Outside I took a deep breath but didn’t stop. Dodge and I moved like zombies, slow and awkward, but always forward. It took a long time to walk back to my bike, and it was practically dark when my phone beeped, startling me.
Bittersweet: R U ok?? Dropping burger thief off at PR with Taylor. I think he likes me ! Call u when I get home.
Clued-In: We r ok. Talk soon.
Bittersweet: P.S. I meant the dog, not Taylor!
Well, that’s something, I thought grimly, staring at my phone.
“Yip! Yip!” Muffet looked up at me with sharp eyes, and I squatted down to thank her for her help. “You really bailed us out of a mess,” I told her. Maybe she was paying us back for the Dumpster rescue. Whatever the reason, I was grateful. We might not have made it without her.
Dodge seemed a little more stable now that we were outside and away from Riley and Hero, but he was wiped out. He stuck close to Muffet, who trotted along slowly so they could walk side by side. I got onto my bike and pedaled next to them, keeping an eye on Dodge.
The farther away we got from the creepy warehouse, the more Dodge seemed like himself and the easier I breathed. I just couldn’t figure out why Dodge had ended up in that burnt-out building in the first place — or what Officer Riley and Hero were doing there after hours.
As we passed the Happy Produce Dumpster, a hopeless feeling settled over me. I was more confused than ever. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Mr. Albrici loading crates of cabbages into the back of a truck.
Thinking fast, I patted my pocket. It crinkled, and I smiled to myself. “Hold up, pups,” I called out. “We’ve got a little investigating to do.”
Mr. Albrici pretended not to see me as I approached. I knew I annoyed him by bringing around extra dogs, but I wasn’t about to give up easily. “Hi there,” I greeted. Dodge and Muffet sat down next to me, looking obedient and friendly. “I just wanted to thank you for letting us use your, uh, grabber thingy the other day. So I brought these.” I held out the slightly rumpled bag of peanut butter bars. “The bag got a little crinkled,” I added sheepishly, “but the bars are from a friend’s bakery. They’re really good.”
Mr. Albrici looked skeptically at the bag, then gestured behind me. “Quite the odd couple, aren’t they?”
I turned to look at the dogs. “What? Oh, no, they’re not a … couple.” I stared at Muffet, who was gazing at Dodge adoringly. And even though her haunches were on the ground, her tail was in wagging overdrive. Dodge lay down and let Muffet lick his ear. Holy moly.
Maybe he’s still in shock after all, I thought wearily. Either that or this crush stuff is catching. A picture flashed in my head — Hayley trying to lick Taylor’s ear — and I almost laughed out loud.
“Looks like puppy love to me,” Mr. Albrici said. “Lots of that going on around here.” Then his face clouded. “Of course, I’ve seen a lot of dog fights, too.”
“No kidding,” I agreed. “We’ve actually been in the neighborhood so much because we’re trying to bring in some of the strays,” I explained. “I work at Pet Rescue.”
Mr. Albrici nodded. “Good. The homeless dogs are just adding to the ugly situation down here.”
“Ugly?” I echoed, and waited. You’d be surprised what people will tell you if you give them silence to fill.
“Real estate vultures are trying to buy low so they can sell high. I’ve had this produce business for thirty years! But do they care? No. They’re trying to force me out. GreenWay. Ha! GreedWay is more like it.”
He pulled out a peanut butter bar, bit into it, and chewed furiously. “But I’m not going!” The chewing slowed, and he examined the uneaten portion in his hand. “Say, these are good. Delicious, actually.” He popped the rest into his mouth and grinned. “I’d say we’re even….”
I beamed. “Even Steven,” I agreed, though I was pretty sure I came out ahead, thanks to the tidbit he’d just told me. “And thanks again.”
“Yip! Yip!”
“Woof!” Muffet and Dodge barked out their thanks, too, and we were off.
I was hoping Muffet would veer toward home on her own when the time came, but I never got to find out. A couple of blocks from the turnoff, Summer zoomed up to us on her baby-blue bike.
“You!” she screeched as she put on the brakes. “I should have known it was you!” She reminded me of the Wicked Witch of the West nabbing Toto as she snatched up Muffet. “Seriously, Cassie,” she snarled. “Dognapping?”
I smiled sweetly at Summer, who held her pup so tightly that Muffet wriggled. “Your dog has excellent taste, Summer.”
Summer looked surprised, then beamed. “Of course she does! She’s my Muffie!”
“Right,” I agreed. “And your Muffie Wuffie has a wittle crush on my Dodgie Wodgie!” I cooed, slipping into my normal voice for the punch line. “She’s been sneaking out and following him around for days.”
Summer’s mouth dropped open and she loosened her grip on Muffet, who leaned down to give Dodge a kiss before letting out a happy yap. Dodge licked her back with his giant tongue, and this time I didn’t cringe. In fact, I felt a flash of happy satisfaction. “Excellent taste,” I confirmed.
“Woof!” Dodge agreed. And we pushed past Summer, heading home.
I trotted beside Cassie, glad she wasn’t pedaling hard. I was tired. Dog tired. And looking forward to home. Bowl. Bed. Bunny. The last couple of hours had delivered some major curveballs — a few I didn’t want to think about.
Inside the house not much had changed. Still silent. Still sad. Still filled with the stinging smells of bleach and cleanser and secrets.
I started for the stairs, ready to circle and sleep for a bit. That place. Hero with the camera. Riley and his forced smiles. They made me feel dizzy. Dizzy wasn’t a feeling a dog liked to feel.
Cassie was right behind me, but when we walked past The Sister’s room, she stopped and looked in. I looked in, too. The Sister was holding scissors. Bits of paper were everywhere. Some of them were stuck to a piece of cardboard on her desk. Some of them were stuck to her. It smelled like glue, The Cat, and really old bread.
“How’s the project coming?” Cassie asked.
The Sister shot Cassie a look. If she could’ve hissed, I think she might have. If she had claws, they’d have been out.
“That good, huh?” Cassie stepped into the room. Slowly. Cautiously. “Need any help?”
The Sister’s invisible claws started to retract. She did need help. But she’d never ask. Wouldn’t say yes, either. She just raised and lowered her shoulders, letting out her breath in a puff.
“Let’s see what we’ve got.” Cassie leaned in to study the piece of cardboard. She nodded. She bit her lip. She pulled a piece of paper off The Sister’s sleeve. I lay down in the doorway. I didn’t understand what they were trying to do. But I could tell it was going to take a while.
When Sam shot me her death look I almost backed away. But I could tell she was struggling. And not just with her science project, either. With everything. We were all struggling.
Labeled baggies holding moldy slices of bread covered her dresser. Slips of paper with bits of scientific information were on her desk, the bed, the floor, and her arm.
“I hate science!” Sam shouted. She sat down on her bed and ripped the paper scrap — and probably a few hairs — off her arm. “Ow.” She pouted, staring at the floor.
“Take it easy. Science isn’t that bad,” I told her. “I can tell you’ve done a lot of the work already — you just need to lay it out in a logical order. You know, follow the steps.”
Sam’s pout stayed, but she looked up at me and stopped complaining. Almost. “I don’t even have a title,” she muttered.
Dodge lay down in the doorway and heaved a deep sigh. I knew he wanted to be on his bed. It had been a long, difficult afternoon. But Sam needed me.
“You always start with a question, and your question is your title,” I explained. “So what’s yours?”
Sam looked at m
e sheepishly. “Does bread mold grow faster at higher temperatures?” she ventured.
“Okay, so write that down.”
“It sounds weird.”
I nodded. “Science is all about weird and interesting data,” I assured her.
Sam blocked out the letters for her title, and then I helped her organize the display. She pretty much had it all ready — including some carefully labeled and impressively blue-green bread slices in baggies. She just needed a little organizing.
“Okay, once you have your question on the board, you write out your hypothesis — what you thought was going to happen. You’ve got your process in the data book, and your observations are there, too. Most of your work is done.”
Sam stuck her title on the top of the display and looked at me with one side of her face squinched up. “But my hypothesis is wrong,” she said.
“No, it isn’t.” I didn’t even know what her hypothesis was, but that was the cool thing about science. It couldn’t really be “wrong.” “It’s okay to disprove your own hypothesis. In fact, that means you learned something. And whatever you learned, that’s your conclusion. Get it?”
Nodding, Sam started to write out her hypothesis with a green marker. “Got it,” she said, smiling a tiny smile.
“Good.” I pushed my hair out of my face and stepped over Dodge. All of that scientific process stuff was making me want to draw some conclusions of my own.
Dodge followed me to our room, circled three times, and lay down heavily on his bed. He didn’t even get out Bunny. I sat down on the floor next to him with my notebook. The question I wanted to start with was weighing on my mind, so I scribbled it down.
Question: What has Officer Riley been doing in the warehouse district?
Hypothesis: Riley set Mom up and was planting evidence to make it look like she was responsible for what happened to Uncle Mark.
I paused and chewed on my pen. If my hypothesis was right, the burnt-out building where I found Dodge had to be the one that exploded in the raid. And that made me wonder if Riley was actually trying to do more than make Mom look negligent. Maybe he was trying to frame Mom for Uncle Mark’s death because he was the one responsible. He definitely had a motive: He wanted Uncle Mark’s job. But was he motivated enough to get somebody killed? Was my uncle murdered?
I shuddered. A part of me wanted to believe Uncle Mark’s death had been an accident. A part of me needed to believe it had been an accident. But what if it wasn’t?
When Mom called us for dinner, my stomach was so tied up in knots there was no way I could eat. Dodge was snoring in his bed and didn’t even flinch. I crawled under my own covers with my clothes still on and yelled to Sam that I wasn’t feeling well.
I needed to lie there and think. I needed answers. I needed clues. I closed my eyes and saw Riley and Hero in the warehouse. I tried to remember what they were doing there. I was so worried about Dodge I hadn’t watched them closely. Replaying it in my mind, I heard Riley yelling commands. And saw Hero with the camera on his head. Suddenly my eyes flew open wide, and I sat up. The FIDO! That was it!
“Dodge! Dodge!” I woke to Cassie whispering my name. She was leaning over the edge of her bed, her face beside mine. I yawned, letting my tongue curl. My stomach rumbled. Had I missed dinner? I never missed dinner. I loved dinner.
“How do you feel about a trip to the station?” Cassie asked.
The station? I hoped she wasn’t serious. Was she serious?
“I know. Too much, right?” She’d read my mind. It was all too much. But then her eyes got worried. She threw back her covers. She still had her clothes on. In bed. In the middle of the night. “Don’t worry,” she told me. “You don’t have to go.”
Too much for me? Don’t have to go? Woof! I shook it off. Nothing was too much for me. Where Cassie went, I went. I was a trained K-9. Top of my class. A pro. And Cassie was my girl. I was ready. Ready for anything.
I got out of bed. Together we padded silently down the stairs. The house was silent. Everyone was in their dens. Except The Dad. He was on the couch. I hoped Cassie wouldn’t notice and looked back over my shoulder. Was she coming or what?
We slipped outside silently, and Cassie left the front door unlocked.
While Cassie got her bike, I breathed in the night air. It woke me up and made me hungry. It was way past dinner. My stomach growled and I told it to be quiet. We had work to do.
The night was light. There was a full moon and we could see everything. But that meant that everything could see us.
When we arrived at the station we hid across the street and watched. Hero and Riley were just coming out the front doors. Working the late shift. Perfect.
Riley stopped outside the door and set the alarm. We waited until they were gone, then stealthily moved in. Cassie punched in the code fast. I held still, waiting. Then I heard a beep and Cassie pulled the handle. We were in.
I’m not afraid to admit it. Standing in the darkened station after hours made my fur stand up. I started to pant. Just a little. I wanted to bolt. But I would not fail. Not again. Cassie and I had come here for a reason — I just didn’t know what it was.
“I want to check something out,” Cassie told me as she walked through the cubicles. I didn’t like the direction she was heading. My hackles rose higher.
Cassie pushed open the door to Mark’s office. Woof. I meant Riley’s office. I didn’t want to go in but couldn’t let her go alone.
Inside, the smell of Hero was strong. Irritating. But also familiar. I circled the place. I sniffed Hero’s bed, which was exactly where mine used to be, and pawed at it. I wanted to whine, but held it in.
Cassie was over by Riley’s desk, looking for something. I didn’t know what. I didn’t know why we were here. Then I saw it. Sitting on a shelf. The FIDO. The one Hero had on at the warehouse. Exactly like the one I wore the night Mark died.
I trotted over to it. It smelled like Hero, but that didn’t matter. “Whuff!”
Cassie turned. “Oh, there it is!” she whispered, walking over. “Thanks, Dodge.”
She sat down in Riley’s chair with the screen in her lap. I could hear her heart beating. She pushed a button, and the screen lit up. Hero’s recorded bark echoed loudly in Riley’s quiet office. “Search!” Riley ordered. His voice sounded a little like Mark’s, which put me on edge. I shifted uneasily on my paws. Cassie clutched the FIDO. The light glowed off her face. There was no escaping old memories now.
I stared at the screen, trying not to let disappointment take over. I was so sure that the FIDO would hold a clue, give me information that would make the pieces click into place. I needed them to click into place. I needed to solve this case — for my family to be a family again. Needed it so badly! But as far as I could tell, the FIDO contained … nothing.
Sighing heavily, I got to my feet to put the contraption back on the shelf. At least I could cross the FIDO off my list of things to investigate. At least I’d confirmed that it was another dead end.
I was just letting go of the camera when Dodge grabbed a strap and tugged it out of my hands. It fell to the floor.
“Dodge, no!” I said sharply. The last thing we needed was to damage police property. I was so drained. And sad. And worried. But Dodge ignored me. He sidled back and barked, nosing the head cam like he wanted to put it on. I looked at him tiredly. “Forget it, Dodge,” I said. “We should just get out of here and go home.”
“Woof!” Dodge barked again. He picked up the FIDO in his teeth, shaking it lightly in the air. He wasn’t giving up.
“You are one stubborn dog,” I told him grumpily. “Fine.” I strapped the thing on his head and smiled in spite of myself. “Looks pretty good on you, actually,” I told him. It suited him more than Hero — sat a little straighter or something.
Dodge trotted to the door and looked at me expectantly. “Dodge, it’s not ours,” I said. “We’ve already broken in here; we can’t go and steal stuff, too!” I walked up to him, intending to snat
ch the FIDO off and put it back on the shelf. I wanted to go home. I thought Dodge wanted to go home, too. But when I reached for the camera, he pulled away, stepped back, and gave me a look that said “trust me.”
That look made me stop. Dodge was not acting like himself today. The shake-up at the warehouse was weird. But if I trusted anyone in the world, it was Dodge. Plus, it looked like he had a new plan, which I definitely didn’t. “We could get in serious trouble for this, you know,” I warned.
“Rowf!” He barked his excited bark. He knew, and obviously didn’t care.
My senses were on high alert, and not just because I was worried about getting caught. Because I remembered. I remembered my last night with Mark. I remembered the angry yelling with The Chief. She tried to put Mark in a Sit Stay. She told him not to go anywhere, or do anything. She told him if he disobeyed, she’d fire him. Mark didn’t believe it, though. His instincts told him to go. So we went.
When Hayley read The Mom’s diary, I listened. I heard all those sad words. I heard the fight. But they didn’t make me remember that night. Hearing the FIDO recording did. Hearing Riley give Hero commands in the warehouse. It didn’t matter that they weren’t the same commands. I remembered. I remembered it all.
The night was still. No wind. No clouds. A full moon. Silvery light streamed in through the dirty windows, glinting off the warehouse floor. Mark and I were on the case. Mark was my partner. Mark was sure he was right. And his instincts were good.
We found the stash of evidence he knew would be there. He whooped and laughed. He showed each piece to the camera mounted on my head. “Capture the memories,” he laughed. “Oh, yeah!” He did a victory dance. He wagged his tail. I barked and danced with him while the evidence piled up. “Look at this, Dodge. This proves it! GreenWay is a front for The Corps.” He tapped a piece of paper. “And here.” He held up another. “This is proof that the city knows!” He pulled documents out of cabinets in the warehouse office. “It’s better than I thought!” he crowed. But then it got worse. Much worse.
Dead Man's Best Friend Page 9
