The false bravado faded about two yards into the culvert. She wasn’t a big fan of dark, confined spaces, but then who was? It was like a corrugated tubular coffin. That much, she’d expected. What surprised her was the smell. It was hard to believe that anything could stink more than the tripe James had been brandishing, but there was indeed something worse: death. Something had crawled in here and turned the culvert into an actual coffin. A possum, perhaps. Luckily, there was nothing visible in the stretch between her and Buster.
Breathing through her mouth, she inched forward on her elbows, glad she’d worn a long-sleeve T-shirt. The tube seemed airless, but she knew it opened somewhere else not too far away. It was just her imagination. The trick to getting this done was to stay out of her head.
“Buster, baby,” she cooed. “I’m coming for you, boy. Don’t you worry. I know it’s scary to be stuck in here with a corpse but it’s okay. You and I will not add to the pile of bones. We’re getting out, I promise you.”
The dog whined, but the level of hysteria had leveled down. Jack Russells were fierce warriors, but they were clever, too.
“Do you know I’m not even getting paid for this?” she muttered, pulling herself along with her elbow and the fingers of whichever hand wasn’t holding her phone. She felt one nail break and then another. “I’m on desk duty, now. No one will ever know about my heroic efforts.”
She paused to catch her breath, while trying not to smell the decay. It was slimy and damp in here, too. If she allowed herself to think about it, this would rival her worst rescues with the Mafia. But she blocked it out and inched forward again.
“Here’s the thing, though, Buster. We’ll put a smile on that little girl’s face. She’ll hug you so hard your ribs might crack. And that is all the reward I need. Tomorrow you’ll be the king of Craven Road again.”
Finally she got within reach of the dog. She shone the light around to see where he was stuck. Sure enough, he’d snagged the tags of his collar on a spike poking through the corrugated metal. It had just enough of a crook to hold the dog back.
Then she passed the light up and down his body and made sure there were no obvious injuries. Last, she checked his expression and posture. She’d been bitten once recently and she didn’t intend to let it happen again. Buster looked friendly enough and his tailed thumped a couple of times on the metal.
“Easy,” she said, reaching out tentatively with the leash. Hooking it to his collar, she released the tag from the stake and then tugged gently. “Reverse, soldier.”
It wasn’t much easier pushing back out, especially with raw elbows and hands, but the decay seemed to propel her on. She could see the shape of something large and lifeless ahead in the tunnel, but deliberately turned the beam away. It seemed indecent.
Finally, she felt large hands on her ankles and someone pulled her back gently. James helped her to her feet and kept his arm around her, even after she surrendered the leash into the little girl’s hands. As expected, the girl crushed the wriggling dog in a huge hug. Her parents came over and tried to shake Kinney’s hand, and looked horrified instead at her bloody fingers. Looking down, she realized she was filthy and covered in something slick, dark and vile. She tried to move away from James but he wouldn’t let go.
It was dark now, and it took a few seconds before she noticed a crowd of at least 20 people and nearly as many cell phones held high. Someone started to clap, and then everyone else followed suit.
“No need for that,” Kinney called. “You’d all do the same, right? Buster’s your neighbor.”
Everyone laughed, voices overlapping as they explained Buster was the clown and trickster of Craven Road; this wasn’t his first or worst dangerous exploit. Offers of wine and whiskey drifted out on the chilly air.
“Whiskey!” Kinney said. “Where’s my dog?”
A man came forward with Whiskey and Rocky, both dogs walking beautifully and calmly on leashes. “They were good,” he said, passing a leash to Kinney.
“I’ll take that drink,” she said. “Make it a double.”
Another voice boomed over the murmuring crowd. “She’ll decline that, thanks.”
Someone turned a light on the man, but Kinney already knew who it was because her bones had melted in fear in a way they hadn’t in the tunnel.
Cliff Whorley stepped forward and grabbed her firmly by one aching elbow.
“Hey! Get your hands off her,” James said.
Cliff dropped her arm and backed away, but Kinney slipped out of James’ grasp and followed, as if pulled by invisible strings. Once they were beyond the crowd, she said, “Why are you here?”
He started to say “duh” but settled for an eye roll. “It’s all over social media. Imagine my surprise when my wife showed me a livestream video of the CCD’s receptionist trying to be a hero.”
“Cliff, the dog’s collar was stuck. Anyone else would have done the same.”
“Anyone else would have called us to do the job properly.” He gestured to a man cloaked in shadows who stepped forward and raised a hand sheepishly. Wyatt Cobb.
“I got the dog out before he strangled himself. You guys would have been half an hour.” Her voice had a shrill edge. She hadn’t expected him to welcome her back to her old job, but a polite acknowledgment would have been nice. “The owners are happy, the dog’s happy. What’s the problem?”
His arms crossed over his bulging belly. “The problem is that you showed poor judgement. Again. I gave you a second chance—not even counting the stunts you get up to with your friends—and you blew it.”
Her throat tightened. It was as bad as being in the tube, only without the putrid decay… unless you counted the slow death of her career. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re suspended, Butterfield.” He turned and walked away with Wyatt, calling back, “Spend some time meditating to get your brain straight. The mayor swears by that shiz.”
Chapter 15
The 12-year-old lime-green van took the bumps hard, eliciting squeals and groans in various pitches from its passengers. The mid-June day was perfect for a ride in the country, even if the ride itself was far from perfect.
“Bridget, can you slow down a bit?” Kinney asked, from the back seat. “My head is already aching.”
“I’ve got to keep things rolling,” Bridget said. “Otherwise the engine stalls out. If you want a smooth ride you chose the wrong chariot. Ari’s swank SUV was an option.”
The 10 women had divided up, with Bridget, Cori, Remi and Evie with Kinney in the van, and Nika, Duff, Maisie and Sasha following with Ari. They’d all taken the day off work for this mission. Except for Kinney, who now had all her days off work.
“Do you want a painkiller?” Remi asked, letting Leo inch his way from her lap onto Kinney’s. He always knew who needed his help most in any situation. “I have some in my purse.”
Kinney shook her head and winced at the sharp pinch behind her eyes. “I might as well weather it through.” She looked down at Leo and almost smiled. He’d managed to get most of his body off Remi’s lap and onto hers. Remi had volunteered to take the middle seat, with the worst springs. It was the sign of a true friend. “It would ease my pain to kill Cliff Whorley. Figuratively speaking.”
Cori turned from the passenger seat and grinned. “An admirable sentiment. When we take down the mayor, Cliff will go with him.”
“It could have been worse,” Bridget said. “After a dose of Leo, you’ll see that.”
Resting one hand on Leo’s head, she caught Bridget’s eye in the review mirror. “I suppose. I could have been fired outright. On camera.”
“You were suspended with pay,” Bridget said. “That probably only happened because of the cameras.”
“Agreed,” Evie said, from the other side of Remi. “It’s hard to fire someone who’s on the front page of the Dog Town newspaper bloodied and triumphant after saving a dog.”
Cori braced herself with one gloved hand on the driver’s s
eat and craned around again. “Look at it this way: it’s a paid vacation.”
Kinney gave a snort. “It’s on my employment record. They’ll say I was insubordinate, impulsive and—”
“Insufferable,” Cori supplied. “I get that one a lot. But I consider all of those high praise.” She gave Kinney a rare smile. “It’s all about reframing. Do you want to be a yes-man who does the CCD’s bidding no matter if it makes sense or not? Or do you want to do the right thing for animals in Dorset Hills and get used to some name-calling?”
“I don’t see why I can’t do the right thing for animals in Dorset Hills without getting unfairly sanctioned.”
Cori turned back, flipping an orange finger on the way. “Has your short-term memory failed? Since Mr. Bradshaw took office, the price of doing the right thing for Dog Town keeps rising. So how about you quit whining and spend your paid vacation rehabilitating Whiskey and investigating the stolen puppy situation?”
Kinney stroked Leo’s head in resignation. If he was the only one offering sympathy, she’d take it. There was no denying that his smooth ears and warm body had a soothing effect. It was probably better than medicine.
“Okay, you’re right,” she said, after watching the green hills flash past for a few minutes. “I’ll end my pity party right here. At least I don’t have to organize the Fourth of July festival anymore. Plus I’m lucky to be living nearly rent free at Marti Forrester’s house. Maybe by the time this ends, I can figure out what I’m really meant to do. This was never my dream job.”
Evie leaned around Remi again. “You’re an amazing dog cop, Kinney, but it’s time for the next big thing. You know I’ve had nine lives in the political realm and even though my therapy dog program idea got put on ice, I couldn’t be happier.” She held up her video camera. “There are so many ways to contribute to this town—even by exposing its seedy underbelly.”
“Most of us have been fired before,” Cori said. “You adapt. Freelance is better for the attitudinally challenged, like you.”
There was a chorus of protests, and Kinney’s voice wasn’t even the loudest.
“It’s a compliment,” Cori added. “And a ticket to freedom.”
The van hit a big bump and Cori’s shiny dark head appeared above the headrest for a moment. She landed with a thud but she didn’t make a murmur of complaint. There was no denying that she practiced what she preached. When the road smoothed out again, she said, “Tell us exactly what Clarence said last night. Leave out no detail.”
“I’m surprised Clarence would share anything when the mayor’s office keeps postponing your meeting,” Evie said. “Either he has faith we’ll prevail, or he wants to sort out this puppy problem, too.”
Running one hand through tangled hair and the other over Leo, Kinney frowned. “I just hope I remember everything. I’d had a drink or three after getting home from Craven Road and he served me another when I cabbed over there.”
“Which explains the headache,” Bridget offered, eyes crinkling in the rearview mirror.
“Maybe. Either way, you have to be sharp with Clarence and read between the lines. He doesn’t like to make things too easy.”
“True that,” Evie said.
“I always understand him,” Cori said. “But I am a little smarter than the average bear.”
Kinney withered her with a look from behind.
“I feel that,” Cori said.
Even Kinney laughed. Then she closed her eyes for a second to focus on her conversation with Clarence. “Okay, so he did some delicate digging with his casserole confidantes, and apparently there are more stolen puppies than we know about, or were reported. And not all of them have been returned.”
Several of the women gasped in shock, but Bridget was the first to speak. “Why wouldn’t breeders report their missing puppies?”
Kinney shrugged. “Clarence could only speculate that whoever is stealing them offered good compensation. Maybe they bought off the breeders before they could call it in.”
“This is awful,” Remi said, reaching for Leo’s back paw and holding it. “What are they doing with these puppies? Are they safe?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Kinney said. “I can’t think of a reason anyone would hurt a puppy in Dog Town, especially pedigreed pups. But we need to get to the bottom of this.”
Cori had turned to catch every nuance. “Clarence thinks the City is behind it?”
“He does. Otherwise breeders would be screaming to high heaven. Presumably they’ve been fed some line about how their sacrifice will be for the greater good of Dog Town.”
Bridget shook her head. “If so, the City may be handpicking victims based less on bloodlines than on breeder gullibility.”
“Or greed,” Cori said. “Plenty of them would forfeit a dog for the right price, as long as they believed that the pup would be safe. And the City could provide that kind of reassurance.”
“Clarence didn’t press for details for fear of setting off alarms,” Kinney said.
Rubbing her forehead, Evie said, “Something feels really strange about this. It’s almost as if they’re trying to confuse us. Throw us off the trail.”
“I wish we were that big a threat,” Bridget said. “Mostly they just swat us away like flies from the growing decay of Dog Town.”
“All we can do is follow the breadcrumbs and see where they take us,” Kinney said. “I don’t know if this is a real clue from Clarence or conjecture, but he suggested we investigate properties where puppies might be stashed. Hence, our road trip.”
Evie leaned forward. “How did you settle on the sites we’re visiting?”
Kinney grinned. “Cliff didn’t think to lock me out of the CCD system till this morning. So I poked around and found new kennel licences had been issued for three properties outside the city proper but still in Dorset Hills County. Each was listed under a separate name, but I couldn’t find anyone with those names. The breeds identified with the new kennels are really unusual: Norwegian lundehund, the Peruvian Inca orchid, and the Thai ridgeback.”
“Seriously?” Evie said. “That’s not consistent with the new breeder legislation the City was developing. No one breeding Norwegian puffin hunters would be able to waltz in and get a permit to build.”
“There was no other public record,” Kinney said. “It looked like everything was being done on the down-low, but I didn’t get much further before the big red “Access Denied” appeared and my paid vacation began.”
“Well done,” Bridget said. “That was good sleuthing, Kinney.”
“Maybe that’s my next career,” Kinney said. “Private investigator.”
“Public instigator, more like,” Cori said. “When you quit bragging, you’ll see we’re almost at site number one.”
Signalling far in advance so Ari could follow, Bridget turned left onto a dirt road. They drove about half a mile over roads that made Kinney nauseated before an old farmhouse came into view. From the front, it was nothing special. In fact, it looked long-vacated. There were no curtains, other than torn lace hanging from an upstairs window.
For the moment, the house appeared to be a front, because all the action was going on to the rear. There was a roar of heavy machinery and a cloud of dust rose like a mushroom. Several cars were parked in a haphazard way in an open field to the right.
“Pull the van into the bushes,” Kinney said. “I’m going to sneak around and take a look.”
“Like a lime-green van is going to be camouflaged anywhere,” Cori said. “Bridget, drop us off, drive back to the main road and we’ll text you when we’re done.”
Kinney preferred to direct her own investigation but when Cori issued orders, she tended to fall in line, too. Things just worked better that way.
Once the van was out of sight, Cori picked her way through the bush in a wide arc. Instead of going closer, she patted a tall, old wall made of rocks and cement. “Boost me.”
Kinney gave her a lift up, but Cori didn’t stop t
here. She ran along the wall a few yards and then started climbing a mid-sized oak tree. She was as agile as a monkey, and it wasn’t long before she gave Kinney the thumbs-up. Pulling binoculars out of a pouch at her waist, she scanned the area. Then she used her phone to take some photos.
In a few moments, she was back and leapt lightly from the wall. Scowling, she texted Bridget and refused to say a word till they were safely on the road again.
“Brand new kennel,” Cori announced. “A large one, judging by the drainage setup.”
Kinney accepted Leo back in her lap. “Okay, so we know where the puppies might end up, but we don’t know where they are now.”
“Onwards,” Bridget said, pressing the pedal down hard. It felt—and sounded—like the old vehicle might fly apart, but that was nothing new. Kinney had often thought of the green van as the uncredited Mafia member that always drove getaway.
The next site was about 10 miles away, nestled into a scenic little valley in a fold of the hills. This time, instead of getting too close, they drove up the range to a gravel viewing point, and used the binoculars. The second new kennel was a little behind the first in terms of development, and again, the house in front seemed uninhabited.
“Strike two,” Evie said. “Let’s hope we find the puppies at the last one.”
Kinney nodded, but she doubted that would be the case. There was something bigger going on here. Clarence had been right. These sites were still the trees and they needed to zoom out to see the forest.
The last location had plenty of cover, so they parked well back and got out. This time, Evie joined Kinney and Cori as they got a closer look. There was a small bungalow fronting the kennel-in-progress.
“Another bust,” Evie said. “Where are they stashing these missing but not-quite-stolen pups?”
“We’ll find them,” Kinney said. “For all we know they’re at someone’s house. It doesn’t seem like there are many of them at the moment.”
They were about to turn back when a blue pickup truck barreled down the lane toward them. Dodging into the bushes, they crouched to watch. The driver pulled up in front of the house, got out and started unloading supplies. He was wearing a baseball cap backwards, and red hair curled around it.
Bold and Blue in Dog Town: (Dog Town 9) Page 13