Then, the heavy boots returned, stomping down the hallway.

“Did you find him yet?” a man’s voice barked. Deep and full of rage.

“He’s in the closet,” the woman replied. “The little brat locked it.”

“Move,” the man said.

Something heavy hit the door. Leo screamed.

“Leo! Stay down! Get in the corner of the closet!” I shouted. I didn’t care if they heard me now; I needed him away from the door.

The man kicked again. Wood splintered. I heard the cracks through the phone.

“Dave! They’re breaking in!” Leo shrieked.

“Units, step it up!” Sarah screamed into her radio. “They are breaking into the closet!”

I heard the sirens then. Faint, but growing louder. State Police cruisers tearing down the drive. The intruders heard them too.

“Police!” the woman hissed. “We have to go!”

“Not without the kid,” the man growled. “We need the leverage.”

Another massive boom. The closet door exploded inward. Leo screamed one last time—a sound of heart-wrenching terror—followed by a struggle.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Shut up, kid!”

I heard the phone being kicked. It skittered across the floor.

“911! This is the police! Drop your weapon!”

The deputies had arrived. I heard the front door being kicked in.

“Upstairs! They’re upstairs!” a deputy shouted.

Footsteps scrambled. A gunshot rang out. Then another.

“Leo? Leo!” I yelled into my headset, tears streaming down my face.

Silence.

The line was open, but all I could hear were sirens and my own pounding heart. Then, a new sound.

A dog. A low, guttural growl that sounded like it came from hell. But Leo didn’t have a dog.

The growl was unlike anything I’d ever heard. Deep and filled with primal hunger. Like a chainsaw idling.

“Leo? Leo, answer me!” I screamed. I felt nauseous from the adrenaline.

Through the phone, the man screamed. Not a shout of anger, but a shriek of pure agony.

“Get it off me! Get it off!”

Heavy bodies slammed against walls. There was a sickening, wet tearing sound, and the man’s screams became a gurgle.

“Move! Move! Clear the doorway!”

That was Deputy Miller. The police were in the room.

“Drop it! Drop the weapon!” another officer shouted.

A symphony of shouts, thudding boots, and the woman screaming filled my ears, along with that relentless growling.

“Don’t shoot! There’s a kid in there!” Miller yelled.

Suddenly, the line went quiet. Then, the phone was picked up.

“Dispatch, this is Miller,” a voice panted. “Dave? You still there?”

“I’m here, Miller! Is Leo okay?”

“We’ve got the female suspect. She’s hysterical. The male suspect is down. Something… something mauled him.”

“Mauled him? Was it a K9?”

“No,” Miller said, his voice trembling. “We didn’t bring a dog. K9 is still ten miles out.”

“Then what was that growling? Miller, what’s in that closet?”

A long pause. “Dave,” Miller whispered. “There’s a dog in here. A huge, black mongrel. It’s standing over the boy. He’s hugging it. The dog is staring us down, but it’s not hurting the kid. It’s protecting him.”

I sank back, the tension leaving me so fast I felt faint. “Check on the mother, Miller. Downstairs.”

“Vance is already there,” Miller said. “Wait… Vance, what do you have?”

Vance’s voice came through the radio, shaken. “Miller, the mother is okay. She said a black dog jumped through the window, stood between her and the intruder, and chased him upstairs.”

I sat in the silence of the center, monitors reflecting in my tears. A black dog. A guardian angel?

“Leo?” I said softly.

The phone moved. “Dave?”

It was Leo. The terror was gone.

“I’m here, Leo. You’re safe.”

“His name is Buster,” Leo whispered.

“Buster?”

“I’ve been feeding him in the woods,” the boy said. “Mommy said we couldn’t have a dog, so I kept him a secret. I didn’t know he followed me inside.”

I let out a shaky laugh. A secret dog. A stray that had become a fortress.

“He’s a good boy, Leo,” I said.

“Dave?” Leo’s voice dropped. “The lady. She knew my name.”

That sent a fresh shiver through me. “Miller, who is the woman?”

I heard handcuffs ratcheting. The woman began to laugh—a jagged, broken sound.

“I just wanted my house back!” she screamed. “They’re in my house!”

“Dave,” Miller said. “Her name is Martha Vance. She lived here ten years ago. Her husband lost the house after their son died in this room.”

“How did he die?”

For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.