Oh my god. What then?”

  “Well, the nice ladies at the wildlife center were very helpful. Once they stopped laughing, that is. The beast froze again under my seat so it was relatively easy to get him back into the box.”

  “Nice! It sounds like he’ll be all right.”

  “They said so. I’m less sure about the car. I had it detailed today, but their detergent was no match for possum poop, it seems.”

  “I wish I’d been there to film it. That would have totally gone viral.”

  “Speaking of viral, I hope that thing didn’t have diseases.”

  “Only if you ingest the feces, which I trust you did not.”

  He pushed himself out to arm’s length. “Bridget, if you talk that way I will refuse to build you a fire.”

  “Oh, please.” She snuggled into his chest again. “You already did. I can smell the smoke. And I bet you talked Beau through the whole thing.”

  She felt him smiling into her hair and knew it was true.

  “Promise me you won’t sneak out in the morning?” he said. “It’s hard on a guy’s ego when a girl leaves her own house to escape him.”

  “I trusted you enough to be alone in my house. Think of it that way.”

  “I didn’t hear a promise. Don’t make me squeeze it out of you.”

  “Hmmm. Sounds nice, actually.” Her breathy purr startled her, and Beau tapped her side to let her know it startled him, too. “But okay, I promise.”

  And with that, Sullivan scooped her up and carried her up the stairs and into the house. Turning, he waited for Beau to enter, and then kicked the door closed behind them.

  Chapter 21

  The Fergusons were Bridget’s last stop on her rounds to visit the billeted dogs on Monday. It was nearly five. She’d had a later start to the day than she could really afford thanks to Sullivan, but the happy hormones filling her bloodstream made it worthwhile. Somehow, she’d managed to do a Seaton Park site visit with full Rescue Mafia attendance without spilling the beans. Of course, Duff was so angry over what had happened with Fritz that her romance antennae were temporarily disabled.

  When Duff’s name came up on her call display, she figured her friend had come back online. “Hey, boss,” she said, putting the phone on hands-free. “Still speaking to me?”

  “Always. Even if I’m mad as hell at you.” Duff was nearly shouting. Bridget guessed she was driving with th
e window open. Which meant she was smoking. Which meant she was anxious.

  “What’s happened, Duff? I can tell something’s up.”

  “For starters, Mike called. The City suspects you liberated Fritz, although they have no proof. Luckily they’re keeping quiet because a successful break-in makes them look bad.”

  “Let’s hope that investigation takes a while. We just need to get through three more days till the pageant.”

  “So much can happen in three days.” Duff sounded exhausted. “Look, can you pull over for a sec?”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “It’s okay.” There was the sound of Duff exhaling smoke out the window. “It’ll be okay.”

  “You pull over too. It’ll be easier to blow the smoke in the right direction.”

  Duff’s laugh was stilted and odd.

  “I take it you haven’t made it to the Fergusons yet?” Duff asked, when both cars were idling on the shoulder.

  “No, why? Is Lulu okay? Did Mr. Ferguson fall?”

  “Lulu is fine. The Fergusons are fine. But they sold their house.”

  “Really? They didn’t mention it was listed when I was there yesterday.”

  “It wasn’t listed. Word got out today that they were selling and agents swarmed over to check the place out. But it had already sold. An offer they couldn’t refuse, they said.”

  Bridget’s stomach had twisted itself into a complicated knot. “Who bought it?”

  “Sullivan Shaw.”

  “Sullivan? Impossible. I was with him till nearly noon.”

  Duff let that go. “The transaction occurred around one, they said.”

  “You mean he left my place and went over and made an offer on their house?”