Don't Tell Anyone Read Online Free PDF Page A

that door open. A small gray dog leaped out. It had close-cropped fur and a stubby tail. Megan had not seen the dog when she looked in the window; it must have been on the floor.
    The terrified dog took one look at Megan and at the people running toward the van, then dashed away into the weeds. Megan saw it run past the white sign and take off down the sidewalk. She hoped it wouldn’t run into the traffic heading up the freeway on-ramp, but a frightened animal in unfamiliar territory might do anything.
    â€œAre you all right?” Megan repeated. She leaned across the front seat and put one hand gently on the woman’s arm.
    There was still no reply.
    â€œHelp is on the way,” Megan said. “Someone called an ambulance.”
    Other people crowded around the van, asking questions, trying to open the driver’s door.
    â€œI’m a nurse,” said a voice behind Megan. “Let me see her.”
    Megan gladly backed away and let the nurse take over.
    I should try to catch the dog, Megan thought. It’s badenough that this woman was injured in an accident, without losing her dog, too. The poor dog must be scared to death.
    Megan hurried across the field in the direction the dog had run. She saw no cats. Pumpkin was probably at the top of the maple tree by now, and no doubt the other cats had run off or hidden somewhere the minute the van roared into the field. She hoped Mommacat wasn’t so frightened that she went somewhere else to have her babies.
    Megan jumped on her bike and rode after the dog. She had ridden two blocks when she spotted the dog far ahead of her, still trotting down the sidewalk.
    She heard the scream of a siren behind her; an ambulance was on its way.
    Megan wondered why the driver of the tan car had not stopped. What if no one had seen the accident? What if nobody had been there to call 9–1–1 for the injured woman? Megan didn’t understand how anyone could drive away after an accident, not knowing if the people in the other car were hurt or not.
    Pedaling hard, Megan gradually gained on the dog. The sidewalk went under the freeway. Megan heard the rush of traffic above her and smelled the exhaust fumes.
    On the other side of the freeway the scared dog dashed into a cross street. A horn honked. The dog kept running. When Megan reached the curb, she had to wait for three cars to pass before she could cross. Dog, she thought, you’re lucky you aren’t a fur pancake.
    As they got farther from the freeway, the traffic noise subsided.
    Megan wished she knew the dog’s name. “Hey, doggie,” she said. “Good dog.” She figured most dogs who were family pets would know the words
good dog.
    The dog kept running.
    Megan drew closer.
    A mile beyond where the sidewalk went under the freeway, both the sidewalk and the street came to a dead end. A wire fence kept vehicles and pedestrians from going any further.
    The gray dog flopped down beside the fence. His tongue hung out of his mouth. His sides heaved up and down.
    Megan laid her bike down and walked slowly toward the exhausted animal. “Good dog,” she said softly. “Good dog. I’m here to help you.”
    The dog raised his head and looked at her, but he did not get up.
    Megan sat beside him. She closed her hand into a fist and held it toward the dog’s nose. He sniffed briefly. Megan gently patted the dog’s back. The dog rested his head on the ground again.
    A tag dangled from the dog’s collar. The tag read
Dinkle
and gave a phone number.
    â€œEverything’s going to be okay, Dinkle,” Megan said. “I’ll take you back to your mistress.”
    At the word
Dinkle
, the stubby tail wiggled.
    Megan wished she had a leash, or even a piece of rope.The dog wore a collar, but she had nothing to attach to it. She was a long way from the field—much farther, Megan realized guiltily, than she was allowed to go by herself. She hadn’t thought of