

## Breakdown

By P X DUKE

Copyright 2019 P X Duke

All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-1-928161-42-4

Disclaimer

What follows is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Places mentioned by name are entirely fictitious and purely products of the author's imagination, and are not meant to bear resemblance to actual places or locations.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Read Order for Jim Nash Adventures

Pirate Cay

Thrill Kill Jill

Greetings from Key West

Lost Paradise

No Angels

Mexico Gamble

No Picnic

Fallen Angels

Vendetta

A Girl's Best Friend

Dead End

No Harbor

Dog Days

Startup Blues

Last Stop To Nowhere / End of Nowhere

Revenge Is Justice

Escape

Wedding Bell Blues

Breakdown

Little Girl Lost

Forget Me Not

All the Glitter

Mexico Time

SEASONAL

Trick or Treat

Helping Santa

OTHER

The Snap Brim Fedora Caper

Breakdown

_Jim Nash and his partner's faithful dog Friday are left to fend for themselves when Maddie Spence is called home. A concerned client lands on their second-floor doorstep, convinced his wife has gone missing. The police won't get involved. It's too soon, and the wife hasn't been gone long enough. Friday takes matters into his own hands when he chooses to babysit the man's young daughter while Jim handles business. Is the woman really missing, or has her husband contrived an elaborate plan to cover up something more sinister?_

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https://pxduke.com | author@pxduke.com

ONE

**I HELPED MADDIE** downstairs with her bags. It seemed like there were a lot of them, but maybe I was worrying too much. After all, she was leaving Friday with me. That by itself was unusual, considering she and the dog were inseparable. Each had adopted the other when he jumped into her car at a rest stop.

—You're coming back, right?

Of course she was. Friday looked from Maddie to me and back. His tail wasn't wagging. I suspect he too was concerned when he saw the suitcases.

—Friday wouldn't like to find out you left him with no explanation.

He was sitting by the passenger door to Maddie's little yellow compact. He kept looking from his mistress to me and the car.

—See? He's concerned there's something you aren't telling him.

Maddie rolled her eyes.

—Do you think there's something I'm not telling you, detective?

—Well—

I got down on a knee to pet Friday.

—I'm pretty sure you're not abandoning Friday. Lily would hunt you down.

Friday's ears perked up when he heard the little girl's name and he snorted.

—What else are you pretty sure of?

If she was leaving Friday with me, it had to mean she was coming back. Heck, we hadn't even had a fight yet. Or had we? I thought for a moment but couldn't remember.

—If you aren't coming back does that mean I get the dog? To keep?

—Nah. I'll send for him. Right, Friday?

Mollified, Friday barked. I couldn't tell if he knew all about it, or if he was making it up as he went along. I finished loading the bags into the tiny car's trunk.

—You sure are taking a lot of luggage. How long are you planning on staying?

I leaned with both hands and the trunk snapped shut. I think Friday sensed my concern. His head was still busy, moving from one of us to the other. Maddie reached to pet her dog.

—Friday.

He looked at her. His head tilted. His ears perked. His tail stilled. I was pretty sure he was waiting for his mistress to open the door.

—You stay with Jim. Okay?

The dog went sad-sack all of a sudden, knowing for sure he wouldn't be going on this car ride. His entire body seemed to collapse. His tail sagged. He looked at me with a forlorn expression on his furry face.

—You do what Jim tells you, all right?

His head drooped. I think mine did, too, now that the goodbyes were over. We were a pair, not wanting Maddie to leave. Both of us wanted to go with her for moral support. Or something.

—Jim, take care of my dog.

Was there any doubt?

—Friday. Take care of Jim.

I don't think Friday was so sure. Maddie brought out the bandanna Lily had bestowed on Friday and tied it around his neck. That seemed to cheer him up. Me too, come to think of it.

—What a handsome boy.

That did it for Friday. He was happy. Already I knew he'd be prancing up the stairs like he was the best boy ever. Which he was.

—As for you, sailor—

—Am I going to get a bandanna?

—No. You're going to get something even better.

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me like she'd already been away for a week.

—That ought to hold you.

Friday barked, but he was probably jealous. We stayed downstairs until the car disappeared from sight.

—All right, dog.

I opened the door and waited.

—I'm the boss now.

The dog didn't seem to think so. Friday couldn't be bothered to even give me a look before prancing past and heading upstairs.

TWO

**SANDY FRANKLIN LIFTED** his daughter and placed her in her high chair at the table. He found a clean bib and tied it around her neck through a scramble of arms and hands. His daughter struggled to turn in the chair, wanting to see what was going on with the stove.

—It's ready, dear.

Holly wasn't convinced. She screwed up her face around the soother and looked at her father. He attached the tray to the high chair through waving arms. When it was done, Holly's tiny hands slapped at it.

—I wouldn't lie.

Holly's eyes grew big following the waffle floating in front of her father from over the stove to the plate on the high chair table. She grinned past the soother stuck in her mouth and spit it out. It flew past the tray and bounced on the floor where it disappeared.

Sandy spread a dab of butter and a teeny tiny bit of syrup on the warm waffle.

—Careful, dear. Hot.

Holly dabbed at it cautiously with a finger. A hole appeared before she finally picked the waffle up whole. Using both hands, she raised it to her mouth and taste-tested. A huge smile appeared. Her feet kicked. Her mouth broke with the smile and began chewing.

—Mmm. Is that good, dear?

She agreed. With Holly quieted until the waffle disappeared, Sandy looked around the kitchen. Waffle mix and a pot and utensils cluttered the counter.

Milk and orange juice and apple juice and syrup and whatever Holly might want next was scattered on the table. He didn't like to feed her the sweets, but sometimes it was the only thing that would soothe her. He wanted his wife, who wasn't a fan of feeding sweets to her daughter, to come and go in peace.

Angela—Angie—was the bread-winner of the family. They discussed it endlessly before the baby was born. She had the better job. It paid double his salary. Thus he—both of them, actually—agreed that he would stay home and take care of their first child.

He had grown into it over the almost two years. He was thoroughly enjoying it but for the sleepless nights and long days. Even so, he managed to convince himself it wasn't so bad. The dark circles beneath his eyes were his reward for allowing his wife to provide for the three of them.

He told himself he didn't mind again and again. Perhaps there was just a bit of repressed resentment every day when his wife left the harried household behind, looking fit and trim and dressed to the nines. Her job as a corporate financial adviser demanded it. She worked with the really high-priced help. Her work helped them make the choices that got them their fancy cars and big bonuses.

He didn't begrudge her that, although he knew she wasn't exactly enamored of doing all the work for someone else to take home the lottery. That was what her job entailed, though, and Angela had become accustomed to it. It seemed like it rankled her less and less.

THREE

**ANGELA'S MORNING WASN'T** off to a great start. She had been up late, working on her presentation long past her usual bedtime. Sandy had admonished her every time he got up to soothe restless Holly, their daughter. To satisfy him, she reluctantly ended up bringing the laptop into their bed. Exhausted when she finally went to sleep, she slept twenty minutes past her alarm.

She checked her lifeblood on the bed beside her. The battery was dead. There was no hope for it. She discarded it in her bag and checked the phone. It too was on its last legs. She would charge it in the car.

She remembered the dongle attached to her laptop. She plucked at the tiny plug and dropped it into a pocket in her purse. It contained the only copy of her project and the extensive profiles of the three companies being considered for buyouts. With any luck, it would be the last work she did on them. The whole thing was becoming boring. She wanted something new to sink her teeth into. This morning's meeting would tell the tale.

Angie checked her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Satisfied, she headed downstairs clutching her work bag and her purse with both hands. She halted in the doorway to the kitchen and watched Sandy happily feeding a cooing Holly. Her daughter was digging into the waffle like it was the last one she would ever see.

She surveyed the bombed-out kitchen. The normally neat and tidy island was a breakfast mess, thanks to Sandy. Waffle-making goods, cups, saucers, cutlery, milk, lay scattered everywhere. She spotted the juice containers.

—I thought we agreed no sweet juice first thing in the morning.

Sandy turned to face her and immediately she regretted saying it. It was obvious he hadn't gotten much sleep as evidenced by the dark circles surrounding his eyes.

—I know, dear, but sometimes agreements are made to be broke. You must know that from work.

Was it a dig at her job? She wasn't sure. Was he trying to make one on purpose? He had to be too tired for that.

—You look nice this morning.

—No I don't. I'm a mess. I stayed up too late.

It appeared as though he was about to admonish her, but instead he swallowed hard enough for her to hear. He had called to her several times throughout the night. She ignored him every time. He didn't know she had even come to bed until he woke to find her getting in beside him. That was when he noticed the laptop on the bed.

—Big day today?

She rarely kept him advised about what she was working on. He only knew she liked her job, for the most part. They both liked the paydays, even if her hours were too long and the days too short. He didn't hold it against her. She always made time for their daughter, no matter how exhausted she was when she got home.

Lately, that bedtime was becoming later and later. Rarely did she make it before Holly was in bed. Usually by then he was grabbing a few hours of peace and quiet under a blanket on the sofa. Sometimes she would leave him sleeping while she went upstairs to her office to continue working.

She knew that always annoyed him, but she knew he swallowed his pride, too. It was all about the payday and the future for the three of them. He was constantly telling her she would be rewarded for her diligence and work ethic.

She wasn't so certain, and she made it plain to him. Her last raise was a year ago. This year's expected Christmas bonus hadn't happened. The powers that be made the announcement at the party. No bonuses for last year. Try harder for next.

So she tried harder, and she was convinced she would make it this year.

—Don't forget I'm taking the car in for a service today.

She cursed silently, knowing she would be forced to drive the truck.

—You need to get rid of that thing. It's dangerous. The brakes. The transmission. You said you were going to put lap belts in it and you haven't.

It occurred to her she shouldn't have said any of it. After all, the truck was his baby. He had it before they were married. His dream was to finish it properly, seat belts and all. Even she knew it would be one sweet ride when it was done. If it ever got done.

—I know, dear. I just don't have the energy any more. Holly is taking up all of it. The park. Walks. The stroller. Meals. Play time. My time is Holly time.

Immediately she regretted admonishing him. She was the worker bee. It was Sandy's job to support her by dedicating his time to care for their daughter. Still, on weekends, when it was Angela's turn to spend time with Holly, she called her Mommy. She was still calling him Dada, and he spent five non-stop days a week with her.

She heard the sigh, and knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no justice.

FOUR

**ANGELA KISSED HER** husband and daughter goodbye before making for the truck and then remembered the keys. Sandy grinned, already waiting at the door to switch them out. Holly waved furiously, calling out _Goodbye mommy_ again and again. It was their standard ritual. Angela kissed her daughter a last time on the way by.

She stepped outside into the sunshine and hesitated. The day was starting auspiciously. A bright blue sky would take her to work. A light breeze whispered through the leaves of a nearby tree. The truck was parked beneath it. It was a real antique, even if it wasn't classified as one. Antique was too kind a word for it.

While her husband had perfected the exterior before they were married, he hadn't found the time or the inclination to work on it since. The interior was beat. A blanket covered the ragged seat. The huge steering wheel was no longer round. The automatic transmission clunked into every gear. She looked out over a faded and cracked dash. He hadn't bothered to get one of those cheap auto-store covers for it.

She turned the key and a cloud of blue smoke engulfed the driveway, drifting off in the breeze. She wondered if the neighbors would complain again as she wrestled to get the shift lever into reverse. It caught and she jerked into the street. She made another try to find drive and she was off.

She barely heard Holly's repeated goodbyes over the exhaust sound. She waved a final time before disappearing around a corner. Her grip on the wheel relaxed and then tightened again when she remembered the presentation.

She fished for her phone and the charging cable in her purse. Went to plug it in before catching herself. There was no outlet. Instead, a cigarette lighter filled the spot on the dash. How many times had she asked for it to be replaced with an adapter so she could plug in her phone? She lost count. She cursed silently and tossed the dead phone on the seat.

That and a dead laptop. What else could go wrong? She reached across for her purse. The truck swerved. She fought with the steering to get it back in her lane. Carefully now, she checked the pocket in her purse.

The feel of the USB dongle reassured her that at least it was still there, and she was smug in the knowledge that her presentation would be a go. Satisfied, she concentrated on maneuvering the truck through traffic.

She fought with the ancient power steering. She struggled with the old brakes. Sandy had explained the truck's eccentricities to her many times, but it was like the first time she'd driven it. Resigned to being late, she concentrated on rehearsing the presentation she would give.

The black SUV on her tail was following too close. She kept looking in the mirror, wondering if she should brake-check the driver to wake him up.

She turned off the busy main street. As she did, she checked the mirror. The SUV was still there. Obviously they both wanted to make time by taking a less busy shortcut. She'd done it many times. She halted at a stop sign, looked both ways, and was immediately blocked by a vehicle cutting in front of her.

She cursed and wrestled with the shift lever in an effort to back up and go around. The transmission locked. The truck would move neither forward nor back. The truck's door flew open. A hand grabbed her hair and hauled her out. She fell on her knees. Someone climbed over her to grab her laptop bag.

Two men forced a black hood over her head. They secured her wrists before manhandling her into the vehicle. Doors slammed and it accelerated away.

She rocked from side to side as the SUV made a series of rapid turns before the driver gunned the accelerator. They had to be on a straightaway to make good time.

Angela's first panicked thoughts were about her project presentation. There was no one to replace her. Her concerns came to an abrupt halt when she finally realized that was the least of her problems. She was in trouble. Big trouble.

FIVE

**SANDY SURVEYED THE** clean kitchen. He had a routine, and it hadn't taken long to neat it up. He busied himself readying the three-wheeled stroller for his daily run. Water for him and Holly. Sunscreen for the park if they stopped today. Never his phone, though. His morning run was his _me time._ He and Holly. He tucked a sweet juice into the stroller, a reward they would share.

—Don't tell mommy, okay Holly?

She looked up at him and giggled.

—No-no, Dada.

Holly didn't mind in the slightest.

—We'll be sure to brush our teeth after.

Holly cooed and giggled and laughed and waved at strangers as they went speeding down the sidewalks on their run with the three-wheeled stroller. The stop at the park lasted only long enough for a brief swing and to share the juice. By the time they returned, Holly was as fatigued as he was with all of her arm-waving and smiling and calling out to strangers.

Sandy gave Holly her bathroom break before changing her outfit and putting her to bed for her nap. Her eyes closed the instant she went down. In sympathy, as he liked to call it, he stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes. He went off to dreamland as quickly as Holly. He kept one ear attuned, in case she should wake up before he did.

He almost slept past the service appointment for their fancy car. He woke Holly. She opened her eyes and grinned up at him.

—Are you ready for a car ride, Holly?

She reached out her arms and he picked her up and put her in her chair.

—How about a snack before we go?

She nodded and called out _Cerweal pwease_ in her little-girl voice.

—Cereal it is. I think I'll join you.

He filled two bowls, but Holly wasn't having it. She reached for his, wanting to eat out of it. He obliged her with a single spoon for both of them.

—All right. It's time. Do you need to go to the bathroom?

She nodded and he took her, waiting until she finished.

—Good girl, dear. Now, where did I put that soother?

At the sound of the word, Holly perked up instantly. Her eyes grew large. Her head turned from side to side, searching and looking around. She couldn't see it, either. She was on the verge of tears when Sandy popped it into her mouth. Her eyes closed and she grinned past it, showing tiny white teeth in the process.

He carried her to the SUV and strapped her in the back. He slipped one of her shoes off and placed it in his lap. It was a little trick someone told him about. It made sure he never forgot she was back there. Sure enough, even after her nap, she quieted and was dozing off by the time he turned into the dealership.

—All right, dear. We're here.

He picked the soother up from the back seat and popped it into her mouth. He dropped the keys off and he carried her part-way to a park bench. He put her down to let her walk the rest of the way on her short, sturdy little legs. At the bench, she held out her arms and he lifted her up to sit beside him. Together, they amused themselves by watching people and dogs strolling by.

—Puppy, Dada. Puppy.

Holly pointed and giggled and kicked her feet. He was tempted to put her down so she could investigate on her own. In the end he thought better of it. He didn't know the owner, and he'd be darned if he'd let a strange, unknown dog near his daughter.

He went for his back pocket to check the time and discovered he'd forgotten his phone. He cursed his forgetfulness silently and picked Holly up. They traded the bench for the swing. It took only three pushes for Holly to begin laughing and squealing with delight.

—Push, Dada, push.

Sandy pushed. Holly laughed and giggled. Finally, it was time to return to the dealer. He picked up a pink-faced, happy Holly.

—Let's go see how they're doing with our car.

— _Car wide,_ Dada? Car wide?

He drove home, gave Holly a bathroom break, and prepared lunch for two. Following that, he took her out for a swing in the back yard before putting her down. As was his wont, he stretched out on the sofa and crashed.

SIX

**GROGGY AND STILL** half asleep, Sandy tuned an ear. It wasn't Holly. He listened again. It was his darned phone, the phone he forgot to take with him. He'd only turned it on its face, forgetting to turn it off. He checked the time, revealing the unfamiliar number. One-thirty. He was out longer than he thought.

He cocked an ear to listen for Holly, but she was still sleeping. He didn't like her to be down for too long. It meant when she went to bed she wouldn't sleep until late into the evening.

—Hello?

He was groggy and confused from his nap. He probably shouldn't have answered.

—Is this Sandy Franklin?

—Yes.

Now he was intrigued. He quickly ran through a list in his head. All the bills, paid. That was the extent of it. It was his job to never leave anything unpaid. He saw to it assiduously. Perhaps it was the car dealership.

—Who's calling, please?

The garage where he took the car? He paid by credit card. It couldn't be that. He hadn't left Holly behind. She was upstairs, sleeping. To be certain, he climbed the stairs to look in on Holly in her crib.

—Hello?

Mumbling came through the phone. Other voices in the background.

—Hello. Who's there?

—Sandy?

—Yes. Who is this?

—It's Bill Henry from Angela's office.

—Oh. Hello. Yes.

His wife's boss.

—What can I do for you?

—It's about Angela. She didn't come in today. Do you know where she is?

He recalled the presentation his wife told him about. She was scheduled to give it this morning. It was important, according to her. She wouldn't slough it off. Wasn't it supposed to go first thing? Why was her boss only calling now?

—Hang on.

Sandy scrolled through numerous text messages and several voice mails from the same number. So they had called earlier. He missed them all when he forgot to take the phone with him to the garage.

—She's not here. Did you try her cell?

—Yes. More than once. She's not picking up. We texted, too. She was scheduled to give a presentation this morning. It's long overdue now. We've given up and postponed everything. Do you think you could track her down?

It was the truck. It had to be. She hated driving it. Maybe the brakes failed. Or the steering. She was in a hospital somewhere. Damn but he should have put seat belts in it. She was always asking when he'd get around to it. Every time he had put her off.

—I'll make some calls and get back to you, all right?

He hung up immediately. Considered waking Holly so she wouldn't stay up late. Thought better of it and called Angie's cell phone instead. The call went straight to voice mail.

All right, he remembered her phone was dead when she left. The adapter. He'd meant to pick one up for the truck's lighter. She wouldn't be able to charge her phone or make any calls. But it was after lunch. She should have been at work long ago. He checked the first text asking about the whereabouts of his wife.

Nine o'clock. She would have been a half-hour late by then.

What to do. What to do.

Sandy paced the living room and tried thinking things through. Police. Would they know anything? Perhaps about an accident. But didn't they only look into missing people after two or three days? It was hardly that. He would call anyway.

Sandy hung up the phone, disappointed, worried, and no farther ahead. There were no accidents involving his truck. The desk officer was nice enough to check with the 911 operations center. There were no calls reporting the plate number for anything amiss. He debated calling the hospitals, but thought better of it. It the 911 center had no records—

As far as the missing person report, it was just as he suspected—too soon.

SEVEN

**THERE IT WAS** again, filtering up from the ground floor. I tuned an ear to the door and listened ever more closely. The cries were getting louder. Friday's ears perked up. He went on alert, too. His tail halted its wagging and he positioned to face the door. His head tilted and a confused expression appeared on his furry black face. I recognized the sound, finally, and admonished the dog.

—You can relax, Friday. I don't think they'll be coming in here. They're looking for someone else.

The dog took my advice and returned to his bed between the office desks. In seconds he took up the position he was in before the commotion began.

—You're getting far too much sleep, Friday. Maddie wouldn't be happy knowing we haven't gone for our walk yet.

I held a finger to my lips, something I learned from Lily.

— _Shh._ If you don't tell, I certainly won't.

The commotion started all over again before it appeared to hesitate on the second floor landing. Slow steps halted at the closed door. A knock sounded, tentative and barely audible. Okay, so maybe Friday was right after all. I called out through the door.

—You can come in. It's open.

A tall man in a rumpled shirt pushed the door open. Dark-rimmed eyes wandered the office and then paused to look me over. A gray blanket covered an indiscriminate lump hanging over the man's left shoulder. I heard snuffling. I recognized it because it was what Friday did sometimes. Not quite, but it was close.

The man offloaded the lump of blanket from his shoulder into both hands and turned it around. A pink-faced baby peeked out past the blanket and examined me with bright blue eyes. Okay, so not exactly a baby. A baby perhaps two years old. Maybe younger. I was no expert in that department.

The man eased the blanket back to reveal tangled, curly red hair poking up. A pink hoodie matched the girl's teary pink face. Pink pants completed the outfit. The baby's outfit. The man was dressed normally but for the badly wrinkled shirt.

—I take it this is the private detective's office. Are you Jim Nash?

—That I am. And you are—?

—Franklin. Sandy Franklin. This is our daughter, Holly.

At the mention of her name, Holly spit out the soother that had been firmly clenched between her teeth. It arced, hit the floor, and bounced out of sight. High-pitched screams filled the office the instant it left the confines of her mouth. Piercing screams.

Holly's head circled, first left, then right, searching, before tilting up at her father. It was obvious even to me she wanted to follow the soother to the floor. Kicking feet and waving arms told me Holly was probably a handful. I didn't need a detective to figure that out.

—Pleased to meet you, Sandy. Hello, Holly.

Holly's blue eyes focused on me. Her screaming halted and she forgot all about the missing soother. She seemed to look me over and then, as though suddenly remembering she was absent something, began to scream all over again.

I wasn't surprised. I was known to affect some women that way. Sandy put his daughter on the floor and she got down on hands and knees to investigate her new surroundings.

A very wise Friday stayed put between the desks. I think he even tried making himself smaller by pulling back against the wall. He may have been trying to process exactly what was happening in his normally much quieter domain. Holly's blue eyes locked onto the dog. Before Friday could effect a nervous blink, she screamed.

—Puppy!

Friday sat up and looked over at me. I remained nonchalant, trying to appear as though everything going on in our lives in this instant was the most normal thing ever.

The little girl waddled in Friday's direction on short, sturdy legs and white-laced pink sneakers at the end of them. Wavered with every tentative step. Changed direction at least once on the way before correcting herself. It looked as though she might fall down any second.

She got within what she must have considered hailing distance. She held out her short little arms and splayed fingers and began to coo. Friday looked up at me again. I thought for sure he was about to put tail between legs and slink off before anyone noticed, especially his new short little best friend.

—Too late, Friday. Holly is on her way to introducing herself.

The soother was forgotten. Holly slipped and landed on her well-padded rear. She leaned forward on hands and knees and made a feeble attempt to push herself up. Duly intrigued, Friday reluctantly got up on all fours. Holly's head looked up at the dog and she immediately ended up splayed out on the floor a second time.

—Nice puppy.

Resigned to the little girl's distress, Friday stood over her. He gripped the back of the hoodie in his teeth and lifted the girl up. He set her down on her feet and released her. Holly giggled and promptly sat down. Friday picked her up again and this time she stayed up. Her stubby little arms circled Friday's neck and she cooed into his ear.

—Puppy.

Satisfied that the girl wouldn't be falling down until she released him, Friday sat back on his haunches and kept a wary eye on Holly. Her arms remained locked around his neck. I looked over at Sandy. He was grinning like a proud father. Come to think of it, so was I.

—Furry.

Holly wasn't about to be silenced.

—Puppy furry.

Holly buried her face in Friday's neck. Her grip slipped and she ended up on her rear. Friday sighed a doggie sigh and looked up at me.

—You're on your own, dog.

Holly wasn't so sure. She called to the dog.

—Ups. Ups. Puppy. Ups.

Resigned to possibly being Holly's helper for the rest of his life, Friday did as requested. The little girl giggled and, back on two sturdy, upright legs, wrapped her arms around Friday's furry neck once more and giggled.

—Now that Holly seems to have Friday under control, what can I do for you, Mr. Franklin?

—I think my wife, Angela—Holly's mother—has gone missing.

Sandy Franklin had to be a remarkably patient man to sit through all that before declaring a missing wife.

EIGHT

**SANDY FRANKLIN KNEW** the dog wouldn't hold Holly's attention forever. Without a word he got down on his hands and knees. The man craned his neck as he searched high and low for his daughter's missing soother. He found it and looked furtively at her holding onto the dog's neck. He wiped the soother on a pant leg and jammed it into a pocket before standing up.

—We're trying to wean her off of it.

—How's that working for you?

—Not well, but we keep trying.

—So why did you find my office again, Mr. Franklin?

I looked at my phone. Three p.m. I turned it over and placed it face down on the desk.

—It's my wife. Holly's mother. She seems to be missing.

I opened a drawer and brought out a notepad.

—What leads you to that conclusion?

I noted the date and time and the man's name and that of his wife and daughter. His eyes traveled to the little girl with her arms wrapped firmly around an uncomplaining Friday and then up at me.

—We had our normal breakfast. As you can imagine, it was rushed with Holly refusing to eat and crying and banging things and scattering food. I like to get Holly to the table early so Angie can get dressed in peace and quiet. She works. I'm a stay at home dad.

—You were saying she was missing.

I wanted to get things back on track.

—Oh, yes, well, we were arguing about what time she'd be home. We had a dinner date with some neighbors. A barbecue. Sometimes she gets back late, and I wanted to be sure she'd be home in time.

He looked down at Holly.

—Anyway, she leaves around seven-thirty every morning. Drives herself to work for eight-thirty. By nine the office was calling wondering where she was. Apparently she was supposed to be at an important meeting first thing and never showed. No phone call, nothing.

I scratched more notes before looking up.

—Who does your wife work for?

He told me. It was a venture capital firm. In a previous life I had worked part-time for one of the biggest.

—I've heard of them.

The company bought up near-bankrupt outfits, sold off assets that were worth anything, and let the remainder die. It laid off or fired employees left, right and center in the process to reduce costs. Pension and retirement benefits, everything, went out the window. Sandy interrupted my thoughts.

—They buy up solvent companies, too. Not many, but a few.

—Her job has to be high-pressure. Do you know if she has any enemies?

He thought before replying.

—Not that I know of. Although I guess anything is possible given the nature of her work.

—And that is?

—She runs the numbers on the companies before the firm buys them. If the numbers are no good, they don't buy.

—So she does financial audits and investigations. Maybe saves some companies, lets others collapse in bankruptcy.

—I suppose that's one way of putting it.

I scribbled more notes.

—So it is possible she might not have made many friends in the companies she allowed to go bust.

—That's possible, yes.

Holly had gone suddenly quiet. I looked over at Friday. He was stretched out on his bed. Holly was snuggled against him with her face buried in his neck. She was breathing quietly, fast asleep. The one eye Friday was keeping on the little girl appeared to look relieved.

—You mentioned something about an important meeting that required your wife's presence this morning. Do you know what it was about? Perhaps a takeover? Maybe the outfit's owners weren't happy with her decision.

Sandy considered.

—It could be something like that, yes. My first thought was to go to the police.

So he hadn't gone that route.

—Why didn't you?

—I didn't think a few hours was enough for them to do anything. Was I right?

He was. I didn't say so. I asked what kind of car she drove. The plate number.

—I did call to ask about accidents.

So he called after all. Probably smart of him to ask.

—Is it possible the car broke down?

He considered.

—I suppose. But we have a road service. It wouldn't take her this long to get to work even if it did. No. Wait. That's not right. Her phone was dead. And she couldn't use it in the truck. I never picked up an adapter.

So the truck she drove to work was old. I continued making notes, halting when Sandy's phone rang.

—It's her.

He held the phone to show me.

—Honey. Where are you? Work has been calling all morning. I'm at a—

Sandy halted, listening.

—I'm going to put you on speaker, okay? I'm doing laundry.

Chalk one up for Sandy.

His wife's voice was shaky. Trembling. Trying to remain calm and not doing a good job of it. Her breathing came in spurts between sentences. She was barely keeping it together.

NINE

**DEMANDS. SURELY THE** kidnappers would have demands. They would come after the _How are you-I'm fine_ tear-filled and panicked talk between husband and wife. The phone would be surrendered and the kidnappers would talk. But when it was over, they didn't have demands. They hung up. Perhaps it was more of a getting-to-know-you phone call. I was confused, to say the least.

So was Sandy. I asked the obvious question.

—Did you recognize anything? Any familiar sounds in the background?

I couldn't ask if he recognized any kidnapper voices. None of them talked.

—No. I'm just relieved she's okay. She's okay.

He looked down at his daughter nestled against Friday and smiled.

—What did you do before you quit work to take care of Holly, Mr. Franklin?

—I was a computer programmer. I worked on the shady side of things. Testing. Probing. Looking for weaknesses in systems. That kind of thing.

—Ever do any hacking?

He looked at me, as though sizing me up.

—Well—

I waited.

—Yes. Plenty. I was good at it, too.

There it was. I had a glimmer.

—You've been away from the business for two years or so. Do any of your old friends miss you?

—Oh yeah. Some. Mostly the second rate ones. I carried a lot of their weight.

I considered for a moment before asking.

—Perhaps one of your old friends has been hired to break into your wife's computer to obtain inside information. Is that possible?

—She does sensitive work. Collects a lot of data and parses it for the higher ups. What she presents determines whether the company she researches will be a buy or an ignore or a sell. Whether it will be parted out and sold bit by bit. Destroyed and dumped once the value is gone. That kind of thing.

I made more notes before putting down the pencil.

—All right, Mr. Franklin. I'll look for your wife. I'm going to call a friend of mine at the local PD. You don't need to know who he is.

Sandy Franklin reached into his bag and pulled out a checkbook. He filled it out without asking what my services were going to cost. He handed it over, and as much as I didn't want to look, I did anyway.

—Fill in any amount you want, Mr. Nash. Anything at all. Holly needs her mother, even though right now it seems she needs Friday, too.

He bent to pick up his little girl. She opened drowsy eyes and grinned at him. Turned her head to look at me. I grinned right back. Friday, ever the watchful dog with the children, sat up and snorted.

—Bye puppy.

—His name is Friday, dear.

—Bye _Fwiday._ Bye.

Short pink fingers attached to a pink hand with an arm covered by a pink sleeve waved at the dog from her father's arms.

—Bye Fwiday. Bye Fwiday.

Friday woofed and followed them to the stairs. Holly called out all the way down to the door. Friday woofed his own goodbyes every time she called his name.

—Well, Fwiday.

The dog tilted his head and looked up at me like I should have known he was only being nice for the little girl's sake.

—It looks like we have a new client. Come on. We're going for a car ride.

That was all it took to get the dog taking the lead down the stairs. He halted at the car and I opened the door.

—You didn't even call shotgun, dog.

He looked from side to side and then up at me, as though to say _There's no one else here,_ _before jumping onto the seat._

—We're going to drive the route Holly's mom takes to work every day. What do you say to that?

He sniffed the air, searching for a scent.

—Don't worry. You won't be seeing Holly for a while, dog. You can relax in peace and quiet.

Friday didn't look like he believed me.

TEN

**WITH MADDIE OUT** of the picture while she visited home, I was left to my own devices with the Franklin case. And, she left her favorite and only dog behind. She must have thought I was capable of taking care of him on my own. I think Friday was still reserving judgment on that. We hadn't gone on any of our promised daily walks.

—We'll walk when we get back, dog.

His ears perked up and he settled into the Packard's front seat beside me. I powered down the top before referring to my notes. Franklin gave me the streets his wife normally drove to work. I was familiar with them. Two would be congested at the time she drove them.

I made for the first and by late afternoon we were cruising. Traffic was mostly in the opposite direction, headed home. I got onto the second, with the same result.

—Our client's wife was late getting off to work.

I found myself addressing a dog.

—She would have been looking for a route around the early morning congestion. Since she drove it every day, she'd know where to turn well in advance.

Friday didn't say anything. Maybe be agreed with me. Maybe he didn't.

—The only way to find out is if we drive the side streets. We'll zig and zag and see what we can see.

I was sure more than a few people would have had the same idea. Even with the fewer cars of after-hours traffic, it was a pain. Back and forth. Left and right. Crossing streets and taking up on the other side. It was time-consuming and frustrating.

—We're almost done, Friday. What do you say we walk the last few streets?

He woofed assent. I poured a jug of water and let him bury his face in it. He finished, and I attached his long leash. We were off. Out of the convertible and the wind, it was a lot warmer and definitely humid.

I allowed Friday to take the lead. He tugged at the leash, doing his usual sniffing and snuffling and stopping and starting. He even took time to anoint a fire hydrant.

—Good dog, Friday. I've wanted to do that a time or two myself.

My shirt was wet and soaked in perspiration. Friday's tongue was hanging out. He was panting a little too hard for my liking. We crossed the street and retired to a restaurant's small sidewalk patio and shade under an umbrella.

The waitress appeared and I requested water for two. She took one look and it turned dirty before she disappeared. The dirty look returned with two tiny glasses.

—Can I get a bowl, please? I like to slurp my water when it's hot like this.

She shook her head and mumbled something about customers and I ignored her until she returned with the requested bowl. I serenaded her with a tuneless ditty for her efforts. She didn't crack so much as a smile. Perhaps it was my singing. Or maybe it was late in her day.

Friday finished up his drink. I wandered to the edge of the sidewalk to have a gander up and down the street.

—Friday, that looks like what we're searching for.

We rushed past the till. The waitress hurried to our table. I was certain she wanted to see if we left the salt and pepper behind.

—Friday. Heel.

He did as ordered, and I halted a block away. In front of us, the truck angled towards the curb, not quite parallel to the street, as though it had been forced to stop. I led Friday behind a hedge and scanned the street. A sedan was parked half a block from the truck. Windows down. Someone in the driver's seat. A stakeout, maybe.

—Come on, Friday. We have some scouting to do.

ELEVEN

**I ALLOWED FRIDAY** to take the lead, letting him tug me along. We strolled past the car. Music blared. A man occupied the driver's seat.

Behind us a door slammed. Friday halted and looked. I followed his lead. A man carrying a brown bag and a thermos made for the car. He climbed in and the driver left the scene.

We took our time getting to the truck. From a distance it looked to be an immaculate restoration. The colors matched Sandy's description and the pictures he showed me. Both windows were down. I ordered Friday to stay and put on a pair of gloves before opening the driver's door.

Inside was a beater needing plenty of work. The dash cracked and faded in too many places to count. The shift lever indicator was in reverse. I wiggled it to no avail. It was stuck.

Missing door covers revealed the window guts. I tried the hand cranks. They worked, but with some difficulty. A window slipped out of its track.

I checked the visor. The ash tray. Under the floor mat. No keys.

A colorful blanket covered the seat. I slipped my fingers along the crease. They touched something. I dug deeper and came up with a USB drive. I put the dongle back and took pictures. I pocketed the drive and closed up the truck to take some distant shots. If it got towed I'd have a record.

I made sure to include the plate. I made sure to check my notebook, too. The plate was definitely a match, but by then there was no doubt.

—It looks like we found it, dog. Just where we thought it would be. Angela must have turned off the crowded street to make time and ended up waylaid by person or persons unknown.

It sure wasn't to steal the truck. It might have looked pristine on the outside but for a tailgate filthy with oily exhaust fumes. Inside, it was anything but. Under the hood it was likely a disaster in the making.

—Let's call it a day and head home, Friday. I have some thinking to do.

TWELVE

**I PUT IN** a call to Don Boyle, a friendly lieutenant in the local PD. He was out. I left a brief message about the case and the found vehicle particulars. Even though Sandy's wife hadn't been missing long enough to file a report, it never hurts. In this case, the found truck tended to send the message that Angela Franklin could have been abducted.

Next was a call to Sandy Franklin. He picked up immediately and I filled him in.

—I also found a USB storage drive in the truck. What would you like me to do with it?

—Could you bring it over? It's late to try to find a sitter.

—I'll feed and water Friday and we'll be over in a bit.

—Holly is going to be so surprised. She was just asking about _Fwiday_ a few minutes ago.

He mimicked his daughter's name for the dog and chuckled. I did, too. In the background, I heard _Fwiday,_ Dada? Fwiday? Friday would be in for a shock when Holly showed up to answer the door. No doubt Holly would be, too.

Boyle returned my call just as Friday and I were departing the office. I was pleasantly surprised when he told me he'd already sent a couple of his guys to look over the truck. I wanted to tell him about the USB stick, friends that we were, but I thought better of it until I had Angela's husband take a look at it.

—Thanks, Don. My client will appreciate it, I'm sure. I owe you one.

—No problem, Nash. Keep me updated, all right?

I said I would and Friday and I headed for the car. Friday, always one for a ride, jumped right in and took the front seat where Maddie usually sat.

—I miss her too, dog. Maybe we'll get a call later. What do you think?

We arrived at the Franklin residence. Friday followed me to the door and stood by my knee. His nose tested the air. He seemed unsure, but his tail wagged and it looked to me like he was smiling.

—Sit, Friday.

He looked up at me with a quizzical expression before doing as he was told. Maddie had trained him well. A commotion behind the door had Friday perking up his ears. His tail stopped sweeping the step.

—Open the door, dear. There's someone who wants to see you.

—Who, Dada?

I imagined the pink-faced little girl looking up at her father.

—You'll see.

The door eased open and short pink fingers slipped out from behind to pull it all the way. Holly's eyes widened. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. Friday stood up. His nose was even with Holly's. Friday's tongue licked at the little girl's chin. Shocked, she fell back and landed on her rear. She was speechless for only a surprised moment.

—Fwiday! Dada. Fwiday. Look.

Dutiful dog that he was, Friday walked behind her. Holly's head turned as far as it could in one direction. She regrouped, and turned it the opposite way. Her arms waved. Friday did his duty and picked her up. A huge grin appeared.

—Good, Fwiday. Come. Come.

Friday looked up at me and waited. I gave him a sign and he obeyed. Side by side the pair walked down the hall to what I presumed was the little girl's room.

—You gave him a signal.

—Yes. His mistress trained him to respond to certain unspoken signals. If he doesn't see it, he won't go. I think it's good for everyone concerned. If you don't mind I'll just go down and take a quick look.

—Go ahead. I'll make coffee.

I nodded and made my way down the hall. I passed open doors and looked in rooms. Neat. Tidy. Plenty of pictures of the family. The girl's room was full of stuffed animal refugees and lots of colors and posters and drawings on the walls.

—Do you think you'll be all right, Friday?

I don't think Holly heard me. She was too busy hugging Friday. The dog was resigned to his fate and couldn't be bothered to woof a complaint. Truth be told, he seemed to be enjoying the attention.

THIRTEEN

**I HANDED SANDY** the portable drive. He disappeared to retrieve a laptop before settling in at the kitchen table and inserting the storage drive.

—It's password protected. I'll be right back.

He returned with a folded piece of paper. He laid it flat on the table. It contained groups of numbers followed by long lists of symbols.

—How secure is that if you write down all your passwords?

—Oh, don't worry. It's meaningless unless you know the correct combinations. We did it that way so we could keep everything available in case something happened.

—Well then, I guess this is the case. Something has happened.

He looked up before going to work on the keyboard. It took several tries, but Sandy ended up unlocking the laptop. He went to work on the many folders. Each was locked with a different password.

—Success. I'll get a bigger monitor. It'll be easier on the eyes.

I poured a coffee and went to check on Friday and Holly. The girl was busy chatting away to Friday.

—Bouncy ball, Fwiday. Bouncy ball.

She busied herself leading Friday to the door. He paused halfway through and waited while his playmate rolled the ball. She chased after it and walked it back, halting in front of Friday. He took the initiative and used his nose to send it sailing down the hall. Laughing and giggling, Holly chased after it and brought it back.

He nosed the ball again and looked up at me, as if to say _I don't think this is how it works but I'm going to go with it anyway._ His playmate waved arms in a frenzy, retrieved the ball again, and waited. I left them alone. Holly would no doubt end up sleeping well tonight.

I returned to the kitchen. Sandy was busy at the laptop. Fingers flew over keys. Documents launched and he arranged them in overlapping order.

—Take a look at this.

I looked, but it was something I was unfamiliar with. Games. Specifically, computer-based games. At least, that's what I got from the letterhead.

—Those are the most recent files. It has to be what she was working on for the presentation. A video game company. Some of those games are real money-makers.

—Do you know the firm?

Fingers began anew. A site listing came up filled with recent articles about the company.

—See these last two? It looks like the company is teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. If they're to be believed, that is.

—You're certain?

—Oh yes.

He changed the search terms and more sites came up, essentially saying the same.

—They're all gamer sites. The reporters are highly regarded in the gaming industry.

—Could there be some animosity between programmers and owners?

—Oh yes. Quite often.

I wanted to know how.

—The owners want to release the game to start getting some return on their massive investment of time and money. The programmers don't want to release until they think it's ready. Often, the feeling is that it's never ready.

—Is Angela's report there?

—If it is, I can't find it. She might have it hidden. I'll need more time.

I went back to check on Friday. He was curled up on the floor in Holly's bedroom. Holly was snuggled up with her face in his neck. Curly red hair stuck out, tickling the dog's wet, twitching nose. Both were fast asleep.

—You better take a look, Sandy.

He halted in the doorway.

—I'll be right back.

He returned with his phone and snapped a picture.

—I'll send you a copy.

I was going to tell him not to bother but thought better. Maddie would get a kick out of seeing Friday all tuckered out by her dog's red-haired little playmate.

—You and Friday might as well head home, Detective Nash. I'm going to be a while figuring this out. When I have it I'll let you know.

FOURTEEN

**I TURNED OVER** the ringing phone and grinned recognizing Maddie's number. A happy woman could barely talk past her own grin. I was relieved she was checking in.

—So, do you miss me, or is it my breakfast cooking you miss? I'm frying up a couple of slices of bacon to mix with Friday's breakfast.

—He's getting bacon? How come?

—We had a late night last night. Our new client kept us up until Friday couldn't keep his eyes open.

—The client must have come in after I left.

—Late in the afternoon. She's only eighteen or nineteen—

She didn't allow me to finish.

—What? A teenager? What's she doing there? Isn't she kind of young to hire a private investigator? What happened? Did her boyfriend stand her up for prom or what?

—Hang on. Your favorite dog's breakfast is ready.

Friday hadn't twigged to the fact that I was talking to his mistress. His tail wagged eagerly, knowing what was coming. I picked the bacon out of the pan and patted it dry. He knew I was chopping it to mix with his breakfast, and his tail continued its furious wagging.

—There you go. Enjoy, dog.

His tail halted and he buried his furry face in breakfast. I went back to my conversation with Maddie.

—Oh, no. Nothing like that. She's—

—She's what?

Maddie sounded filled with regret that she'd left on her trip home.

—I'll send you pictures. Friday's in them, too. You'll get a kick out of the pair. They played bouncy ball last night. It plumb tuckered out both of them.

I knew better than to wait longer than a minute after we hung up. I wished I could see her face when she learned the teenager was eighteen months old. I didn't have long to wait.

**> > You are a bad bad man.**

A phone call interrupted my fun. Sandy managed to unlock his wife's report and was inviting me to see it. In turn I invited him to the office. I finished feeding and watering Friday and leashed him for our walk.

—Your girlfriend is coming over, dog.

He looked up at me, head tilted, unsure what to make of it.

—You remember. Holly. Bouncy ball girl.

He woofed and shook his head.

—How soon we forget. Come on. We don't have much time for our walk.

Holly greeted her _Fwiday_ like it was old home week. Sandy fished the bouncy ball out of his backpack and the little girl took over from where she left off the night before. Friday, accustomed to her game of backwards fetch, played along. He happily nosed the ball while Holly chased after it only to retrieve it and put it down in front of him.

—I wonder how long it's going to take her to train Friday to fetch.

—I'm not sure, but I think Friday is smarter than your average dog. He's keeping her too happy and busy to even think about letting him fetch the ball.

I had to agree with Sandy on that.

—Okay, so what's the latest? Any more phone calls?

—Yes. Another shortly after you left. I got to talk to Angie again, briefly. She says she's safe.

That was a bit of a relief.

—Any clue as to what they want?

—They want her report. I said I didn't have it.

—It wasn't on the laptop. What about the portable drive?

—It had a hidden partition on it. The report is on the partition.

—So then, your wife had an inkling her report was sensitive to a certain business.

Sandy thought for a moment.

—I'd say so, yes. It's her job to know that, after all.

—When you talked to your wife did you hear any noises in the background? Anything?

—No. I membered you asked that the first time, and I was paying attention. There was nothing.

—What about the company mentioned in the report.

—Well, that's the thing. I think I recognized a voice on the other end.

We had a break. Maybe.

—Are you certain?

—Yes. Someone I worked with a while ago. A long while. He was always looking for the easy way. A good coder. But lazy, you know? Resting on his laurels. Not putting out one hundred percent. But good just the same.

It was quiet in the office. I looked around for Friday. The game of fetch had moved to the hallway. Holly was giggling. Something sounding like a ball bounced down the stairs. The giggling halted and she cried out.

—Bouncy ball.

Sandy stood up. His chair flipped backwards. He flew to the door. Holly screamed. I followed Sandy. Friday had the hoodie gripped in his teeth. He was fighting to hang on. She was on the second step. A look of concentration was fixed on her face. Her tongue was out, curled to the side. She wanted more than anything else to back down those steps and find bouncy ball for Friday.

Sandy reached past Friday for his daughter. The dog released her into his arms. Stubborn Holly twisted her head, searching for the ball.

—Good boy, Friday. Good boy.

Friday looked up at Sandy. Holly called out.

—Good boy, Fwiday.

Friday's tail wagged so hard I thought it would fall off. Sandy put the girl down on the floor and she wrapped her arms around the dog's neck.

—Good boy, Fwiday.

As though Maddie herself had said the words, Friday walked a circle around the little girl wagging his tail. He stopped to nuzzle her and sat down. Holly's nose found his and he licked her face.

—Watch her while I get the ball, please.

Sandy made sure to close the door. As though nothing had gone wrong, the pair began their antics with the ball all over again. Holly busied herself doing the fetching. Each time she brought the ball back, Friday's tail wagged so furiously I thought he'd knock the girl down.

Friday finally had enough. Each time he nosed the ball in Holly's direction, he edged closer to his bed. When the girl returned, he nosed her over and she plopped down on her rear on the bed. Friday curled up beside her. She leaned over to pet him. In minutes the pair were sleeping like puppies sharing a sunbeam.

FIFTEEN

**BEFORE THE COMMOTION,** Sandy talked about hearing a familiar voice. We had a lead, finally. My first thought was to involve Boyle. Angie was a kidnap victim. He'd need to know.

—How do you feel about talking to the police?

Sandy's phone rang, and he held up a hand to wave me off before mouthing the word _Office._ He listened intently before hanging up.

—They want to involve the police. What do you think?

—I think we should find out where your guy is and go from there. If he has her, a stakeout should tell us. What do you think?

Sandy's only concern was for his daughter.

—I won't be able to get a sitter in the middle of the day.

—Between the four of us it shouldn't be a problem.

Sandy looked down at Friday.

—If you say so. We're counting on you.

A stakeout with a client. The client's daughter strapped in a car seat. A dog. I needed to have my head examined, and I was the one who suggested it.

—Show me where we're going to find this guy, Sandy.

—First things first, detective. Holly?

The little girl looked up at her father.

—Do you have to pee?

—No Dada.

She looked at Friday.

—Fwiday pee?

Friday looked from Holly to me. His head tilted. He might have rolled his eyes if he could.

—I don't think Friday needs to, Holly. If he does, he'll let us know, okay?

Without a car seat in the Packard, we paraded out to an expensive SUV. Somebody was raking in the big bucks. Sandy placed Holly in her car seat. She called out _Goodbye Fwiday_ so many times I wanted ear plugs. Friday was all ears, of course. He wasn't fatigued by the girl's attention yet.

—Okay, Friday. Your turn. Get in.

He jumped into the back and Holly called out.

_—_ _Car wide,_ Fwiday.

A fawning Friday licked her cheek and settled in beside the car seat. Dog and little girl busied themselves looking out the window at the passing sights. Sandy powered down the back window on Friday's side and the dog stuck his head out. His ears flapped in the wind. Holly giggled.

Friday brought his head in and looked across at me. I think he had a doggie smile gracing his furry black face. He licked Holly's cheek again before sticking his head into the fresh air. Friday's tail flicked back and forth. Holly giggled again.

I trusted Sandy's judgment to get us to the kidnappers. I trusted that he knew who they were. I trusted him to remain in the car with Holly and Friday. Maybe I was a little too trusting. I didn't have anything else to go by.

—That's the house. The green one. With the white door.

I didn't turn to look as we went by the house on my side of the car.

—Go around the block and this time park before you get to it.

I waited for him to get back on the street.

—Park there, on the right. It'll give us a clear view of the place.

I waited until he shut off the ignition.

—Sandy.

He looked at me and then at his daughter in the back seat. Even Friday had brought his head in and was looking.

—Don't look at Holly. Look at me.

He looked. Holly looked. Friday looked.

—Listen to me. You will not get out of the car. You will stay in the car with Holly and keep her safe. You will not let Friday out of the car. Is that understood?

He nodded.

—Nodding isn't good enough. Say it back to me.

He did, and I was good to go. I felt for my my automatic beneath my jacket. Sandy noticed.

—Is that necessary?

I didn't answer right away. I slipped the gun from the holster. Slipped the magazine. Checked it. Replaced it with a satisfying click. Chambered a round and re-holstered.

—Yes. It is. It's as necessary as it is for you and Holly to remain here with Friday.

I had a car-load of civilians. Friday was the only one I knew for sure would obey me. The other two were at the whim of the adult parent. And with Sandy's wife in the house and me with a loaded gun, I figured for sure he'd be running towards the place the minute I disappeared.

If he did, I was counting on him leaving his daughter in the car with Friday.

—Friday. Stay with Holly.

His ears perked up and he snorted. I took that for a yes.

SIXTEEN

**I EASED OUT** of Sandy's SUV and checked the quiet street a second time. Leaves rustled in a gentle breeze beneath bright sunshine. Anyone going to work was already on their way. No one on exercise routines pushed carriages or jogged. I slipped hands into both pockets, crossed the street, and made for the house.

I looked before climbing the steps to the front porch and the door. A curtained window on each side prevented me from seeing inside. Faint voices drifted through an open window. A woman, arguing with a man. Something about never getting financing now, thanks to someone's stupidity.

I didn't wait to hear more. I left the front and walked around to the back of the house. It was well kept. A picnic table. A sandbox and a child's swing. By the look of it a family house. Sandy's truck was parked beside a garage off the alley. The kidnappers had moved it, probably hoping the police wouldn't find it.

I eased up to the screen door. The main door was open. I overheard a second male saying something about being stupid to try something like this. The same woman's voice did an _I told you, when you forced me out of the truck._

Two males. A woman. Presumably Sandy's wife, Angela. I heard enough to begin to wonder if the woman might be in on her own kidnapping. I never broached the subject with her husband. Now it appeared to be a possibility.

I needed to hear more. I crouched beside the door and settled in with my hand on the holstered automatic. Friday barked once, followed by a loud, sharp squeal. A door slammed shut. Had the fool husband got out of the SUV?

Sure enough, the front door to the h use banged closed. Sandy's panicked voice floated through the open back door.

—Why did you take her? You had the information—

He stopped talking in a hurry. I had what I needed. My hand switched from the holstered automatic to the leather sap in its pocket. The hinges squeaked on the cheap screen door and the spring stretched and twanged. I held it while it slipped closed on its own.

Loud voices arguing in the front of the house drew my attention like a magnet. I eased past the kitchen and halted at the doorway. Two men I didn't recognize were having a heated discussion concerning the merits of kidnapping Sandy's wife when they already had her report.

Sandy and Angela shouted so loud it drowned out the other two. I listened and wondered if Sandy's daughter was still in the car with Friday. To that end I took out my sap and connected with stranger number one. He dropped like a rock in the middle of a lake. Number two shut up and made for the front door, fast.

I wasn't quite so fast. He double-timed it for Sandy's SUV. Sandy's anxious voice confirmed my suspicion.

—Holly is still in it.

Wanting to get to the guys before they spilled the beans, he tossed the key fob.

—With the windows up, no doubt.

He looked from me to his wife.

—I take it this is Angela?

I waited, not in the least concerned for the car and Holly. My patience was rewarded when I heard a fierce growl and sudden barking.

—It sounds like Friday is doing his job. What about you, Sandy? Where do your loyalties lie? With the kidnappers, or with your family?

I made for the street and Holly. Friday was holding the kidnapper by a pant leg and he wasn't about letting go.

—All right, Friday. Heel.

Friday's jaws opened. The man's leg jerked free and he slipped and fell backwards. Angela scooped up Holly while I brought out the handcuffs. The little girl jumped for joy.

—Mommy. Mommy. Fwiday is hurt. He got a owie. Dada slammed the door. It hit Fwiday.

Holly was about to burst into tears knowing Friday had been injured.

—Don't worry, Holly. I'll take Friday to the doctor. You go with your mom, okay? Friday will be fine, I promise.

We did brief introductions. I told Angela who I was and why I was there, and she thanked me on behalf of herself and Holly.

—What do you want to do with these two, Mrs. Franklin?

—I'm going to have words with my husband. Do you have a card?

I handed her one and asked her to come into my office when she could.

SEVENTEEN

**I CALLED BOYLE** to let him know I had the kidnappers. He would send a car. I left out Sandy's part in it until I heard from his wife. It wasn't up to me to become involved in a domestic matter. I knew how those could go, and it wasn't always good for someone who stuck their nose where it wasn't wanted.

Judging by the looks Angela had been giving Sandy, I knew it wasn't over, either. Holly was just happy to be in her mother's arms again. Even Friday, limping and in pain, seemed happy. I wouldn't be happy until I got him to the vet.

—All right, Holly. I'm taking Friday to the doctor. You can come and visit him whenever you want, all right?

She wrapped her arms around the dog's furry neck. His cold nose connected with her bare skin. She giggled and waved and called out.

—Goodbye Fwiday. Get better. No more owie. Goodbye Fwiday.

Angela picked up her daughter.

—I'll be calling your office, detective.

—By all means. I'll be expecting it.

I found the keys for the truck and waited for a badly limping Friday, favoring his right foot. I wasn't happy to see the dog in the condition he was in. He was obviously in pain. I helped him up into the truck.

—We're going to Dr. Hannah's, Friday. Do you remember her?

He whined and I winced, suspecting how much pain he was in.

I made the call while wrestling with the steering and the brakes and the shift lever. Eventually we made it through traffic without doing damage. I waited for Friday, sniffing and snuffling and limping his way into Dr. Hannah's office.

The woman's soothing voice did its usual number on both of us. She felt and prodded and poked and x-rayed. We both remained remarkably calm for the duration, even with the pain Friday was obviously suffering.

She showed me the x-ray and pointed out the damaged leg.

—There's nothing broken. It's tendons, mostly. And a very bad bruise. It's going to take time to heal, though. He has to stay off that leg. No stairs, up or down.

Dr. Hannah bound his right leg and repeated strict orders not to allow him to go down any stairs until she saw him again.

—He's going to be very stiff and sore tomorrow.

She stroked his back and handed me painkillers while giving detailed instructions on how to feed them to him and how often. I paid attention. If I killed Friday, Maddie would no doubt kill me.

She wrote it out and we said our goodbyes. I carried Friday up to the second floor. I debated whether to take him all the way to the apartment on the third. I nixed it and ended up putting him to bed in the office.

I retrieved blankets from the closet and made up the sofa. He seemed relieved that I would stay with him. He slurped a little water before his eyes fluttered and he fell into a deep sleep.

The first order of business was a call to Maddie. She picked up right away and I filled her in on Friday's injuries. Initial panic was replaced with concern for her dog.

—Are you coming home?

I told her about the x-ray revealing no broken bones. The sore tendons. The swelling and bruising. About how confident I was in Dr. Hannah's diagnosis.

—Is my dog dying?

—Not on my watch, lady. Dr. Hannah gave us painkillers. I'm sleeping on the office sofa with Friday. He's drinking and eating. I'll be carrying him downstairs. If it's too much for him, I'll carry him back up.

—In that case I'll be home on the weekend. If I don't arrive, you know where the jail is in that small town I have to pass through.

And I knew she'd be calling the doctor the instant we hung up, but I didn't mind. I'd be doing the same thing.

—We're going back to the doctor again tomorrow. We'll file a full report on the results.

Friday forlornly wagged his tail and held up his bandaged leg for the camera. He generally looked sad and inconsolable. He whined a goodbye and I hung up. He knew how to play the injury card when it came to his mistress, that's for sure.

I got up a couple of times during the night to check. I sat beside Friday and petted and stroked and ruffled his ears. I gave him a treat and one of Doctor Hannah's pain killers and waited for him to fall asleep before going back to the sofa.

I texted Maddie to let her know I was taking care of her Friday. It was a surprise that she wasn't calling every hour.

It was days before I heard from Angela Franklin.

EIGHTEEN

**I CUT THE** injured Friday a lot of slack. I made sure he had water and food and painkillers. I carted the heavy dog up and down the stairs and was glad I hadn't put him up in our apartment and another flight. I slept with him and made sure he knew I cared.

His tail wagged. He snuffled and whined and yawned and scratched the floor with his good paw when he wanted some attention. I made sure to give him plenty, even when he didn't scratch the floor.

Maddie called. I called. She let me know she talked with the vet both times after our visits with Dr. Hanna. I didn't mind. It gave her peace of mind and allowed her to stay with her family for as long as she had planned.

Angela Franklin came to visit on the third day. Holly's familiar voice rang out from the bottom of the stairs and I smiled.

—Fwiday upstairs, Mommy.

Friday's ears perked up and his tail wagged cautiously at the sound of the little girl's voice. I knew he wanted to get up to greet her. I wouldn't let him.

—Friday's been waiting for you, Holly.

—Down, Mommy, down _pwease._

Holly waddled towards Friday. His ears perked up and his tail wagged. When she got close she got down on all fours and crawled the rest of the distance. They faced each other nose to nose. Friday licked and Holly giggled.

—Look Mommy. Fwiday has a boo-boo.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged.

—Careful of his leg, honey.

—I will, Mommy.

I was grinning so hard I though my face would break.

—He's getting better, Holly. He's a lot better now that you're here. He was waiting to see you.

—Is Fwiday sick?

—Well, like you said, he has a boo-boo. But it's getting better. We visited Friday's doctor—

—Fwiday has a doctor?

—Yes, he does. We visited her yesterday. She said to tell you Friday is getting better every day.

—Don't worry, Fwiday. I won't sit on your boo-boo.

I left dog and little girl to commiserate and addressed Angela.

—Have you made any decisions?

She sighed before beginning.

—I have. Sandy and I are done. He almost cost me my job. The first thing I did after leaving those three was call my boss and explain what happened.

She hesitated and I wondered if she left out her husband's part.

—You know, the company was this far from making an offer to those guys. Had I made it into work, we'd have done it based on my report. I even went so far as to declare a conflict of interest before I went to work on the gaming company assignment. The boss wasn't concerned. He gave me full reign to do what I had to do and damn the consequences.

She shook her head.

—They would have been sitting pretty by the end of the day if they hadn't taken me. As it stands now, they're done. So is their company. So is my husband. No one will touch them after that episode.

She looked from her daughter to me.

—My business partner will be back on the weekend. If we can do anything for you and Holly, let us know. Maddie isn't known to any of them. If you need her for anything, she's available. We're both available.

She stood up and retrieved Holly.

—One more thing. Your husband left a check.

I pulled it out of the file. She took a quick look.

—Oh for crying out loud. He didn't even bother to fill in an amount. Thank you for being so diligent. How much do I owe you? I want to pay for Friday's doctor bills, too.

—When Maddie gets back, I'll let her know. In the meantime, if you need us, call.

—Come on, Holly. It's time to say goodbye to Friday.

The little girl called out _Goodbye Fwiday_ all the way down the stairs. Friday gingerly got up and limped to the top of the steps and barked. Holly didn't stop waving and Friday didn't stop barking until she disappeared.

—Well, Friday. I guess that's that for now. Were you happy to see Holly?

He woofed and wagged his tail while limping his way back to bed.

—It's been a long day. We need a nap.

I stretched out on the sofa and closed my eyes. Not a sound came from Friday. His eyes closed and he was off in dreamland.

NINETEEN

**MADDIE DROVE LIKE** a demon through the night to get home to the two favorite men in her life. She arrived exhausted at first light. She quietly climbed the stairs to the second-floor office and slipped open the door.

A sleeping dog lay in his bed between the desks, right leg in a white bandage. Jim was on the sofa. She pulled the blanket over him and headed up to their third-floor apartment.

She ran through the shower and dressed before making for the kitchen to fix breakfast for three. She cleaned up the dirty dishes Jim left behind while he was taking care of her dog. _Taking care of their dog,_ she thought now. She finished and headed back to the office carrying a tray fit for the kings in her life.

She was unsure how well Friday's leg was healing, even after talking to the vet. She went to the dog first. She knew he'd wake up and want to get close to her. She didn't want him walking on his leg more than he should.

She ruffled his ears and stroked his back and scratched his neck. Friday woke immediately and stuck his cold wet nose in her arm. It gave her goosebumps.

—How's my good boy? Are you okay, Friday? Did Jim take good care of you?

He snuffled and whined and raised his sore leg to be comforted.

—You are such a ham. Someone we both know told me you were healing nicely. Now you're telling me you want even more sympathy. You are a bad dog.

Friday wasn't having it. He nuzzled and licked and poked and whined until he had his mistress laughing uncontrollably. He raised his injured leg for inspection like a soldier proudly saluting.

—Shame on you. Don't go away. I'll be right back.

Maddie hurried upstairs and returned with Friday's bandanna. She tied it round his neck and he stretched and stood on all fours. His head turned to Jim still asleep on the sofa.

—Go. Wake Jim up.

Friday stuck his cold nose against Jim's warm neck. He stirred and pulled the covers over his bare neck and mumbled, barely awake.

—Zelda. Don't to that. I'm trying to sleep.

Friday barked and did it again. Jim opened an eye and looked out from beneath the blanket. He rolled upright and sniffed.

—Oh. Friday. It's you. When did you learn to make coffee?

Friday pranced over to Maddie, tail wagging and with enough snuffling to let her know he was happy to see her all over again.

—When did you get here? Is that breakfast I smell? Take the _Help Wanted_ sign down. You're hired.

—First things first.

Maddie placed Friday's bowl on the floor in front of him.

—Now you. Get over to that desk and dig in before I change my mind and throw it out.

While dog and man filled stomachs with hearty breakfasts, I regaled Maddie with tales of Holly. How she fell on her tush. How Friday rescued her and helped her up. About almost going head-first down the stairs. About how concerned the little girl was when she saw Friday's bandage and his boo-boo.

—She sounds like a real character. How old is she again?

—Eighteen or nineteen. I told you already. You thought she was a teenager, remember?

Maddie blushed a bright pink. Friday nosed her thigh and held up his paw.

—Friday, I thought you were healed. Are you still looking for sympathy? Didn't Jim give you enough love?

He looked up at his mistress with dark brown eyes and nudged her leg again. His head rested on her thigh. She rubbed his snout and scratched at his ears.

—All right. I'll sit with you for a bit. But no faking it, even if you are a handsome boy in that bandanna.

Friday pranced all the way to his bed, completely forgetting to limp.

—I knew it. You're faking.

He hung his head, looking guilty, and snorted his embarrassment at getting caught out.

—What's doing on with the case, Jim?

—I'm waiting to hear from Angela Franklin. I think she wants to get rid of her husband after the kidnapping fiasco. By the look of it he was in on it with the two jokers who own the company she was investigating.

She looked up from Friday to me, unbelieving.

—Yeah, I know. They were sitting pretty until they tried to find out what Angela's recommendation was going to be. Now they're just a couple of losers with nowhere to go and no one to do financing. They and their company is done. Sandy Franklin quite possibly along with them.

TWENTY

**I TOOK OUT** my notes on the case for Maddie to review before heading upstairs for a quick shower. When I returned she was busy making her own.

— _Fwiiidaaay._

The little girl's sing-song lilt floated up to the office from the lobby.

—I'm coming to seeee yoooou.

The dog's ears perked up and he got up on all fours. He barked once and sat back down. His head tilted and he listened to Holly's short little footsteps on the landing as they approached the door.

—Fwiiidaaay. Come find meeeee.

He pretend-limped his way and cautiously poked his nose past the door's frame. At that instant, Holly, doing the same, stuck her face past her side of the door.

—Peek-a-boo.

Friday's wet, cold nose connected with pink-faced Holly. The little girl giggled and hugged the dog.

—Fwiday has a boo-boo, mommy. Oh.

She saw Maddie, halted mid-stride, teetered back and forth, and looked up at her.

—Hi-hi. Do you know Fwiday too?

—Oh yes, Holly. I know Friday. I know you, too. Jim told me all about you.

Maddie held out her hand and introduced herself to Holly's mom.

—I've been reading up on your case. Jim mentioned you might have something more for us.

—Yes. Well. I've been using the time to think about things.

Angela Franklin halted before going on.

—I'm going to divorce my husband. He betrayed my trust when he hacked into my laptop and turned over my report to his former workmates. I could have lost my job. As it is, I'm going to have to work on building up that trust all over again. It's something I don't need.

—If there's anything we can do—

—Come to think of it, there is.

Holly plopped down on her rear. She called to the dog.

—Ups Fwiday. Ups.

I couldn't stifle the grin.

—Watch this, you two.

Friday walked behind Holly. In his haste to play her game, he didn't remember to limp. He seized the back of the hoodie in his teeth and lifted Holly off the floor. He lowered her on both feet and let go. Holly turned and hugged his furry neck before abruptly plopping down again.

—Fwiday. Ups.

Friday was no stranger to this game. He wasn't having any of it. He stretched out on the floor beside the little girl and nudged her. It convinced her to do the same before she buried her face in his neck and giggled.

—Furry Fwiday. Boo-boo gone.

His ears perked up and he looked up at Maddie.

—I knew it, Friday. You're faking it, aren't you?

The dog stuck a cold nose in Holly's neck to chastise her. It didn't work.

—Fwiday all better now.

I ignored the pair's antics and listened while Angela informed us she didn't want the police involved any more than they had been. She would be letting them know she wouldn't be pressing charges. What she did want was to learn how much her husband had been involved in the kidnapping. It more than likely meant she wasn't set on divorcing him just yet.

—We'll see what we can do. We'll need to know where those two hang out when they aren't kidnapping you.

Angela filled us in on the haunts and hangouts of the two kidnappers. It appeared to be mostly the house they lived in. They programmed and gamed and didn't get out much, by the sound of it.

Satisfied, we let Angela and Holly depart. We back-and-frothed it, but the only plan we could come up with was for Maddie to go undercover. She would be the one to attempt to find out how involved Sandy Franklin had been in the whole affair. Maddie was gung-ho to go to work.

—It's a smart move on Angela's part. Having a little girl to raise and no husband to stay home and take care of her is quite a bite to chew off.

—I'm actually on Sandy's side in this. You should see how he was with that girl. I hope he wasn't as stupid as he appeared when I walked in on them in that house.

Maddie paced the office floor.

—What's wrong?

—What does a hacker's girlfriend wear?

—I'm thinking plaid. Lots of it.

She looked at me.

—How do you know?

—I don't. I'm guessing. Call Angela and ask her. Just remember that you can't be seen with her.

—Then I'll use my own wardrobe. Come on, Friday. We have work to do.

Friday pretended to struggle to get up on all fours. Maddie saw through him like an open window.

—You don't fool me, dog. Dr. Holly said your boo-boo is all better.

He looked across the room at me, hoping for support. I shrugged and shook my head. He hung his own and forlornly followed his mistress up the stairs.

It didn't look like it, but we both knew he was happy Maddie was finally home. Half-way up the stairs Friday's tail began its frantic wagging all the way to the landing.

I know, because I checked. There wasn't the slightest evidence of a limp. I called up after him.

—You're not fooling us any more, Friday. Your little playmate spilled the beans on you.

TWENTY-ONE

**IT WAS OBVIOUS** Maddie missed Friday. It was more obvious that the dog missed her. Within the confines of the small apartment, he followed her everywhere. He sat beside her and nudged her with his nose when he felt he wasn't getting the proper amount of attention.

She patted and petted and scratched and rubbed and ruffled his ears. Friday preened and whined and wouldn't stop making self-satisfying noises.

—It's nice to know my dog missed me. How about my man? Did he miss me, too?

I looked down at Friday.

—Well, I don't preen and whine and wag my tail all that much, but yeah. I missed you. I was pretty worried about Friday, though. I was afraid his leg was fractured or worse. We went to see Dr. Hannah—

At the sound of the veterinarian's name, Friday's ears perked up and he woofed.

—first thing and found out it was only a bad bruise and sprain. She bandaged him up and I took him home and called you.

—I'm glad you did.

—I was really worried. I know you were reluctant to leave him.

—He was in good hands. Now get over here. It's your turn to be petted and scratched.

Friday held up his good foot, looking for the last dregs of sympathy from his mistress.

—Yes, I know, Friday. You had a harrowing week. I'm home now. You can relax. You're back on my radar.

That seemed to placate him before Maddie added one last thing.

—And you're holding up the wrong foot.

He must have been embarrassed at being caught out. He made for his bed and sighed before stretching out and closing his eyes.

—Now then, detective. What's the plan for the two stupids?

It was my turn to look for some sympathy.

—I thought we were going to pet and scratch.

I was hoping for some placating, too.

—You have something to look forward to later. Let's get started on work.

Maddie went to the closet and returned with her backpack. She hauled out a mess of wrinkled clothes and laid them out on the sofa.

—I did a little gaming in my past. My brother was the king, though. He whipped my ass so many times it's still scarred.

—So then, judging by the wardrobe I'm looking at you're good to go.

—You bet. All I need now is to come up with a plausible excuse to find and meet those guys.

TWENTY-TWO

**MADDIE SEARCHED THROUGH** her old wardrobe and found a t-shirt with a suitable logo and something big and sloppy to wear over it. Loose jeans and white sneakers completed her ensemble. At the last minute she checked her appearance and added a ball cap. She was convinced she'd be able to worm the information she needed out of Angela Franklin's kidnappers.

—All right, James. Good to go. Let's do this.

Jim stopped at the curb blocks away from the house.

—Are you sure this is how you want to work it?

—What else is there? We need to be quick. If what Angela says is true, they're gullible. Since the kidnapping, they're probably worried sick about repercussions.

—You're right. Putting you in there unannounced just might do the trick. All set?

Maddie nodded and opened the door. She took off running full tilt. Jim waited for her to disappear, knowing she was right. She had to do it fast. If Angela Franklin changed her mind and told her husband, it would be over before it started. Either she wanted to find out the truth, or not. We needed to come up with results.

In Maddie's enthusiasm she zig-sagged a couple of extra blocks, working up a good seat in the process. She arrived at the house, out of breath and panting. Perspiration streamed down her face. The front and back of her shirt was soaked.

She bent over, inhaled deeply, and pounded on the front door. She didn't wait for an answer. She immediately ran around the back of the house and began pounding all over again. She used both fists in a rat-a-tat-tat and then halted to listen.

She ran to the front and repeated her actions. She screamed. Kicked at the door. Banged on the windows so hard she thought they'd break. She turned the handle and the door opened. She shoved it wide. It banged against the wall. She ran inside and screamed as loud as she could.

—What the hell?

Two heads poked past the doorway. A male voice rose above the commotion.

—Who're you?

Maddie gasped for air.

—Oh thank god. I was so scared.

She could barely speak.

—What's wrong? Are you all right?

—I am now. There was a van. A white van—

Breathless, she halted and inhaled noisily. Her chest heaved. She had their attention.

—It stopped in front of me. The door slid open. There were two men inside. I ran around it. I've been running for blocks. Yours is the only door that was open.

—Can we get you anything? Do you want to call anyone? The cops?

Her breathing became more regular. She was able to speak without effort.

—Police? No. I can't. No way.

She hesitated and looked from one to the other.

—But thanks for offering. I'm good now. No cops, okay?

She looked at the huge monitor. There was a game on it. One she didn't recognize. She hadn't been a big gamer, but when they were kids her younger brother talked her into playing whenever he could.

—What is it? I've never seen it before.

They looked at one another as though trying to decide whether to tell her.

—It's one we designed. Would you like to try it out?

She was in.

—Sure. Do you have something to drink? I'm thirsty after all that running. I'm Maddie, by the way. Who're you?

—I'm Todd. He's Jeremy.

She felt pretty good. The spur of the moment mention of not wanting the cops involved had worked. She saw them look at one another, as though to confirm her judgment concerning the cops. After all, they had their own secrets. They just didn't know she knew all about them.

She sat down on the sofa and looked around. Empty pizza boxes were stacked in a corner. The pile was neat, st least, and she presumed they were empty. She sniffed, to confirm it. Empty junk food bags lay scattered beneath the coffee table. Empty soda cans and bottles, too. They were gamers, all right.

—Let's play.

She took a breath and made to grab a controller. One of the guys handed her a headset.

—You'll need this.

—Right.

She put it on and did a _1, 2, 3 testing_ out loud. Was that what they did? She didn't know. She'd never used a headset with her brother. She picked up the controller again and waited.

They went easy on her in the beginning. Jeremy stood behind her on the sofa and observed before chiming in with helpful hints until she had the gist of the game. Amplified stereo speakers boomed with gunfire and the whoosh of explosions. Grunts, groans, screams and other sounds all came through the headset.

—You're doing good, Maddie. Give him hell.

She wasn't that good. In ten minutes, if it was that long, she was dead and out of the game.

—Make an account for her, Todd.

TWENTY-THREE

**IT WAS DARK** when Maddie remembered to look out the window.

—I need a break, guys.

She made her way to the kitchen. The counter was overrun with piled-on dirty dishes. The table was covered in them. Strangely, the sink was empty. She ran water and filled it.

—You got any dish soap?

—Maybe under the counter.

An hour later and the job was done. She returned to her original mission in the kitchen and opened the fridge. No way was she cleaning that mess. She opened the door to the microwave. It was in the same condition. _Christ these guys live like pigs._ No way was she checking out the bedrooms. Bad enough she had to use the facilities.

It wasn't as bad as she worried it might be.

—What're we eating, guys? It's late.

The game halted and they looked at her like she was from another planet.

—Uhh—

It wasn't a difficult question. She waited, hands on hips.

—We usually phone to get something delivered.

No shit, Sherlock. She knew that by the stack of pizza boxes.

—How about Chinese?

Todd and Jeremy looked at her again.

—Chinese?

—Yeah. You know. Rice and vegetables and soup and stuff. Fortune cookies. The usual Chinese fare.

They looked from one another to her and back. Apparently that was a new one on them.

—All right. We'll try it. You can order.

—You got money?

Hands went into pockets and came out with wrinkled bills. She counted it out and went to her phone to place the order. She killed time going out to the back yard. The grass was neatly trimmed. Swings and a sandbox filled a corner. When someone yelled about the food she returned to the house and paid.

—I need another ten, guys.

She handed it to the driver and closed the door. They sat around the living room, eating and kibitzing. Eventually conversation lagged, and Todd brought up her refusal to call the police.

—What did you do?

She didn't hesitate.

—I shouldn't say. I don't know you. It could get me in trouble.

If she was going to get out of this pig sty, she had to do it as soon as possible. Her skin was starting to crawl. She needed a shower just looking around.

—How about if we tell you what we did?

Maddie couldn't believe what she heard, and so she laughed.

—You two? You're gamers. Did you SWAT someone you hate?

Todd and Jeremy exchanged glances. Jeremy went into the kitchen. The escaping gas of three sodas filtered through to the living room. He didn't return right away. Todd turned to her.

—Why do you think we're not capable of swatting someone? We could do it if we wanted. We kidnapped someone.

The revelation put Maddie on full alert.

—Who did you kidnap?

Jeremy returned with the sodas and handed them out.

—Did I hear you right? You told her, didn't you?

Todd's mouth opened but nothing came out when he realized he'd made a huge mistake. No doubt Jeremy would be on his case for a week.

—We don't know her, Todd. She could be anybody.

Todd still wasn't convinced.

—She's just like us. Besides, she said she'd tell us why she didn't want the cops involved with that guy chasing her.

He looked at Maddie.

—You're going to tell us, right?

A noise at the back door drew Jeremy away to investigate. He recognized Sandy carrying Holly. He called out to his friend.

—It's all right. It's Sandy.

Maddie tensed immediately. The man was the reason she was in this predicament. She'd never met him. He couldn't possibly know her. She turned to the man in the doorway as he put the little girl on the floor. Holly recognized Maddie immediately and began pointing.

—Dada. Maddie. Fwiday's fwend.

Holly spit out her soother and made for Maddie.

Hi-hi Maddie. Fwiday here?

Thanks to the little girl, her job was complete. She knew for certain Angela's husband was part of the kidnapping scheme. Exactly what part wasn't obvious yet, even if Sandy didn't need two and two to make four.

—What's she doing here? How did this woman get in? Where did you see her, Holly?

Holly looked up at her father.

—Fwiday. We know Fwiday.

—Dammit you two. We're into it now.

Sandy picked up his daughter.

—It's time to go, dear. Say goodbye.

Todd and Jeremy made to stand up and follow him out the door.

—Don't leave her alone, you morons. She'll get away.

TWENTY-FOUR

**MADDIE RECOGNIZED THE** trouble she was in the instant Holly remembered her. Her brain raced to figure a way out. She looked around. There was nothing she could use to fight her way out. She didn't think Todd and Jeremy were hard-core criminals. Kidnapping, sure. But even that had been a co-conspirator's wife. She couldn't imagine those two wanting to dump her in a swamp.

It had been more than a few hours since she last texted Jim to let him know how it was going. Would he be concerned by now that she hadn't sent another? He'd been reluctant to let her do this job, but she convinced him. After all, the suspects were only nerdy gamers. She even brought up that they only kidnapped Holly's mom, and hadn't harmed her in the slightest.

He gave in with a sigh and a shake of his head and then reluctantly said yes. Thanks to that, she was in it up to her neck. In fact, it went past her neck when a bag slipped over her head and two pairs of hands pinned her arms to the chair. She struggled to no avail. They were too strong for her.

—Tape her. I'll hold her.

Maddie kicked and fought to free her arms and screamed.

—Don't let her get up.

They taped her arms and wrists, securing her in the chair. Her feet were next. A kick elicited a loud groan before both feet were taped tight to the chair legs. She was a prisoner.

—What are we going to do with her?

—Don't worry about her. She won't be going anywhere.

Not wanting to antagonize her captors, Maddie held her tongue and remained silent. She recognized the seriousness of the situation she found herself in. The housecleaning she did in the kitchen gained her nothing.

She recognized the sound of drapes being closed. What little light filtered through the hood ceased when the lights were switched off. Doors slammed. A car started. She waited before calling out. No one answered. They were gone. She was alone.

In seconds she was rocking in the chair, back and forth, to no avail. Her back slammed against the chair. She made a feeble attempt at working space between the tape and the chair's arms. The duct tape was too tight and too sticky. It was the same for her feet. She changed tactics and threw her upper body into it by rocking side to side, again and again.

She suffered through a couple of false starts before finding the rhythm. She lost count of the number of attempts, but gravity took over and the chair tipped. She slammed onto the floor on her side. Her head banged against something solid and she saw stars before blacking out.

Someone groaned. Was it her? She couldn't remember. No. Wait. She could. Holly. Holly showed up with her father. The hood. And tape. She managed to tip the chair over. Then what? She struggled against her restraints. Couldn't move. She was still tied up. No. Taped. They taped her.

Her head ached. Someone groaned again. It was her. She was doing the groaning. Damn but her head ached. She wiggled her fingers. Did the same with her toes. Tried to move her head. It hurt too much.

She opened one eye. Then the other. She couldn't see anything. Remembered the lights were out. Remembered the hood. She sucked in a huge gulp of air and it closed over her mouth. Still there.

Well, she was into it now. Had she texted Jim? Once. Twice? She couldn't remember. Would he come to her? What about Friday. She should have brought him. He'd take care of her. But no, she couldn't. Why not? Wait. She knew why. What was it? Why was it so hard to remember?

Thinking was too much for her. She blacked out again.

TWENTY-FIVE

**I WAS RELUCTANT** at first to send Maddie on the job. Memories of hauling a former partner out of a drum in the everglades were not that distant. I didn't want something similar happening to Maddie. We talked about it, and she made a point of telling me she'd be texting updates on a regular basis.

—How dangerous can a couple of game-playing computer nerds be, Jimbo?

So yes, I had confidence in her abilities. It didn't mean I wasn't concerned. Which was why I sat on a stakeout a block down the street. I had burritos. I had coffee. I had Friday and a pocket full of treats. How much trouble could Maddie get herself into?

The first text came in and I rejoiced. The second complained about the mess in the kitchen, and I reminded her what a happy little homemaker she was. After that, even Friday noticed the level of tension in the car went down to low. I hadn't heard anything since, and now, together with Friday, I was beginning to become concerned again.

I'd been using a lamp shining though what I knew to be the living room's sheer curtains. When the light went out, I concluded the drapes had been pulled. I took matters into my own hands. I let Friday out and forced him to heel. He followed me to the house and up the front steps. I held out my hand and he halted.

—Wait here, dog. Stay.

He wasn't happy, and he let me know with a cold nose rubbed rapidly against my hand, but he obeyed.

—Good boy, Friday.

I covered my holstered weapon and opened the door to advance into the pitch black darkness. I searched for a light switch. Flipped it on to reveal Maddie sprawled on the floor taped into an overturned chair. Blood pooled beneath her head. Head wounds bleed plenty, but it was no comfort. I checked for a pulse and called to the dog at the same time.

—Friday. Come.

The dog bounded into the house and immediately recognized his mistress in distress. He took up a position at Maddie's feet and growled. I dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance and a squad car before cutting her free. I stretched her out, rolled her onto her side, and placed a cushion beneath her head.

—She's going to be all right, Friday. The doctor is coming.

He must have envisioned Dr. Hannah, because he left Maddie to go on patrol. He sniffed and snuffed his way from room to room. He barked, and barked again.

—What did you find, Friday?

I didn't get a chance to go and see for myself. The dog strutted his way in my direction, tail held high. His mouth clutched something unrecognizable.

—What's that you've got? Bring it here.

He didn't need to be told. He was in the process of doing it anyway.

TWENTY-SIX

**MADDIE GROANED AND** I knew she would be all right. Friday nuzzled her face with a cold, wet nose and she pretended to laugh it off. I wasn't having it. Neither was Friday. Neither would the sirens wailing in the distance. The ambulance would arrive not soon enough for my liking.

—You hit the coffee table when you rocked the chair over. There's plenty of blood, but you'll be okay. Help is on the way, sweetheart. So are the police.

The words were more for my reassurance than anything else. Maddie reached for Friday standing by, but she was too weak to raise her arm.

—Good boy, Friday. You did good.

Friday snuffled and worried over her. He nudged her with a cold, wet nose in an attempt at consoling her.

—I'll be okay, Friday. Don't you worry. That's Jim's job.

Friday seemed doubtful. He whined and whimpered and lay down beside h is mistress.

—Yes, and Jim and Friday are going to kick some ass as soon as that ambulance gets here. You can count on it.

—He'll want to go with me. You might have a fight on your hands.

Friday looked from me to his mistress.

—When you came to, he went foraging around the house. You'll never guess what he came up with.

—Was it Holly's scent? Franklin was here with her just before I got tied up by those two. The cute little redhead with the curly hair blew my cover when she recognized me from the office.

—Not exactly her scent, but close enough. He found her soother. Sandy Franklin is in this up to his neck and beyond. You did good. Well, good except for the bang on the head.

Maddie sighed and I regretted what I said next immediately.

—Next time, try harder, will you?

—Be nice or I'll sic my dog on you, Nash.

The ambulance arrived and Friday stood down to let the attendants load his mistress onto the stretcher. We followed them out the door and Maddie made the dog stay with me. He struggled mightily, dancing back and forth between the back of the ambulance's open door and me. He barked and jumped and fussed, but in the end he obeyed.

Maddie called out just before the doors slammed shut.

—Stay with Jim. Good dog. I'll be okay.

Friday whined and looked up at me.

—She'll be fine. We'll go looking for trouble when we're done with the police and their questions.

He barked and sat and waited patiently for the police to finish. It took a while. By the end of it we were both stressed and anxious to hit the pavement.

—All right, dog. Let's go looking for trouble.

He nudged my pocket, checking for Holly's soother. Satisfied, he bounded ahead of me to the car and we headed off to the Franklin residence. I dialed 911 on the way and gave them the address.

Friday bounded out of the car, teeth clenched on Holly's soother. He dropped it at the door and barked before picking it up. I rang the doorbell. Holly stuck her head past the open door and spied her favorite dog.

—Fwiday. Mommy. It's Fwiday.

Friday pranced past the little girl and her mother and halted at Sandy Franklin's feet. He dropped the soother and barked. The man's jaw dropped and his face went white.

—The jig is up, Franklin. The police are on the way. So far, it's kidnapping. I discovered my partner bleeding out in your friends' living room. Friday found Holly's soother. Maddie should be at the hospital by now. Thankfully, I got to the house in time.

Angela Franklin sank into a chair. What she suspected was true. Her marriage was over. She gathered Holly in her arms and Friday sat at their feet, as though on guard. He kept a wary eye on Sandy, as did I.

—It's over, Mrs. Franklin. Maddie will be all right. Your husband's two partners in crime will be charged. I'm waiting for the police to arrive and finish up what you asked me to do.

The squad car arrived. Sandy Franklin ended up loaded into the back. Holly called out sad goodbyes to Friday and we double-timed it to the hospital. I put Friday on his short leash and we approached the information desk. After much consternation, the attendant sent us off to Maddie's room.

We found her in time to witness her flirting madly with a young intern. I dropped the leash and stood back. Friday bounded into the room. He woofed softly and instantly Maddie's attention went from the intern to the dog.

—Friday. How's my boy? Did you help Jim?

Dog ears perked up and his tail wagged furiously. The intern mumbled something about rounds and used the opportunity to depart.

—Of course you did. Where is my savior, anyway?

—He's right here watching you flirt.

—Oh I was not. I was merely making sure he took good care of me.

—Uh-huh. And now it's my turn. I'll be waking you up every hour.

She regarded me suspiciously.

—How do you know to do that?

—I got a full briefing from one of the nurses on the floor. How do you think?

—They want to keep me here overnight. The bang on the head was a good one, so I'm told.

—In that case, we'll be staying with you. I wouldn't want you running off with a doctor to leave us stuck with paying the bill.

I turned out the light before taking a chair. Friday settled at my feet and kept a wary eye on his mistress.

—Now go to sleep. We'll see you in an hour.

TWENTY-SEVEN

**I STEPPED OUT** of the hospital leading Friday on his leash. He needed more than a little convincing to desert his mistress, but that wasn't unexpected. He needed a much-deserved bathroom break. So did I—the bathroom break, that is. We'd been cooped up—if that was the way to describe it—in a hospital room with Maddie for hours.

I'd been nervous and unsettled about allowing Maddie to go undercover to help solve our case. I prepared by setting up on a stakeout to surveil the operation. Had it gone according to plan, she would never know I was there. It didn't go that way, but that's why I was there. I could have found Maddie dead or dying instead of in the unconscious state I discovered her to be in.

It had been a chore convincing the woman she needed to get in the ambulance for the trip to the hospital. Friday and I followed shortly after. I witnessed her discussion with the intern in emerg. It was disjointed and fumbling. Words slurred. It was enough to convince me she needed to stay.

Against my better judgment, I forced her to submit. It took a lot of talking and some arguing, too. It didn't hurt that the intern was friendly and cute when she finally noticed him.

I followed the intern's instructions to the letter and made it my job to wake her every hour. If she wanted to pack up and leave the hospital, I'd be there to convince her otherwise. How hard could it be to make sure the woman stayed until morning? Besides, she needed a brain scan, and there'd be no leaving until it happened, if even then.

The nurses grew accustomed to our comings and goings on the floor. At first they objected to the dog, but I wasn't having any of it. I barged right past with Friday in tow. Their objections eventually turned to smiles and waves. Friday didn't mind. He did his thing by wagging his tail and quietly snuffling at the now familiar greetings called out by the nurses.

Maddie was doing well, too, even if at first she'd been more than a handful and reluctant to accept that she'd be in overnight. It was more of a precaution than anything else. That, and I insisted on it. She argued and objected and generally made herself a pain until she saw how steadfast I was.

Well, there was that, and the cute intern helped, too.

Thus Friday and I made our scheduled rounds of the hospital grounds and made to return to the room. In another six hours or so, Maddie would be given a clean bill of health and we'd go home. I'd tuck her into bed for the rest of the day, cook for her, and make sure she really was all right.

At least, that was the plan. As plans go, it was a good one, until Friday and I returned to an empty room. The dog looked from the bed to me and back.

—Bathroom. She needed a bathroom break, too, dog.

We settled into our respective resting places and waited patiently for the sound of running water and an open door. We waited a long time.

Maddie's phone was parked on the tray table, face down. I wanted to check it, but discretion being the better part of valor and all, I decided against it.

—She has to be here somewhere, Friday. She wouldn't up and desert us, even if we both know she hates hospitals and doctors. Friday woofed his support for his mistress.

—Wait here. I'll go ask at the desk.

There was no help there. No one had noticed Maddie walking past. I asked for the doctor to be paged, and returned to Maddie's empty room, but for her faithful dog waiting patiently. A forlorn dog ran up and made sure I went for the chair before changing his mind.

TWENTY-EIGHT

**FRIDAY DECIDED I** should take action immediately. He nosed me in the direction of the door, wanting to force me into the corridor. I convinced him to wait until the doctor returned. He for one ought to know what was going on. Perhaps Maddie had convinced him to release her. More likely, she was out getting her brain scan.

On the off chance, I checked the closet. It was empty but for the hospital gown on the floor. Her clothes were gone. So she had been released. I checked the table again for her phone. Strange she would leave it behind.

The doctor entered the room, looked around, and raised an eyebrow.

—Where is she?

—She's not here. Did you release her while I was walking Friday?

I got a dirty look for my trouble.

—Of course not. She took quite a rap on the head. I wanted to keep her here to see if there would be any signs of amnesia.

—Has she had her scan yet? I thought she might be getting it done now.

I hesitated, digesting what I'd just heard.

—Amnesia? What the hell?

He looked at me and waited, apparently considering whether or not I was worthy of further explanation. Or wondering if I had more questions. I did, but I couched them in a statement while looking unhappily at the doctor.

—My girlfriend and business partner is missing. You'd better explain this amnesia thing to us in plain English.

I looked down at Friday. He was staring intently at the doctor and the dog didn't look so happy, either. I waited for the man to begin.

—Maddie obviously suffered a concussion, a traumatic brain injury. That's not up for debate, as you explained how you found her. Part of the problem is, we don't know how long she was out. Do you know if she's had any previous concussions?

I had to tell him no, that it never came up. He nodded.

—Not unusual. Concussion effects are usually temporary, but they can include headaches and problems with concentration, memory, balance and coordination.

—So she's wandering around like a drunk in a blackout.

He looked exasperated.

—That's one way of putting it, I suppose. She was exhibiting some of the signs. She had one scan. I wanted to do another in the morning. That's why I wanted to keep her overnight.

I wanted to ask how that was working out, but I figured I was as much to blame as he was. She'd skipped on all three of us, after all.

—Is it possible she didn't know why she was in the hospital, and decided to make a run for it?

—Anything is possible, but yes, it is. She was pretty adamant about not wanting to stay overnight. Or stay at all, oft that matter. It's possible she doesn't remember anything about what happened when she got knocked unconscious or why she was in the hospital. That's one of the amnesia symptoms.

Oh great. Not only was Maddie wandering around like a drunk on a bender, she had no idea why.

—How serious is this, doctor?

—It's very serious. She needs to be found.

I had my work cut out. Friday was going to have to help.

—All right, doctor. Thanks for your time. I need to get to work. Come on, Friday. Find Maddie.

The dog bounded out the door. He raised his nose, halted his tail, and took off down the hall. He returned moments later and scooted off in the opposite direction. I ran after him and caught up at the first closed set of doors. I pushed them open and he took off again.

—Good boy, Friday. Find Maddie.

TWENTY-NINE

**FRIDAY DIDN'T FIND** Maddie, but he did find a discarded lab coat in a stairwell. He lost her at the hospital taxi-stand. I showed her picture to the other drivers waiting around, but no one had any idea. The driver hadn't returned. Worse luck, he was overheard announcing he was going off-shift when he completed the fare.

We were out in the cold. It would mean a trip to the taxi company's head office first thing in the morning. Beyond that, there was nothing I could do. Or Friday, for that matter. We had to settle for our mistress being on the run. From what, neither man nor dog knew.

We headed home. Friday scampered up the stairs to the second floor office. I let him in and he did his circle check for his missing mistress. I left the door open and we proceeded upstairs. She wasn't in the apartment, either.

—Well, dog, we're going to launch a full-blown search tomorrow. We'll start at the taxi-cab's office first thing.

Neither of us was able to settle down. Friday kept going to the door. I finally left it open, and he wandered up and down the stairs from office to apartment whenever he thought he should, which was often. I wanted to follow him, but I was pretty sure it would only upset him more.

She couldn't call. She had no phone. Sure, she could borrow one for a quick call. If she remembered the number. If she remembered us. From what the doctor said, she might not. Short term amnesia, he called it, thanks to the concussion she suffered at the hands of those game-boy morons.

I never should have let her go undercover. Never should have put her in danger. But it didn't seem like there was any danger at the time. Or so I told myself, until unknown to her, I staked the house out.

I got up and put on the coffee. Sat around and berated myself for not doing more. Wondered what more I could have done beyond sitting outside the house, on guard. Trouble is, I didn't do such a good job until the lights went out. By then, it was too late.

I slept fitfully. Got up to roam around the empty apartment. Bumped into Friday on his patrol from office and back upstairs to roam the place. He nudged me and licked my hand and sat at my feet and generally we felt sorry for one another. He was good company that way.

Come morning, fed and watered, I loaded Friday into the car and we headed for the cab company's office. I made him wait while I went in and rounded up the driver beginning his shift. He recognized the picture.

—I dropped her at the bus depot.

The bus depot? What the hell? What was that woman up to? Then I remembered the concussion amnesia and started feeling guilty all over again.

—Did she say where she was going?

He looked pensive. I hoped for more.

—Come to think of it, she did. She mentioned something about having to find a lost dog.

Oh great. She was looking for Friday and didn't know where to start. It was all my fault after all. I flipped the driver a twenty and Friday and I headed off to the depot. I couldn't be so lucky that the shift hadn't changed. No one recognized Maddie's picture.

—We're back to square one, dog. Now what?

He looked up at me as I looked down at him. What a pair we were. To be sure I put Friday on a long leash and allowed him to take the lead as we circled the bus station. Ran up and down alleys. Walked the streets. Nothing. Nada. Not a sign. Not a whiff.

—Let's go home, Friday. It's time.

Despondent, I headed for the car. Friday heeled after me. I think he had given up, too.

I called Boyle, hoping he might have some suggestions on where to begin. He was out of the office. I dialed Nancy, his wife, and learned he was off on a fishing trip and hadn't taken his phone.

—If he calls, I'll let him know you're looking. You don't sound good, Jim. Is everything all right?

I explained what happened and we commiserated for a bit before saying goodbye.

Now I was really at a loss.

THIRTY

**I HAD NOTHING.** We had nothing, if I included Friday. No clues beyond the bus station, and I had to wait for the shift to change over before returning. It was going to be that kind of a day.

Eventually the clock rolled around. I tossed the Frisbee for the last time. Friday retrieved it. He seemed to know. He dropped it at my feet and made for the parking lot. I followed, anxious to get going but not having the four legs to match the dog's frenzied pace.

I had the foresight to have a radio installed into the old Packard with Bluetooth. I no sooner started the engine than it pinged with a number I didn't recognize. I almost didn't answer it.

—Jim?

—Yeah.

I recognized the voice immediately.

—I'm down in Key Largo.

Right away I knew, thanks to touching base with Nancy.

—You're fishing. You left you phone at home so you wouldn't be disturbed by work.

—Right. How did you know?

—I'll never tell.

Neither Boyle nor I were men for pleasantries. With it out of the way, he got straight to the point.

—Are you working a case down this way?

—No. Why do you ask?

The man didn't wait.

—I saw Maddie. I didn't recognize her right off. She had a huge purple bruise on the side of her head. A swollen jaw. I figured she was on a case, and I didn't want to blow it by saying anything. Is she all right?

I explained how she got the bruise. And the concussion. That she'd up and disappeared from the hospital.

—She was walking out of the Crab Shack as I was entering. There's an old hotel just across the street. A bit of a dump. She might be staying there.

—I know the place. It's a shame it hasn't been torn down with all the undesirables hanging out in it.

—Yeah. Too bad.

My phone pinged with another call. I let it go to voice mail.

—We're headed that way now, Boyle. Thanks for letting me know.

—No problem, Nash. I'd stay but I just checked in with the office. I need to get back to the city ASAP. Something about a kidnapping. I hope Maddie is all right.

—So do I.

Friday and I double-timed it towards the causeway and the four-lane highway. At the first red light I raised the roof and got honked at for my troubles and the delay.

—Screw them, dog. There'll be no messing your hair now. We need to make some time.

I pulled into the Crab Shack's expansive parking lot. Boyle's car was gone, but I wasn't expecting him to stay behind for us. I left the windows down.

—Friday. Stay.

In the restaurant I showed Maddie's photo around. No one recognized her, but that didn't phase me. The place was busier than a downtown Miami block on Saturday night. I pocketed my phone and returned to the car. Halfway there, I changed my mind and made to cross the busy highway to the dump of a motel.

I dodged cars and squealing tires and strode purposefully towards the dingy-looking office and its dirty window. A skinny kid with long, greasy hair sat behind the desk. He ignored the cow bell on the door and didn't look up. I tapped the counter to get his attention. Slapped the bell half a dozen times.

The magazine slipped from his lap to the floor and he opened his eyes. I held out the phone and flipped my buzzer in that same instant I asked the question.

—You see this woman here?

He ignored both and rolled his eyes.

—I don't remember. You a cop?

He stood up and I flipped my wallet again. Covered it by thrusting the phone in his face.

—That answer your question? Now, about the woman—

—Yeah. I seen her. She's in a room about halfway down.

—You got a key?

—We're not supposed to—

I flipped a twenty across the counter and he tossed a key.

—Don't forget to bring it back when you're done.

Eager to get to the room, I forgot about the dog left in the open-windowed Packard across the busy highway. Tires squealed. Horns honked. I looked up and caught Friday racing across the road onto the grass turf fronting the motel.

—Dammit.

Panting from the heat and his furious run, Friday raced back and forth on the walkway fronting the rooms. He halted at number 10. I checked the key.

—Good boy. That's the one.

He barked and stepped back. I twisted the key in the lock. The doorknob popped. Friday shouldered my legs out of the way and bounded into the room, ready to pounce. Trouble was, there was nothing for him to pounce on. The room was empty but for a backpack I didn't recognize.

I did a quick search. Found a toothbrush in the bathroom. A hair brush. I couldn't be certain if it was Maddie's or not. I left the key on the night table. Friday jumped onto the bed.

—Come on, dog. There's nothing for us here.

He lay down on the bed. Didn't want to leave. I coaxed him out together and we waited for a break in traffic to return to the car.

THIRTY-ONE

**I SPIED HER** first. Only a second later, Friday barked and made for the car like a bolt of lightning. He jumped up on Maddie and licked at her chin.

—Well if it isn't my two favorite boys. What took you so long?

I halted in my tracks, intent on cussing her out. Changed my mind. Changed it again.

—If we'd known where you were, we'd have brought a cake and candles. Is that your backpack across the street? I didn't recognize it.

—So you're a detective after all. Yes.

—Then let's get it. It's time to go home.

I opened the passenger door to let Maddie in. She pulled back the seat to make room for Friday. He refused, and instead waited for Maddie to get settled before jumping up beside her. There was no way he was going to allow his mistress near a door at this point. I agreed with his instincts before slamming my own door.

—Are you going to tell me about it now, or do you want to wait until we're home safe and sound?

Maddie's eyes shifted to the radio. As usual, she wanted to avoid answering.

—There's a voice mail for you.

Okay, if that's how she wanted to play it. We listened to Angela Franklin's sobbing voice tell us that Holly, her daughter, was missing and presumed kidnapped by her husband.

—For crying out loud. Is that case never going to end? Let's go. We'll pick up your backpack and hit the highway to home.

I beat it across the road and stopped in front of her room. Maddie got out to gather her things. Friday followed close on her heels. I knew exactly what he was doing. I wanted to do the same.

The black SUV filled the rearview mirror, all shiny in the bright sun. It pulled into a spot at the end of the unit. I secretly admired it, but no way in hell would I be replacing the quaint old Packard with one of those any time soon.

The driver door opened and my jaw dropped. Sandy Franklin stepped onto the ground and slammed the door, only to open the rear door. I caught a glimpse of pink topped by flaming red hair. I reversed in a hurry and blocked the SUV in.

Sandy wasn't so glad to see me. He was all about getting back in his SUV. I drove him one in the gut and smacked his head against the door frame. Holly didn't seem to care.

—Hi-hi. Is Fwiday here?

—Yes he is. Maddie is, too.

—Dada sleeping?

I looked down at Sandy. He was curled up in a ball on the ground.

—Yes he is, Holly. Dada is tired. He's taking a nap.

I went through his pockets for a key, opened the door, and carried him into the room and put him to bed. I called to Maddie.

—Get Holly out of the car, will you? She needs to see her father in bed.

She looked over at me, and then at Holly in the back of the SUV.

—Well. Lookie here. We rescued a kidnap victim. All right, I'll take her in and show her.

—Hi-hi Maddie. Where's Fwiday?

Friday bounded into the back of the SUV and began licking Holly's ear. The little girl giggled at Friday's antics. Maddie had her out of the car and whisked her into her father's room.

—Dada snoozing. Bye-bye Dada.

She waved a short little arm and Maddie closed the door and had her back outside. She belted the car seat into the back of the Packard. Friday jumped in back to keep Holly company.

—Hi-hi Fwiday.

She reached to hug him, but not before he got a lick in. She giggled and waved and kicked her feet with joy.

—You better call Angela while I get us out of here. There's no telling when the police might pounce. If they do, we'll be a long time explaining why we have a kidnapped girl in the back seat.

—Kidnap? Fwiday kidnap?

—Oh-oh. It sounds like Holly just learned a new word, Jim.

THIRTY-TWO

**JIM NASH AND MADDIE SPENCE** occupied the bench in front of their upstairs office. A cool, early-evening breeze brought them out. It floated down the street, causing the leaves of the palm trees scattered along the street to make a rustling sound. It did the same to the umbrellas above the tables on the sidewalk cafés, although the sound was more akin to flapping.

Friday sat between the couple, looking good-boy proud in the bandanna around his neck. He peered out over his domain, his head following and investigating people and children and dogs on leashes strolling by. He sniffed and snorted. His tail swept the sidewalk.

—I could use a cup of coffee. Jimbo? How about you? Want anything?

He shook his head.

—No. I'm fine.

Maddie made to head off to the coffee shop down the street at the end of the block. It lay out of sight, around a corner. Friday got up, ready to accompany her.

—No Friday. Stay. I'll be right back.

She looked at Jim.

—I don't have the leash.

Reluctantly, Friday sat and looked urgently up at Jim, but not before making his displeasure known. He turned a circle and looked after his mistress, already half-way down the block and gaining ground fast.

—All right, Friday. I'll cover for you again. Go. Follow your mistress.

The dog woofed his gratitude and scampered off down the street. His tail was still. His tongue hung out as he raced after Maddie. He halted at the corner, looked back at Jim, and sat on his haunches.

_Good boy, Friday,_ Jim said to no one in particular. He kept a steady gaze on the dog, knowing Friday wouldn't lose sight of his mistress. It was a couple of minutes before Friday began retracing his steps as fast as his legs would carry him.

The detective sat up, alert, wondering, and then Maddie appeared from around the corner. He witnessed her catch sight of her dog running down the sidewalk towards him. He held out his hand. It held a treat. He called to the dog.

—Come on, Friday. Good boy.

Friday knew what to do. His nose nuzzled Jim's hand and came up with the treat. He gobbled it down as Jim stroked his neck.

—Very good boy. You look absolutely dashing in that bandana.

Friday sat, craned his neck up at Jim, and woofed agreement as Maddie arrived, huffing and puffing.

—All right, you two. Friday, was that you I saw high-tailing it down the street ahead of me?

Friday looked up at Jim. The man was staring off into the distance. He was going to be no help. Instinctively, the dog knew was on his own. He sidled up to Maddie and nosed the back of her knee. She laughed at his antics.

—Your nose is freezing, dog. And by the way, I know it was you. I recognized the bandana.

—What was that, Maddie? Friday is a good boy. He sat with me the entire time.

He reached to pet Friday and managed to feed the black Lab another treat. Maddie pretended not to notice as he spoke to the dog.

—Good boy, Friday.

Grinning, she handed over the coffee cup. Jim took a sip.

—You two, I swear. What am I going to do with you?

###

More by P X Duke

Twisted Sisters

Detective Jim Nash has a problem. He has a murder victim in an alley and a dead woman in his bed. His own homicide division wants to charge him with murder. To say he's got serious commitment problems would be an understatement. He's on the lookout for twins, but he doesn't want to date them. He wants to know who murdered them. A modern pulp short story.

Dreams Die Fast

Frank is headed home after spending a long winter on the Baja. When his motorcycle breaks down, he's trapped in an old ghost town on the west side of the Salton Sea. A woman takes pity on Frank and invites him over for a home-cooked meal. Before he knows it, Frank is knee-deep in cartel drugs with a woman itching to pull the trigger on the gun she's pointing at his back.

Dreams Die Hard

Frank is back on the road with a reformed junkie on the run from a cartel hit squad riding bitch on the back of his motorcycle. When the duo end up working at a strip club, the seedy edge of the city finally catches up, forcing Frank to dig deep within to triumph over drugs, greed, arson and murder. Some adult content.

Fast Food Slow Waitress

A biker hits all the high spots (or the low spots, depending on your point of view). These short stories find him at a peeler bar off the 15 in Montana; encountering a hitch-hiker off the 10 in New Mexico; being sweet-talked by his landlady; romancing a truck-driving sweetheart in a sleeper at a California truck stop; flirting with a waitress in a restaurant in the high desert. This is an updated and revised version of First Time and other stories previously published.

Dead Reckoning

During a well-deserved R&R on mainland Mexico, Harry picks up something he doesn't own that forces him to flee across the Sea of Cortez to the Baja. While hiding out on an isolated beach, two mysterious gringas show up to complicate Harry's life by attempting to implicate him in their own scheme, resulting in a mad dash up the Baja to escape the consequences of their actions.

Long Way Home

When Harry's ex-wife, Sasha, and their daughter accompany her oil-company boyfriend on a working vacation to Africa, the trio goes missing. They get out a call for help that will lead Harry on an air and ground chase across the Horn of Africa to rescue his family before kidnappers can move them to their den on the Indian Ocean.

Payback

Harry's comfortable family life is turned upside down when he gets a phone call from a former comrade he thought long dead. When the second call comes in an hour later, the caller asks for his help. He knows his life will never be the same until he can learn what happened to the woman who launched a rescue mission to save his life after his plane was destroyed during a firefight on a bush landing strip in East Africa. Third short novel in a series.

About the author

Aviator. Motorcycle rider. Vagabond. Drifter. Trouble-maker. Jack of all trades and master of none. I've been riding and writing about the places I've been and the people I've seen for quite a few years. Some of my writing is factual; some of it isn't. I like to leave it up to readers to decide for themselves those lies that might be the truth.

https://pxduke.com

author@pxduke.com
