bedroom , rolling clothes into tube shapes where they'll stay unwrinkled in the old duffel bag. I may not have a lot, but the things I have stay looking good for a reason. The cell phone buzzes and I search underneath stacks of jeans on my bed.
The display says it’s William Vandol. "Hello." My voice is wary. Maybe he’s changed his mind.
"Ace, sorry to bother you. This is Billy. I need your help." He has that high pitched, tinny sound people get when they're stressed.
"What's wrong?"
"She's gone. I've searched the house and immediate grounds. I don't know where she would go. She's on foot. I don't know what she thinks she is doing."
"Calm down. I'll be right there, but it'll take me half an hour even if I speed."
"Thank you, Ace. I knew I could count on you. It's why I picked you."
I shake my head at his words. Strange guy. The old man trusts people far too easily. The packing will have to wait. I grab a backpack and throw in a flashlight, a GPS unit, and a few other items. My packing has left the room messy. Spotting my keys on the old chest that doubles as a coffee table, I scoop them up and run for the door.
The drive to the house doesn't take as long as I think. There's a circular drive with gas lampposts every few feet to light the place like an airport runway.
Both Dobermans wait, still as concrete statues, at the front of the house. This time is markedly more unnerving with the dogs on the outside. With me. I sit in my truck for a moment, looking around for Billy. I think for several minutes about calling for an escort inside, but it's the act of a coward. I squirm resentfully. The door creaks when I crack it an inch.
From his post on the front steps, one dog eyes me distrustfully. The larger of the two leans forward and reclines, resting his chin on his paws. The dog's relaxed pose translates as a good sign. I slowly open the truck door wide enough to exit.
Both dogs sit at attention, much more interested in my movements. I sit frozen with one foot on the driveway, the other still in the truck. "Hey," I say like I'm talking to some girl I'd like to be friendly with. "Hey there, it's me … remember yesterday? I'm a nice guy." I edge my other foot out. The larger one begins to growl. His sharp canines flash a ‘beware’ sign to my brain.
Both dogs charge from the steps, almost in flight they’re so light on their feet.
I snag my feet back into the truck in one swift motion and slam the door. The dogs crash against the door, snarling. The truck rocks twice from the impact. The scratching of toenails against metal violates my calm and sweat beads on my forehead. I start the truck and the air-conditioning, point all vents in my direction.
Loud barking prods my heart rate into double-time.
"Down," yells a voice from somewhere in an area seemingly unlit. The dogs sit, waiting for the next command. Billy appears a second later in the light of the driveway near the fountain. He's breathing hard and checking his cell phone.
I crack my window but don’t open the door. "Uh, thanks, I was about to get out…"
"Well, come on then. We don't have all night." Billy says.
"I'll open the door if you guarantee me Satan and Beelzebub here won't eat me for dinner."
Billy shakes his head and stares at me like I'm an idiot. I momentarily forget the reason he's called me here and think he's not too old to punch.
"You have to know the commands. The dogs will get to know you as a master soon enough. I left them out because they'll help us find her." He looks at the dogs. "Stay," he commands.
Laughing at the simplicity of the command, I open the door a centimeter and neither dog moves. My breath catches in my throat when one dog flicks an ear. I don't take my gaze off him and steel my resolve that Billy isn't going to see me chicken out.
"Don't get many visitors out here, do you?" I glance at Billy while keeping the dogs in my peripheral vision.
"They sense your fear," Billy says, examining his phone. "Wouldn't take
The display says it’s William Vandol. "Hello." My voice is wary. Maybe he’s changed his mind.
"Ace, sorry to bother you. This is Billy. I need your help." He has that high pitched, tinny sound people get when they're stressed.
"What's wrong?"
"She's gone. I've searched the house and immediate grounds. I don't know where she would go. She's on foot. I don't know what she thinks she is doing."
"Calm down. I'll be right there, but it'll take me half an hour even if I speed."
"Thank you, Ace. I knew I could count on you. It's why I picked you."
I shake my head at his words. Strange guy. The old man trusts people far too easily. The packing will have to wait. I grab a backpack and throw in a flashlight, a GPS unit, and a few other items. My packing has left the room messy. Spotting my keys on the old chest that doubles as a coffee table, I scoop them up and run for the door.
The drive to the house doesn't take as long as I think. There's a circular drive with gas lampposts every few feet to light the place like an airport runway.
Both Dobermans wait, still as concrete statues, at the front of the house. This time is markedly more unnerving with the dogs on the outside. With me. I sit in my truck for a moment, looking around for Billy. I think for several minutes about calling for an escort inside, but it's the act of a coward. I squirm resentfully. The door creaks when I crack it an inch.
From his post on the front steps, one dog eyes me distrustfully. The larger of the two leans forward and reclines, resting his chin on his paws. The dog's relaxed pose translates as a good sign. I slowly open the truck door wide enough to exit.
Both dogs sit at attention, much more interested in my movements. I sit frozen with one foot on the driveway, the other still in the truck. "Hey," I say like I'm talking to some girl I'd like to be friendly with. "Hey there, it's me … remember yesterday? I'm a nice guy." I edge my other foot out. The larger one begins to growl. His sharp canines flash a ‘beware’ sign to my brain.
Both dogs charge from the steps, almost in flight they’re so light on their feet.
I snag my feet back into the truck in one swift motion and slam the door. The dogs crash against the door, snarling. The truck rocks twice from the impact. The scratching of toenails against metal violates my calm and sweat beads on my forehead. I start the truck and the air-conditioning, point all vents in my direction.
Loud barking prods my heart rate into double-time.
"Down," yells a voice from somewhere in an area seemingly unlit. The dogs sit, waiting for the next command. Billy appears a second later in the light of the driveway near the fountain. He's breathing hard and checking his cell phone.
I crack my window but don’t open the door. "Uh, thanks, I was about to get out…"
"Well, come on then. We don't have all night." Billy says.
"I'll open the door if you guarantee me Satan and Beelzebub here won't eat me for dinner."
Billy shakes his head and stares at me like I'm an idiot. I momentarily forget the reason he's called me here and think he's not too old to punch.
"You have to know the commands. The dogs will get to know you as a master soon enough. I left them out because they'll help us find her." He looks at the dogs. "Stay," he commands.
Laughing at the simplicity of the command, I open the door a centimeter and neither dog moves. My breath catches in my throat when one dog flicks an ear. I don't take my gaze off him and steel my resolve that Billy isn't going to see me chicken out.
"Don't get many visitors out here, do you?" I glance at Billy while keeping the dogs in my peripheral vision.
"They sense your fear," Billy says, examining his phone. "Wouldn't take
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