Wrong Place, Wrong Time by Andrea Kane Page A

no sign of Chomper or Blake.
    Reacting on instinct, she set down her glass. “I’m pretty good at tracking down runaway pets. Maybe I should give Blake a hand.”
    James caught her arm. “Blake can manage,” he assured her. “Besides, I was enjoying our talk.”
    “So was I.” Devon hesitated, unwilling to blow her opportunity to get information out of James, yet equally unwilling to stay idle when she knew she could expedite the task of finding Chomper.
    Cassidy made the decision for her.
    “Let her help, James,” she urged. “The sooner Chomper’s found, the better. We’ve got guests arriving to pay their respects. You and Devon can talk later.”
    “Can we?” James asked, studying Devon intently.
    “Yes.” Devon met James’s stare, giving him what she hoped was an eager look. “I’d really like that.”
    “So would I.” Pleased by her response, he released his hold on her arm. “Go ahead. I’ll be waiting.”
    Devon weaved her way through the living room and into the hall. No need to ask directions. She followed the racket of scurrying paws and chasing feet.
    The sound of padding paws vanished. But the running footsteps continued, along with a few exasperated shouts.
    She reached the back door in time to see it waving open on its hinges, with Blake standing on the threshold, glaring outside.
    “Dammit.” His expression was intent as he scanned the well-lit grounds.
    “A few minutes too late,” Devon surmised, coming up behind him.
    He turned his head, noting her presence. “Yeah. And a few minutes is all it takes.” He jiggled the handle on the swinging door. “We’ve got to get this latch fixed. The wind keeps blowing it open.”
    “Which is Chomper’s cue to bolt.” Devon stepped past him to peer outside.
    “Don’t bother looking for paw prints. He’s too light, and the ground’s too frozen for him to make any imprints.”
    “That’s not what I was doing. I was figuring out the detours he could have taken to vanish so quickly. And I was checking out the grounds to see where he might hide.”
    “Any conclusions?”
    “Where did you find him earlier today?”
    Blake grimaced. “I see Cassidy’s filled you in on Chomper’s antics. I found him near the pond.” He pointed. “I have no idea why he went there. It’s frozen.”
    “It’s got an eastern exposure. The sun was out this morning. He probably found a warm spot to play with whatever he’d stolen.”
    “That would be my glove,” Blake supplied. “And the weather’s a nonissue. Chomper’s not picky when he’s in bandit mode.”
    Devon shivered, hugging herself to stay warm. “Trust me, he won’t like this chill. The poor little guy must be freezing. It’s gotten windy, and the sun’s gone down. I’d suggest we check enclosed places. Places he’d be able to wriggle his way into, like a barn or an indoor arena.”
    “We’ve got three indoor jumping arenas. They’re on the western portion of the property. The barn’s to the north. So are the feed and tack rooms.”
    “Any other heated areas?”
    “The wash stalls. They’re right next to the feed room.”
    “We’ve got our work cut out for us. You take the arenas. I’ll take the barn area.”
    Blake nodded, already in motion. “I’ll get our coats and some flashlights.”
     
     
    TEN MINUTES LATER, Devon finished a quick search of the wash stalls. Dark, deserted — no signs of Chomper. As for the feed and tack rooms, the doors were shut tight. On to the barn.
    She turned up her collar and headed in that direction.
    The door was slightly ajar. Devon pushed it open and hurried inside. She reached into her pocket for a peanut-butter biscuit. “Chomper!”
    A few surprised horses snapped around to stare at her. But no puppy.
    She checked the stalls, one at a time.
    “Good boy,” she called out in a voice filled with praise. “I’ve got a treat for you.” She made a smacking sound with her lips. “Yum. Come and get it.”
    She heard the slightest