Free Material Witness by Vannetta Chapman Page A

thought startled Callie into motion, and she ran to Max, kneeling beside him on the pavement. Her hands went to work, searching to find the bloody hole, searching in the dim alley light to see if he was still alive.
    Instead, her fingers bumped into a dart sticking out of Max’s side. She grasped it and pulled, careful not to stick herself with the tip of the syringe. Placing her ear to Max’s chest she counted his respirations.
    What was normal breathing for a sixty-five — pound Lab? His breathing seemed fast, and he wasn’t moving. But Callie wasn’t sure if the rapid breathing was an issue or if it just meant he was asleep.
    She’d dropped her purse somewhere as she ran, but now she needed to go back and find it. She needed to call for help.
    “Don’t you die on me, Maxie. I need you.” She kissed him once, stood, and ran into the darkness.
    Were they waiting for her there?
The brief thought darted through Callie’s mind, but it was followed by another question:
Why would they be?
    They’d passed up a perfect chance to shoot her at the same time they’d shot Max. With a tranq dart? That’s what she was holding, right?
    She slowed as she turned the corner around the front of her building. The street was now silent — no cars, no people, no one to hear or help her. Sweat poured from her as she crept down the front walk until she could make out her bag, contents spilled under a streetlight.
    Her cell phone was there.
    She could call Shane.
    Call for help.
    But she’d have to stand under the glaring light, and she’d once again be a perfect target.
    The image of Max lying near the alley, an unknown drug running through his veins, spurred her forward.
    She reached her bag, snatched it off the sidewalk, scooped up her things, and had turned to sprint back to Max when she looked toward the front door of her shop.
    What if someone else was in there? What if while she was kneeling by Max they attacked again?
    Clutching her bag so she could clobber an intruder with it, she stepped slowly toward the front of the shop.
    The door had been pushed open at least four inches — maybe not noticeable to someone driving by, but if you were standing on the sidewalk, you couldn’t miss it.
    Drawn toward that door, knowing she should walk away, should walk back to Max to call Shane, she instead pushed the door wide open. The first thing she did was reach for the switchand flood her shop with light. A plain white envelope lay on the floor in front of her. Nothing was written on the outside. With shaking hands, Callie picked it up and tore it open.
    The words were typed on a single sheet of white paper.
    As she slid to the floor, she felt herself tumbling down a dark hole.
    Don’t call anyone about Max or you could be next
.
You’ll receive further instructions within the hour
.
    She hesitated for less than a moment, and then placed the note on the counter next to the register, not bothering to see if anyone was there. Something told her they weren’t.
    They were cowards.
    Only cowards shot a dog with a tranq gun then fled.
    Only cowards preyed on old women in parking lots.
    And Callie thought surely this was the same person. Hadn’t the man standing under the light been approximately the same height and weight as the man Aaron had described?
    Her anger built and her terror subsided as she snatched her keys from her purse and made her way through the darkness outside, picking her way carefully along the brick path to the garden shed. She fumbled with the lock and opened the door, which creaked as it always did. Why hadn’t she oiled it? Pulling out the tarp she used for moving dirt and rocks around the backyard, she walked quickly back around the building, pausing only once to glance down the road. But the lights revealed nothing except a car passing at the end of the street.
    Callie hurried on to the alley.
    Max hadn’t moved at all, but she hadn’t expected him to. It had been two years since she’d been a