The Marine's Last Defence. Angi Morgan

We’re gone four nights and you can bring Dallas with you to the house. If you need to, that is.”

      “Thanks for picking her up, Julie.”

      “Ta-ta for now.”

      Another of her house-sitting jobs walked away. Sabrina acknowledged it would probably be the last time she saw her. If she got away from the police, she’d have to leave all the dogs she worked with.

      “Should I thank you, Detective? Or demand a lawyer? Very clever of you to track me down through Dallas. How did you know I wouldn’t leave her in the pound?”

      “I have to admit I was stuck the first couple of hours, thinking more about what would make you run from the police. But the forensics analyst said black dogs were less likely to be adopted. Then she mentioned the pup was blind in one eye—totally missed that. She seems normal enough.”

      “She is,” she said, defending the puppy.

      “I didn’t think you’d risk an adoption. Care to answer a couple of questions before we call a lawyer?”

      “Well, as you can see, I’m extremely busy right now.” She pointed to Dallas, who was doing her best to get off the cold ground. Her scrambling included jumping and slapping her large front paws against Bree’s chest.

      “Busy leaving?” He pointed to the suitcase just inside a row of bushes.

      “Oh, I haven’t been home yet. I needed to wait close by for Julie.”

      “And is home close, since you seem to be walking everywhere? Wait, you ran away five hours ago and haven’t made it home and couldn’t wait it out at the diner. They put an officer on the place. So you really are cold. I’ll be glad to give you a lift so we can chat where it’s warm or we could just head directly to see my captain.”

      “I’m sure we can clear this up right here.” She sat at the picnic table, where she’d been waiting since Julie texted.

      “I need to see your ID.” He extended a hand from the end of the table.

      She felt like Jack facing the giant in the fairy tale. “I, um, I lost it about three weeks ago.”

      “No driver’s license? Convenient. Can you remember the number? Or let’s try a simple question. One not too taxing on your elusive memory. What’s your real name?” He crossed his arms, acting as if he didn’t expect a real answer. “Think you can manage that?”

      She had barely met him this morning, but she could already tell that the slight curve of the left side of his mouth meant trouble.

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “Beg all you want, but until I find out who you are—” he paused, digging into his back pocket and then swinging a pair of handcuffs on the tips of two fingers “—you’re under arrest.”

      “For what?” Of course she knew, suspicion of murder, fleeing a crime scene, impeding an investigation. They’d pile on the charges and detain her. Then they’d find out that everyone she cared about in Amarillo thought she was dead. As soon as the police discovered she wasn’t, she’d be charged with the murder of whoever was in the clinic fire. And she shouldn’t forget about the embezzling and fraud charges that would be sure to follow.

      Yes, she knew the answer to her own question...even if this cute detective didn’t.

      “Fleeing the scene will get us started. I’m certain you’re wanted for something, since you’re pretty good at avoiding your real name.” He gestured for her to hold out her hands to be cuffed. “You know we’re going to find out from the prints. Right?”

      She held both her hands in front of her, hoping they’d be loosely snapped over her thick gloves. No such luck. He pulled the black fur down, his thumb caressing her pulse.

      Did he feel her heart racing?

      He took the leash, put a hand on her head and guided her into the backseat of his car. He pulled the shoulder strap and buckled her inside, then gave Dallas a kiss-kiss sound and a gentle tug on her leash. The big, smiling Lab jumped across her, did a couple of turns and settled her head in Bree’s lap.

      “I hate to ask, but could you get my suitcase? It’s on the other side of the bushes.”

      “Yeah, I saw it.”

      The door shut, the locks clicked and she was alone while the detective retrieved her stuff. As soon as his back was turned, she tried the door.

      Childproof locks. She was stuck. Caught. Going to jail. She stroked Dallas’s soft fur, loving the comforting companionship. Somehow she just didn’t feel alone when the dog was around.

      “Well, girl, I’m not certain what’s going to happen now. It breaks my heart to send you back to the pound.”

      Dallas answered with a sweet sound just like she understood and was commiserating. Brenda Ellen had adopted Dallas four months ago and, honestly, probably never should have. The businesswoman traveled almost twice a month and was gone at least a week for each trip. “I’ve spent more time with you than she did. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

      Sabrina dropped her cheek to the top of Dallas’s head. She was such a loving dog. The trunk opened and closed. It was time to explain everything to Detective Jake Craig. He was her last hope.

      “Any chance you’re as hungry as I am?” she asked when he was inside the car and had adjusted the rearview mirror to see her.

      “I grabbed a burger across the street from the pound while following your friend.”

      “Oh.”

      That new look crossing his face lifted one side of his tightly closed mouth, but it clearly indicated pity. She’d learned to recognize it very quickly, hating each time she’d received it over the past six months. But today, right this very minute, it seemed like a sign that her story may not fall on deaf ears.