The Dog Town Collection

by Sandy Rideout

  Opening the door, she went out once more with her flashlight and circled the remains of the “shrine.” The red and green lights had come on again at dusk. The dognapper had driven them right into the ground through the snow. Only a thin layer of snow remained, but it looked like it might last until Christmas officially struck.

  Mim knelt beside the circle for a closer look. And the fish teasing the line in her brain bit down hard.

  Hurrying inside, she reached under the Christmas tree for a gift bag and peered inside.

  Then she called Ari. “I know who has George.”

  Chapter 18

  Ari was in black from head to toe. Somehow she always knew exactly what to wear, even if it was for a Christmas Eve dog extraction. Mim, on the other hand, was in her white parka. She’d focused on the tools she’d need rather than the outfit.

  “I still think we should wait for the police,” Ari said. “I left an urgent voicemail for Miles.”

  “Me too, and another for Laura,” Mim said. “But I can’t wait even one more hour. What if he moves George?”

  She pushed the pedal down and Ari braced herself on the dash. “Let’s get there alive, okay?”

  Taking a deep breath, Mim eased up on the gas. “I’m just so mad. After all I’ve done for them.”

  Ari patted her shoulder. “I know. But he’s obviously disturbed.”

  “That’s what’s so… disturbing. All this year, he’s been studying me, coming up with this plan.” She rounded a corner so sharply that she bumped the curb. “He must have been eavesdropping all the time. Or worse, recording our conversations. That’s the only way he could have known about the nutmeg.”

  “Tell me how you put the pieces together,” Ari said. “Slowly.”

  “It started with the cookies. When I gave the tin to Laura, I remembered admitting to Mrs. Beaton that I didn’t like nutmeg. Since she hadn’t baked them herself, I was honest, and she told me to take them for Kyle.”

  “So that was strike one,” Ari said.

  “The pine needles were next. Mrs. Beaton’s house is covered with them right now. And I found some in the park with Leo, a bunch in the backyard and even a few in the box with the leash noose.”

  “Strike two.”

  “Then I looked at the gift Mrs. Beaton gave me yesterday. It was wrapped in the exact same paper as the box with the noose, with the same purple ribbon. She told me Scott was a beautiful wrapper.”

  “And… strike three.”

  “There’s more,” Mim said. “Scott fixed my tire earlier this week and I remembered that my spare keys had been in the glove compartment. So that’s how he got into the house. On top of that, Mrs. Beaton said he’d been coming home during the day more often. She thought it was to check on her, but it must have been to check on George. And the final clue: his hand was gashed and bleeding last night. He said it was from the tree lot, but I suspect it was George. Now I know that George is capable of biting.”

  “Any dog will bite for self-protection. I hope Scott hasn’t been…” Ari’s voice trailed off.

  “Abusing him,” Mim said, and the tears started again. “Exactly why I can’t wait another second to find him. Judging by how fresh the blood was on Scott’s hands, I figure George is in a shed behind the house. I just hope he’s still there.”

  “And I hope it’s heated,” Ari said. “Maybe you should go a little faster.”

  Mim obliged, and a few minutes later, they pulled up in front of Kyle’s friend’s house. At the door, he handed Jezebel’s leash to his friend before running down the front stairs and hopping into the back of the car.

  “So what’s the plan?” he asked, as Mim took off from the curb.

  “We’re dropping you near the tree lot, to stand guard,” Mim said. “You text me the second Scott makes a move to leave, okay? The lot closes at 10, so we don’t have much time.”

  “Got it,” Kyle said. There was no trace of his usual sullenness in his voice.

  Ari turned to look at Mim. “So, I guess you go inside for a surprise visit to Mrs. Beaton while I search the sheds?” She sounded game for it, but nervous.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Ari,” Mim said. “We’ll go out back together, and only move to Plan B if we see any action at the windows.”

  “Plan B is…?”

  “Well, I can’t let you sneak around back alone. What if Scott has set booby-traps?”

  Ari continued to stare at the side of Mim’s head and repeated, “Plan B is…?”

  “You distract Mrs. Beaton while I finish checking the sheds.”

  “Mim, I don’t even know her. How will I do that?”

  “Well, I was thinking you could carol.”

  “Carol? I’m supposed to stand on a stranger’s front porch and sing while you stumble around in her pitch-black yard?”

  “I have a flashlight.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “The point is that you can’t carry a tune. I get it.”

  Ari hit her in the arm. “I can sing. Actually, I was in the show choir in high school.”

  Kyle snickered behind her and she turned to glare at him. “Never mind, you.”

  “If you’re so talented, what’s the problem?” he asked.

  “For starters, I’d look crazy. Carollers work in teams.”

  Mim caught Kyle’s eye in the mirror. “Give her your baseball cap. And put on the toque I brought for you. You could be standing outside for awhile.”

  “I’m not wearing that,” Kyle said, sticking the baseball cap through the seats. “It’s pink.”

  “You’re wearing it,” Mim said. “And it’s cranberry.”

  Ari grabbed the baseball cap. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Hold it out for coins. Tell Mrs. Beaton you’re raising money for the children’s fund at the hospital.”

  “I can only remember the first verse of any Christmas carol,” Ari grumbled.

  “Repeat it three times. Hum if you have to.” She turned to Ari and grinned. “Who’s going to complain when it’s for charity?”

  Kyle laughed out loud.

  “Be quiet,” Ari said. “Or I’ll demand to switch roles.”

  Kyle stopped laughing.

  “Look, it’ll be fine,” Mim said. “Mrs. Beaton is usually glued to the TV. I bet we can take care of this in 10 minutes and wait around the corner until the police come.”

  “Joy to the World,” Ari sang. “Our George must come…”

  “That’s the spirit,” Mim said, pulling up around the corner from the tree lot.

  Kyle hopped out and said, “Don’t quit your day job, Ari.”

  “I don’t have one, Kyle. And by the way, you’re really rocking that toque. Makes your head pointy.”

  Pulling it off, he stuffed it down the front of his coat and circled the car. Mim lowered the window and he said, “Text you in a few minutes. Be careful, okay?”

  “You too.” Mim squeezed his hand and he let her.

  “He’s a good kid,” Ari said, as Kyle slouched into the distance. “Carver was right.”

  Mim’s phone buzzed. “In position,” the text read. “Go.”

  The car tires spun a little in the slushy snow as Mim took off.

  Chapter 19

  Mim and Ari walked around the corner together and, after checking to see if any neighbors were gazing out of windows, they walked across the lawn and between the houses. They didn’t hurry. Better to look as if it were completely casual.

  Once they were behind the house, however, they picked up speed. “As far as I could tell, there were three sheds,” Mim whispered.

  “What if they’re locked?” Ari asked.

  “No one locks yards or sheds in Dog Town except Carver,” Mim said. “I hope.”

  She turned on the flashlight for a few seconds to get her bearings. Then they crept around to the door of the first shed. Mim tried the knob, and it opened. Stepping carefully over the threshold, she turned on the light just long enough to
see that it was a woodworking shop. The smell of cedar filled the air, and a half-finished chest sat on a workbench.

  “Just big enough for a dog coffin,” Ari said.

  Mim shushed her as they stepped back outside. On the way to the next shed they passed an old silver pickup truck without plates. “Another nail in Creepy Beaton’s coffin,” she said.

  The second shed was further from the house, but this time, the door was locked. They rounded the side and Mim pressed her face to the window, directing the flashlight’s beam at a gap in the curtains. She gasped and turned off the light.

  “What? What?” Ari asked.

  Mim looked again. “It’s an office. There are girly pix all over the walls.”

  Ari grabbed the light and peered in. “Oh my god. There are photos of you.”

  They were mostly of Mim’s butt, as she leaned over Mrs. Beaton. “I guess he finds surgical scrubs sexy.” She took one more look and groaned. “My Santa panties are hanging over his desk.”

  “Okay, so we’ve confirmed our pervert beyond a shadow of a doubt. That’s bad, but also good,” Ari said. “Call for George.”

  Mim tried calling quietly, and they waited, but heard nothing.

  “Should we break in?” Ari asked.

  “Let’s try the third shed first.”

  Now they were deep in the backyard, and it was very dark. There was no moon in the sky, just the cold points of stars.

  The door of the last shed was locked, too, and dark curtains on the window left no gaps to peek through. Mim pushed through bushes at the back of the shed to find another window. The brush was dense, and she stifled a yelp as a stick gouged her just under the eye. Blood dripped down her cheek, but she ignored it, plying her light to the second window. Again, the curtains were securely closed.

  Mim cursed in frustration, but Ari shushed her. “I heard something.”

  They both held their breath for a moment, and sure enough, there was a sound from inside. It was somewhere between a rattle and a scratch.

  “George?” Mim said.

  Silence.

  And then a muffled whine. A whine with a note of hysteria.

  “It’s him. It’s my baby.” Tears instantly started rolling, stinging the gash on her cheek.

  “Stay calm,” Ari said, her voice the shrill opposite of calm. “How do we get him out?”

  “Stand back,” Mim said, pulling a screwdriver out of her pocket. “Shield your eyes.”

  “Mim, don’t.” Ari tried to grab her arm. “We’ve got to call 911.”

  “I’m getting George out of here now,” Mim said. “Whatever it takes.”

  She handed Ari the light and positioned the screwdriver in the center of the pane of glass with her left hand. Then she gave the handle a hard rap with the heel of her right hand. Half the pane shattered, and George’s whining escalated.

  “Now what?” Ari said. “There’s glass all over and we can’t fit through that window.”

  “I can fit,” Mim said, starting to chip away the glass. She wasn’t entirely sure of that, but she was sure as hell going to try.

  “Come on, Mim. If you get stuck, we’re in big trouble.”

  “I’ve got this.”

  Suddenly a light flooded the back yard. Ari turned out the flashlight and they stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. Even George piped down. After a few tense moments, the porch light went out, and Mim crunched over broken glass to peer around the corner. She could see Mrs. Beaton’s hunched shape through the kitchen window. She was leaning on her walker with one hand and holding the curtain aside with the other. When the curtain dropped, Mim whispered, “Sorry, Ari. It’s time for Plan B.”

  Chapter 20

  Despite the circumstances, Mim couldn’t help smiling as the first strains of Joy to the World drifted toward her on the wintery air. The temperature had dropped, and standing still had let a chill set in. Her hands were shaking as she chipped quickly at the glass with her right hand, shining the flashlight on the window with her left.

  “Quiet, George,” she said, and thankfully he decided to obey.

  When the glass was fully cleared, she pushed the curtain aside and shone the light inside. On the floor was a large plastic dog kennel that was beautifully wrapped, except for the front wire panel. A large purple bow was tied to the handle.

  George was inside the kennel, pawing at the grill. There was a clanging sound and Mim realized he was wearing a wire mesh muzzle. She could also see that he was shivering, despite his coat. The shed wasn’t heated.

  She needed something to get her closer to the window and remembered seeing just the thing near the last shed. Creeping back out, she found a round of wood, about 18 inches in diameter and a foot high. Tucking the flashlight between her shoulder and cheek, she rolled it with difficulty into position under the window.

  Ari had cycled through Jingle Bells and Good King Wenceslas, and was now singing Away in a Manger at the top of her lungs. Mim sensed from the forced tone that her mission might not be going well, and started to worry. Mrs. Beaton probably thought Ari was crazy because she wouldn’t stop singing. What if she called Scott?

  Her phone buzzed inside her pocket and she fumbled for it. Kyle’s text read: “Scott left the lot in a hurry.”

  Taking her gloves off, Mim texted back, “Don’t move.” She was about to hit send and added, “Found George. He’s ok.” There were several typos, but he’d figure it out.

  Now Scott was on his way home, and the drive was 10 minutes, give or take. She knew she should call off the mission, but if Scott got home and found the broken window, there was no telling what he’d do with the dog. George was looking up at her with soulful eyes over the muzzle. She wouldn’t abandon him now.

  At the same time, she knew it would be dangerous to be caught mid-rescue when Scott did arrive. He was more disturbed than she could have imagined. It was reckless to risk her own safety with a family to look after.

  Momentarily paralyzed, it was Ari’s sweet voice singing O Holy Night that gave her strength. She could do this, and fast.

  Putting her gloves back on, Mim ran the screwdriver around the edges of the window to smooth the glass away. Then she tucked the flashlight into her coat, placed both hands on the bottom ledge and hoisted her upper body through the window. As she hovered there, the flashlight tumbled to the floor and rolled under a chest of drawers, where it cast an eerie light. On the walls hung the usual assortment of rakes, shovels and garden tools, and several axes. Who needed that many axes? The floor was clear below her, so she wriggled slowly forward, feeling sharp bits of glass through her jacket. It was a tight fit, but she could do it. Finally she reached the tipping point, took her hands off the ledge and lowered them to break her fall.

  Only she didn’t fall.

  She was stuck. Held by the shards of glass that had pierced her jacket.

  “Damn,” she said. “Damn damn damn.”

  George started to whine again.

  “Quiet,” she said. “Don’t panic, George.”

  She hung there, see-sawing forward and back. It was the second time she’d been in this position in a few days, and this situation was much more risky. Placing her hands on either side of the window frame, she pushed and scissored her legs at the same time to get momentum.

  That did it. She plunged forward into the shed, ripping her jacket. There was searing pain in her arm as she hit the ground, but she ignored it, rolling to grab the light from under the chest of drawers. Clambering to her feet, she muttered, “Get the dog and run.”

  But George’s things were scattered about and she couldn’t help collecting them. She stuffed toys and his bowls in a plastic bag she found on the floor. Then she opened the kennel door. George exploded from it, his joyful howl constrained by the muzzle. She thought about taking it off, but he’d only make more noise and they were already causing quite a commotion. There was no leash, so she picked him up and tucked him under her now-throbbing left arm. He was covered in excrement,
and she wondered how long he’d been stuck in there, alone.

  Holding the dog, the bag and the flashlight in her left hand, she unlocked the door with her right.

  As the door swung open, the circle of light hit Scott at about waist level.

  Mim was too startled to make a sound.

  Ari, standing behind Scott, screamed loud enough for both of them.

  Chapter 21

  “Give me the dog,” Scott said, moving forward.

  Mim backed up. She’d never realized how tall he was. In his parka, he seemed to block the entire doorway. “Never,” she said. “Ari, call the cops.”

  “They’re on their way.” Ari’s voice was raspy with terror.

  Scott made a move to snatch George, and Mim darted out of reach. The flashlight hit the floor and rolled to the other side of the shed. Scott advanced on her, and she backed against the wall. George twisted free and went after Scott, growling and leaping. Now she wished she’d taken his muzzle off. Scott turned to kick at him anyway.

  Reaching behind her, she grabbed the first thing that came into her hand and ran at Scott. Hitting him in the face with it, she yelled, “Don’t you DARE kick my dog, you sick bastard.”

  Scott shielded his head from the blow, but it wasn’t necessary, as Mim’s weapon was a cardboard roll from gift wrap. It didn’t stop her from going at him again.

  “Get away from George.”

  Whack.

  “Get away from me.”

  Whack.

  The cardboard roll snapped and she grabbed a shovel. All the fury she’d never been able to vent in life gathered and shot strength to her limbs.

  “Back out of here, Scott Beaton,” she said. “Or so help me, I’ll knock you out and leave you to freeze.”

  He didn’t move. In the dim light, his eyes were terrible, blank pools.

  “I said, back out. Or I’ll scream for your mother and let her handle you.”

  That got his feet moving. He shuffled back a few paces. George kept leaping at him and he swung his foot again. This time, he connected. There was a sharp yelp, and George skittered back to Mim, whining.