Ridley Pearson - The Angel Maker

Difficult but not impossible. The roof of the cage stood four to five feet off the cement-low enough that the dog could snap at her but too high for it to actually jump up onto. She had to stay at this level, up above the dog. And she had to get over onto Sharon's side of the building-it seemed her only hope to help her, though by the lock on the cage it wouldn't be easy.

She squatted, prepared to jump across the wide aisle, when Sharon took hold of the cage again, sounding her collar. She did this apparently only to get Daphne's attention, for she immediately let go and gestured toward the overhead funnel light suspended in the middle of the aisle.

Seeing it, Daphne understood immediately that Sharon had considered every possibility of escape even crossing the aisle. They were a team.

Indeed, the light looked like a good idea. She would try it.

It was deafening in here. Frightful. The dogs wouldn't stop barking. Had Cindy Chapman once been inside this building? Daphne tried to tune them out, to concentrate, but it wasn't easy. She risked the leaping dog just long enough to reach out and touch the funnel light and get it swinging. With each pass, she increased its arc until she could grab hold of it, which she did. She tested it, giving it a little of her weight, and then tugged down on it. It held firm.

She threw her weight into it and swung across to the other side like Tarzan, letting go in time to land painfully on the top of the opposing cages. The guard dog followed her across-dancing, nipping at her shoes.

The light bulb broke and fell. The pit bull leaped high for it, caught it mid-air, and shattered it in its teeth, unfazed.

Seeing this, Daphne thought: Hungry? The flashlight barely threw off enough light to see anything but the few feet immediately in front of it: Sharon's cage. Daphne opened her eyes wide and moved from one cage to the next, reaching Sharon's. Unsure how the collars worked, Daphne carefully lowered her finger through the wire mesh, not making contact with it. Sharon, crying now, raised her finger and the two touched. Their fingers hooked and Sharon squeezed.

Daphne fought back her own tears. She had no idea how much time she might have-all night? an hour? a few more minutes? — and knew that she had to make the most of it.

Her top priority was getting the guard dog out of the aisle, so she could get herself down to ground level and Sharon's cage.

Food seemed her most promising weapon. She discovered that the farthest pen on this side was stacked high with unopened bags of dried dog food. The latches were a mechanism that lifted via a small finger trigger, freeing a steel bar bolted to the hinged door. Sharon's was the only cage padlocked.

Daphne slipped off her belt and fished with its buckle for the gate latch but was interrupted by the dog, who got his teeth on it.

Seeing this, Sharon distracted him by banging on her cage and hopping up and down. This agitated the other dogs as well. The guard dog, head lifted and barking, patrolled the center aisle, irritated and confused.

Daphne hooked the latch, and the door came open. The guard dog approached her, stretching his neck and barking. "Get in there," she said, lowering her hand to tempt him. He snapped at her and she pulled back, but he did not enter the cage, despite the bags of food. He barked erratically, one distrustful eye on the stacked contents, the other on Daphne. She tore loose a bloodied piece of her pant leg and stuffed it between the chain link, landing it directly on top of one of the bags. The suspicious dog stopped barking and edged his way forward, nose twitching. The other dogs went silent as well.

Inside! Daphne leaped down into the center aisle-reeling from her wounded leg-and slammed the cage door shut, trapping him.

Sharon applauded, hopping around her cage like an ape.

The dog lapped up the piece of pant leg and then tore open a bag of food and gorged himself.

The latch on Sharon's cage was broken, the small padlock now secured to the chain-link wire. Daphne wondered whether, unlike the padlock outside, this smaller one might succumb to being shot open. She turned and studied the placement of her gun inside the occupied cage below the furnace. There was a gap between a vertical post and the chain link that appeared wide enough to shove her arm through. But in the time that would take, it seemed the dog would win the contest.

She retrieved a shovel that was leaning next to Sharon's cage and poked the handle through this gap. The pit bull locked onto the handle, pulling and pushing, preventing Daphne from properly directing it. She wrestled it free and then tried again but with the same frustrating results-the pit bull interfered, and the gun remained at bay.

She hooked the shovel's handle on the gun and pulled, managing to skip the gun a foot closer to her. It was within an arm's length now, within reach, if she dared endure the punishment that dog would give her.

The flashlight went dead. Daphne grabbed for it, shook it, and it came back on.

Sharon hopped up and down again. Frightened. She pointed alarmingly toward the door. She placed her hands against the cement. Daphne felt the cement.

It was vibrating. The dogs, still quiet, starting pacing in their cages.

A car! Her thoughts raced ahead: He would see the damaged lock, but it would appear no one had made it inside. She looked up at the furnace's exhaust stack-the ceiling was black tar paper, the hole there impossible to distinguish.

How much time did she have? Seconds? She took a deep breath, steeled herself for the pain, and went for the gun, shoving her hand into the dog pen.

The dog came after her arm! Her fingers brushed the weapon's handstock.

The jaws opened. White teeth. A dark throat. She grabbed hold of the gun-she had it! The dog took a piece of her arm. The gun snagged on the wire and bounced back inside. Lost.

The vibration stopped. He was here! The dogs circled their cages. She had to hide! She crossed over to the food pen. The guard dog would have to be released in order to return things as they were before.

The flashlight! She retrieved the flashlight, placed the shovel back, and ran to the far cage where Felix was still feeding. From outside came the high-pitched whine of a car engine revving.

She swung open the cage door and ducked in behind it as the dog spun and charged out.

Sharon shook her cage savagely and briefly diverted the dog's attention away from Daphne, who came around the door and pulled it shut, closing herself inside.

She switched off the flashlight and hid herself between the columns of stacked dog food bags.

There was a tremendous crash. Edlen Tegg's Trooper broke through the far end of the kennel, blowing a six-foot hole in the wall. He left the headlights on as he climbed out, carrying an oversized pistol that it took Daphne a moment to recognize as a dart gun.

The dogs went absolutely silent. Daphne's ears were ringing as Tegg said calmly to Sharon Shaffer, "I'm back!"

He glanced quickly and nervously around the structure, waving the dart gun before him. "I see we had a visitor while I was gone. Hmm?" He spun around and faced the Trooper and the headlights, worried that his adversary might attack him from the gaping hole the car had caused. "Off for reinforcements or waiting for me?

Hmm?" He remained extremely distracted, jerking his head back and forth between Sharon and the Trooper. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked Sharon, inching toward her cage. "Come on, come on, come on," he encouraged, waving her forward in the cage, clearly intending her for his hostage-for cover. "Hurry!"

He was forced to switch the dart gun to his right hand while he fished for the key, and this made him extremely nervous. He waved the oversized pistol around, attempting to cover both sides of the car. Paranoid.