Dogs Read Online Free PDF

said. “No, don’t move, let me see that nothing’s broken.”
    â€œI’m…I’m good,” the kid said, tears in his eyes, so much bravery in his voice that Jess was moved. But then the boy snarled, “Let go of me, fucker!”
    So much for boyish self-control. Jess said, “You got it. Can you sit up…good. Now tell me what happened. We’re from Animal Control and 911 said that a dog bit two kids.”
    â€œHe did?” The boy’s eyes grew wider, his tough-guy stance abandoned again. “Duke bit the twins? Are they all right?”
    "I don't know," Jess said. Suzanne had said one of the kids might be dead. “What’s your name, son? Do you live here?”
    â€œA.J. Wright. Yes. That’s my dad’s dog, he’s not supposed to be in the house, Mom says so, but Dad likes to bring Duke in and show how he can control him. Where’s my mom and dad?”
    â€œThey took the twins to the hospital. You weren’t here?”
    â€œNo, I was sleeping over at Bobby’s, I just came home and went in the house and…”
    â€œSteady now, it’s all right.” Now Jess remembered seeing the rusty bike propped inside the fence. A.J. had come home, heard the dog inside, and assumed his dad was putting the pit bull through its paces, showing off his leader-of-the-pack authority in front of his young kids. After the dog went crazy and attacked, nobody had given a thought to A.J. Their only concern had been to get the bite victims to the hospital.
    Billy had expertly wrapped the dog in a tarp—they were going to run out of those soon—and now he said cheerfully, “Okay, Jess, grab the other end of this and—oh, oh, we got company. Bit late, huh?”
    Police sirens screamed outside. Sheriff’s department, most likely Ames and Hatfield.
    â€œBetter late than never,” Billy said, “but boy am I going to rile ol’ Paulie for this one. Here when the action’s all over. Boy oh boy.”
    â€œ I’ll talk to them,” Jess said, and Billy grinned.
    â€œGuess you’re right. I can deal with Fang here alone—ain’t like the son-of-a-bitch’s going to attack anybody else. Right between the eyes. Damn, I’m good.”

» 8
    When Tessa got home from D.C., Minette greeted her amid the mess of unpacked boxes in her new house. Tessa had moved in less than a week ago. The townhouse on Capitol Hill wasn’t even sold yet; all this had been an impulse move, borne of the intense need to get out of D.C. after she quit the FBI. Away from her anger at the Bureau, away from her memories of Salah, away from her raw grief. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked.
    Still, the Cape Cod on Farley Street, a few blocks off Main, was comfortable and pretty, and Tyler still retained enough small-town character to seem worlds away from Washington. A bridge loan from the bank was carrying her over the transition between house deals. And real-estate prices being the insane thing they were in D.C., she would come out with enough money to live on while Salah’s will cleared probate and—more importantly—while Tessa decided what to do with the rest of her life.
    â€œHey, Minette, hey, good dog. Did you miss me?”
    Minette, not a well-trained beast, jumped on Tessa. The tiny poodle reached only to her knees and weighed seven pounds, an elegant little bundle of silvery fur and huge black eyes. Tessa dropped to the floor and ran through the pantomime of attacking, retreating, growling at Minette. The dog loved it. No one else ever saw this side of Tessa—except Salah, who had been enormously amused.
    Tessa tired of the game before Minette did. The poodle followed her to the bedroom, also filled with boxes, and watched as Tessa changed into jeans and sweater. Then Tessa tackled a pile of cardboard, but her mind wasn’t on the task.
    Why were her name and Salah’s on intel chatter in