windows down until the scruffy mutt launched himself over the back seat and leaped through the driver’s-side window. It made a strangled yelp as it landed awkwardly on its left hind leg before it began limping across the street.
“Oh, no,” Rebekah took off after the dog, calling out over her shoulder. “The poor thing is hurt.”
The animal must’ve been more afraid than injured because when it realized Rebekah was following, it hobbled even faster, past an iron gate that had been propped open and into the yard of one of the older stately homes on Second Street.
Well, the home might’ve been stately at one time. It currently needed quite a bit of work involving a weed whacker, a few gallons of fresh paint and, Grant noted as he got closer, a new roof. Just as Rebekah was closing in on the scruffy pup, it found a hole in the base of the rotting porch and scurried underneath.
Grant dropped to his knees in the dried-out hydrangea bush near the hole, but it was too dark to see how far back the crawl space went. He brushed the dirt off his hands as he looked up to Rebekah. “Do you have anything we can use to bribe him out?”
Her eyes opened wider and she jogged back to the car without so much of a hint as to what she had planned.
Grant swallowed his groan. The woman certainly had a habit of doing whatever she wanted and then filling him in on the details later.
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