Nothing to Lose Read Online Free PDF Page B

wait for my father’s police officer friend when the buzzer sounded. That’s when it hit me.
    â€œThe dog,” I said.
    â€œHuh?” Nick said.
    â€œSee who it is, will you, Robbie?” my father said, his mouth full of eggs.
    I pushed the button on the wall next to the intercom and said hello.
    â€œStan Rogers here to see Mac Hunter,” a voice said.
    â€œBuzz him in, Robbie,” my father said.
    I buzzed the visitor through. While I waited for him to reach the top of the stairs, I turned back to Nick. “There’s a dog that lives somewhere around here,” I said. “It must practically live outside. It barks every time someone gets close to this building. You can always tell when someone is coming. You haven’t heard it?”
    Nick just shrugged.
    â€œThe thing is,” I said, “I didn’t hear it this morning. I knew something was different, but I couldn’t figure out what. Maybe they took the poor thing inside for a change.” Then another thought struck me. “I hope it didn’t die or anything.”
    I heard footsteps out in the hall and opened the door. Stan Rogers turned out to be a uniformed police officer, which didn’t surprise me. What
did
surprise me, though, was the look on Nick’s face when I ushered Stan in. His smile vanished. He stared at Stan Rogers as if he were facing down an old enemy.
Uh-oh
, I thought.

M y father crossed over to the door and clasped Stan Rogers by the hand. The two of them stood in the doorway for a few moments, catching up. When my father finally got around to introducing me, Stan beamed.
    â€œYou probably don’t remember,” he said, “but you sat on my knee, oh, a dozen or so years ago.”
    â€œStan used to play Santa Claus at the Christmas parties we had at the division where I worked when you were little,” my father said.
    Stan was middle-aged and a little on the plump side. He had clear blue eyes that twinkled when he smiled. I bet he made a terrific Santa.
    â€œI’m still on Santa detail,” he said. “Scheduled to suit up again in a couple of weeks. I can’t believe that Christmas is only six weeks away. Where does the time go, huh?” He glanced across the room at Nick.
    My father followed his gaze. “Nick D’Angelo,” he said. “Nick is a friend of Robbie’s.”
    Stan nodded stiffly before turning back to me. “So, I understand you want to report a theft.”
    â€œThat’s right,” my father said. “Have a seat, Stan.” He gestured to an empty chair. “I’ll get you some coffee while you take Robbie’s information.”
    Stan sat down, pulled out a notebook, and started to write down all the details of what he called “the incident”—the street where it had happened, when it had happened, the building I had been standing in front of, the make of my backpack, and a description of the thief. He also wrote down everything that had been in the backpack, like my sweater. “A really pretty robin’s-egg blue color,” I told him.“Handmade, not machine-made.”
    â€œAnything else?” he said.
    â€œThree dead birds.”
    â€œOh?” He waited patiently for an explanation, so I told him about DARC and what I had been doing downtown.
    â€œThere was also some DARC stuff in my backpack,” I said. This was an official police report, so I figured I should be thorough. “The only thing that’s really valuable is the banding equipment.”
    â€œBanding equipment?”
    Stan, my father, and Nick were all looking at me, curious.
    â€œThere’s a professor at the university who works with DARC,” I said. “He’s studying a certain kind of thrush. Whenever Billy or anyone else finds one of these thrushes and it’s in good enough shape to be released, it gets banded. The band is a little radio transmitter, so the professor can track