Page 30 of Midnight Secrets

Glancing back, I realized I’d walked almost two blocks.

I chewed on the corner of my mouth, sweeping my light toward the next patch of tracks. If I didn’t find her soon, I probably needed to call for help.

But who?

I could call Mina. Except she was probably asleep. The Cozy Cup opened early, so she was almost always in bed by eight-thirty or nine o’clock. It was nearly eleven.

Times like these were when it would be nice to have family close by. With my mother long gone, and my dad living in California with my stepmom and my teenage half-brothers, I was all by myself up here.

I stumbled into a bare strip of ground and stopped, shining my light over the snow on the other side, trying to pick up Pebbles’s trail.

But there were no more tiny paw prints.

I spun around, my light shining over the prints I’d followed.

Where did she go?

I aimed the light between the houses. It was bare all the way to the driveway, where the grass ended. She could have turned left and gone that way and not left any trail at all.

Or she could have gone right and crossed the road to the beach.

Turning, I pointed the light toward the embankment. The ground that way had more snow, but it was patchy.

That thud of fear in my chest returned.

I swept the area on the other side of the bare strip with the light once more, but it was as void of paw prints as it was the first time.

Which meant she turned.

So did I go right and check the beach? Or left and continue along the road out front?

My gut said left. Pebbles didn’t spend much time walking along the road behind the house that ran along the shore. We crossed it to get to the beach when we walked there in warmer weather sometimes, and that was it. She was much more accustomed to the sidewalk out front of our house and on our road.

Decision made, I jogged between the houses, checking every patch of snow for Yorkie-size prints.

But there were none.

Cursing under my breath about ornery little dogs, I checked up and down the street, calling her name. Out here by the curb, there was even less snow to leave a trail in. It had melted off the road and most of the sidewalks.

Teeth clenched, I tried to put myself in Pebbles’s head. If she turned, did that mean she wanted to go home? Or did she just not like running in the yards?

I took a leap of faith and turned right, toward home. My best guess was she’d been chasing something and lost it. Or she decided to explore, then figured out she was far from home and wanted to go back inside where it was warm.

While I walked, I continued calling her name. I’m sure the neighbors were peeking out their windows, wondering who I was and what I was doing walking down the sidewalk in my robe and boots. But hey, at least I didn’t have my pink slippers on this time.

I was so engrossed in my search I didn’t hear the car approaching until it tooted its horn. I glanced over and saw a gray pickup pull up to the curb beside me facing the wrong direction.

Trepidation skated down my spine with icy fingers. Parker’s Landing wasn’t known for its major crime, but I was still a woman walking alone late at night.

I put my hand in my pocket, ready to activate the emergency call feature on my iPhone.

The truck window rolled down.

Pebbles’s head popped into view, and she barked.

My mouth dropped open, and I hurried forward before I even saw who was in the driver’s seat. I didn’t care. They’d found my dog.

“Lose something?”

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