Kidnapped

Chapter 1

Daniel Thomas stuck the blonde wig on his head, pulling it tight above his ears. He put on the brown shirt with the fake UPS logo, buttoned it over his T-shirt, and tucked it into his brown pants. Last he pressed a false mustache on his upper lip, pushing hard to make it stick. Finally he put on fake no-rim glasses.

He smiled at himself in the mirror. His own father wouldn't recognize him.

The temporary dove tattoo on his left biceps showed below his sleeve, but the slight bulge of the handgun in his shoulder holster was barely noticeable under his shirt.

Daniel hurried downstairs to his car, feeling nearly as excited as he did when he placed a bet. An hour later, he stopped the car in the alley behind his ex-wife's house and put on thin plastic gloves. He got out but left the engine running, in case he needed to drive away quickly. He looked both ways, saw no one, and walked to the gate that connected the garage to the fence.

He reached over the top of the gate, feeling for a latch. Good. No lock. He opened the gate and stepped into the yard. One hand rested in his pants pocket, the fingers wrapped around a small plastic bag containing a piece of broiled steak. With luck, the dog would come to him without the bribe. If that happened, Daniel would have a steak sandwich for dinner tonight.

He wished he could remember the dog's name, but Daniel had never paid attention to the dog- he didn't care for animals- and six years was a long time. By now it might be a different dog.

Daniel's eyes swept across the small yard: neatly mowed grass, a swing set, sunbursts of yellow tulips in full bloom, a bird feeder and birdbath. No dog, though. Surely Rita would have a dog; she had been crazy about dogs, and so had Elizabeth. They both petted every mutt they met, acting as if each was the grand champion of all time. Rita even kept dog biscuits and a leash in the car, in case she saw a stray in need of help.

The dog must be inside. Daniel would have to pry open a door or window. He hoped the house wasn't wired with an alarm system.

Daniel walked toward the house but stopped before he reached the screen door. His eyes swung to the corner of the house, to a metal flap at ground level. A dog door! If he could coax the dog out the door, he wouldn't have to break in, after all, and wouldn't risk setting of an alarm.

Daniel stood outside the dog door and whistled. "Here, dog," he called. "Come get your steak." He whistled again.

When no dog appeared, Daniel pulled off a piece of the steak, pushed the door flap inward, and tossed the meat inside

.

Soon the flap pushed outward, and an elderly brown-and-white beagle waddled out. The once-dark muzzle was gray, and the dog walked stiff-legged, as if his knees didn't bend well anymore. It's the same dog, Daniel thought. He must be over one hundred in dog years by now. Daniel wondered if the dog would remember him.

"Hey, dog," Daniel said.

The dog blinked, looking around as if unsure where the sound had come from. He's almost blind, Daniel realized.

Daniel held the steak toward the old beagle. The dog sniffed, wagged his tail, and came closer. When he tried to take the meat in his teeth, Daniel pulled it away. He put the steak back in the bag and shoved it into his pocket. he had the dog; why waste the steak?

He removed the leash from his pocket, looped it around the dog's neck, and tugging gently, led him out the gate. The dog followed willingly but couldn't jump into the car; Daniel had to lift him into the backseat.

Before he shut the door, he unbuckled the dog's collar and read the tag. Poochie, it said, then a phone number. That's right; Poochie. Daniel remembered now. Foolish name for a dog. The ID tag clinked against a rabies tag and a Queen County dog license as Daniel tossed the collar into the weeds beside the alley.

He opened the driver's door and slid behind the wheel. He glanced at himself in the rearwiew mirror, to be sure the wig and mustache were still in place. Satisfied with his appearance, he drove slowly out of the alley and headed for the school, removing the gloves as he drove.

The dog whined and pawed at the back of Daniel's seat.

"Too late to cry," Daniel said. "You're the bait now, Poochie, my boy. You're the insurance to make sure Max gets in the car without calling for help."