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  September dug her nails into the palms of her hands. The walls began to close in. She shook her head, wanting to crumple to the ground. Black spots floated before her eyes—Shadow, she needed Shadow to ground her...Macy meowed again, and her trembling fingers clutched his fur harder.

  “The clock’s ticking. Cooperate, or I’ll skin that mangy cat of yours, and shoot the damn dog.” His weight hit the door. It jarred open half a foot, enough that he could peer into the garage.

  He’d skinned off the ski mask. Blank nondescript brown eyes stared at her, blinking lizard-slow, scalded skin surrounding them already blistering and bright red. “Time’s up.” One gloved hand snaked through the opening to push at the ladder.

  September screamed. She thwacked his arm with the rake. Macy swatted one clawed paw at the gloved hand.

  He withdrew with a hiss. Stalemate. He couldn’t get in. She couldn’t get out. In the background, Shadow’s barks again escalated.

  His voice sharpened. “Tell me where you left the files. Do it now, or I’ll shut up the dog permanently.”

  September clenched her jaw, teeth aching with pressure, and finally nodded to herself. He’d find the files anyway. She couldn’t risk Shadow’s life.

  “In a bag. By the front door.”

  “Good girl. You sit tight and maybe I won’t kill your dog.”

  Macy struggled in her arms and she let him go. He found something on the garage floor, batted it, then fetched the jingling object for her to toss.

  “Not now, Macy.” She looked down when he pushed it against her foot.

  Macy dropped the car keys, sat, and pawed her leg again with a soft meow.

  Chapter 22

  PEOPLE SOMETIMES KNEW more than good-dogs. Shadow reluctantly obeyed when September ignored his warning. When the door slammed shut, locking him outside away from her, he couldn’t reach September to protect her.

  Hurling himself against the door didn’t work, and barking made him more upset. Neither his paws nor teeth could grapple open the handle. He should have disobeyed and kept September safe. He’d failed!

  The stranger yelled. A loud, hurt, surprised sound that made Shadow more intent on reaching September. He wailed, redoubling his alarm barks and paw-thumps. No way inside through the door. Maybe another way? A window.

  Shadow ran up and down the back yard next to the house. The only window was in the door itself, far above a dog’s paw-reach. He couldn’t see inside, but the sounds of September’s fear made his tummy hurt. He shook himself, closed his mouth, and took deep breaths. And looked around the enclosed square back yard.

  He couldn’t get back inside the kitchen, or the attached garage. A tall wooden fence enclosed the rest of the yard. Shadow ran the circuit of the tiny space, sniffed the fence gate where last night’s intruder had entered. But it had no handle for him to grip.

  Banging sounds erupted inside the garage, along with September’s yells. He returned to the door, whimpering with frustration. September, so near—only a narrow door between them—but no way to get through. He barked hard and long, so September knew he’d soon come to protect her. He just had to figure out how.

  The stranger also spoke with hard, loud words. Shadow had smelled the bitey scent of gunfire when they first entered the house. Guns could reach out and bite September from a distance. He whimpered again.

  Shadow had to do his job. He had to get out of the small yard to stop the bad man from hurting her.

  He turned his attention to fencing on two sides. No stacked storage boxes offered an easy escape. He knew how to climb ladders, the talent had come in handy more than once, but nothing offered a good-dog a paws up in the deserted back yard. Wind drifted snow high against one side of the fence, though. With interest, Shadow trotted to the area, paw-testing to see if the elevated white stuff might support his weight. He sank up to his shoulders and had to drag himself out, shaking the white from his black fur.

  Backing away from the fence for a running start, Shadow galloped as fast as he could, aiming at the corner. He leaped high, reaching with forepaws to hook over the top, and scrabbled with rear claws for purchase. Ice nullified any traction. Only one paw reached the top and he clung for seconds, before falling back to the ground. Shadow tried again. He flailed and failed. All the while, mysterious and frightening noises and cries arose inside the garage, spurring him to try harder, to succeed, to get out, out, OUT and rejoin September!

  Panting both in frustration and fatigue, Shadow searched for another way out. While one fence wall held mounds of drifted snow, the wind had swept clean the ground at the foot of the adjacent fence. Flowerbeds, now empty of anything but shriveled dead vegetation, offered another option. He couldn’t go over the fence. But Shadow had claws for digging. September didn’t like him to dig without permission. But this time, he’d disobey. Sometimes dogs knew better than people. He could go under the fence, escape the back yard, reunite with September.

  He quickly padded to the expanse of nearly bare ground, scratch-testing a few likely spots. Icy dirt meant frozen soil for the first paw-digs. But he remembered the rose garden at their house, how garden soil gave way to digging more readily than the sunbaked dirt in the fields. Shadow excavated with determination, digging slowly at first, then more quickly when he reached softer ground.

  Noises inside grew louder, more scary. Shouts and banging made Shadow whimper, but he concentrated on the hole. Soon, he’d enlarged the space enough to force his head and shoulders into the gap. He dug deep, and then pulled the loosened soil backward in piles between his rear feet. Over and over again, grunting and panting, no longer wasting breath on barks, Shadow struggled to widen the hole and reach the bottom of the fence.

  With excitement, Shadow’s paws dug below the wooden barrier. With whimpers of anticipation, he increased his tempo. He lay on his side, scooping with one paw, seeking to widen the gap beneath the wooden barrier. Another two paw-scoops of soil shuttled to one side would open the space for him to squeeze through.

  Instead, he uncovered a wire and cement footing two feet under the soil. Impossible to breech.

  Before he could regain his feet, the wall of the garage burst out toward him. A car crashed through. It barreled at Shadow, the rear eyelights glaring and angry.

  Shadow flinched, backpedaled madly, tail pressed hard against the barrier of the fence. It bore down on him. He couldn’t escape.

  Chapter 23

  THE REAR OF THE CAR crashed into Angela’s back yard fence. September clung to the steering wheel. She wasted precious seconds scanning the yard for Shadow—no sign of the big dog—before shoving the gear shift into drive. If the garage door wouldn’t open, she’d drive through it. Shadow must’ve found a way out of the yard. They’d meet up later. Now she had to escape.

  Tires spun in the snow but finally caught. They propelled the car back through the splintered garage wall, and into the flimsy door. The car carried the accordion-fold barrier halfway down the driveway before it peeled off into the snowy roadway.

  Macy yowled at the loud noises and abrupt acceleration. His claws clung to the passenger seat to keep from being flung back and forth. September braced herself when Macy launched himself onto the driver’s side headrest, rear end riding the perch while forepaws clutched September’s neck.

  WHEN THE CAR ZOOMED toward him, Shadow shrank back into the small excavation. He shuddered, body freezing in place. The engine noise of the car over top of him made a good-dog’s ears hurt.

  It reversed, tires kicking up snow and dirt when it sped back the way it came. The car punched back into the hole in the garage wall and out the other side with a scream of metal on wood.

  Shadow cautiously emerged, still shivering. He shook off the dirt and slush coating his fur and padded cautiously to the breach in the building. He stretched his neck forward to sniff the opening and stared into the dim garage. Oil. Blood. Fear. His fur bristled and a soft growl bubbled deep in his throat. He sniffed more thoroughly, detecting the familiar fr
esh scents of September and Macy. Maybe the crashing car carried them away.

  SHE SEARCHED THROUGH the fogged windows for a streak of black fur against the precipitation. Dim streetlamps had stayed on in the murky daylight but offered little help in the heavy snow. The sound of the crash impacts prompted doors up and down the street to creak open. Silhouetted figures sneaked peeks through windows. The attacker’s threat to target Shadow made her throat ache—now other people also were at risk.

  Despite the worry for Shadow, her mind spun in dizzying circles. Angela dragged her into all of this, but Chris planted the seed years before. She couldn’t believe Angela had killed herself, especially after what Mr. Bleak said. But without the files, how would they figure out why she’d been killed? And, dear lord, why Chris had died, too.

  She had to call the police. Her attacker probably had her cell phone now, along with the files. She reached overhead to stroke Macy, only now feeling the Reynaud’s tingling in her fingers. He head-butted her neck again. She looked out the windows, searching for Shadow. He had to be her priority.

  Shadow wore his tracker collar all the time. But she needed her phone app to track him down. He had to know she drove the car out of the garage. He’d track her, too, if he could. She glanced at the clock on the dash. The weather would delay police response, but not by much. She had to find Shadow before the police arrived. They’d keep questioning her for hours, leaving Shadow unprotected and alone in this strange neighborhood.

  HE HESITATED TO CLIMB through the opening, fearing a trap. The bad man in the house—he smelled his presence—had made September cry out in fear. But Shadow needed to find September, and his cat Macy, to protect them. That was his job. His ears swiveled, checking for danger. Finally, Shadow crept through the torn wall into the garage. He flinched when a squeak-sound overhead startled him and stared curiously up at the person swinging from the rafters. He whined. The death-smell came from her. She was beyond a good-dog’s help.

  A door into the house proper hung partly open, with a tall ladder spilled on the garage floor. Shadow drew near, still listening carefully. Someone rummaged inside the house. Shadow pushed through the door and padded past the kitchen to the front entry on silent paws until he could peer around the corner at the stranger. The man muttered to himself, while digging through a large canvas bag that puddled on the hardwood floor.

  September’s bag. Things she treasured and carried with her. They didn’t belong to this stranger.

  A low growl bubbled deep in Shadow’s chest. The man had no right to paw through September’s bag. Shadow stalked closer, the fur on his shoulders bristled. He growled louder.

  The man froze, then slowly turned his head. He locked eyes with Shadow.

  Shadow added snarls. He showed his teeth and stalked closer, stiff-legged, a hair away from rushing the interloper. Snarls warned the man to drop September’s bag and go away.

  Instead, the stranger stood in one smooth, fast motion, and swung the bag at Shadow’s head. When Shadow ducked, the man spun and lunged for the front door.

  Shadow roared. He sprang forward. Teeth scarred one booted foot, pulling the man off balance.

  The man swung the bag again and again, thumping it against Shadow’s head and neck until he loosened his teeth. With his other hand he unlatched the door, then backed out onto the icy front sidewalk, using the canvas satchel as a buffer against Shadow’s threat.

  Following close, Shadow fell silent, keeping wary eyes on the stranger’s every move. Shadow could almost taste the greasy metal smell of a weapon. But as long as the man kept his hands busy clutching September’s bag, he couldn’t use the gun.

  A car horn blared. Shadow’s ears flicked in response, but neither he nor the bad man looked away. Sometimes September beeped the horn to call a good-dog to come for a ride. This didn’t sound like her horn, though.

  BEEEEE-EEEEEP! “Shadow! Baby-dog, come-a-pup. Please Shadow, where are you?”

  This time, he couldn’t help himself. Shadow hazarded a quick glance at the small car at the end of the block. The same one that punched holes in the garage.

  When he broke eye contact, the man whirled and loped away.

  Shadow bounded after, tackled him, and the canvas bag turned a slow somersault through the air, papers spilling across the snowy ground. The bag landed with a burst of white behind nearby shrubs.

  The man reached inside his jacket. Shadow didn’t wait for him to grab the gun. He’d done all he could. Now, he needed to rejoin September.

  More strangers watched and murmured from nearby porches and stoops. Some gasped with surprise, pointing when Shadow rocketed past. The ice and snow hurt his paws, and he slipped twice, once going down on his tail, before righting himself.

  Before he made it to September, though, a bigger car roared to life right behind him. It plowed down the street, clipping his tail. Shadow yelped more in surprise than pain. But the SUV never slowed, ignoring Shadow to target the little car that held September.

  He barked a warning, and barked again. But the huge car continued its rush toward September. With a yelp of anguish, Shadow dashed after it, determined not to be left behind.

  SEPTEMBER ROLLED DOWN the window, voice cracking as she yelled. “Shadow! Come-a-pup. Shadow, where are you?” Tears froze on her cheeks. She honked the horn once, twice, and a third long drawn out blat, praying he’d understand to come running, even though it sounded nothing like their own car.

  More house lights switched on. Someone stepped out the front door of the house across the street, a child beside him.

  An SUV revved behind her. Mr. Bleak! It gave chase, engine snarling with hungry determination to ram her car and finish the job.

  September gunned the gas, tires spun and finally caught purchase. She shouted out the window toward the neighboring looky-lous. “Call 911.”

  Murmurs and questions met her announcement. No time for explanations. She couldn’t wait. Mr. Bleak didn’t care about witnesses. She remembered his creepy, no-nonsense comment: “Nothing personal.” But this was very personal to her. Bleak’s four-wheel-drive navigated more securely than Angela’s lightweight car she’d borrowed. If she didn’t move quickly, he’d run her down in front of bystanders. He didn’t care, and probably wanted no witnesses. He’d maybe take them out as well.

  More neighbors shrugged into coats and stood shivering with shared whispers at their open doorways as she sped away as fast as she dared, fish-tailing on the slippery road. Bleak’s SUV panted after her, quickly riding the bumper of September’s borrowed car in what became a slow-motion car chase.

  She had to lead him away from Shadow. And pray the smart dog would know to follow.

  Chapter 24

  TEE DISCONNECTED THE call to September after several rings went unanswered. She’d managed to take an earlier train, and spent the trip on her phone reading old news accounts to catch up on September’s personal history.

  Just as Redford said, trouble followed the woman. “We’ve got that in common,” Tee muttered. They’d both been betrayed by those who should have protected them. Both turned to the police for healing. But whereas September married her cop savior, Tee became a cop to save herself.

  Karma roused and pressed her wide black shoulder against Tee’s leg. Tee smiled and smoothed the Rottweiler’s rusty cheek patch, immediately feeling her tension drain away. Her headache still lingered, but she’d had worse. “I’m okay.” For I wish it to be so.

  She’d worried the young dog might not be allowed on the train. Sure, she could declare Karma as a service animal, but that meant labeling herself. She might be damaged goods, but refused to shout that fact to the world. She’d managed long before Karma came along, and could do without the dog if need be—not that she’d want to. Thankfully, trains allowed K9 officers on board without question, so showing her badge smoothed the way.

  Redford hadn’t been keen on Tee taking the dog with her everywhere, so she had to tread softly around him. Maybe that’d change, now he
had his own dog. The more useful Karma proved herself, the more welcome they’d become as a team. Tee used every opportunity to teach Karma new things. Lia had drilled that lesson into Tee’s head. So she counted the train ride as a teachable lesson for the dog. Besides, Tee had nobody she trusted to care for the dog if she had to spend days in South Bend.

  Tee wondered again how Karma would react to Shadow. She’d read somewhere that wolves mated for life. September should know, as a dog expert. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we, honey-girl?”

  Karma woofed and wriggled her stump of a tail.

  Tee had never been in love. Only ever loved one person, her Aunty. And now Karma. Probably never would find anyone to put up with her moods. She couldn’t bring herself to open up enough to risk a relationship. But with Karma she felt safe, happier in the dog’s presence. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the dog’s neck for a brief moment, and smiled when Karma slurped her face.

  As the train pulled into the platform at South Bend Airport, Tee grabbed her duffel in one hand and gathered Karma’s leash in the other. She followed the signs, walking the entire length of the small terminal to reach the car rental area.

  Tee didn’t like to drive in snow, but she had realized during the ride that she couldn’t be at the mercy of civilians like September. The other woman’s connection to Clear Choice Laboratories, however tenuous, might complicate the investigation. Tee needed to do things right, she needed her own wheels.

  She managed to get an SUV. Tee gave Karma time to take care of personal needs at the doggy relief station nearby, stopped to buy them a muffin to share, and a steaming tumbler of chai. They walked the short distance to collect the ride. Tee pulled a towel out of her duffel and spread it on the back seat. “Kennel up.” Karma leaped in and happily settled in the center, so she could stick her head between the front seats and monitor proceedings.