Tracy Hayes, Apprentice PI

Chapter Twenty

The elevator filled already on the next floor, pushing us to the back of the car. I held Pippin tighter, but these people weren't interested in him. Not even to note how cute he looked. Heartless fools.

Then again, that way the lady in front of us didn't notice either how Pippin nibbled her hair, so it was for the better.

We reached the correct floor and were spewed out at the bland government-style lobby of the district attorney's offices. People were still arriving to their stations and we slipped in among them, skipping the reception desk, and headed down a long hallway pretty much unnoticed. I would've expected slightly tighter security.

There were offices on both sides of the hallway and we read the nametags to locate the correct one. But before we'd found it, Pippin became really animated and managed to free himself from my arms. He jumped down and in through the door of the nearest office. Trying to catch him before he did any damage, I dove after him.

Only to bang my head against the stomach of the person about to exit the office.

"What the hell?" a man exclaimed.

I rubbed my forehead as I took a look at who I'd smashed into. A furious man, for one; fit, for another. Those abs hadn't given an inch. Tall. Even after I straightened I had to keep looking up. Incredibly handsome. Pretty almost. There was a slight curl to his short, light brown hair and his bright blue eyes were framed by lashes so long I'd need falsies to achieve the same.

"Sorry," I managed to say, baffled by him. "I tried to catch the dog."

Pippin was ecstatic, running a tight circle around the man's legs and yapping. He gave the dog a baffled look and frowned. "Is this my dog?" He realized that underneath all the pink was his pet and a smile lit his face, melting what few brain cells I had left.

"There you are." He leaned down and lifted Pippin into his arms, allowing the dog to lick his face. Yuck. "Where have you been, you naughty boy?"

The man and the dog spent a few moments happily reuniting. Then he shot a piercing glance at me that wasn't dampened by the pretty lashes.

"What are you doing with my dog? And what the hell is he wearing?"

I wanted to answer him. I really did. But for the life of me I couldn't make my scrambled brain restart. Jackson cleared his throat.

"This is your show, Tracy."

"Huh? Right..." But all I saw was the pretty eyes of Daniel Thorne, Assistant DA.

"I found your dog a couple of days ago."

"Couple of days? Where?"

"He showed up at the Café Marina in Prospect Heights."

"Prospect Heights? I don't live anywhere near there. And why did you wait this long to bring him back?"

"He wasn't wearing a collar so we didn't know who he belonged to."

He gave me a slow look. "He has a microchip."

"A what?"

"An identification chip planted under his skin. Any vet could've checked him for you."

I looked at Jackson again, who shrugged. "He looked like a mongrel so I thought he wouldn't have one."

"You're Jackson Dean, aren't you?" Mr. Thorne asked. "What do you have to do with this?"

Jackson wasn't as taken with Thorne's pretty face – go figure – so he just nodded. "It's a bit of a story, and I'm afraid it has to do with the MacRath case."