As John climbed toward the attic he remained on alert, ready for an attack. It didn’t come. Instead, he found the small window smashed and the sash lifted. Broken glass littered the dust-covered attic floor. Footprints crossed the room and disappeared into a stairwell.
Once inside, he inspected the area carefully with a flashlight, then leaned out to call down to Samantha. “There’s nobody here now but it looks like there was.” He waved his cell phone and flipped it open. “I’ll report a B and E. Breaking and entering. That won’t bring a fast response the way a robbery in progress would, but I want this incident on record just the same.”
“What about Brutus? Is there any sign of him up there?”
John shook his head. “No. Nothing.”
“Well, at least…”
He knew exactly what she was thinking even though she didn’t finish putting it into words. At least the old dog’s body wasn’t lying up there. That meant there was still a chance he’d survived.
Was it wrong to pray for the safety of an animal? John didn’t think so, but just to be on the safe side he focused his heavenly plea on Samantha’s well-being and her need for the return of her faithful companion.
His “Amen” echoed as he crossed the attic, careful to avoid stepping in the prints he’d discovered, and started to descend the interior staircase into the main part of the house, inspecting the narrow passageway as he went.
When he slipped a handkerchief over the knob and opened the door at the base of the stairway, he was startled to find Sam standing there. “I told you to wait outside. What if there had been someone hiding on these stairs?”
“But there wasn’t.” Her eyes were wide, her expression a cross between persistence and pleading. “What did your chief say? Is help coming now?”
“Not code three, if that’s what you’re asking. Levi said to seal off the attic and he’d get somebody out here as soon as possible. Since the perp is gone and we didn’t find anything missing, they’re not considering it a robbery, or even a real crime scene, at least not yet.”
“My dog is missing! I don’t care about anything else. Doesn’t anybody understand that?”
“I do,” John said, reaching for her hand.
She pulled it away. “Then do something.”
“What would you have me do, Sam? We’ve covered the whole house and the yard. Brutus is gone.” Unshed tears had dampened her lashes again and were threatening to slip down her reddened cheeks.
“Everything started with Bobby Joe Boland,” she said, sniffling. “I’m going to go make him tell me everything.”
John watched her stalk off and wondered how long it would take her to realize she was afoot without him. It turned out to be about four seconds.
Samantha whirled. Waved her arms. “Well, come on. Let’s get that trailer unhitched and hit the road.”
“What makes you think you’ll be allowed to talk to a prisoner? The sheriff and Chief Kelso have rules, you know.”
“And you’re going to help me get around them,” Sam said flatly. “One way or the other.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He almost laughed aloud when she fisted her hands on her hips, stuck out her chin and simply said, “Yeah.”
“Well, okay, then.”
Keeping his face averted as he returned to the trailer and continued to disconnect it, John worked to hide his intense admiration. That woman had been resilient and continually surprising as a teen. As a mature adult she was a marvel. Or, as Elvina used to say, Sam was a real pistol; a cornered wildcat with a chip on her shoulder and the grit of a catfish caught on a trotline.
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Sam asked, sounding miffed.
John straightened. “No. I am definitely not laughing at you.”
“Then what’s with that stupid grin?”
“Let’s just say I’m coming to fully appreciate your courage and perseverance.”
“Well, don’t give me too much credit,” Samantha countered. “I am determined we’ll find Brutus but I’m still scared to death we’ll be too late.”
If John had voiced his thoughts at that precise moment it would have meant agreeing with her, so he remained silent. They could not be too late. That was simply unacceptable.
* * *
Samantha was lost in the depths of her vivid imagination and struggling to sort her thoughts into usable form when her new cell phone played her a tune.