Hounds Abound (31 page)

Plus, they’d been talking more with Drammon’s Animal
Services contact about what they’d discussed regarding the parvo outbreak and taking the sick dogs to Carlie’s clinic.

Not much, perhaps, but the investigation was still ongoing.

A two-minute warning sounded. Antonio stopped talking and we returned to the crowd to take up our starting positions.

I didn’t stop pondering what he’d said, though.

“So did he admit to any of it?” I asked as we stood waiting. I knelt to hug Zoey, who was clearly eager to move. I patted Rex, too, then stood again. “Like stealing Miracle from Carlie and dumping her at HotRescues—and otherwise threatening me?”

“Not exactly. He’s got a good lawyer. But we’ll get him.”

The gunshot sounded—a recorded, blank but loud sound—and we all started running.

Not too fast. As I said, I just wanted to finish. There were younger, fitter runners than me in this race who could win it with my blessings, get all the kudos they wanted.

Speaking of kudos, though … After a mile, I was still rarin’ to go. The men and dogs were, too. Brooke had slowed a little, and Antonio remained at her side. So did Cheyenne.

“See you at the finish line,” I called.

In another mile, we passed a small shopping center where I’d left those who wanted to cheer me on.

Yes, both my kids had come home from school. Tracy and Kevin stood there waving, cheering. I couldn’t hear them but felt sure they were yelling “Go, Mom!”

With them were folks from HotRescues who had gotten my permission to be here today. Not Pete. I needed him on
duty. But Dr. Mona, our shrink; Gavin Mamo, our trainer; Margo, our groomer; and my right hand, Nina, were there. So were some volunteers. Davie Tarbet had driven Mamie there, nice kid that he was.

Carlie was also in that area, with Liam. So were Bella and Kip, and Bella’s dog, Sammy. Even Dante was there, and he had brought Kendra Ballantyne. Their dogs, too—Dante’s German shepherd, Wagner, and Kendra’s Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Lexie. Why weren’t they running? They were both younger than me. But this was my choice. My race.

Dante’s idea, though. His HotPets stores would get a lot of publicity out of it.

The crowd around us continued to surge forward. Would they lift me, carry me to the end? No. Matt wouldn’t, either. He didn’t look nearly as out of breath as me. Still, he was sweating. His breathing was heavier.

Three miles. Helicopters overhead—the media? Was that paparazzo Corina Carey out there somewhere, dogging me? She’d put in one of her stories covering the parvo incident that she had an anonymous source within Animal Services, so that had apparently been how she had learned what was going on.

Zoey and Rex were both panting. I waved to Matt. We stopped at a stand set up at the side of the race and we all got drinks, dogs included. Then we started off again.

By mile four, I wondered how productive the training I had done in my neighborhood had been. Yes, I knew that six miles was hardly forever. But this was my first marathon.

I stopped jogging at mile five and started walking briskly. Could I make it to the end?

Yes. I never quit.

I was hot despite the cooling October air as we got nearer to the ocean. I was tired. I was an automaton, no brain to hinder me.

I kept going, Zoey at my side, Matt and Rex, too. Lots of people surging with us. Lots of people watching.

I had helped a friend. I had solved yet another murder. I had discovered who had threatened HotRescues, and he would be punished. I could do this.

And then, there it was. The end.

I heard a roar from the watching crowd.

I slowed a little to pet Zoey and take Matt’s hand.

Then I crossed the finish line.

Matt and I shared a huge, enthusiastic kiss. A promise of things to come? I was jazzed enough then to think so. Hope so.

I smiled into the cheering crowd, pretending their enthusiasm was for me. Why not? I’d met this challenge. Of course. I’d earned more funding for HotRescues and helped other needy shelters.

I was ready for many more pet rescue challenges. Just watch me!