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Charles exchanged a meaningful glance with Mr. Gable, while I clasped my hands and waited for the magic to happen.

“Dorothy?” Mr. Gable said, causing her to look up.

She lifted Paisley from the floor and nuzzled the little dog to her chest, using Paisley as her own personal security blanket. All this shyness was so unlike my grandmother!

“Yes, Grant?” she mumbled into Paisley’s fur after taking one slow, steady breath.

His voice quavered as he asked,“Would you like to spend Valentine’s Day together?”

Nan jerked her head a little.“Sure. You mean, as friends?”

No, Nan! No! I wanted to shout but didn’t.

Mr. Gable shot an anxious glance Charles’s way, who nodded his encouragement.

“No,” the nervous shopkeeper said at last. “I meant as in a date. Our first date.”

Nan blushed as she continued to stroke Paisley for a couple silent moments. At last, a smile blossomed on her face.“I’d like that,” she declared just like the heroine always did in old-timey movies.

“Me, too,” Mr. Gable said. He looked as if he’d just won first prize in life. In a way, he had. As trying as my nan could sometimes be, she was still my very favorite person in the entire world. I couldn’t blame the besotted jeweler for feeling the same way.

“I should be going now, though.” Nan backed away, accidentally bumping into one of the jewelry counters in the process.

“See you soon, Mr. Gable!” I called while pushing my clumsy nan toward the exit. “Bye!”

Once outside, Nan straightened her back and ran her fingers through her hair.“Well, that was rather unexpected.”

“Was it, though?” I teased, making my voice high and sarcastic. “You were just telling me this morning that you enrolled in booty boot camp precisely because Mr. Gable—”

“Angie!” Nan shouted and gave me a light slap on the arm. “That’s private! Besides I don’t want Grant to overhear that.”

“What does booty boot camp have to do with Mr. Gable?” Paisley asked, tilting her head to the side.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” I whispered while scratching her head.

“Are we going home now?” the Chihuahua asked as we all moved toward the parking lot.

“You, Nan, and the kittens are,” I answered. “Charles and I still have a bit of work left to do here.”

“Okay, byeeeee!” she sang as Nan practically floated away.

Charles turned to me once we’d seen Nan and the animals off and asked, “The blood?”

I nodded.“Mr. Gable told us where he found it and the kittens. Now all we have to do is go take a look for ourselves.”

He motioned for me to go ahead.“Lead the way,” he said, placing his hand at the small of my back.

Downtown Glendale wasn’t very large, which meant it took us less than ten minutes to reach the other end. From the far parking lot, we headed toward the nearest alley.

“We probably should have kept Paisley with us,” I admitted, kicking myself for not realizing that earlier. “She’d have been able to sniff this out for us in a heartbeat.”

Charles paused midstep.“Should we go get her?”

“Nah.We just have to trace and retrace our steps until something turns up.”

“What are we looking for exactly? Bloody pawprints?”

I kept my eyes on the ground before me, studying it closely so I wouldn’t miss anything. “Yeah, that’s probably our best bet.”

“Look there.” He pointed toward a big green dumpster that hadn’t been properly sealed to keep animals out. Not only were there little red pawprints at the base, but something inside created an ominous rustling sound as soon as I locked eyes on the dumpster.

“Stay back,” Charles warned me, putting his arm out to stop me before continuing forward. It was nice he wanted to protect me, but Charles was forgetting one very important piece of information here—Iwas the one who could talk to animals.

“Who’s in there?” I called. It had already been a very long winter, and the local wildlife often got desperate as the cold months continued to bear down on the region.

For all I knew, there could be a fox, coyote, lynx, or some other kind of potentially dangerous predator in there. I’d never spoken to any members of those species, so didn’t know how easy—or how difficult—they might be to negotiate with. And that worried me.

“Hellooooo!” I called again. “You in the dumpster. Come out and nobody gets hurt.”

Of course, I would never hurt an animal, but I needed some kind of leverage if I were to protect Charles.

A large raggedy looking dog popped his head out of the dumpster. His wiry coat was also matted with blood around the muzzle.“Don’t hurt me,” he whined. “I was only trying to grab a quick bite.”

Relieved, I closed the distance between myself and the dumpster.“My name’s Angie. What’s yours?”

When the dog whimpered, his half-cocked ears went back against his head.“I don’t have a name. You need a home to have a name, and I’ve never had one of those.”

“I could give you one if you’d like,” I offered with a gentle voice. The poor thing.

“A home?” he squeaked in surprise. “I would love nothing more.”

“I meant a name, but I suppose I can find you a home, too. First can you help me with something?”