Today I planned to take him back to town with me to walk around the park with my afternoon dogs. It would give him a chance to socialize and see his old turf.
Pressly hadn’t been kidding when she’d said her brother’s place wasn’t suitable for a dog. All the furnishings were a shade of white, and the only color was in the paintings on the walls.
A long winding road separated the house from the surrounding hills of Sky Valley Vineyards. An intimidating stone wall deterred visitors.
I pulled up to the gate and entered the security code.
“Entry is incorrect,” a pleasant female voice informed me. “You have two remaining tries.”
I tried again, careful to enter the same code I’d been using for a week without any problems.
“Entry is incorrect,” said the voice again. “You have one remaining try.”
I leaned out the window, steeling myself against a cold blast of mountain air and tried the code again.
“Entry is incorrect. Goodbye.”
I got out of the car and slammed the car door. Huddled in my coat, I bent over the keypad and stabbed the code again.
As soon as I touched the screen, a high-pitched wail pierced the air. My heart raced, and I tapped the screen frantically. I glanced toward the street, half-expecting a security team to jump out from behind the cedar trees and tackle me. I covered my ears with my hands to muffle the siren and grabbed my ringing phone. Thank God, it was Pressly.
“Hello?” I shouted over the noise of the alarm.
“I forgot to tell you the new code!” Pressly shouted back. “My brother just got back, and he changed it. Security reasons.”
I added “security freak” to the list of things I knew about Pressly’s brother. So far, the list was short. All I knew was that he was stinking rich, his favorite color was white, and his job kept him away from home a lot.
I didn’t even know his name.
The siren changed pitch, becoming a steady irritating beep.
Pressly rattled off the new code, sounding distracted. “I gotta go,” she said. “I’ll text you the new door code in a second.”
I punched in the new code and the noise ceased. A moment later, the gate slid open to reveal a cobblestone driveway weaving between tall cedars to the mansion on top of the hill.
A light snow fell as I walked up to the front door. The forecast had been for sunny skies, and I wasn’t dressed for snow. I huddled in my coat, waiting for the text with the new code. Flustered and shivering, I peeked through the glass front door into the foyer.
White walls, bleached floors, ivory console table—who knew there were so many shades of white.
I was freezing by the time Pressly texted me the new code. I punched it in with numb fingers and braced myself for the alarm to sound again.
After a moment I heard the mechanical click of the locks opening. I opened the door and walked inside. I walked through the foyer and then froze as I stepped into the living room.
My jaw fell open as I glanced around the room. Heat flashed through my body, followed by an icy chill in my veins.
The normally pristine room was trashed. White was no longer the predominant color. Coffee grounds were scattered across the floorboards, chip wrappers were strewn across the sofa, crumpled cereal boxes littered the hallway, and feathers floated down from the ceiling fan.
I gritted my teeth as I recognized the signs of a dog gone wild.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted the culprit: Aslan digging in the dirt of a rubber tree turned on its side.
“Aslan! Come!” My sharp voice pierced the silence.
The green leaves parted to reveal Aslan’s shaggy face covered in dirt. When he saw me, his ears perked up and he bounded across the room. He skidded to a halt at my feet.
I bent down to his level and stared into his eyes. “What have you done?”
Aslan rolled over on his back and exposed his belly. I dusted the dirt off his face and paws, then took him by the collar and escorted him outside.
