Again that mutt! Sergeant Paul Whitaker snapped the receiver shut, and the ancient rotary phone gave a disgruntled clatter. Inspector Clarke, weve got another call about a dog in the woods. Third one this morning, mind you!
What dog now? Sergeant Linda Kline looked up from her paperwork, eyebrows raised.
Its the third report in as many hours. Folk say a stray hound is prowling the edge of the forest, barking like a lunatic, snatching at peoples coats and whining like a spoiled pup. Its driving everyone round the bend!
Emma Clarke furrowed her brow. After fifteen years on the force she trusted her gut, and it was telling her this was a rotten fish.
Tom, she called to her rookie partner, lets go have a look, shall we?
Come off it, Inspector, Tom shrugged. Its just a dog. Maybe its rabid, or just a bit of a nuisance.
Or maybe its not just a dog at all.
She remembered a case from two decades ago, when her younger brother, Kevin, vanished on the way home from school. The whole department, volunteers and even a few police dogs combed the fields for three days before they found himfar too late.
Get yourself together, she said firmly. Well see whats what.
Twenty minutes later their battered Vauxhall Astra chugged to a halt at the forests edge, kicking up a plume of dust on the cracked tarmac. The scene was unsettling: ancient oaks with twisted, knotted trunks stretched their gnarled limbs toward the grey sky, while a tangle of deadbrush and brambles cast shadows even at high noon. Local mushroom pickers usually ventured deep into the woods, but they steered clear of this particular patch.
So, wheres your dog? Tom asked skeptically, scanning the undergrowth.
Out of the trees came a sharp bark, and then a large, scruffy dog bounded onto the clearing. It was filthy and shaggy, but you could tell itd once lived in a proper home. It froze when it saw them, then bolted forward, tail wagging wildly.
Easy, easy, boy, Emma crouched down. Whats the matter?
The hound whined, clamped his teeth onto the cuff of Emmas jacket and tugged toward the woods.
Inspector, you dont
I intend to, she replied, stepping forward decisively. Hes trying to show us something.
Understanding her intent, the dog gave a delighted bark and trotted ahead, never straying far enough to lose sight of its human companions.
They trudged for about twenty minutes. The forest grew denser, the ground turning to soggy mud that sucked at their boots. Tom stumbled over roots a couple of times, muttering curses under his breath, but kept pace.
Suddenly the dog halted and let out a low growl.
What now? Emma froze.
Ahead, between the trunks, a mosscovered shed loomed like a forgotten relic. It was so overgrown it could have been missed by anyone walking a few steps past.
Stay here, Emma ordered, edging forward cautiously. The dog never left her side.
She reached the shed and saw a massive padlock on the door, then heard a faint rattle from within.
Tom! she called. Get over here, quick!
Together they pried the corroded hinges apart. A stale, damp smell hit them as the door swung open, and when their eyes adjusted to the gloom
Good heavens, Emma breathed.
In the far corner, on a sagging mattress strewn with mouldy rags, sat a teenage boy. He was gaunt, his cheeks sunken, eyes glazed, covered in grime. His hands were bound with a rough rope, skin raw and bleeding. He squinted at the sudden light, blinking as if the world were a dream. Fear and a flicker of hope warred in his gaze. He tried to speak, but only a hoarse cough escaped his dried throat.
Who are you? Emma lunged forward, pulling a knife from her belt.
Art Art, he rasped. Artmy Artmy S?
Artmy? Artmy Sokolov? She stopped short for a heartbeat. The lad who vanished three days ago
The boy gave a weak nod.
Three days earlier a report had landed on the desk about a missing fifteenyearold. His mother, a single parent working two jobs, had been frantic when her son failed to return from school.
Tom, call for backup and an ambulance! Emma ordered, helping Artmy to his feet. You hold on, lad. Well get you out of this mess.
The dog, which had been silently watching, suddenly stiffened. Its fur bristled, and a low snarl escaped its throat.
A crack of breaking branches sounded as someone fled through the underbrush.
Get down! Emma shouted, drawing her service pistol.
But the dog lunged forward. A scream, a thud, and a string of curses followed.
When Emma and Tom pushed through the brambles, the scene that met them was surreal: a burly man in a black leather jacketone of those types youd rather not crosslay facedown in a heap of last years leaves. Atop his back, the dog sat like a sentinel, fur erected, growling from the depths of its throat. The sound was so guttural it sent shivers down even Sergeant Klines spine. In that moment the stray turned into a proper protectora wolf in a dogs skin.
Calm down, Jack, Emma said, instinctively naming the mutt. Weve got you.
Miraculously the beast obeyed, edging away but never taking its eyes off the fallen thief.
The rest of the day blurred into a haze of flashing lights. An emergency response team, ambulances, and detectives swarmed the scene. The offender, identified as Victor Malone, a seasoned kidnapper, confessed on the spot. Hed been hunting children for ransom, though it was unclear what sum he expected from a singleparent mother.
A week later Emma was in her modest kitchen, walls papered with faded yellow wallpaper, sipping lukewarm tea from a chipped mug while scrolling through the local news on her phone.
The front page of the *Bucks Gazette* boasted a bold headline: Heroic Hound Cracks Kidnapper! Below it was a snapshot of Jack, now cleaned up, looking dignified and alert.
Well, hero, Emma whispered, scratching the dog behind his ears as he lounged on the battered sofa. Hows the new life treating you?
Jack licked her hand and rested his head on her knee.
They say nothing happens by accident. Perhaps this encounter was meant for both of themone woman who, fifteen years ago, couldnt save her brother, and a wandering dog who helped rescue another boy.
You know, Emma said, patting the warm, shaggy head, miracles do happen.
Jack gave a contented sigh. Hed known that long before anyone else.
