Before she could react, the back door swung open. Josh walked out, sweat-soaked and barefoot, yelling into his phone. “Yeah, I got a premium Doberman here. Two years old, trained. Two grand and he’s yours. Purebred. No papers, but trust me, he’s clean.” Gabby’s stomach turned to ice.
He was going to sell him. Lie about his lineage, erase his identity, pocket the cash. Gabby backed away horrified, her shoes nearly slipping on loose gravel. She kept low until she rounded the block, then sprinted to her car, chest heaving, fingers shaking as she grabbed her phone.
She called 911, voice tight with urgency. “There’s a house in Brookfield—dozens of dogs in distress and in terrible condition. You should check it out for animal abuse.” She gave them the address, every detail she’d memorized. The dispatcher promised help was on the way, but Gabby’s trust in promises was shaky.
The police hadn’t cared before. What if they didn’t care now? What if Josh sold Juniper before they arrived? Her thoughts raced. Her pulse pounded. She sat frozen in her seat for a few more minutes—then made a decision. She was going to get Juniper out herself. No matter what.
Gabby sat in her car, breath shallow, heart slamming against her ribs. She couldn’t storm in—not with a dozen agitated dogs tied in disarray, and certainly not against a man like Josh. The thought of swinging that bat at him made her smirk grimly, but fantasy wasn’t enough.
She needed precision, not violence. Her mind darted through options until it landed on one clear idea. She drove fast but carefully to the nearest pet dispensary and bought premium dog treats, latex gloves and valium. Then, behind her car, she emptied the vial of sedative onto the treats.
The meat soaked it up quickly. Gabby stirred them with a plastic spoon until she was sure each piece glistened with the medication. She returned to the alley behind Josh’s house and knelt by the fence, heart racing. One by one, she tossed the treats through the gaps.
The first few missed their mark, landing too far. Gabby adjusted her aim and tried again, whispering encouragement under her breath. One dog sniffed. Another limped over. Soon, the starving dogs began to eat—desperately, greedily. Gabby kept throwing, her hands steady even as her heart stuttered inside her chest.
Valium took about 30 minutes to kick in. That window was everything. Gabby sprinted to a nearby hardware store, buying bolt cutters and gloves. She returned just in time. Peering over the fence, she saw the chaos had calmed—bodies sprawled, tongues lolling, eyes fluttering shut. It was working.
She waited a few more minutes, then climbed the fence slowly, careful not to jostle the loose wood. Her foot caught slightly at the top, but she landed with a soft thud. The backyard smelled of heat, rust, and urine. Every step she took felt like crossing enemy lines.