Page 29 of Midnight Secrets

“Me?” My brows winged upward. “You’re the one who punched me.”

“You deserved it.”

Probably. “Be careful, big brother. I’ll put you between myself and that moose.

CHAPTER 10

Claire

Cold soaked through the thick wool socks on my feet as I stepped onto the back stoop, peering into the darkness for my dog. “Pebbles!” She’d been outside for several minutes to do her business before we went up to bed. It was time to come in.

Drawing my robe more tightly around my middle, I hid my hands in the thick, velvety fabric. The cold snap the weatherman promised had arrived.

I glanced at the sky. Heavy, leaden clouds, highlighted by the streetlights, hovered, promising to spit snow before morning.

All the more reason to go back inside and snuggle into my nice warm, comfy bed with a book.

“Pebbles!” I moved down a step. The little stinker was going to make me go put on shoes. She was probably back in the bushes again, chasing after the rabbit that liked to taunt her from the other side of the fence.

When she didn’t appear after another thirty seconds and me calling her again, I huffed and traipsed back inside, where I shoved my feet into my boots. Snagging a flashlight from the cabinet in the mudroom, I went back outside.

“I swear, dog, you’re going on a chain every time you go out from now on. I fenced the yard so you could have some freedom,but you’ve taken a little too much liberty a little too often.” What was left of the snow from the other night crunched under my feet as I stomped across the grass toward the hedges that lined the back of my lot.

I flipped on the light and scanned the bushes. “Pebbles! Where are you?” Bending slightly at the waist, I peered into the branches.

After walking the entire fence line—twice—I straightened with a huff and glanced around the yard, concern replacing my ire. Where the heck did she go?

Not seeing any sign of my dog in the yard, I let myself out through the gate, hoping she was still close by. I regularly checked the fence, because I knew even the smallest opening was enough for my tiny dog to get through. In fact, I’d just checked it last week.

Walking the perimeter, flashlight aimed at the area where the fence met the ground, I looked for any breaks in the chain link. Along the back of the yard, about five feet past the beginning of the hedgerow on the other side, I spotted a hole in the fence.

“Crap.” Crouching down, I frowned as I got a better look. With a finger, I touched a broken link. The edge was smooth.

It had been cut.

I turned, surveying the area beyond the fence, the roadway past that, and on down to the beach. There was no sign of anyone lurking in the darkness.

Or of Pebbles.

Did someone cut it so they could take her? Why else would they? The hole was much too small for a person to wriggle through.

I stood, calling for her again, a fearful, frantic note in my voice now.

Watching my footing, I hurried away from the fence, sweeping the ground with my light.

Tiny doggie paw prints in the patchy snow led off to the left.

She’d escaped!

Hope surged, weakening my knees. Forcing my joints to function, I followed them.

“Pebbles!”

Snow crunching, I stumbled a couple of times as I walked along the edge of the road. Occasionally, I flicked the light toward the beach. I could only pray Pebbles hadn’t crossed to it. If she made it down to the rocky shoreline, one larger wave could knock her off her feet and sweep her into the sea.

For a solid five minutes, I followed the irregular pattern of prints, sure I’d stumble upon her soon. I mean, how far could a little dog get with only a few minutes’ head start? I’d let her out while I loaded the dishwasher.

Tears pressed against the backs of my eyes as I continued to walk. I’d beenright there. How did she slip away without me noticing?

---