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twenty-five
By the time Delaney made it back to the shop, it was late. She was ready for a hot shower and a warm bed. She’d just close her eyes and let all the sadness and worry disappear with her slumber. Come morning, she’d take stock of her life and go from there.
As soon as Delaney unlocked the door and flipped on the lights, she knew something was wrong. The shop felt cold, somehow, which was to be expected when you walked into air-conditioning on a muggy July night, but this wasn’t like that. This was an empty kind of coldness. A vacancy that shouldn’t be there.
“Wyatt?” It was the first word out of her mouth. Always, every time she came home, the restless pittie ran up to greet her, like he’d been waiting with high anticipation for her return. Tonight, there was no greeting. Delaney whistled and called his name again.
Silence.
Delaney’s lungs squeezed tight, like she’d been hit in the gut. She tore through the shop, into the back room, even though the door was shut, then upstairs to the apartment. Surely, he was up here, fast asleep. He just hadn’t heard her come home.
A quick rummage through the studio, heart pounding, revealed an empty apartment. He wasn’t even in the laundry basket, where Sean had found him during the motorcycle show.
How?
Everything had been locked. She’d used her key to get in. No doors had been left open this time. Delaney stood in the middle of her quiet apartment, remembering what Sean had said about the loose ceiling tile. If somebody really had gotten into her apartment after they’d knocked out her security camera, come upstairs and rooted through her ceiling for something, how had they gotten inside?
Delaney drew her phone from her pocket so she could text Sunny, just to see if Wyatt was there. In the silence, her heart loud in her ears, Delaney noticed the room felt thicker than it should. Humid. Her fingers paused on her phone and her gaze went to the window over the dining table that she never ate at. Through the sheer curtains, she could see the window was raised about one inch. The window that was always stuck. The window that never quite latched properly.
She rushed over and threw the window open, poked her head out into the hot night. It was too dark to see, but she knew the ground was far below.
Delaney grabbed her phone again and pulled up the footage from the hidden security camera that her uncles had installed. She cycled back, over an hour of stillness, until finally, she froze. “There,” she hissed aloud to herself.
The silence was punctuated by peepers and crickets coming from the open window. Two men hoisted a ladder from a truck and laid it against the back of the shop, leading up to Delaney’s apartment window. The smaller of the two climbed the ladder while the big one footed it. The smaller guy fiddled with the window, then climbed in.
Dick. He was unmistakable now. Dude put the ladder back in his truck, then went around front. Moments later, Dick came out the front door, Wyatt in tow, attached to a leash. The pittie sat down on the pavement and wouldn’t budge, even when Dick tugged on it. Dick got in Wyatt’s face and shouted at him. Wyatt pinned his ears back. Dick jammed his boot under Wyatt’s rump and shoved him. The pittie fell over. A little gasp escaped Delaney’s throat. Her hand covered her mouth as both men closed in on the dog, lifted him and shoved the struggling pittie into the back of their truck. Then they drove away.
Delaney’s heart was seized by an icy grip. She might’ve been wrong about who stole ’33, but she’d been right about the Dudes casing her shop. Tonight, they’d kidnapped Wyatt, and now she had no idea where they’d taken him.
Her body started to shake. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.Get a grip, Delaney. They’ve got Wyatt and he’s terrified of them. Think!
Her eyes flew open. At the fairgrounds, the Dudes had bragged about inheriting their father’s farm. Their name was Worley.
She closed out the video of the Dudes stealing Wyatt and did a search for Worley in the local white pages. Within seconds, she had it. The only Worley near her zip code, just one town over.
Delaney ran it all over in her mind as she barreled down the freeway in her truck. She ate at Nonni’s every Wednesday. The Dudes had likely been staking her out and knew her routine. They also would be the only ones to know about the window latch that didn’t fasten right. Dude’s words from the motorcycle show came back to her, which she’d found odd at the time but made perfect sense now:Sinbad! There you are!
Like Wyatt had been missing. Or, rather, like Wyatt had been hidden when the Dudes had broken in and rummaged through Delaney’s ceiling. Odds were, if Wyatt hadn’t hidden from them—probably in the same laundry basket where he’d hidden from Sean—the Dudes would have taken him that day. Since they couldn’t take him then, the Dudes had come back to finish the job, thinking that her security camera was still broken and unaware of the new one, placed out of sight.
Within twenty minutes, Delaney’s GPS indicated that the Worley farm was coming up on her right. She hooked a sharp turn down a long, gravel road that was thickened with trees. The truck bumped and bucked over the old, pothole-riddled drive until the tree line receded and the road opened up to reveal an old farmhouse with a wraparound porch. Lights shone from the front windows. Parked out front were two older Harleys.
Delaney drew up beside them and sat in her truck, pondering her next move. She knew the Dudes had Wyatt and it was clear they were here. For a brief moment, it crossed Delaney’s mind that maybe she was in over her head. She should’ve called the police, but calling the police meant probable interaction with Sean, and Sean was the last person Delaney wanted to see right now. The image of Wyatt, being knocked over by Dick, then thrown into the back of his truck, flooded her mind.
She leaped out of the truck and stormed the front door, banging as loudly as possible with the outside of her fist. She could take down Dick. Hell, she could take Dude. She just wasn’t sure she could take on Dick and Dude at once. But there was no way she was backing out now. Delaney didn’t stop pounding until the door swung open and she nearly clobbered Dick in the face.
He didn’t even speak. He just stood there, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans and a big smirk on his face.
“Give me back my dog,” Delaney demanded. “Now.”
Dick shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t even want him.” Delaney’s voice shook, but she couldn’t calm herself. “You said it yourself, he’s just a goofy dog who wants to play. He’s not a guard dog. He’s not adangerous breed. So give him back and go find yourselves a snake for a pet.” Even as she said it, Delaney regretted her words. She wouldn’t wish any living creature on these two.
Dick’s smug smile fell. He took two steps toward Delaney and got right in her face. “You’re right,” he said, words barely escaping his clenched teeth. “That stupid dog isn’t a dangerous breed. But I am. And you better get the hell off my porch before I prove it.”
A chill ran down Delaney’s spine. She drew a deep breath and steeled herself. She’d faced down way worse than Dick Worley. She shifted her stance, making sure her weight was equal on both feet. Time to get Wyatt back the old-fashioned way. Just as she’d braced herself to throw a fake punch, then sweep Dick’s feet, Dude stepped up behind Dick, a rifle in his hand. “Is there a problem, brother?”
Dick’s eyes didn’t leave Delaney. “I don’t think so. Miss Monroe was just leaving. Weren’t you, Miss Monroe?”
