Bloody hell, that dog again! Sergeant Paul Irving snaps the receiver, and the ancient telephone clatters in protest. Officer Emma Clarke, weve got another call about a dog in the woods. Third one this morning, mind you!
What dog? Detective Emma Clarke looks up from her paperwork, eyebrows knitting.
Its the third time theyre ringing. Supposedly a stray around the edge of the forest, barking like mad, latching onto peoples coats and whining. Its driving everyone round the bend!
Emma frowns. After fifteen years on the force she trusts her gut, and this one tells her somethings off.
Sam, she calls her new partner, shall we have a look?
Come off it, Emma! he retorts. Its just a dog. Maybe its rabid, maybe its just scared.
Or maybe its more than that.
She remembers the case from two decades ago, when her younger brother Tom vanished on his way home from school. The whole unit, dogs and volunteers, searched for three days before they found himfar too late.
Get ready, she says firmly. Well check it out.
Twenty minutes later their battered police Focus grinds to a halt at the forests edge, kicking up a cloud of dust over the broken track. The place gives her the creeps: ancient oaks with gnarled trunks reach up like twisted fingers, their branches clawing at the sky.
Dead wood piles up, blackened and rotting, while thorny brambles hide shadows even at high noon. Locals avoid the area, and even the most daring mushroompickers steer clear.
Wheres this dog? Sam asks, scanning the undergrowth.
A bark erupts from behind a thicket, and a large, shaggy, mudcaked dog bolts into the clearing. He freezes when he sees them, then darts forward, wagging his tail wildly.
Easy, easy, lad, Emma kneels, her voice gentle. Whats wrong?
The dog whines, grabs the sleeve of her jacket, and drags her toward the trees.
Emma, you dont
Im going, she says, stepping forward. Hes trying to show us something.
Understanding her intent, the dog lets out a happy bark and runs ahead, never far from the officers heels.
They trudge for about twenty minutes. The woods grow denser, the ground slick with mud. Sam stumbles over roots a couple of times, muttering curses, but keeps pace.
Suddenly the dog halts and growls.
What now? Emma freezes.
Ahead, between the trunks, a structure resembling an old outbuilding looms, half hidden by moss and grass.
Stay here, Emma orders, edging forward.
The dog stays by her side, never straying more than a step.
She reaches a massive, rusted padlock on the door, then hears a faint knocking from inside.
Sam! she shouts. Come quick!
Together they smash the door; the hinges are corroded through. A stale, fetid smell hits their noses. When their eyes adjust to the gloom
Good heavens, Emma breathes.
In a corner of the shabby shed, on a sagging mattress covered with filthy rags, a teenager sits. Hes thin, gaunt, cheeks hollow, eyes sunken, and his skin is caked in grime. Rough rope strips his wrists, leaving raw, bleeding skin. He blinks at the sudden light, his gaze a mixture of animal panic and flickering hope. He tries to speak, but only a hoarse cough escapes.
Who are you? Emma steps forward, pulling a knife to cut the ropes.
Artum, his voice cracks, barely audible.
Arthur? Arthur Sykes? she gasps, recognizing him. The boy who disappeared three days ago
He nods weakly.
Three days earlier the department received a report about a missing fifteenyearold. His mother, a single parent working two jobs, hadnt seen him leave school.
Sam, call for backup and an ambulance! Emma commands, helping Arthur to his feet. And you, lad, hold on. Youll be alright.
The dog, which had watched silently until now, tenses. Its fur bristles along the neck, and a low growl rumbles from its throat.
In the next instant, a crack of branches sounds as someone sprints through the underbrush.
Get down! Emma shouts, drawing her pistol.
The dog darts forward. They hear a scream, a thud, then a flurry of curses.
When Emma and Sam push through the thicket, the scene that greets them is a hulking man in a black leather jacket, the sort youd rather avoid on the street, sprawled facedown among last years leaves. A massive dog lies atop his back, fur standing on end, a guttural roar issuing from its throat that makes even Detective Clarkes spine tingle. In that moment the strays inner wolf awakensguardian and hunter in one.
Calm down, Jack, Emma says, the name slipping out first. Weve got this.
Surprisingly, the dog obeys, stepping back while keeping its eyes locked on the attacker.
The rest unfolds like a foggy nightmare. An emergency unit, paramedics, and detectives swarm the site. Victor Sayers, the mans name, confesses on the spot. Hes a professional kidnapper, tracking, abducting, and demanding ransom. What he expected from the single mother remains a mystery.
A week later Emma sits in her modest kitchen, walls papered with faded yellow wallpaper, scrolling through news on her phone while sipping lukewarm tea from her favorite chipped mug.
The front page of the local paper reads in bold type: Heroic Dog Helps Solve Kidnapper Case! Below, a photograph shows Jackno longer scruffy and dirty, but still alert and dignified.
So, hero? she ruffles the dogs ears as he lies stretched out on the sofa. Hows the new life treating you?
Jack licks her hand and rests his head on her knee.
People say coincidences dont exist. Perhaps this meeting was meant to befor a woman who, fifteen years ago, couldnt save her brother, and for a wandering dog who ends up saving another boy.
You know, she murmurs, patting his warm, shaggy headsometimes miracles happen.
Jack lets out a contented sigh. Hes known that for a long time.
