Suckers - J.A. Konrath

Nothing. The backyard was quiet. But thirty feet away, next to a holly bush, was a small,
brown anthill, or evidence that there was a dog on the premises.
I took out my pencil and reviewed my stake-out sheet.
9:46 PM—Climbed tree.
9:55 PM—My face hurts.
10:07 PM— It really hurts bad.
10:22 PM—I think I’ll go see a doctor.
10:45 PM—Maybe the drug store has some kind of cream.
I added, “11:07 PM—Spotted evidence in backyard. Remember to pick up some aloe vera
on the way home.”
Before I had a chance to cross my Ts, the patio door opened.
I didn’t even need the binoculars. A man, mid-forties with short, brown hair, was walking a
dog that was obviously a Shar-pei.
Though my track-team days were far behind me (okay, non-existent), I still managed to leap
down from the tree without hurting myself.
The man yelped in surprise, but I had my gun out and in his face before he had a chance to
move.
“Hi there, Mr. Ricketts. Kneel down.”
“Who are you? What do...”
I cocked the gun.
“Kneel!”
He knelt.
“Good. Now lift up that dog’s back leg.”
“What?”
“Now!”
Glen Ricketts lifted. I checked.
It was Marcus.
“Leash,”I ordered.
He handed me the leash. My third dog in two days, but this time it was the right one.
Now for Part Two of the Big Plan.
“Do you know who I am, Glen?”
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