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I just got the tire back on the car by myself and my tools put away when Taylor returns. He pops the trunk before climbing out of the fancy car, and the waft of greasy goodness almost knocks me down.
“Good job, Taylor!” I proclaim, peering into the wooden crate filled to overflowing with sacks of fast food.
“Drooly-Julie return?”
I shake my head and blink back tears. They won’t help get Julie back.
“Let’s hope these burgers do the trick. Heard from Ash yet?”
I give him another quick head-shake. “But I did get hold of Animal Control. They should get here any second.”
The words barely leave my mouth before a white truck pulls up behind us, county logo painted on its side.
A man in his fifties, judging by the paunch beginning to strain his belt, gets out and joins us. “Jake Reynolds, Animal Control. You the guys looking for a runaway dog?”
I hold out my hand for a quick shake. “I’m Charlie Brickton. My bloodhound broke her leash and ran off that way,” I say, jerking my chin toward the direction Julie went.
“Taylor Gibbons.” The men clasp hands and dip their chins in greeting.
“Bloodhound, you say? You’re in luck.” Jake grins and returns to his vehicle. “Might be smart to hide that basket.”
He waits for Taylor to lock up the burgers in the trunk again, then opens the back of the county truck. Howls ring out and continue, non-stop. Two big, black and tan bloodhounds jump down. Jake jerks their leashes tight to calm them down enough that he can say, “Got something of hers they can scent?”
“How about a drool rag?”
“Perfect.”
Bacon cheeseburgers must be a bloodhound universal favorite, because the two dogs Jake calls Nestor and Mack are determined to assault the Maybach. But once he rubs Julie’s rag over their snouts and commands them to find, they’re as focused as heat-seeking missiles, tracking her scent through the scrub and grasses, first circling where we’d been working around the Model A. They finally latch onto her trail, and barking and howling like Cerberus, they take off. Taylor checks that I’ll be all right on my own with the cars, and joins the pack.
“Keep me posted.”
“Will do,” he says with a wave.
If anybody or anything can track a bloodhound, it’s another bloodhound. Or two. I’m beginning to feel a glimmer of hope.
Whatever respite I get is dashed when Taylor comes trudging into view. He’s alone.
I rush out to him. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem.” He keeps striding to the cars, and I fall in step beside him. His strides are so long, it takes two of mine to keep up.
“Where are Jake and his dogs? Did they find Julie?”
“They found Ash.”
“What?”
“He’s got Julie’s scent on him. The dogs tracked it to Ash.”
The drool Julie slobbered onto his hair. Of course. I moan in frustration. “So, what’s going on? No offence, but why are you back here rather than out there still searching for Julie?” I need my dog back. I need everybody back.
“Ash sent me back. I’m supposed to take you to Denver.”
I catch him by the arm to break his forward momentum. “What in the world?”
Taylor sighs and licks his lips. “I need water. Come on.”
We’re not far from the cars, He grabs a bottle from the cooler on the passenger floorboard and guzzles it down before talking again. “We’ve got to get to Denver before the signup deadline, or neither of us is going to be participating in the show.”
