Free Dog Days by Donna Ball

retrievers. By this time all three dogs in the living room were awake and barking in their crates and over the cacophony. I thought I heard the sound of an engine starting. I flung open the door just in time to see the flash of taillights midway down my drive. I wouldn’t have seen anything else of use at all except that the curve of my driveway brought the fleeing automobile into the momentary reflection of the kennel security lights.
    It was a blue sedan.
    I found my rain boots in the hall closet and pulled them on before racing across the yard in my nightshirt to the kennel building. I was vaguely aware of Cisco bounding along beside me, barking just as though the burglar—or whatever he was—had not already escaped. The window glass was unbroken, and the lock clicked open as I punched in the code on the keypad. Nonetheless I checked the petty cash and the locked drawer in my office where I kept the checks from day’s receipts. All accounted for. Apparently the barking of the dogs, along with the security lights, had scared the prowler off before he was able to do any damage. What kind of idiot tries to break into a dog kennel, anyway?
    One thing was certain. I was not calling the sheriff.
    I spent fifteen minutes or so passing out treats and trying to calm down the kennel dogs, then I turned off the interior lights and used a flashlight to cross the yard back to the house. At the bottom of the steps I stopped, my heart lurching with alarm. The front door was standing wide open.
    I knew exactly what had happened. I’d rushed outside, pulling the door closed behind me, only it hadn’t caught. Cisco had followed me, because the instinct to run by my side was even stronger than his obsession with his new girlfriend. Cameo had no such instinct.
    I caught Cisco’s collar and ushered him quickly up the steps and into the house, closing the door firmly behind us. Almost as soon as I did, I could have sworn I heard the back door slam closed, and I my heart jumped to my throat. I glanced wildly around the room, closing my fingers around Cisco’s fur and pulling him close. Had someone been in the house? Was he here now? What had I been thinking? I’d just seen someone running from the kennel; his partner could be inside, waiting for me; it might all have been a diversion just to get me trapped inside, and I’d been so worried about losing the dog that I’d blundered right into it. And me, a cop’s wife.
    Ex-wife.
    I stood frozen in place for a moment, heart pounding as I strained to listen. I heard nothing except Mischief’s claws clicking on the bars of her crate as she stretched to try to see what was happening. I eased open the door of the coat closet and found a heavy stick that I used to prop open the screen door when carrying things inside and, so armed, made my way through the house toward the kitchen. Cisco was fascinated by the stick and trotted beside me with his head up, waiting for me to throw it. I hoped I didn’t have to.
    The back door was closed, just as I had left it, and when I checked the windows everything seemed quiet. The security lights were still on and I could have easily seen someone trying to flee across the yard. And why weren’t the dogs barking? If anyone had been inside my house they’d be having a fit by now. I was starting to think I’d imagined hearing the door slam when I checked the lock. The dead bolt was unlocked. I was sure I had locked it. I always lock it. Well, almost. But I’d locked it tonight … hadn’t I?
    I twisted it closed and went quickly to check the rest of the house. I looked in closets and under furniture, behind draperies and in hidden cubbies. There was no sign of an intruder. And with every passing moment my heart sank deeper in my chest. Because there was also no sign of Cameo.
    I called for her, I checked every room again, knowing all the while it was futile. She was a stray, she’d been frightened in the middle of the night, and there was an open door.