The Ghost of Cutler Creek (8 page)

“Yes,” Allie said, and all her worry and anxiety came back in a rush. She tried to control it, to think, and to ask the right questions. “You said she was lunging at the fence. She was in the yard, then?”

“Yes.”

“And the gate was closed?” Allie asked.

Muriel nodded emphatically. “Just the way you left it. I could see that quite clearly.”

Allie was relieved to have Muriel confirm that she had, indeed, closed the gate behind her. But her relief was quickly overtaken by dismay. Hoover hadn't found the door ajar and gone for an innocent romp around town. Someone had opened the gate.

Allie returned to Mr. Henry's house and checked the answering machine to make sure no one had called to report finding Hoover while she'd been gone. The light wasn't flashing, but she hadn't expected it to be. She no longer believed she'd receive that call, nor did she expect the missing dog to return home on her own.

Her chest felt as if it were filled with fluttering moths, and she tried to calm herself. But there was no denying the direction her thoughts were taking. Hoover had to have been barking at a person, someone who remained carefully out of sight until Muriel left her post at the window. And then, when the coast was clear, that person had opened the gate and…

“
…the barking stopped. Just like
that.”

Allie forced herself to imagine what that might mean. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

When Dub returned, flushed from riding his bike all over town to post the flyers, Allie told him what she had learned.

He said, “You think someone took her?”

“Or—worse.” Allie was barely able to get the words out. She kept imagining that she heard Hoover's frantic barking, followed by silence. What could that sudden quiet mean, except that—She couldn't bear to finish the thought.

Dub examined her face and seemed to hear what she was trying so hard to keep at bay. He said sternly, “Wait a second, Al. Just hold on. You may be right that someone took her. But there's no reason to think anything worse happened. It doesn't make sense. Why would a person sneak around at midnight and hide and all only to”—he paused and swallowed—“
kill
her? Or even hurt her. Think about it, Al. Really.”

Allie looked at him, wanting to believe he was right.

He went on. “We might have a case of dog-napping here, but not murder. I mean, Hoover's a purebred golden retriever. She's a pretty valuable dog. I just don't see somebody going to all that trouble and then killing her, okay? Besides,” he added excitedly, “I just realized something. If Hoover was dead, you'd know it. I bet her ghost would contact you right away!”

Allie nodded slowly. “I never thought of that,” she said. “You could be right.”

Dub looked relieved. “Okay, then,” he said. “We're going to assume she's alive.”

“But who would take her?” Allie wailed. “And why?”

They talked this over as they ate the lunch Allie's mother had left them. Allie only picked at her food, and she noticed that Dub didn't have his usual appetite, either. They tried to imagine what enemies Mr. Henry might have, and couldn't come up with any.

“And everyone who knows Hoover loves her,” Allie said. Then, narrowing her eyes, she added, “Except L.J.'s creepy father.”

“L.J. seemed awfully interested in her, too, remember?” Dub said. “At least he asked a lot of questions about her.”

They pondered this as they stuffed the leftover food, wrappers, and cans back into the grocery sack.

“I'm going to call Officer Burke,” Allie declared.

“Whoa,” said Dub. “You can't just go around accusing people of dog-napping. I mean, you and I
suspect
L.J. and his father, but we don't have any
proof
.”

“I'm not going to accuse anybody,” Allie answered. “I'm just going to tell her what Muriel said, and maybe mention that those guys were showing an unusual interest in the dog lately, and let her draw her own conclusions.”

“I guess that would be okay,” Dub agreed.

“And I should probably try to reach Mr. Henry again,” Allie said hesitantly, half hoping Dub would try to stop her.

“Yeah,” he said sympathetically.

“After that we might as well leave,” Allie said, getting up to go inside.

Dub nodded. “There's no reason to hang around here.”

Officer Burke wasn't at the station, but the desk sergeant said he didn't think there had been any reports about a dog being found. Allie explained to him what Muriel DiRaddo had seen the night before, and asked him to pass on the information to Officer Burke. With Dub's warning fresh in her mind, she didn't mention L.J.'s name or his father's, merely saying that she'd call back later, when Officer Burke was in.

Allie phoned Mr. Henry, but there was still no answer. Last, she called her mother at the store to tell her the news and to say they were leaving Mr. Henry's house to go to Dub's for a while. Mrs. Nichols had customers, so she couldn't talk long, but Allie promised to fill her in at dinner.

After she locked Mr. Henry's kitchen door, Allie and Dub pedaled slowly and dejectedly to Dub's house. As they drew near, they were surprised to see that someone was in the driveway, shooting baskets. Soon they were close enough to see that it was James. He was dribbling the ball furiously, as if he wanted to drive it into the asphalt. Then he made a quick series of shots, each time throwing the ball much too hard, so that it ricocheted wildly off the rim or the garage door. He'd chase it down only to make another crazy shot.

Allie and Dub pulled into the driveway just as James threw the ball at the garage door with all his might, making no pretense of taking a shot. The ball flew back toward the street, to where Allie and Dub had stopped their bikes at the end of the driveway.

James looked up, his expression first embarrassed, then defiant.

“Hi, James,” Dub said somewhat uncertainly. “What's up?”

“Not much,” James said. “I just quit the only job I could get around here, a job I really need, and now I don't know what I'm going to do. Other than that, everything's just terrific.”

He reached down for the ball and held it at chest level with both hands, pressing hard, as if he were trying to pop it like a balloon. He didn't look at Allie or Dub, but off into the distance somewhere.

Allie and Dub exchanged bewildered glances, afraid to speak in the face of James's anger.

“You two still think you want to work for Enid?” he asked suddenly, turning toward them. “Well, don't say I didn't warn you.”

“What do you mean?” Dub said.

“You want to know how my day began?” James demanded, tossing the ball toward Dub's house, where it disappeared under a bush. Without waiting for an answer, he said, “By discovering a dead puppy, that's how. There were only three left the last time you came in, right? Did you think the three missing ones went to wonderful, loving homes? Forget it. They died, then two more died. And I found the seventh one dead today.”

James was crying now, his voice coming in harsh sobs that he hardly seemed aware of. “‘Luv'n' Pets'—what a crock!”

Allie was stunned. She was frightened and confused by the sight of an older boy crying and out of control and, at the same time, she felt completely sympathetic with his rage. All those cute puppies were
dead
?

“But what—I mean, how did they die?” she managed to ask.

James looked right at her then, his blue eyes blazing through a sheen of tears. “They come in sick half the time, and all Enid cares about is getting them cheap and selling them off before they croak on her. Did you ever notice how they're only in the window after I've been there in the morning? That's so customers won't walk by some evening and see dead or dying puppies. We keep them in the back room at night. Which is where I find them when I come in early to clean cages.”

“That's awful,” Allie said, hardly able to get the words out. “But why doesn't Enid take them to the vet if they're sick?”

James answered slowly, with exaggerated patience, as if Allie were dense or hard of hearing. “Because that would cost
money
. Which is the same reason they didn't get any veterinary care from the breeder—and I use the term loosely,” he added darkly, “—in the first place. It's all about money. There's nothing ‘luv'n' ' about it.”

He shook his head, and it seemed to Allie that he was trying to dislodge unpleasant memories and make them go away. But now that he'd started, he appeared unable to stop describing the visions in his mind.

“This last litter was really bad. Usually a few pups live long enough for somebody to buy them. Then I can at least hope the owner is nice and responsible and will take care of them.”

They were all silent for a moment. Then James went on bitterly. “Everybody sees the little balls of fur in the store and says, Oh, look how cute, but nobody thinks about where they came from or what might happen to them.”

Allie cringed slightly, knowing that he was right. How many times had she been the person goo-gooing over the puppies in the window display?

“People don't want to see that it's a business, that people like Enid are in it for the money. They don't know she'll buy from any scumball who comes in the door saying he's got dogs for sale cheap. She doesn't ask questions about their breeding or how they were raised or if they had their shots. If they're cute and they're breathing, she might be able to sell them.”

James's fury seemed to be spent. He gave a deep sigh, shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, and kicked at the asphalt.

“Who knows about this besides you?” Allie asked after a moment had passed.

James shrugged. “There's people who know about it and are trying to stop it. I saw some stuff on the Internet. Around here, though, nobody seems to know or care.”

“But aren't there laws about cruelty to animals?” Allie asked.

“Yeah. But you have to do something pretty outrageous. What most puppy mills do isn't against the law.”

“Puppy mills?” Allie repeated. She'd never heard the term before. She didn't like the sound of it, and wanted to be sure she knew what it meant.

James sighed again. “Some guy keeps, say, ten or twenty—or fifty—dogs in his back yard in cages. The minute a female's old enough, he starts breeding her. As soon as possible after the first litter, he breeds her again. And again and again. That's her whole purpose in life: to make more puppies for the guy to sell. It isn't against the law. I read online about a few busts, like when somebody stumbled onto a really crummy operation, where there were lots of animals, and they were kept in small cages piled one on top of another so the dogs were messing all over the place, and they were dirty and sick and…” James's voice just petered out.

Allie felt sick herself. Also, she understood now that her ghost dog had been trying its best to make her see and even smell such scenes of misery. As James had been speaking, she had felt the familiar presence of her ghost the entire time.

Then James said something that made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand right on end.

“Oh, and you know that guy you were asking about? The one in the gray pickup? Well, he came back to talk to Enid. I tried to listen in on their conversation, but I only caught parts of it. I'm pretty sure he's going to be supplying her with puppies from now on. She used to get them from somebody in Pennsylvania, and she seemed thrilled that this guy is closer. It'll probably cost her less. I heard him talking about having a litter of purebreds soon. Enid ate
that
right up. I could almost see the dollar signs in her eyes.”

James took his hands out of his jeans pockets. “Here,” he said, giving something to Allie. “I took the guy's business card before I quit. You can keep it.”

Allie and Dub examined the small, beige card. It looked old: the corners were bent, and it was slightly grimy. A printed line had been crossed out, and beneath it had been handwritten in blue ink
Fair View Farm
. On the next line, in smaller type, was the name
Curtis Cutler
, followed by an address in Georgia, which also had been crossed out, and replaced by the address of the Cutler house on Dundee Road.

Dub made a face. “Not too classy,” he said. “Guess old Curtis hasn't had time to get new cards printed yet.”

“Look,” Allie said, handing him the card after holding it up to the sunlight and squinting at it for a while. “The crossed-out part says Cutler Creek—something. I can't read the last word.”

Dub peered closely at the black slash and shook his head. “Neither can I.”

“‘Fair View Farm'?” Allie read out loud. “
That's
his name for the dump out on Dundee Road? Ha!
What
farm?
What
view?”

“It's a big, fat lie,” said Dub.

“Kind of like the name Luv'n' Pets,” Allie answered darkly.

Dub tried to hand the card to her, but she backed away. “I don't want it!” she said with disgust.

“I don't, either,” Dub said, putting the card in his pocket. Then he smiled. “But it's a clue. It might come in handy.”

Allie made sure Michael was busy riding his Big Wheel in the driveway before she poured out to her parents all the horrible things she had learned that day. Mrs. Nichols comforted Allie, who held back tears throughout her telling of the story.

Mr. Nichols dialed the police station and asked for Officer Burke. After a pause, he spoke into the phone. “Hello, Officer. Yes, I understand there hasn't been any news on your end. But I think you'd better listen to what my daughter has to say.” He handed the phone to Allie.

Allie took a deep breath and said, “Hello, Officer Burke?” She carefully related every detail she could remember to make sure the police officer would understand that she and Dub weren't just a couple of crazy kids with overactive imaginations. She wanted the policewoman to see exactly how serious the situation was. “So,” she finished, “we think L.J. and his father took Hoover, and we also think they could be operating one of those puppy mill places. Dub has his business card. We can show it to you.”

She explained that the Cutlers lived on Dundee Road. When Officer Burke asked if Dub and Allie would accompany her there, Allie held her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and said, “Mom, Dad. She wants to know if Dub and I can go to L.J.'s house after dinner with her and someone from the Humane Society. They want to look around and ask some questions.”

Her parents glanced at each other. Mrs. Nichols said, “I don't know. What do you think, Bill?”

Mr. Nichols took the phone from Allie. “Hello, Officer. Isn't that kind of unusual, taking kids along on a complaint?”

He listened, nodding. “Oh. Uh-huh. I see. Well, then, I think it will be fine. You'll call Dub's parents, too? Okay, then. See you at seven.”

After he hung up, he explained. “Apparently they do things like this all the time. Say a kid's bike is stolen and the kid claims he knows who took it. The police officer and the kid go to check it out. In this case, they'll say they had a report of a missing dog being seen in the area, and ask to look around. She doesn't expect any trouble.”

Mrs. Nichols still looked concerned, but she said to Allie, “I suppose you'll be safe with the police. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Allie answered, although she wasn't absolutely, entirely sure.

Several minutes later the phone rang, and Dub spoke, sounding all fired up. “We're going to be in on a bust, Al! This is too cool!”

Allie had had a little more time than Dub to imagine ways in which it might not be so cool. For one thing, she was scared of Mr. Cutler and, she had to admit, of L.J. She'd already pictured herself facing them down, even with two officials and Dub at her side, and it was a daunting prospect. Worse, though, she couldn't even think about enjoying the thrill of it all until Hoover had been found.

She told Dub this. “Maybe I'll think it's cool when it's all over. Right now I have the heebie-jeebies. I just want Hoover safe at home.”

“I'm not saying I'm not a little nervous,” Dub admitted. “But I get so mad when I think of those dogs—”

“I know,” Allie said miserably. “And poor Hoover in with them.”

The very thought of it made her spine stiffen again in outrage. Dub was on the right track, she realized. Staying angry would help her to be brave. The cries and whimpers she continued to hear in her head helped, too.

“I keep remembering stuff L.J. said,” she told Dub.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Like when he asked Mr. Henry if he'd bred Hoover yet.”

“And then he said she looked old enough,” Allie added.

“Sure she is,” Dub said gloomily. “If you plan to use her as a puppy producing machine.”

“I keep hoping maybe we'll find that poor dog Belle I saw in my dream,” Allie said.

“Unless she's the ghost,” Dub reminded her gently.

They were both quiet for a minute after that. Then Allie said, “Dub, you know the worst thing? I keep remembering how I babbled all that stuff to L.J. about how Mr. Henry was away, and Hoover had her little fenced-in yard and her doggy door, and everything. Why didn't I just give him written instructions labeled ‘Steal This Dog'?”

She felt guilt rising inside her, draining away her anger and strength, and was grateful when Dub said, “Cut it out, Allie. How were you supposed to know L.J. and his father were dog thieves and sicko dog breeders? I mean, until today, we'd never even heard about this creepy stuff.”

Good old Dub. As usual, he knew the right things to say to make her feel better.

When she got off the phone, Michael came into the room, looking confused and a little frightened. “Allie? It's crying again. Can't you make it stop?”

She gathered Michael into her arms and said, “It's going to be all right, Mike. It's going to stop tonight. So try not to worry, okay? The police are even going to help me. What do you think of that?”

Michael looked at her, his eyes wide, excited by the mention of the police. Allie went on. “Dub and I are going to ride in a police car to the bad place, and then everything will be okay.” She hoped this was true.

“Can I come?” Michael asked eagerly.

“They can only take Dub and me this time,” Allie told him.

Michael nodded, but his disappointment was evident. “Will they make the lights and the siren go?” he asked hopefully.

Allie laughed. “You can ask them when they come to get me.”

During dinner, Allie tried to bolster her courage by thinking about Hoover, locked up somewhere, lonely and afraid, with no idea what was happening to her. It worked.

At seven o'clock, Michael was waiting on the front steps with Allie. He was the first one to spot the approaching police car, followed by a van with the words
SENECA HUMANE SOCIETY
written on the side in large yellow letters. He ran right up to the police car, shouting, “Can you make the siren go?”

Allie called into the house, “Mom! Dad! They're here!” Then she joined Michael.

When Allie's parents came out, Officer Burke introduced everyone to Ed McHugh, the driver of the Humane Society van. To Michael's delight, she let him sit in the driver's seat of the police car and turn on both the lights and the siren for a few seconds. She showed him how to say, “Roger. Ten-Four,” into the radio. He stayed right there, turning the steering wheel and pretending to continue a conversation on the radio, while the grownups talked and Allie listened.

Officer Burke explained what was going to happen. “We'll go out there, say we're looking for a missing dog, and ask if they've seen it. We'll have to play it by ear from there, depending on how they react. If they cooperate, great. If they don't, we may have to go back with a search warrant. Right now, we're just looking for information.” She smiled at Allie. “Okay. Are you ready?”

Allie climbed into the police car, and Michael reluctantly climbed out.

“Good luck!” called Allie's father.

Officer Burke drove to Dub's, with Ed McHugh following in the van. As they headed out of town and turned onto Dundee Road, she explained the plan again for Dub's benefit. Allie could feel her heart beating faster when they pulled into the driveway behind Mr. Cutler's gray pickup truck. She pointed out the barn to Officer Burke. “That's where we heard the dogs barking,” she said. Then, wiping her damp palms on her shorts, she turned and gave Dub a shaky smile. “Here goes.”

The four of them picked their way through the junk-strewn lawn and climbed the stairs to the porch. Officer Burke was lifting her hand to knock when the screen door opened and Mr. Cutler stood before them. To Allie's amazement, he said, “Well, what do you know? I was thinking of calling in a complaint on these kids, but must be somebody else beat me to it.”

Allie felt her mouth fall open in astonishment. “A complaint against
us
?” she blurted. She looked at Dub, who looked just as incredulous.

L.J. appeared in the doorway then, standing slightly behind and to the left of his father. His face was a careful blank.

Officer Burke glanced at Allie and shook her head slightly, as if to tell her to keep quiet. Allie closed her mouth, and the police officer said pleasantly, “Mr. Cutler, I'm Officer Helen Burke. This is Ed McHugh, from the Humane Society, and I take it you already know these youngsters?”

Mr. Cutler's gaze swept contemptuously over Allie and Dub. “They were out here bothering my son, yeah. And they had a nasty dog with them. It went after me right on the main street of town. I got witnesses. That animal is dangerous and she can't control it, and I'd like to know what you people are going to do about it.”

Ed McHugh looked confused, and Allie didn't blame him. She, too, felt off balance in the face of Mr. Cutler's accusations. Dub was staring at Mr. Cutler with narrowed eyes, his jaw jutting forward angrily. Officer Burke kept her expression neutral and continued speaking to Mr. Cutler. “Is the dog you're speaking of a female golden retriever wearing a red collar?” she asked.

“That's the one,” Mr. Cutler declared.

“Well, actually, that dog is the reason we're here,” Officer Burke continued. “She's been missing since about midnight last night, and we were wondering if you've seen her, or if you have any information on her whereabouts.”

Allie's eyes met L.J.'s at that moment, and she thought she saw a flicker of fear there. She looked back at Mr. Cutler to see how he was reacting to the question. He had arranged his features into a perfect mask of surprised innocence. “Missing? Well, how about that? I haven't seen her, not since she attacked me on the street, anyway.” He half turned to L.J. and asked, “How about you? You seen that dog around here anyplace?”

L.J. appeared startled at having been spoken to. Then he quickly shook his head and muttered, “No.”

Mr. Cutler looked back at the four of them standing on the porch and shrugged his shoulders. “We ain't seen her.” Then he shook his finger at Allie. “I told you you'd better learn to control that animal. See what happens when you're careless?” He shook his head sorrowfully, as if at Allie's irresponsibility.

Allie was so amazed by the act the man was putting on for Officer Burke, and so angry, that she couldn't have spoken even if she'd been able to think of what to say. He had some nerve!

Mr. Cutler turned back to Officer Burke with a thin smile that made Allie think of a snake. “Well, Officer, you can be sure we'll let you know if we see the dog. Won't we?” he asked L.J.

L.J. nodded.

“So,” Mr. Cutler said. “If that's all…” He paused, gesturing toward the stairs.

“We'll be going in just a moment, Mr. Cutler,” Officer Burke said smoothly. “There's one more thing. We had a report that the dog might have been seen in this vicinity. We've also had a complaint about dogs barking out this way. So we'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind.”

Mr. Cutler's snake-smile faltered for a moment, and he shot Allie a venomous glance before he said, “We ain't got dogs. And who would be complaining if we did? There's nobody living out here but me and the kid.”

So Mrs. Cutler
wasn't
there, Allie thought.

“Then you won't mind if we have a look around,” Officer Burke was saying calmly.

Trying not to smile, Allie glanced at Dub.
Ha! Now we've got you, you lying creep!
She looked at L.J., who was staring at the floor, just as he had the morning his father had pushed him into Mr. Henry's classroom. It struck Allie that he was trying to be invisible. Once again, she had to resist the impulse to feel sorry for him.

Too late, L.J.,
she thought.
You're in it right along with your father. And now there's no place to hide.

“We'll just go have a look in the barn,” Officer Burke said. “It's possible the missing dog got in there somehow and can't get out. Then we'll be on our way.”

Allie eyed Mr. Cutler nervously, sure that this was the moment when his phony act would crumble and he'd snarl at them to get lost. She cringed, waiting. But to her surprise, he gave an exaggerated sigh and said, “I told you, we ain't got dogs and there's nothing to see. But if you're determined to waste time at the taxpayers' expense, be my guest.”

He started to close the door, but Officer Burke stopped him. “Would you mind coming with us, sir?” she asked.

Allie wondered if the policewoman was worried about L.J. and his father escaping, or whether she didn't want Mr. Cutler accusing them of damaging his property when he wasn't looking, which seemed like the kind of thing he would do. In any case, it struck Allie as a good idea to keep an eye on L.J. and his father until they were handcuffed and on their way to jail—or whatever would happen after Hoover and the other dogs were discovered in the barn. Allie realized she didn't know.

Mr. Cutler shook his head in annoyance and rolled his eyes at L.J., as if the whole idea was too ridiculous to believe. As they walked toward the barn, Allie imagined Hoover's joy when she saw them, and she had to restrain herself from running ahead of everyone to release Hoover from whatever horrid cage she was being kept in.

As it was, Mr. Cutler reached the barn first, threw the door open defiantly, and motioned them inside. Then he stood back, crossing his arms against his chest.

Allie edged past him, through the dust motes that danced in the light from the open doorway, into the darkness of the barn. At first, she couldn't see anything. As she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, she listened for a bark or a whine or a yip from the dogs. The silence was almost eerie. When she was able at last to see into the corners, she gasped in disbelief. Except for an old tractor and some tools, the barn was empty. There were no cages filled with puppy mill dogs living in desperation and misery. No Belle. No Hoover.

Allie turned to find Dub, but instead her eyes locked with Mr. Cutler's. He was staring right at her, his eyebrows lifted and his mouth twisted in a triumphant smirk. Allie shivered, and quickly looked away.