Again with that mutt! PC Paul Whitaker snapped the receiver, and the ancient rotary phone let out a plaintive clatter. Detective Clarke, we’ve got another call about a dog in the woods. Third one this morning, mind you!
Which dog now? Sergeant Kate Morris slipped her paperwork aside and glanced at her colleague, eyebrows raised.
It’s the third time today. Supposedly a stray runs around the edge of the forest, barking like mad. It pulls at people’s coats, whines, and basically drives everyone round the bend!
Anna furrowed her brow. After fifteen years in the Met she trusted her gut, and this time it was whispering that something was off.
Tom, she called her rookie partner, shall we have a look?
Oh, come off it, Detective! he waved a hand. It’s just a dog. Maybe rabid, maybe just a bit of a scaremonster.
Or maybe not just a dog.
She remembered a case from two decades ago, when her little brother Tommy vanished on his way home from school. The whole unit, K9 units, volunteersall combed the countryside for three days before finding him, far too late.
Gear up, she said firmly. Let’s see whats going on.
Twenty minutes later their battered police Vauxhall Nova screeched to a halt at the forest’s edge, kicking up a cloud of dust over the uneven track. The spot was downright eerieancient oaks with gnarled, knotty trunks stretched their twisted limbs toward the sky like knucklewrapped fingers.
Dead wood littered the ground, and even at high noon the brambles cast deep shadows. Locals steered clear of this patch; even the most adventurous mushroom foragers gave it a wide berth.
Where’s this dog then? Tom surveyed the surroundings with a skeptical eye.
As if on cue, a bark echoed from behind the trees. Then a massive, shaggy, mudcaked dog burst onto a clearing. He froze at the sight of them, then bolted forward, tail wagging wildly.
Easy, easy, mate, Anna crouched down. What’s the trouble?
The dog whined, clamped his jaws onto the sleeve of her jacket, and tugged toward the woods.
Detective, you dont intend to follow, do you? Tom asked.
I do, she replied, stepping forward. He wants to show us something.
Understanding they’d guessed his intention, the dog barked happily and trotted ahead, never straying far from their heels.
They walked for about twenty minutes. The forest grew denser, the ground squelched with mud. Tom stumbled over roots a couple of times, muttering curses, but kept up.
Suddenly the dog halted and let out a deep growl.
What now? Anna froze.
Ahead, among the trees, a structure half hidden by moss and grass loomeda rundown shed, so overgrown youd miss it unless you walked right into it.
Hold here, Anna ordered, edging forward cautiously.
The dog stayed glued to her side.
Closer, she spotted a hefty padlock on the door, then heard a faint rattle from within.
Tom! she shouted. Come quick!
Together they pried the rusted door open; the hinges had long given up the ghost. A stale, musty scent hit their noses. When their eyes adjusted to the gloom…
Good grief, Anna exhaled.
In the far corner, on a sagging mattress covered in filthy rags, sat a teenage boy. Thin, gaunt, cheeks hollow, eyes sunken, dirt smeared his skin. Rough rope chafed his wrists, leaving raw, bloody streaks. He blinked at the sudden light, his gaze flitting between terror and a flicker of hope. A hoarse cough escaped his dry throat.
Who are you? Anna lunged, pulling a knife to cut the rope.
AArthur, his voice rasped.
Arthur? Arthur Collins? she paused, stunned. The same lad who went missing three days ago
The boy gave a weak nod.
Three days earlier a report had landed on the station about a missing fifteenyearold. His mother, a single parent juggling two jobs, had called in a panic after he failed to return from school.
Tom, get backup and an ambulance! Anna commanded, helping Arthur to his feet. And you, lad, hang on. Well sort this.
The dog, whod been silently observing, suddenly bristled, a low growl rumbling from his throat.
A crack of branches sounded as someone fled through the underbrush.
Get down! Anna yelled at the boy, drawing her service pistol.
But the dog lunged forward. They heard a scream, a thud, then a string of curses.
When Anna and Tom, pushing through thickets and tripping over roots, reached the source, the scene that met them was surreal: a burly man in a black leather jacketone of those characters youd rather not crosslay facedown in a heap of last years leaves. Atop his back, pressed flat, sat the dog, fur standing on end, emitting a guttural snarl that made Sergeant Morriss skin prickle. In that instant, the oncefriendly stray turned into a fierce guardian.
Calm down, Jack, she said, the name slipping out automatically. Weve got you.
Miraculously, the dog obeyed, stepping aside but keeping his eyes locked on the crook.
What followed was a blur of flashing lights. The ambulance, the forensic team, and Detective Victor Shawidentified as the kidnapperarrived. He confessed straight away: a professional abductor, hunting for ransom. The sum hed demanded? A tidy sum in pounds, though it was absurd to expect a single mother to cough it up.
A week later, Anna sat in her modest kitchen, the walls papered with faded yellow floral prints, sipping lukewarm tea from her beloved chipped mug while scrolling through the news on her phone.
The front page of the local Gazette boasted a bold headline: Heroic Dog Cracks Kidnap Case! Below, a photograph of Jack showed his shaggy coat now clean, his eyes still sharp and vigilant.
So, hero? she teased, scratching behind Jacks ears as he lounged on the sofa. Hows the celebrity life treating you?
Jack licked her hand and rested his head on her knee.
They say coincidences dont exist. Perhaps this encounter was meant for both of them: the lone detective who, fifteen years ago, couldnt save her own brother, and the wandering dog who ended up rescuing another boy.
You know, she murmured, stroking his warm, fluffy head sometimes miracles just happen.
Jack gave a contented sigh. Hed known that for ages.
