‘Wait, are you saying that . . .’ Darren’s chest had tightened. His knuckles turned white as he clenched the steering wheel. He couldn’t finish the sentence.

‘I know. I know, it’s horrible. Awful. But it’s okay, I’ve got him for you. I followed that woman after she left your place, around the corner, to a van. I knew I was onto something as soon as I saw the two guys jump out of the van and reach for the lead. She was about to hand him over and they were giving her money.’

Darren wanted to punch something. He’d known there was something weird about that woman, known he shouldn’t have let her take Doggo. He felt sick. If Sage hadn’t been there . . . the idea of what could have happened to his dog.

‘What did you do? How did you get him off them?’ His thoughts now turned to Sage, and the realisation that she may have put herself in danger to get his dog back . . . that she could have got hurt. That he hadn’t been there himself to back her up.

‘It’s a long story and you’re on the road. But just know that I’ve got him, that I’m glad I carry pepper spray, and that he’s safe and the cops have those arseholes’ number plate. I’ll look after him till you get back.’

‘Fucking hell, Sage. You’re amazing. I love you.’ The words came out before he could stop himself. To be honest, it was true. Right now, he did love her, because she’d rescued his dog and it was the kind of thing you’d say to a mate when they did something incredible for you like that, but he didn’t love her in that way! How was she going to take it?

There was silence for a moment and then she laughed. ‘You talking to me or the dog?’ she asked.

He laughed then too, relieved. ‘So how did you get my number?’

‘I’m a journalist, remember? I can find out anything.’

‘Impressive.’ He paused. ‘Sage, can I please take you out to dinner when I get back? To say thank you?’

There was another pause, and when she responded he could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Sounds good.’

*

Andrea

Violet had always been shy. Quiet. But this was different. Every time Andrea glanced at her face in the mirror, she felt more and more concerned. Something was wrong. Maybe she was regretting coming with Andrea? Maybe she was afraid?

Andrea really had made a terrible mistake. She had to take her back.

‘Violet,’ she asked, raising her voice to be heard above the roar of the wind. ‘Would you like me to take you home?’

She watched Violet’s reaction in the mirror, saw her face slide from surprise to sadness to . . . relief.