Dog-Gone Danger

by Linda Joy Singleton

  Kenya nods. “Dad said to look for a file labeled Family Documents.”

  “The cabinet wasn’t very organized, and we had to look in every drawer.” Kiana rolls her eyes. “Finally, we found our birth certificates…but that wasn’t all we found.”

  My sisters exchange somber looks.

  In my mystery novels, when secret papers are discovered, they’re usually explosive—a shocking will, a long-lost love letter, a treasure map, or a birth certificate for an unknown sibling. OMG! Could I have a sister or brother I don’t know about? Am I adopted? Are Dad and Mom my real parents?

  “What did you find?” I hold my breath as I wait for the answer.

  “Divorce papers,” Kenya says bluntly.

  My mouth falls open, and I stare at my sisters.

  “I don’t understand.” I dig my fingernails into the couch pillow.

  “We were confused too,” Kiana says. “Especially when we saw Mom’s and Dad’s names on the document.”

  “You mean…” I suck in my breath in shock. “They were divorcing each other?”

  Kiana nods, pushing dark hair from her eyes. “We didn’t know what to think, so we went to Dad and showed him the papers. He grabbed them and acted really strange. He told us nothing happened, and it was a mistake.”

  “Then he shredded the papers,” Kenya adds, scowling. “And he told us never to mention it to Mom.”

  “So of course we went to Gran Nola,” Kiana says with a half-smile.

  “And she told us what really happened,” Kenya adds.

  “She explained that while our parents get along great now, they used to argue a lot,” Kiana says, shifting on the couch to face me. “One argument was so bad that Mom left us with Gran Nola and drove away without telling anyone where she was going. A few days later, Dad was served with divorce papers.”

  I twist my hair into a knot. “Our parents are divorced?”

  “No.” Kiana shakes her head.

  “They never filed the papers,” Kenya adds.

  “Mom came back to Dad because she missed him so much,” Kiana continues in a more cheerful tone. “They went to a marriage counselor and learned to talk through their problems instead of arguing. And a year later, you were born.” She smiles like this is a fairy tale with a happily-ever-after ending.

  Only it isn’t.

  “Mom is gone again,” I say, my heart sinking.

  “We’re worried too, but we’re sure Mom will come back tomorrow.” Kiana squeezes my hand. “She’s had three days of alone time, so she shouldn’t feel stressed anymore. And she works on Monday, so she should be home by Sunday night. She’ll talk with Dad, and everything will be fine.”

  “I hope so,” I say softly.

  We talk a while longer. Well, mostly my sisters do the talking—gossiping about friends and school drama. I listen, but I’m also thinking about my parents. I can’t believe they were almost divorced. If they’d signed those papers, I would never have been born!

  After my sisters leave, I go over to the picture wall where my grandmother displays family portraits. I run my fingers fondly over a silver-framed photo of my parents on their wedding day. Mom shimmers in white with daisies in her hair, and Dad looks very handsome in a navy-blue dress suit. They’re so obviously in love. Their faces glow as they gaze at each other. It’s hard to believe that a few years later, arguments would pull them apart.

  Now I understand why Gran Nola doesn’t think Mom is in danger and Dad is so angry. Mom has done this before.

  For the first time since Mom left me waiting on the curb outside school, I’m not afraid for her safety. I’m angry…and I feel betrayed.

  Mom isn’t in trouble.

  She left to get away from us.

  - Chapter 11 -

  Larkspur Lane

  I wake up from troubled dreams I can’t remember, except I know they were about Mom.

  It was too late to call Becca and Leo last night, so they don’t know the search is off. I jump out of bed to call them, but when I glance at my bedside clock, I groan. We planned to meet at 1933 Larkspur Lane in ten minutes.

  Drats! Why didn’t I set the alarm?

  It’s too late to stop them, but if I hurry, I can meet them there. I yank open drawers and toss on jeans and a T-shirt. I start for my closet to get my spy pack…until I realize I don’t need it. The CCSC is no longer on a mission. I don’t need Major either, so I leave him in the backyard with Handsome.

  As I pedal to Larkspur Lane, my shoulders feel light without my spy pack, but my heart is heavy.

  What am I going to tell my club mates about Mom? I promised not to talk about the papers my sisters found. I guess I’ll just tell them Mom is safe and ask if the sheriff rescued the dognapped dachshund. Then I’ll suggest we solve another mystery—like who left Buggy in that run-down barn. I’ve been so worried about Mom that I forgot about poor little Buggy. How could anyone abandon such a tiny puppy? Or was she lost? The CCSC will find out.

  Larkspur Lane isn’t far from Sun Flower High, on a quiet street with single-story homes with shady porches squeezed together like cozy friends. I spot my friends on the sidewalk beneath an elm tree and coast over to them.

  “Where’s your spy pack?” is the first question observant Leo asks.

  “I don’t need it…not today.” Sadness rushes through me as I slide off my bike. “Things have changed.”

  Becca takes one look at my face and comes over to slip her arm around me. “Kelsey, what’s wrong?”

  “My sisters came over last night and told me something about Mom.” I roll my bike beside Becca’s. “I can’t tell you because they swore me to secrecy. But it explains why the adults aren’t looking for Mom. You were right, Becca. I should have believed the texts.” My heart squeezes as I look into Becca’s sympathetic eyes. “Mom doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Are you sure?” Becca asks softly.

  I nod. “Mom isn’t in danger.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing. She’s safe, and you don’t have to worry anymore.” Becca’s tone is cheerful, but she frowns as she studies me. “And there’s more good news. Cookie the dachshund was rescued! Sheriff Fischer told me all about it at dinner last night.”

  “I thought you didn’t like him,” Leo says in an accusing tone.

  “I don’t not like him. He just annoys me sometimes.” Becca flips back her ponytail. “And I’m so glad he returned the dachshund to its owners—even if he didn’t have enough proof to arrest Mr. Barton.”

  “Not enough proof!” I explode, outraged. “The dog was locked inside his barn!”

  Becca nods. “You’d think that was enough, but Mr. Barton lied and said he put the dog there to keep it safe until he could find the owners.”

  “That’s illogical.” Leo frowns. “He knew the Carters lost a dog.”

  “We know that, but there’s no proof.” Becca shrugs. “All that matters is that the dog is back home and soon Kelsey’s mom will be too.”

  “She should be back by tonight.” And then what will happen between Mom and Dad?

  “Let’s ride around looking for lost pets.” Becca grabs her handlebars. “And afterward we can have a club meeting.”

  Leo puts his hands on his hips. “I object.”

  “Object to what?” I turn to him in surprise.

  “Quitting.” He gives me a disappointed look. “Kelsey, I never expected you to give up on a mystery.”

  I wince at his words. “I am not giving up. I’m being realistic.”

  “You’re ignoring evidence that proves your mother is in jeopardy.”

  “Trust me,” I tell Leo, a bitter taste in my mouth. “Mom left because she wanted to. This isn’t the first time she did it.”

  “Facts don’t lie,” Leo says with a stubborn jut of his chin. “Fact one: your mother found new information about one of her work calls. Fact two: she told you she was going to investigate. Fact three: she intended to call your father, yet sent a text instead. Fact four: she didn’t p
ick you up from school despite her promise to you. And according to my observations, your mother would not make a promise she didn’t plan to keep.”

  “Stop already.” I shut my eyes to block out the accusing look on Leo’s face. “I don’t want to talk about Mom anymore.”

  Leo frowns. “The facts prove your mother needs our help.”

  “She does not want to be found,” I insist. “My family is sure she’ll be home tonight.”

  “What if your family is wrong?” He turns slightly to gesture to the house behind us. “We should continue the search, starting with 1933 Larkspur Lane.”

  I look to Becca for support but she’s biting her lip, her gaze darting uncertainly back and forth between us. “I don’t know…but maybe Leo is right,” she finally says. “It can’t hurt to find out why your mom came here.”

  I shrug, not wanting to argue with my friends. Besides, I am curious. But I’m uneasy too, remembering that scary moment when Mr. Barton caught us in his barn. “We have to be more careful this time,” I warn.

  “And we don’t want to look suspicious,” Becca adds with a furtive glance around. “Or someone will report us to Sheriff Fischer again.”

  Leo waves our concerns away with his hand. “I’ve already contemplated the possible risks and have a strategy prepared to obtain information. I brought this.” He holds up a pen with tiny lights spiraling down one side.

  “Is that the truth-detector pen you showed me?” I ask.

  “The new and improved version. I call it the Poly-Truth 2.0,” Leo says proudly. “The red light flashes when the person holding the pen tells an untruth.”

  Most people would say lie, not untruth. But Leo is a lot more complicated…and his lopsided smile is cute.

  Becca’s ponytail brushes against the pen as she bends over for a closer look. “How can a pen detect lies?”

  “Yeah, it’s so tiny.” I run my finger down the pen’s red and green lights. “The lie detectors on TV are much bigger.”

  “This transmits to my tablet,” Leo says, a confident gleam in his blue eyes. “When someone holds this pen, their respiration, blood pressure, and skin conductivity are measured through electrodes embedded in the pen.”

  I don’t understand, but I nod like I do. “How do we convince a suspect to hold the pen?”

  Leo flashes his crooked grin. “We go undercover.”

  “Ooh!” A thrill of excitement tingles through me. “Did you bring disguises? What’s our cover story?”

  “No need for disguises,” Leo says with a shrug. “We’ll pose as middle-school students.”

  “That’s not a cover,” I complain. “That’s who we are.”

  “Precisely why it’s a good ruse,” Leo says. “We’ll ring the doorbell, then say we’re students doing a school project and ask them to fill out a form.” He zips open his leather pouch and pulls out a clipboard. “There are only three questions. I knew you’d complain if the questions were complex, so they are short and easy to answer.”

  I read the paper on the clipboard.

  Circle the answer that best suits your opinion:

  How long have you lived in Sun Flower? 1–5 years

  5–10 years

  Longer

  How many pets do you own? 1–3

  3 or more

  None

  Which animal do you consider the most intelligent? Dog

  Cat

  Bird

  “These questions are too random to be useful,” I say as I return the clipboard to Leo.

  “The questions are unimportant. It’s the pen that matters.” Leo lifts his chin confidently. “When the suspect holds the pen, Becca will use her social skills to lead up to the important questions, such as why was animal control called to this house? All we know is that the call log had a ZWELF code: concerns for an animal’s welfare. But this pen will tell us much more. If the red light flashes, we’ll know the suspect is lying. But if the green light stays on, the suspect is being truthful.”

  Becca leans over to look at the clipboard. “C, B, B,” she says. “Those are my answers.”

  “You don’t need to answer.” Leo shakes his head. “You’re not a suspect.”

  “I should hope not.” She giggles. “But I can’t resist answering questions. I like the third one best. Everyone knows cats are the smartest animal.”

  “Cats are great, but dogs are smarter,” I argue. “Major is so smart that he found Buggy.”

  “You’re both incorrect.” Leo waves the poly-truth pen at us. “While our kittens are exceptionally smart and Major is a clever dog, it’s a known fact that birds have the superior brains. Crows and ravens are highly intelligent and have been known to use logic and multitask.”

  “Then why are silly people called birdbrains?” Becca teases.

  Leo regards her seriously, thinking a moment. “That’s an illogical term. Anatomically, a bird has a large brain compared to its head size.”

  I playfully nudge Becca. “He must be telling the truth because his truth pen is flashing green.”

  “Facts never lie,” Leo says as he hands the clipboard to Becca. “You may ask the questions.”

  As we near the door, I hold my breath. Each address we’ve gone to has led us into trouble. The apartment manager reported us to the sheriff, which was embarrassing. And the last address led us to a rifle-toting dognapper.

  I glance around at this ordinary-looking house. The lawn is freshly mowed, and the small bushes beneath the front windows are neatly trimmed. The porch is small, only as wide as the front door itself. I don’t get any scary vibes. But someone filed a report about an animal’s welfare, so something terrible may have happened here.

  Becca clenches the clipboard.

  Leo reaches out and presses his finger on the doorbell.

  My pulse jumps at the sound of footsteps from within the house…coming closer…closer…

  When the door bursts open, I stare up at a tall, blond man wearing dark-green tights, matching green gloves, and a shiny gold shirt that appears to be made of fish scales. And he’s holding a three-pronged spike.

  Leo gasps. “Aquaman?”

  - Chapter 12 -

  A Super Pup

  When the man chuckles, I realize he’s probably in his early twenties. He grins at Leo. “You know your comics.”

  “I confess to being a fan of DC Comics,” Leo says, stepping in front of Becca, who looks as confused as I do. “Your costume is very impressive.”

  “Thank you. But it’s not complete without Mera,” he adds, glancing behind him. “I really have to get ready and hurry off to Comic Con, so whatever you’re selling, I don’t have time to buy any. Sorry.”

  “We’re not selling anything,” Becca chirps with a friendly smile. “We’re doing a school project and only ask that you answer three questions. They’re super short and will only take a few minutes.”

  “Well…I’m not quite as speedy as the Flash, but I can spare a few minutes. I’m Todd Latoski. And you are?”

  “Becca,” our social specialist answers, then gestures to me. “She’s Kelsey, and that’s Leo.”

  “Nice to meet you kids.” When Todd nods at us, his blond hair slips sideways. He reaches up and tugs his wig into place. “So what’s this project about?”

  “Pets in our community,” Becca says and offers him the clipboard. “Just circle your answers.”

  “We’re middle schoolers,” Leo puts in as if this isn’t as obvious as the wig on Todd’s head. “Here, you can use our pen.”

  “Odd pen,” Todd says as he turns the pen in his hands. “Almost looks like a sonic screwdriver. Or maybe you three are really super villains, and this pen is actually a weapon.” He looks at us with a grin and a wink. “Should I be careful? Does it shoot laser beams?”

  “It’s just an ordinary pen,” Leo insists with reddening cheeks. He’s a terrible liar. If he was holding the pen, it would flash bright red.

  Todd chuckles and looks down at the paper. “Hmm…these
are easy questions. I’ve lived here for six years.” The pen light flashes green. “I have only one pet, and my dog is much smarter than a cat or bird.”

  “I believe dogs are highly intelligent,” I say with a triumphant look at Leo and Becca.

  “My little Mera sure is,” Todd says fondly. “She’s a natural performer and loves to show off when she has an audience.”

  There’s a tone people use when they talk about animals that clues you in right away that they love animals. Todd is using that tone. What sort of report brought Mom to his house?

  “Where’s your dog?” Becca asks, glancing past him into the house.

  “In the back room. I’d just finished getting her ready for the Con when you rang the doorbell.”

  This is my chance to find out why Mom came here so I try to keep him talking while he’s still holding the poly-pen. “I’d love to meet Mera.”

  “Me too,” Becca adds.

  “It’s cool you’ve trained your dog,” I add. “I taught mine to sit and stay, but he won’t do any tricks. Handsome is sweet and well behaved—unless he sees a squirrel. Then he won’t stop barking. Once he barked so much a neighbor complained to Animal Control.”

  “I know what that’s like.” Todd sighs.

  “Your dog barks too much too?” I ask sympathetically.

  “No, but I have a nosy neighbor who called Animal Control on me a few days ago. I love my dog and would never do anything to hurt her. I was so embarrassed when the animal control officer arrived, but she was cool. She looked at Mera and said it was obvious I took good care of my dog.”

  I’m watching the poly-truth pen in his hand. It glows an honest green, but I suspect there’s something he’s not telling me.

  “Why did your neighbor complain?” I say with a puzzled frown.