Bloody hell, that mutt again! I snapped the receiver off the ancient rotary phone, and the clunky handset let out a plaintive clang. Inspector Anne Whitaker, weve got another call about a dog in the woods. Third one this morning, mind you!
What dog? Sergeant Kate Miles looked up from her paperwork, frowning at me.
Its been ringing off the hook for three days now. Folks say a stray hound prowls the edge of the forest, barking like mad. It lunges at people, claws at their coats, whines like a wounded animal. Its driving everyone round the bend!
Annes brow furrowed. After fifteen years on the force she trusted her gut, and right now it was telling me something was off.
Simon, lets have a look, shall we? she called to her young partner.
Come off it, Anne, he said, waving a hand. Its just a dog. Maybe rabid, maybe just scared of people.
Or maybe its more than that.
She recalled a case from twenty years back, when her younger brother Tom vanished on his way home from school. The whole department, the K9 unit, volunteers they searched for three days and found him far too late.
Get the car, she ordered, voice steely. Well see whats really going on.
Within twenty minutes our battered police Vauxhall had creaked to a halt at the forests rim, kicking up a cloud of dust over the broken gravel. The scene was unsettling: ancient oaks with twisted, knotted trunks stretched their limbs toward the sky like gnarled fingers. Fallen branches littered the ground, blackened by rot, and even in the bright midday the thorny underbrush cast deep shadows. Locals steered clear of this stretch even the most seasoned mushroom pickers avoided it.
Wheres this beast? Simon asked, scanning the thicket skeptically.
From behind a stand of trees came a sharp bark, and a massive, shaggy dog clearly once a pet burst onto the clearing. He froze when he saw us, then leapt forward, tail whipping frantically.
Easy, easy, lad, I crouched down, trying to soothe him. Whats the trouble?
The dog whined, clamped his jaws onto my sleeve, and tugged toward the woods.
Anne, you dont expect me to go in, do you? Simon shouted.
Im going, I said, stepping forward. He wants to show us something.
The hound, realizing wed gotten the hint, let out a jubilant bark and raced ahead, never too far from us, constantly glancing back as if checking we were still following.
We trekked for about twenty minutes. The forest grew denser, mud sucking at our boots. Simon stumbled over roots a couple of times, curses escaping his lips, but kept pace.
Suddenly the dog halted and let out a low growl.
What now? Anne froze.
Ahead, among the trees, a structure half hidden by moss and grass loomed a crumbling shed, so overgrown it could have been missed in a single step.
Stay here, I commanded, edging forward cautiously. The dog stayed glued to my side.
Closer up, a heavy iron lock hung on the sheds door. A faint, creaking sound drifted out from within.
Simon! Get backup, now! I shouted, pulling the door open the hinges were rusted through. A stale, dank smell hit us, and as my eyes adjusted to the gloom
Lord, I breathed.
In the far corner, on a sagging mattress covered in filthy rags, sat a teenage boy. He was gaunt, cheeks hollow, eyes sunken, covered in grime. Rough rope had cut deep into his wrists, bleeding. He winced at the sudden light, blinking hard as if his eyes could not accept what they saw. Fear animalised his gaze, yet a flicker of hope glimmered. He tried to speak, but only a hoarse cough escaped his parched throat.
Who are you? I lunged forward, brandishing a pocketknife to cut the rope.
Art Art? his voice rasped.
Arthur? Arthur Sykes? I gasped, recognizing the name. The lad who went missing three days ago
He nodded weakly.
Three days earlier the station had received a report of a fifteenyearold disappearing. His mother, a single parent working two jobs, reported him missing after school. No word since.
Simon, call in the ambulance and get the forensic team here! I ordered, helping Arthur to his feet. You stay with him, lad. Youre safe now.
The dog, whod been silent until now, bristled, his fur standing on end, a low growl rumbling from his throat.
A snap of branches echoed as someone fled through the brambles.
Get down! I shouted at Arthur, drawing my service pistol.
The dog broke into a sprint. We heard a scream, a body hitting the ground, then a torrent of curses.
When Simon and I, bruised and crawling through the underbrush, finally reached the clearing, the scene was brutal. A burly man in a black leather jacket the sort youd rather not cross on the street lay sprawled in a pile of last years leaf litter. At his feet, the dog sat, its hair bristling, a guttural snarl tearing from its throat that made even Sergeant Miless skin crawl. It was as if the strays gentle heart had awakened a wolf protector and hunter in one.
Hold on, Jack, I muttered, using the dogs name. Weve got you.
The dog obeyed, moving aside but never taking his eyes off the wounded man.
The aftermath was a blur. An emergency unit arrived, followed by detectives. The man, identified as Victor Shaw, immediately confessed. He was a professional kidnapper, a seasoned abductor who stalked children, demanding ransom. It never became clear what sum he hoped to extract from the single mother.
A week later I was back in my modest kitchen, the walls plastered with faded yellow wallpaper, sipping lukewarm tea from my chipped mug while scrolling through the local news on my phone.
The front page of the town paper shouted in bold type: Heroic Dog Helps Solve Kidnappers Crime! Beneath it, a photograph of Jack now clean, his coat brushed, eyes sharp and alert.
Well, hero, I said, scratching the spot behind his ear as he curled up on the sofa. Hows the new life treating you?
Jack licked my hand and rested his head on my knee.
They say nothing happens by chance. Perhaps that encounter was written for both of us a lone officer who, fifteen years ago, couldnt save her brother, and a wandering dog who helped rescue another boy.
You know, I whispered, petting his warm, shaggy head, miracles do happen.
Jack gave a contented sigh. Hed known that long before anyone else.
