the front door. Matt told Brody to stay. The Great Dane gave one loud, deep bark. Bree stepped closer to Brody.
Matt stepped over the gate into the kitchen. “The big dogs are harmless. Watch the little one, though. He has a temper, and those little teeth are damned sharp.”
“I’ll wait here,” Bree said.
Matt scanned the kitchen. No Cady in there or the adjoining family room. The dogs’ water bowls were low. Someone, probably the Chihuahua, had peed on the floor. The pitties ran to the pantry and barked at the closed door.
“I don’t think they’ve been fed.” Worried, Matt collected stainless-steel bowls and dished out their food. The dogs practically inhaled their kibble. Matt cleaned the floor and wrote his sister a quick note so she would know her dogs had eaten if she returned. Then the dogs lined up at the back door. “I’m going to take the dogs out back and check the yard.”
“OK. I’ll check the rest of the house.” Bree turned and walked toward the short hall that led to the bedrooms.
“Brody.” Matt swept one hand toward Bree, and the big shepherd followed her. A six-foot fence surrounded Cady’s yard. She was not outside. The dogs did their business and ran back into the house. Matt tried the garage, but his sister wasn’t among the dog crates, pallets of food, and other supplies for her rescue organization.
Matt went back into the house. Bree and Brody came down the hallway. “She’s not in any of the bedrooms.”
Panic knotted in Matt’s gut. “I don’t like this. Cady would never be this late with her dogs’ dinner.” He pulled out his phone and called his brother. “I can’t find Cady. What time did she leave there?”
“Right after her class ended at six,” Nolan said. “I’ll call her kickboxing students in case she decided to go out for drinks with them.”
“Good idea.” But Matt didn’t believe Cady would have dropped her car at her home and not fed her dogs. Maybe he’d been wrong? Had he fed the dogs a second time?
“Maybe she’s out rescuing a dog,” Bree suggested.
“Her van is here.”
“Does she ever go in one of her volunteers’ vehicles?” Bree asked.
“I don’t know.” Matt pulled out his phone and called Maxine and Ralph, the two volunteers who worked with Cady at the rescue. “Neither of them has seen her.”
“What about your parents?” Bree prompted.
“I should have called them first. I’m not thinking straight.” Matt dialed his mom’s number.
“Matt.” His mother’s voice rang with pleasure.
“Hey, Mom. Is Cady there?”
“No.” His mom’s tone shifted to worried. “Why?”
“I’m looking for her. That’s all.”
“Don’t lie to me. That is not all,” she said in her schoolteacher voice.
Dad was a pushover, but Matt had never been able to hide anything from his mom. “She’s not home, but her minivan is,” he said.
“Did you try Maxine and Ralph?”
“Yeah. They haven’t seen her.”
Mom’s tone shifted to her most efficient. “What can I do?”
“Call her friends,” Matt said. “Call me back if you hear anything.”
“You do the same,” Mom said.
“I will.” Matt ended the call. Then he dialed his sister’s number again. The tinny sound of “Who Let the Dogs Out” drifted through the open front door. Matt ran toward it. Outside, he followed the music to the front flowerbed. Pushing aside an overgrown shrub, he saw Cady’s phone under the bushes.
He reached for it.
“Matt!” Bree said. “Use a glove.”
The thought that his sister’s phone might need to be fingerprinted tightened the knot in his belly. But he put on gloves and picked up the phone by the edges. The screen was cracked. It must have bounced on the concrete walkway. He touched the screen, and the phone brightened.
Behind him, Bree and Brody walked the front yard with a flashlight, searching the grass. Matt was surprised to see Bree holding the dog’s leash. The dog lifted his nose, then lunged forward. Bree quickened her steps to keep up with him, and he led her toward Cady’s minivan.
Matt punched in his sister’s passcode and called up recent texts. They all seemed related to dog-rescue business.
Brody whined, a high-pitched and plaintive sound.
“Matt, over here!” Bree called from the driveway. He hurried over. She pointed her light at the driveway. Dark red spots colored the concrete. Blood. One was as large as Matt’s splayed hand—too big to have been caused by a trivial injury. Brody whined again.
Matt opened Cady’s recent calls and everything inside him went cold. “Guess who Cady called last?”
“Who?” Bree asked.
Brody pulled at the leash, and