2. Teenage Thugs
teenage thugs
. . .
Sadie
Sadie’s Guide to Hostage-Taking, Tip #2: You might think you’ll go through life without taking anyone hostage—that you’re part of the 99.9997% of the population who doesn’t need to resort to taking someone captive to get what you want. Get over that mindset, because I used to think the same thing.
I was wrong.
A nice man from Wally’s Windows came by to replace the broken window the following morning, and Happy Tails Haven was back to normal—just with a few additional penis-shaped spray-paintings next to our door.
At least the little jerks hadn’t taken anything valuable from inside, like the medications for our dogs.
The shelter fell back into a nice groove over the next week, with my plans to fix the vandalization problem taking a backseat while Gladys and I hosted a bake sale fundraiser. We sold treats for both dogs and humans, and it was a big hit in the neighborhood—even if we only raised enough to cover what Mr. Sanders had paid for the window repairs.
By the time I arrived to feed the dogs on Friday morning, I was hopeful we could turn things around. After dropping off a plate of freshly baked brownies with Emily at reception, I skipped down to Bear’s kennel while greeting each dog along the way. It was time for his special-made bowl of dog food with yogurt mixed in—he’d had an upset tummy the day before.
But for the first time since I’d started at Happy Tails Haven, Bear wasn’t waiting for me. I stared at his empty kennel for a full minute before blinking.
“Have you seen your neighbor, Mr. Woofkins?” I asked the husky behind the next gate over. He wagged his tail in answer with both icy blue eyes focused on me. If he knew, he certainly wasn’t telling.
I frowned at the bowl of yogurty mush.
“Has anyone seen Bear recently?” I asked the row of dogs, earning a dozen barks in answer. None were helpful. “Did a volunteer take him for a walk?”
It wasn’t unheard of for volunteers to show up at the crack of dawn, but Bear wasn’t usually a morning person—er, dog —and I struggled to keep my panic in check. Had someone adopted him? Had I missed it?
Taking a deep breath to quell my rising panic, I ran to all the other rooms before checking the courtyard play area. When Bear was nowhere to be found, I marched back to Emily in reception.
“Where’s Bear?” I asked, setting his food bowl on the counter.
The brunette receptionist looked up from the brownie she was nibbling on and brushed a crumb off her chin. “He’s not in his kennel?”
“No,” I said, trying not to freak out. “Was he adopted? Or did a dog walker take him out?”
She flipped through the sign-out notebook in front of her. “No adoptions so far today. Tasha is walking Pepper and Biscuit now, but no one else signed out any dogs.”
“Where could he be?” I rubbed a hand over my chest to calm my thundering heart. “I checked everywhere!”
Emily rolled over to the computer on the other side of her desk and clicked around. “I can access the back-door security footage from here. Maybe he escaped?”
“Bear would never…” I trailed off as ice filled my veins. There was another possibility—one I didn’t even want to contemplate. I darted around the counter and leaned in next to her. “Play the footage.”
Turns out, overnight security footage is pretty boring. And Mr. Sanders didn’t have the best quality surveillance system. But after a false alarm with a raccoon and one terrifying second where I could swear I saw a ghost—I saw intruders .
“There!” I stabbed a finger at the screen, making Emily jump. “Pause it.”
She clicked the mouse, and we both leaned in. Three figures lurked in the alley, dressed in dark clothes and ski masks.
Dread pooled in my stomach at the cans of spray paint they held. “It’s them. The teenage thugs.”
“I thought they only vandalized the front of the building,” Emily said.
“So did I.”
She resumed the footage, and we both watched closely as the small group of dark figures approached the back of the building. They spent a few minutes spraying the brick wall—I cursed myself for not seeing it when I checked outside for Bear—before approaching the back door. It was locked overnight, but one of the figures swung a brick at the lock.
Emily and I both gasped as the lock clattered to the ground. I hadn’t even noticed the broken lock in my panic earlier.
“They wouldn’t dare ,” I whispered, clutching the arm of Emily’s chair. We both leaned even closer to the screen.
The boys disappeared inside the building, but Mr. Sanders didn’t have indoor security cams for us to follow them with. Emily and I waited with bated breath as she sped up the video, and five whole minutes passed on the timestamp before the boys stumbled back out with a wiggling German shepherd between them.
Bear.
Muzzled, leashed, and probably terrified out of his mind—Bear was being herded down the alley by these dog thieves.
My fingers itched to reach through the screen and grab him.
And in the silence of the reception area, I could almost hear the last bit of my patience snap like a glow stick.