by Heidi Lang
“Calm, confident energy,” Jessie repeated, grinning. This was a lot of fun. No wonder Wes had taken her on.
Wes.
Her grin melted away faster than ice cream on a hot summer day, and she picked up her pace. They still had a lot of dogs to cover.
“Are we almost done?” Ann yelled over the sound of the wind a few hours later. “I’m c-cold!”
“One more walk.” One more walk, and they would be successfully done for the day. Jessie felt really proud of that and also proud of how well Ann had just walked Luke and Leia, their cottony fur soaking up the rain and leaving them sad and bedraggled. She was even more proud of how Ann had carefully toweled them off at the house until they were close to their old fluffy selves. Ann might claim she didn’t love dogs because they were “too slobbery,” “too hyper,” or “too covered in all that dog fur,” but Jessie could tell they were winning her cousin over.
It wasn’t like it used to be, her and Ann. They weren’t pretending to be ninjas or pirates or ninja pirates. In fact, any mention of make-believe made Ann uncomfortable, but Jessie realized they were still able to talk and laugh and walk dogs and have a good time together. It would never be quite like it was, but maybe that was OK, too.
“OK, who do we have?” Ann asked.
“Pickles, Zelda, and I thought we’d pick up Presto along the way and just walk him extra.”
Ann nodded. “Sounds doable.”
The rain picked up, each droplet larger and colder than the one before. Jessie and Ann looked at each other. “Run over?” Jessie suggested.
“Run over,” Ann agreed. And then they were sprinting and laughing as they charged head first into the rain. Even the sight of Monique up ahead couldn’t ruin Jessie’s good mood.
“What’s she doing?” Ann asked, and Jessie realized: Monique didn’t have a dog with her. Instead, she was running with an empty leash in one hand, running in a weird, zigzagging pattern, her eyes flicking all over the place.
“I . . . have no idea. Let’s just get this last walk done.”
“A-agreed.” Ann shivered, and they picked up the pace. But all through that last walk, Jessie kept picturing Monique, the way she’d been so frantically searching, an empty leash in her hand.
CHAPTER 32
The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, with barely a hint of the rain from the day before. Jessie woke up early, no alarm needed. Across the room, Ann slept soundly, her hand flung over her face. After a few seconds of deliberating, Jessie left her sleeping. Sure, she’d offered to help yesterday, but Jessie doubted her cousin would want to spend another full day with her and the dogs.
Jessie decided not to bother with Wes this morning; she didn’t feel like wasting her time. Instead, she headed straight for Angel’s house.
“Hey! You jerk!”
Jessie turned, surprised to see Ann running toward her in an overlarge jacket and sweatpants, her long blond hair trailing unbrushed behind her. “Ann?”
“You didn’t wake me up!” Ann caught up, then bent over, panting for breath. “I heard the front door close and had to hurry after you.” She straightened. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to walk dogs again.”
Ann crossed her arms. “Why wouldn’t I want to? I mean, I’ve practically mastered these dog rules—”
“Rules of the Ruff, and no you haven’t.”
“Well, I’m getting close. I figure another day or two and I’ll have them down.”
“It might take longer than that,” Jessie warned.
Ann shrugged. “We’ll see. I’m a fast learner.”
“Loralee might break up with . . . might be free again before you become an expert.”
“Actually, they already broke up,” Ann said carefully.
“What? They did?” Jessie coughed. “I mean, not that I care.” Max could go ahead and marry Loralee, and it wouldn’t bother her one little bit.
“Yeah, Loralee actually wanted to hang out today, but I told her I was busy.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Ann said.
Jessie hadn’t realized how knotted up her stomach was, but it loosened now. She pictured it as a nest of snakes, all trapped in a basket, and someone had lifted the lid. Just an inch. Just enough for a snake or two to escape.
“You’ve got that weird look on your face,” Ann said. “Like you’re thinking weird thoughts.”
“This is just how my face always looks.” Jessie pushed all images of snakes and baskets from her head. Even though they weren’t weird thoughts; lots of people probably pictured snakes in their stomachs. Probably.
As they rounded the corner, she saw something that made her forget about snakes entirely.
Wes was standing outside Angel’s house. Wes, his hair brushed, his clothing clean, wearing his standard hip pack. Looking like himself, like he hadn’t spent the past few days hiding out in his house.
“Hey kid. I thought I might run into you here.” He smiled. Actually smiled.
Jessie realized her mouth was hanging open, and she shut it. “H-hey. I, uh, brought on an assistant.”
Wes’s smile dropped. “Another assistant.” He narrowed his eyes at Ann, who shrank behind Jessie. “Hmm. Doesn’t look very helpful.”
“She’s been a lot more helpful than you this week.”
Wes laughed once, loud and sharp like a dog’s bark. “Fine. I guess you’re off poop-scooping duty today, then.”
“What does that mean?” Ann whispered.
Jessie hesitated. “It means . . . you’re probably going to regret joining me today.”
“There’s another one.” Jessie pointed to a pile, grinning.
Ann rolled her eyes, but she cleaned it up. “You are going to pay for this,” she muttered.
“Probably.” Jessie couldn’t stop smiling, though. Wes was back to his old unpleasant self, Ann was stuck cleaning up after the dogs, and things were all right with the world. Plus, they were almost done already, and it was barely noon. It was amazing how much faster the walks went when you had three people and a car.
“Garbage over there.” Jessie pointed, and Ann, still muttering, headed toward it.
“Hey, Jessie?” Ann called. “Did you see this?”
“What’s your minion on about?” Wes asked.
Jessie shrugged but maneuvered her pair of cattle dogs over toward Ann, who was pointing at a sign taped to the tree beside her.
“Have you seen me?” Jessie read the block letters, then looked at the photograph. All the air vanished from her lungs.
Hazel’s distinctive little wolfy face stared back, those big brown eyes full of entitlement, that little snout lifted slightly in the air. “Oh. Oh no.” Jessie closed her eyes, remembering Monique running yesterday, an empty leash in her hand. “Wes.” She tried to shout his name, but it just came out in a whisper.
“What is it, kiddo?” He read the sign, and his face went blank. It was like staring at a robot, no expression at all.
“We need to look for her,” Jessie said. “We need to—hey!”
Wes had ripped the page off the tree and crumpled it. He shook himself, as if coming to his senses. “We’ll keep an eye out as we walk. I’m sure she’ll turn up.” He stuffed the crumpled page deep into his pocket and then marched his pack up ahead.
He didn’t say anything else about it, not a single word. Nothing as they finished the walk or as they dropped off the dogs. Maybe his worry went beyond words.
“All right, kiddo, enjoy your weekend,” he said as he parked his car.
“It’s only Thursday,” Jessie pointed out.
“I’ll cover tomorrow myself. You’ve earned a day off. Come back normal time Monday.” He glanced at Ann. “You can tag along again if you must.”
“Don’t count on it,” Ann muttered.
“Wes . . .” Jessie hesitated. “About Hazel—”
“She’ll turn up,” he said abruptly. “Very irresponsible of Monique,
though. Bet Diana is really sorry she switched dog walkers now.”
“I bet Diana is really sorry her dog is missing,” Jessie said softly.
Wes’s face drooped. “Yeah, she probably is.” He slammed his car door shut and went inside his house without another word.
Jessie and Ann exchanged looks and started back to the house. “Is it just me, or was he being super weird?” Ann asked.
“He’s always super weird.”
“I got that. But, I thought Hazel was his favorite dog ever.”
“She was. Is.”
“You’d think he’d be more worried about her, then.”
Jessie wasn’t sure what to say to that, either, but she noticed several more missing dog posters along the way back to Ann’s house. Each one felt like a punch to the stomach. How could Monique have lost a dog? She could picture little Hazel out in the rain, lost, alone, howling her little wolf howl . . .
“Are you crying?” Ann asked.
“No,” Jessie sniffled, wiping her face. “I’m just . . . Hazel . . . she’s so little.”
“Oh, Jessie, I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Ann wrapped an arm around Jessie’s shoulders and hugged her. “If Wes was so calm about it, it must mean he’s sure, too. And he knows dogs better than anyone, right?”
Jessie nodded, but it was hard to make her eyes stop leaking. Her vision was so blurry, she almost didn’t notice Max waiting outside Ann’s house when they arrived.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What are you doing here?” Ann demanded. “Came to spy again?”
Max turned red. “No, of course not. I just wanted to talk to Jessie.”
“Well she doesn’t want to talk to you, so just run along.”
“It’s OK, Ann.” Jessie sniffed. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Are you sure?” Ann shot Max a scowl that would have made Wes proud, but at Jessie’s nod, she shrugged and headed inside. “Holler if you need me.” She closed the door behind her, leaving Jessie to face Max alone.
“I’m sorry to bother you.” Max dug his sneaker into the dirt, not looking at her. “I know you hate me now, and I know I deserve it.”
“Well, at least you know something.” Jessie wiped her face on her sleeve. “Why are you here?”
“Two reasons. First, I came here to apologize—”
“Not forgiven.”
He winced. “OK, I was expecting that. Can I at least explain—”
“No.” Jessie crossed her arms. At least anger had chased away her tears.
“Fine. OK. Then the second reason I’m here . . .” He took a deep breath. “My mom was wondering if you’ve seen a dog.”
“You mean Hazel?” Jessie’s anger evaporated, and she shook her head. “I saw the flyer.” She hesitated, but she had to know. “How did it happen?”
“We think she must have gotten out through the car window yesterday. Mom left her in there for a minute to grab a coffee.” He took off his hat and scrunched it in his hands, looking miserable. “She’s been searching for her ever since.”
“I’ll look for her, too.”
“Thanks. Can you also ask Wes? You know, if he’s seen her? He won’t talk to me or my mom at all.”
“I don’t think he has . . .” Jessie trailed off, a sudden suspicion settling over her, as thick and uncomfortable as the layer of loose dog fur in Wes’s car. “It was raining yesterday, wasn’t it?”
“Pouring.”
“And . . . your mom still left the car window open?”
“Just an inch or two. She was worried Hazel wouldn’t have any fresh air.”
The thought solidified, making Jessie’s knees weak and her head spin. “And . . . and she got out still?” she whispered. “Through that little window opening?”
“Must have, right? How else would she have gotten out?”
How else. Jessie thought of the spare key, the one she had stolen, and how Wes was hanging onto it. Wes, who hadn’t seemed worried enough about Hazel missing.
She nodded numbly. “I’ll ask Wes.” Her voice sounded far away in her ears, and she felt like she was still asleep. Maybe she was. Maybe this was a dream. She really, really hoped it was a dream.
CHAPTER 33
Jessie felt odd, detached, like a puppet with broken strings, as she made her way back to Wes’s house. Taking a deep breath, she knocked hard on his door. She thought she heard a tiny howl, quickly silenced.
“Who is it?” Wes asked through the door.
“It’s me. Jessie.”
He opened it a crack, just enough to poke his head out. “Haven’t I spent enough time with you today?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Talk to me Monday.” He tried shutting the door, but Jessie had already wedged her foot inside. He raised his eyebrows. “You’re getting fast at that. Impressive.”
“Thank you.” Jessie grinned, then caught herself. “Hey, don’t try to change the subject. I need to talk to you about Hazel.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. That is Monique’s problem, not mine.”
“No, it’s your problem, because I know you took her.”
Silence. Wes scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If I’m wrong, then let me in.”
“I don’t want you in my house.”
“Because you’ve got a stolen dog stashed away in there?”
His scowl deepened. “You’re just a kid. What would you know about any of this?”
“I know it’s wrong to steal someone’s dog.”
“I did nothing of the sort. I—hey, would you look at that?” He pointed at something behind Jessie.
She turned and looked, almost as a reflex. The minute she did, Wes kicked her foot away from the door and slammed it shut, locking it. “Argh, I can’t believe I fell for that!” Jessie leaned her head against the door, humiliated but not defeated. Not yet.
Jessie spent the rest of the afternoon trying to talk to Wes. She pounded on his front door until his neighbor yelled at her to stop. Then she pounded on his back door until that same neighbor threatened to call the police. That seemed like her cue to go home for dinner, but she vowed to come back early the next morning and corner Wes as he was leaving for his dog walks.
All night she dreamed about Hazel, lost and alone and scared, and the next morning she woke up to sunlight spilling through the curtains and the realization that she’d forgotten to set an alarm. She grabbed her clothes and checked the clock. It read 11:43 A.M.
Jessie froze. How had she slept so late? “Argh, there goes all my plans,” she muttered. Wes would be finishing his dog walks by now. But maybe if she hurried, she could still catch him . . .
She shoved her notebook and some supplies in a backpack and rushed out the door.
Wes was already home by the time she got there, his car in the driveway, door closed and locked.
“Darn it,” Jessie said, heart sinking. Still, she wasn’t going to give up. She had all afternoon.
When Wes didn’t answer her knocks, she shoved notes through the gap beneath his back door. Wes shredded them and shoved them back to her. So she wrote new notes and taped them to his windows, where he had no choice but to see them. Notes like, “Don’t be a dog thief,” “You need to return her,” and her personal favorite, “I’ll keep hounding you until you do the right thing.” Wes merely pulled all the blinds firmly down so he wouldn’t be able to see her handiwork.
Jessie stood there in his backyard and glared at the shades, but it didn’t do her any good.
“What are you doing?” Ann asked.
Jessie almost fell over. “Don’t sneak up on me when I’m working!”
“This is working?” Ann jerked her chin at the stack of paper and pens clutched in Jessie’s hands.
“It’s step two of a complicated plan, OK?” At Ann’s questioning look, Jessie explained the Hazel Situation.
Ann studied her, then looked at the pages taped to Wes’s blinded-up wind
ows. “You know, you could just tell Hazel’s owner.”
“I can’t do that! Then she’ll know he took her dog.”
Ann shrugged.
“You don’t understand. He’d lose everything. No one else is going to let a dog thief walk their dogs. He’d lose the whole business.”
“Well, maybe he should,” Ann said quietly.
Jessie gaped at her. “You don’t really mean that.”
“Jess, he did steal someone’s dog. And before that, he had you help sabotage someone else’s business. Honestly, I question his business ethics. Not to mention his maturity.”
“Stop talking like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re some kind of adult.”
Ann sighed. “We all have to grow up eventually. Even you. Especially you.”
Before Jessie could ask what that was supposed to mean, Ann walked off, leaving her alone in Wes’s backyard.
Jessie sat down next to the rosebushes, feeling miserable. She didn’t know what to do next. No matter what Ann said, she couldn’t turn Wes in, not when this whole mess was her fault. She’d convinced Wes to sabotage Monique. And then she’d given Monique the exact information she needed to get revenge on Wes. But she also couldn’t keep her mouth shut, because Hazel needed to go home to her mama.
Jessie just needed to get inside Wes’s house somehow and get Hazel back, but he was never going to open his door for her. But maybe . . . maybe she could open the door herself. She remembered what Wes had told her on her first day working for him: Most people keep a key hidden somewhere in their yard. What if Wes had one, too?
She stood up, brushed herself off, and started searching.
Twenty minutes later, however, she was beginning to think this was just another dead end. He didn’t have a welcome mat, not surprising, and he had only a handful of flowerpots in his backyard, none of them hiding a key. There weren’t any turtles or other statues, and she couldn’t reach the top of the door to see if he kept a spare key on the frame.
She circled the house, then stood in front of it, hands on her hips, glaring at that tauntingly locked door. She pictured it as an impenetrable fortress, and she could almost see the moat circling around it, the vines wrapping the front door, the dragon standing guard. A dragon with Wes’s face, his deep furrow and wispy hair.