Page 5 of Seasoned
Renee stepped into her house, turned, and yelled, “I’ll be sending that letter right away to the board, you asshole!” Then she slammed the door.
“If I’m an asshole, so are you!” Clive yelled at the closed door. He sure hoped she heard him because he didn’t usually yell and felt like an idiot. He glanced up and down the street, hoping no one saw or heard him.
Samson looked confused at the outburst.
“She hates me,” he muttered, rubbing the dog’s head. Now she was going to complain about him to the board, again. She really knew how to make his life a living hell.
“That woman needs to get laid more than I do. If she wasn’t such an ornery witch, I’d help her out.”
Clive slammed his front door shut.
3
Renee cruised down the street, her gaze swinging left and right, smiling when she saw all her neighbors in compliance with the association regulations. She’d been called a busybody too many times to count, but refused to back down from her role in raising the bar on home ownership. Ever since she started writing letters to the board, there had been a vast improvement in the appearance of the properties in Summer Springs. Landscaping looked better, holiday decorations were taken down in a timely manner, and the exterior design of the homes were more consistent. Frankly, they should be thanking her.
Her smile widened when she thought about her concluded lunch date. She’d taken a former student to lunch and spent two hours giving him advice and critiquing the essay he wrote for his college application. He’d been so pleased, he’d given her a big hug at the end of their visit and promised to update her on the results.
Renee pulled a little past her house and stopped in front of the Stevenson home. That reminded her that she needed to write that letter to the board. She’d get that out of the way today.
She backed into her driveway and was about to pull into the garage when Samson came careening at a high speed from next door and jumped behind the Volvo. She slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the dog.
“What in the world?”
The crazy dog had absolutely lost its mind. This was exactly what she’d warned Stevenson could happen. The darn dog almost got run over.
Renee exited the car and pointed a finger. “Samson, this is the last time I’m dealing with you. I told your owner that I would call animal control, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do because he thinks I’m bluffing.”
She reached into the car, glaring at the dog who still hadn’t moved, and pulled her phone from the magnetic holder on the dashboard. As she browsed the Internet for the phone number, Samson growled low in his throat. The dog was looking at the house and paced agitatedly. He stopped and growled and then paced again.
Frowning, Renee followed his gaze. “What is the matter with you?”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the front door flew open and two men ran out! Renee’s mouth fell open. The taller man had her television tucked against his chest and the shorter one had her laptop under his arm and a pillowcase in hand that was weighed down with some objects.
They froze when they saw her and the dog, looked at each other, then took off. The dog darted after them.
“Samson!” Renee screamed.
He caught the shorter one by the hem of his jeans and yanked him off his feet. The man toppled to the ground and dropped his loot. Eyes wide, he kicked at Samson but the dog didn’t let go. He snarled and tugged on the denim.
“Samson!” Renee screamed again, terrified that one of the thief’s kicks might land and hurt him.
She must have gotten through to him because he let go and the man scrambled to his feet and ran after his partner in crime who’d deserted him and disappeared into the trees, more than likely to a car they had stashed nearby.
Dumbfounded, Renee stared after him.
Samson trotted over and sat on his hind legs, looking at her as if waiting to be told what to do next.
“You saved me,” she whispered.
Had the German shepherd not been there, she would have entered the house, caught the burglars by surprise, and who knows what they would have done.
Slumped against the car door, she rubbed a hand over the dog’s head and then dialed 911. Afterward, she carefully picked up the dropped items so as not to disturb any fingerprints or other evidence. She placed them at the door and cautiously entered the house with Samson trotting along beside her like a security guard.
The house was not completely turned upside down. The men had clearly not spent a lot of time there and only grabbed the first items of value they could find.
They had kicked in the French doors in the living room at the back. The frame had splintered and when the doorknob slammed against the inside wall, it made a hole in the sheetrock and several panes of glass shattered to the floor.
Renee held back Samson so he wouldn’t get glass in his paws.
