‘I suppose you found it in a bin or along the roadside? I’ve heard both many times. I’ve noticed that dog abusers are rarely imaginative.’
He frowned when, instead of defending herself further, she hugged the basket closer and took a step towards him.
‘Actually, I discovered her in my godmother’s barn.’
‘Doubtful, seeing as you’re not a local,’ Alex snorted.
‘How do you know I’m not?’
His eyes raked her from her head to her toes, taking in the fancy green padded coat, the designer jeans and pink whale-patterned wellingtons. They were a definite giveaway. No one around these parts wore anything but green or floral boots.
‘I can tell.’
‘Are you always this rude and judgemental?’ she asked.
Her eyes had narrowed, but she reached down and stroked the Papillon gently, to soothe its whimpering. He begrudgingly liked it that she put the dog’s feelings before her own anger.
‘Oh, no,’ Anne piped up from his side. ‘This is him being quite pleasant. Tell me more about where you found this poor soul?’
‘She didn’t find her,’ he dismissed, not believing a word the woman said.
‘Listen, you arrogant oaf.’ The woman stepped closer, though she kept her voice to a low hiss. ‘The dog is not mine. I discovered her and several others in a barn.’
‘What barn?’ he asked, determined to find fault with her tale. Anything to keep his attention diverted from the softness of her skin and the fullness of her lips.
‘The place is called Fingle Lodge. It’s about a mile from here. It used to be the lodge house on the old Cattleson Estate.’
Alex’s suspicions hiked up a level. Fingle Lodge was a property he’d secretly set his heart on owning one day. Once he tracked down who actually owned it now. Surrounded by an ancient wood, it sat in a rare unspoilt band of nature. There was an air of history to the area that intrigued him.
‘I know the place. No one has lived there for years.’
‘Well, at least you’re right about something,’ she agreed. ‘My godmother owns the property and she’s asked me to visit and check on its condition. When I searched the barn I discovered seven dogs and three puppies locked in a room and living in squalid conditions. I suspect someone is using it as a small-scale puppy farm. Why else would they keep them locked up? No one who loves dogs would keep them in such vile surroundings.’
‘Puppies?’ Alex repeated.
The woman nodded, and gently peeled back the green jumper covering the basket. Three sleepy puppies wriggled inside.
Alex reached into the basket and lifted one out, judging it to be no more than a week old. He gently returned it to the basket with its canine siblings.
‘You’ve only brought Mum and her pups with you,’ he pointed out, still not sure he believed or trusted her. Even with the recent introduction of new laws, and the hope of cutting out third party dealers, it didn’t mean there weren’t still people prepared to ignore it and continue with that side of the appalling puppy trade.
‘I couldn’t carry them all and fit them into my car,’ she explained, in a far from patient tone. ‘It’s only small and one of my suitcases takes up half of the back seat. I thought it important to bring these four first.’
He searched her face, lingering over her full pink mouth for signs to prove she was lying. But no matter how hard he looked nothing but innocence and truth stared back at him.
Had he judged her wrong? Was there really a puppy farm on his doorstep? The idea made him sick. What monstrosities had these dogs endured so some crook could make easy money. Easy for them, but not for the dogs.
He reached for the dog at the woman’s feet, touched when the filthy hound wagged its matted tail and stared at him with hopeful brown eyes. Each of her rib bones protruded through her dirty fur.
Handing the rope to Anne, he said, ‘Call Ray at the RSPCA. Get him to meet us at the property.’
‘What about PC Foot?’ she asked. ‘I’m sure he’ll want to be informed. You know how he goes on about strong community ties and sharing information—how the police can only be of use if the public lets them.’
Alex nodded. ‘Him too.’
He took the basket from the woman, careful to avoid touching her, and handed it to Anne.
‘Get Leah to help you with bathing these four. I’ll check them over when I get back.’
‘What about Ronny?’ Anne asked.
‘If Evans turns up while I’m out tell him I’ll quadruple his bills if he dares to remove Ronny before I’ve had a chance to neuter him. That cat is not to leave—no matter what he says or threatens.’
‘Will do.’
He nodded to the woman who had interrupted his schedule and his day, still not convinced of her innocence. ‘You’d better be telling the truth about the dogs not being yours.’
She glared at him. ‘I am.’
‘Come on, then. I don’t have all day to waste. Those other dogs need rescuing from who knows what.’
Copyright © 2020 by Shelley Rivers
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ISBN: 9781488066535
Sarah and the Single Dad
Copyright © 2020 by Denise Chavers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Sarah and the Single Dad Page 16