Never Too Late Read Online Free PDF

survived if he’d been wearing a seat belt.
    He got into his patrol car and asked for assistance sorting out what to do with the German Shepherd in the back of the van. It was seemingly unhurt, judging by the very energetic way it had tried to protect its master. It was a good job there was the mesh barrier between the rear of the van and the cab or they wouldn’t have been able to get near the driver.
    As the ambulance was driving away, that his radio crackled back to life. He stopped taking details from the witnesses to the accident to answer it. He was given the message that the dog would be collected within the next half hour and the vehicle recovery wagon would be sent after that.
    Stuck here for another hour, then. Oh well, that’ll finish my shift off by the time I get back and write up the report.
    He’d just finished taking his notes when a van pulled up. At first he thought it was the RSPCA van but then noticed the Second Chance logo and a picture of a dog on the side. The phone number, he noticed, was local, and he vaguely remembered passing the turning for the kennels but had never had need to call in there.
    A late middle-aged woman got out of the cab. She looked strong and capable, her iron grey hair cut in a no nonsense crop, but her evening dress, stole and court shoes struck an odd note. She came straight over to him, hand outstretched.
    “Liz Bannerman,” she introduced herself. “Are you in charge here?”
     “Yes, PC Whitlow.” He shook her hand. “I was expecting the RSPCA to come for the Shepherd.”
    “Full up,” Liz replied. “Too many post-Christmas rejects now that the cute puppy stage is over. Too many people can’t be bothered with the commitment of training and caring for a young dog. So irresponsible.”
    He could hear the annoyance in her voice.
    “Come on, then,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the van. “Let’s get this one sorted out.”
    He followed her over to where she was checking the situation through the rear windows of the van.
    She glanced round and chuckled. “Taken you a bit by surprise have I?”
    “You, er, don’t seem exactly dressed for it Ms Bannerman.”
    “Oh, stop all that Ms nonsense,” she chided him. “Mrs. Widowed. Call me Liz.”
    He thought it rather appropriate that her words were ‘barked’ rather than spoken and smiled.
    She noticed the smile and glanced down at her incongruous clothes. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been thought a bit – well, kind people said eccentric, others just plain odd, or crazy, or weird. Not that it bothered her in the slightest, as long as her dogs were happy.
    “They caught me at a fund raising bash for the kennels,” she told him. “Getting this poor lad settled is more important than stopping home to get changed. Waste of time. Now, what can you tell me about him?” she wanted to know.
    “Well, we’ve done a PNC check, obviously, and Family Liaison are on the way to inform the next of kin, his mother, a Mrs Williams.”
    Liz had meant the dog, but needed the family details too in case they were willing to keep the dog. “Fatality?” she asked.
    “Yes, unfortunately,” he confirmed. “So at the moment we don’t know whether the dog will be short stay or if it will need rehoming.”
    “He seems quiet enough, anyway,” Liz commented, her attention once more on the dog.
    “He is now but earlier on…” PC Whitlow shook his head. “It was awful. At first he was trying to attack anyone who went near the driver, but then the ambulance crew took the deceased away and the dog set up this howling. It sounded like all the misery in the world.”
    “Wouldn’t you howl if you’d just lost your family?”
    They both looked at the dog, just lying there in utter dejection. He’d made no move to even acknowledge their presence. He just didn’t want to know.
    Liz took a decision. “Look, his own collar and lead are hung there. Let’s get this boy back to the kennels. Settle him