Zoey greeted me inside the welcome area, leaping around as if I’d been gone for weeks, not just a couple of hours. Smart and obedient pup that she is, she immediately settled down when I said “Sit.” Her butt wriggled on the tile floor, though, and her beautiful amber eyes never left mine. She wanted my approval, which she got. A hug, too.

I went to put my purse in my office. When Zoey and I came back down the hall, we were greeted by Brooke Pernall and Cheyenne.

“Hey, Lauren,” Brooke said as I gave Cheyenne a pat in greeting. Unlike how I felt, Brooke appeared wide awake and alert, and I marveled again at how much she had improved since she had first come here ill and ready to relinquish Cheyenne for the pup’s own good. “You’re just getting here? Are you taking on a security job? This is like the hours my guys and I keep.”

“Just picking up Zoey and taking my last walk-through of the day. Care to come along and do your security thing?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Inevitably, Brooke asked me about the Mamie situation. Word had gotten out. I told her what I knew, which wasn’t a lot.

“They were still questioning her? Do you think she did it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” But the same thoughts kept reverberating in my mind—along with the germ of a crazy idea.

By then, we were in the outdoor shelter area. Our chain-link kennels on both sides of the walkway were nearly all full, particularly here, near the front. I stopped at the first on the left to pet Hannibal, a Great Dane mix, and Babydoll, a shepherd, in the one beyond. With both, as always, I waited until they were calm, then slipped inside their enclosures, rewarding them for behavior that might ultimately help them get adopted. Then I went to the cages on the right side and did the same with Dodi, a sheltie mix. Junior, a Doberman, woofed at us from the left as we started walking past the center building. I didn’t acknowledge him till he’d quieted down, and then I greeted him, too. Despite his breed, he wasn’t aggressive. We always tried to avoid taking in aggressive dogs, since they were less adoptable.

The area was crowded with dogs that needed loving homes. I’ve always believed that letting visitors see as many residents as possible right from the get-go was more likely to trigger compassion than allowing them to feel they weren’t needed because we couldn’t fill our habitats.

The enclosures were well built and maintained, partly due to Dante’s generous support of HotRescues—and lots of bedding and toys, and, of course, food from his stores. In addition, I always prided myself on making each enclosure as welcoming as possible. Naturally, each animal had plenty of water—in bowls from HotPets.

For ease of keeping things clean, the kennels resembled cages, each with dual parts: a roomy outside run that led to a door into a narrow temperature-controlled building. Toy dogs were all housed in our center building, beyond the first row of enclosures on our right, but in separate rooms from our kitty locales. Most cats hung out together in areas filled with climbing toys and litter boxes, with a kitchen in between. We also had rooms for other kinds of small pets like rabbits and hamsters, but all we’d sheltered recently had been adopted.

Dogs were kenneled together, or allowed to mingle in our visitors’ park, only after observation to make sure they got along well. That minimized the possibility of fights.

The four of us—Brooke and I and the dogs—continued down the path toward the back shed, turning the corner so we could visit the enclosures at the other side of the uneven U formation.

“There’ll be a lot more room here soon,” Brooke observed. “More potential security issues, too.”

“Will you need more people here overnight when the two properties are joined?” I asked.

“Nah. I think we’ve got that EverySecurity bunch under control now. They report to me first, and they’re already planning to add cameras and all to the new building and animal enclosure areas.”

“I hope so.” My prior experience with EverySecurity also hadn’t been great. In fact, there had been a murder here at HotRescues as well as other security breaches, and the company hadn’t helped much in resolving them.

That’s one reason Dante had hired Brooke, a former P.I.

Her background was now feeding the idea that had taken root in my mind.

We looked through the gate toward the construction on the property next door. “The building’s nearly done,” I commented. “At least the outside.”

“Couldn’t be finished fast enough for me,” Brooke said. “I’m a little tired already of using that office upstairs in the center building as makeshift sleeping quarters. I’ll be glad when the other offices are finished in the new building and the whole upstairs is remodeled into a real apartment.”

That was because someone always slept here at HotRescues—now. We’d survived six years with only a security company on board till the problems that had occurred a few months ago, though I’d always been concerned about whether more watchfulness was needed.

Brooke had a few part-time security employees who took turns with her in being our overnight contingent, although she now most often stayed here herself.

Finishing our visits to the canines outside, we entered the back door to the center building, where we looked in on the smaller dogs, as well as the cat rooms. All the animals seemed fine, if, perhaps, a bit lonely. But Brooke would walk through again at least twice more to check on them.

I was heading home.

First, though, as we strolled back toward the entrance, I asked Brooke, “How’s Antonio?” Detective Antonio Bautrel was her new boyfriend. He happened to be with the LAPD, in the Gang and Narcotics Division.

“He’s fine.” Her voice went soft and mushy, unusual for our security specialist, but only for a moment. “Why, do you need me to ask him something on that situation with your old friend?”

She was nothing if not perceptive. “I don’t need it, but I’d appreciate it. I’d really like to know what the cops think happened to Bethany Urber.”

I explained briefly what I knew about Bethany, a little about her Better Than Any Pet Rescues, and her network of Pet Shelters Together.

“The cops might have zeroed in on Mamie as the killer, and it may be true . . . or not. I’d like to know something about any evidence they have against her besides just her presence, although I know a lot of that is kept confidential. Also, the media are saying that Bethany was allegedly killed with her own gun. Is that true?” I’d been wondering whether she’d taken it out herself and her killer had gotten it away and used it in self-defense . . . or whether the killer had been around Bethany’s place enough to know where the gun was hidden.

“I’ll see if Antonio can tell me anything.” Brooke’s grin was suggestive. “Of course, I can be pretty convincing.”

I laughed. “I’ll just bet you can.”

She sat down behind the counter in the welcome area, and the dogs stayed with her.

I retrieved my purse from my office and checked my cell phone. I’d received a call from an unknown number. The person had left a voice mail message, and I listened to it. It was from Gavin Mamo, the dog trainer Matt had told me about. He’d said he was available until eleven that night, so I pushed the button to return the call. We arranged for me to visit him at his training facility on Monday afternoon.

Then Zoey and I left HotRescues for home.

The usual lights, on timers, were turned on in our small but comfortable house in its gated Porter Ranch community. I missed my kids, as always, but was glad they both liked their colleges enough to take summer courses. They’d found jobs, too. Tracy was working in a Wal-Mart, and Kevin at a car repair shop. Both were responsible kids. Both were wonderful.

I also kept in close touch with my parents, and with my brother Alex and his family. They all lived in Phoenix. I hadn’t talked with them for about a week and would call them soon.

“Let’s go to bed,” I told Zoey as we entered the house from the garage.

My cell phone rang then. It was past ten o’clock at night, and I didn’t recognize the number.

I answered. “Hello?”

“Oh, Lauren, it’s so good to hear your voice!”

“Mamie?” Was she still at the police station? Had they arrested her, or—

She answered my questions right away. “I’m home at last. I did like you said and called Janice, and she got that very nice Mr. Caramon to come and help me. He’s a lawyer, too. He stayed with me, and then drove me home. I’d really like to talk to you, Lauren. Could you come see me tomorrow? In the afternoon would be best, ’cause I’m really tired now. Will you come? Please?”