Молли Фитц - Retriever Ransom

Denise screamed, and I spun myself around, expecting to find a dead woman, a dead raccoon, or both.

What I found truly surprised me. The golden retriever had pounced on Pringle, knocking the gun from the raccoon’s furry, little hands. “Guns are for hunting. Not for hurting,” he warned with a growl that bared his teeth.

I’d never seen a retriever look quite so menacing. Apparently it took a lot to send him into attack dog mode—or more precisely a rogue raccoon with a gun.

Marco snarled, the long sandy hair on his back rising at the hackles.

Denise continued to hyperventilate and cry.

Pringle chittered from his place beneath the much larger dog’s paws. “You’re not going to kill me. Are you? Look, I’m one of the good guys. You can tell by my charming smile. See.” He raised his gums and showed his teeth, which the dog took as a threat.

Marco reared back, then lunged for Pringle’s throat. No!

CRASH!

Another furry figure crashed through the window. This time it was Cujo, and he did not look happy.

“So it was your pee I smelled,” he told the golden. “I should have known you were a no-good useless—“

“Quiet!” Marco snapped. “I’m the first dog of Glendale, and I will not be talked to that way!”

“Unhand that raccoon. He’s not a villain. He’s a hero!”

“Then why does he have a gun?”

“It’s true. He was saving me! She’s the one who was going to kill me!” I pointed at Denise, who sat rocking in the corner looking completely unthreatening.

“Her?” Marco whined. “But she gave me treats. Two treats! How can she be bad?”

“Oh, my fellow dog, you have much to learn about humans and their motives,” Cujo said with a shake of his head. “Come. Let’s share a pee outside, and I’ll fill you in.”

The dogs turned to leave, and I made a beeline for the gun. Yes, this time I reached it first. Mostly because no one else had attempted to collect it.

Pringle lay on the floor, too shocked to move. From what I could tell, Marco hadn’t hurt him yet. Still, Pringle had never been outmaneuvered before. His pride was now hurt more than anything else.

I emptied the magazine, dropping the remaining bullets to the floor so no more dangerous mishaps could happen.

“Can I have that back?” Pringle asked, slowly bringing himself to a seated position.

“I’ll buy you a Nerf gun when we get home. Much safer, and then you can use the soft ammo to play target practice with Octo-Cat.” My cat was going to kill me, but at least the Thompsons hadn’t managed to yet.

I ambled toward the door and opened it wide in case the dogs decided to come back inside. No need to force them through the broken glass when there was a perfectly good door on hand.

Although I’d complained about the bitter cold that same morning, now I sucked in the fresh air with a happy sigh. It felt good to be alive.

But we weren’t out of the woods yet. Mr. Thompson could still come back at any time, and…

Speaking of woods, three people ran out from them and into the open field, Nan among them.

I ran outside, crying with relief.

When I flung my arms around her, Paisley yipped, “Mommy! I’m here, too!”

I laughed when I noticed her in the carrier on Nan’s chest and gave her a nice scratch between those giant ears of hers.

The other two people were Officer Bouchard and one of the newer cops I didn’t yet know by name.

Bouchard came over and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “We heard shots fired. Are you okay?”

I nodded so vigorously, my hair fell into my face. “Yes. Yes. I’m okay. But…” I let my words fall away as I motioned toward the cabin.

Both policemen drew their guns and headed inside.

Nan was quick to follow, dragging me along.

We were slowed by my injuries, but arrived just moments after the officers. Already, they had Denise Thompson in handcuffs and were pulling her onto her feet.

“Are you the one who took my granddaughter?” Nan asked, marching straight up to her.

“Yes, but I—“

Nan came in close, readying a punch, but before she could make contact, Denise cried out in pain.

“Ouch! It hurts so bad!”

Nan turned to me in confusion, which is when I noticed Paisley, a bit of blood lining her muzzle.

“That little rat bit me in the boob!” Denise screamed, motioning toward Paisley with her chin.

Nan and I turned toward one another and broke out laughing. “Good dog!” we both cried in unison.

“Yay, I helped!” Paisley sang as the officers escorted Denise away from the scene.

Chapter Twenty

The doorbell rang, and I rushed to open it. My boyfriend, Charles, stood waiting on the other side.

“I keep telling you to just let yourself in,” I teased him, looping my arms around his neck and accepting a kiss.

“No more almost dying at the hands of former partners at my law firm,” he chastised me.

I stuck out my tongue playfully. “Fine, I’ll stay away from the partners and stick to associates.”

“Not funny.”

Hmm, I thought it was.

The great cabin affair had started and finished just two days ago. Both Thompsons were in jail awaiting their bail hearing, while Mark Dennison had been forced to resign despite his best laid plans.

Me? I’d slept for a solid twenty-four hours straight despite Octo-Cat’s constant mewling outside my door. That guy had no patience. I’d almost died, and yet that wasn’t a good enough excuse for him.

That brought us to today. Nan and I had invited Charles and my parents over for a special celebratory feast, and—boy—did we have a lot to celebrate.

Not only had I solved what would have been my first paying case, if the client hadn’t been arrested as a result of my investigation, but we also had a room-warming for Octo-Cat and a hero’s party for Pringle.

The tabby had claimed the room beside my library. Due to my “lengthy frolic through the woods” as he liked to call my near-death encounter, he’d had plenty of time to plan the decorations, based on a combination of old sitcoms he liked and a mobile game called Matchington Mansion.

“Make sure my three pillows don’t match,” he’d warned seriously. “Otherwise, they’ll disappear, and we don’t want that happening.”

Even though I questioned his grip on reality, I did as he instructed, even though installing a one-hundred- and forty-gallon tropical fish tank in the upstairs bedroom had proven both exhausting and expensive.

It was now his prized possession, though, and he spent long-hours fantasizing about devouring his scaly new pets. He was definitely lucky that I was a better pet owner than him.

“Are we all here?” Nan asked, emerging from the kitchen in her favorite apron.

The doorbell rang again, and my parents pushed their way inside. As soon as she saw me, my mom grabbed my head and peppered kisses all over my face.

“Oh, my baby!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not a baby,” I grumbled in a futile attempt to extricate myself from her embrace.

“Ahh, but you’ll always be our baby,” Dad said with a chuckle.

Charles placed a protective arm around me, knowing I’d blow a gasket if my parents didn’t cool it on the smothering and give me some space.

“To the table!” my grandmother shouted. She’d already laid out our best china, insisting that she preferred I rest rather than try to help.

Now she scuttled into the kitchen and returned with a tray of personal-sized potpies. My mouth watered in anticipation.

“No one takes a bite until our guest of honor arrives,” she warned, shaking a finger at my father.

“Say no more, I have arrived,” Octo-Cat declared, hopping onto the table beside me.