Myra had her mouth open to speak when Dennis appeared out of the darkness. The women backed up so they were closer to the young reporter. “All the blinds are pulled except on the kitchen window. No blind or curtain there. There’s food on the table, groceries, staples actually, that haven’t been put away yet. I got right up under the window and looked in. I could see light coming from another room, so I guess they have the television on. I couldn’t tell for certain which room it is. The house is small, five rooms off a short hallway would be my guess. That has to mean the front door opens into the living room. So, how do you want to do this? I could try to pick the lock, but I might make noise. They’re going to spook real easy; I think we all know that. Or, I can kick in the door. It’s just your regulation kitchen door, four panes of glass on the top and wood on the bottom half. Standard lock. The front door is probably solid. If I kick in the door, they’re automatically going to run for the front door.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Annie said, pointing to her purse.

“Okay, then. Myra, you come with me. Leave the dog with Annie. Dogs, even gentle ones like Lady, are always a deterrent. We’re good here?”

“We are good,” Annie said as she reached out for Lady’s leash. She moved into position as Myra and Dennis ran around the back just as a few drops of rain splattered on Annie’s cheeks. Rain was good right now. Anyone meandering about outside would head indoors. She waited, her hand in her purse.

Annie heard the crash minutes later. Lady threw her head back and howled. Annie heard the snick of the front door’s being unlocked. Her hand was out of her purse in the blink of an eye. She was on the steps that led to the front porch within a few seconds, the gun pointed straight ahead. “Go back into the house, ladies. No one is going to hurt you. We are here to help you. Just so you know, 9643 and 9644, people you trust sent us here.”

As she advanced across the porch Annie could see that Dennis had his hand clamped around the wrist of a young girl, and Myra had her hand on Amalie Moss’s arm.

“Guard, Lady,” Myra said as she let go of Amalie Moss’s arm. She turned on a lamp in the living room. She looked over at Annie, who was still holding her gun in her hand, pointed at the two women.

“Do not believe what they tell you about golden retrievers being gentle and everyone’s friend. Lady will rip out your throat if you make a move we don’t like.” It was a lie, but it sounded good even to Myra’s ears.