Finding Answers (A Sam Mason K-9 Dog Mystery) by L. A. Dobbs

Author:L. A. Dobbs [Dobbs, L. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jo peered into the well at Pickles. The little cat looked terrified but seemed to be okay physically.

“Poor thing,” Bridget whispered, her voice tight with worry. “How are we going to get him out of there?”

The well was deeper than Jo had expected, though thankfully, it was dry. The stone walls stretched down at least twenty feet, their surfaces slick with years of moss and decay. Pickles crouched on a small patch of earth at the bottom, his fur matted with dirt. He looked up at Jo, letting out another soft meow, as if begging her to come down to get him.

“We’ll need a ladder,” Sam said, his voice tense. He was already stepping back, scanning the area for anything that could help.

“There’s one in my shed,” Jo said, pulling herself away from the edge of the well.

They hurried back toward the house, veering toward the old shed near the edge of the property. The structure was weathered, its roof sagging from years of neglect, but it was still standing.

Sam pushed the door open with a creak, the hinges groaning in protest. Inside, the shed was filled with tools—rusted shovels, cracked flowerpots, and stacks of old wood. Jo’s eyes scanned the cluttered space until they landed on an old ladder, leaning against the far wall.

“Perfect,” Sam muttered, already grabbing it. He hefted the ladder over his shoulder with ease and turned back to Jo and Bridget. “This should do it.”

They rushed back to the well, the cold biting at their skin. Jo’s hands were shaking as she helped Sam set the ladder down into the well. It was almost too wide to fit, but thankfully, they managed to get it to the bottom.

Pickles hadn’t moved from his spot at the bottom, his eyes still locked on them.

“I’ll go,” Sam said, his voice firm as he stepped over the rim of the well onto the first rung. He glanced at Jo, his expression unreadable. “You ready up here?”

Jo nodded, her breath puffing out in short, sharp clouds. “Yep.”

Bridget hovered behind them, her hands clutched tightly together, eyes fixed on Pickles.

Sam began to climb down, his boots scraping against the slick stone walls. Jo gripped the top of the ladder, steadying it as he descended. The air inside the well was damp, musty, the smell of earth and moss rising up around them.

“Almost there,” Sam called up, his voice echoing off the walls.

Jo leaned over the edge, watching as Sam reached the bottom. He crouched beside Pickles, speaking softly to the frightened cat. For a moment, Jo held her breath, praying that Pickles wouldn’t dart away or make things harder. But the cat seemed too exhausted to put up a fight.

“It’s okay, boy,” Sam murmured, reaching out a hand. “Come here.”

Pickles let out another pitiful meow, his body trembling as he took a tentative step toward Sam. Jo watched, her heart pounding, as Sam carefully lifted the cat into his arms. Relief washed over her. They had him.

But then, Sam froze.

Jo’s grip on the ladder tightened as she watched him go completely still.

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