* A FEW DAYS LATER *

I shut my office door, blocking out a few decibels of the noise coming from the end of the hallway where the band was still practicing heavy metal vibes. Not Brent followed me into the office as I flicked on my only lamp, casting a small amount of light across the room.

I dropped the paper to the floor and watched as the dog curled up in his favorite spot against my chair, looking for the box he used to prop his head against.

"Sorry, buddy." I'd have to buy him a dog bed or something because no way was I getting another big ass box to carry around.

I pulled my stun gun from my jacket pocket and set it on the desk's corner. From now on I planned to have that thing within grasp at all times. You know the saying-never leave home without your trusty stun gun. Okay, fine. It wasn't a saying, yet, but I planned to make it one.

Without hurry, I slipped my coat over the hook and walked toward the filing cabinet on the other side of the room, my gaze never leaving my desk.

And the big suspicious box on top of it. A bright red bow placed perfectly in the middle. Unless I'd gotten a new secret admirer. The fancy wrap wasn't Broadrick's style, so it couldn't be from him.

I grabbed the scrapbook from the filing cabinet and took my seat, carefully doing my best not to jiggle the desk and gift. Not Brent already snored at my feet, but I scooted closer to the desk and put my ear to the box.

No ticking.

I poked the box with my index finger, but the top didn't blow off, killing us all.

Odd. Maybe it really was a gift.

The thought gave me a little puff of energy. I liked gifts. Gifts were exceptional.

Still being cautious-because you could never be totally sure-I removed the lid of the box and peered in.

What the hell?

Inside were the bright red mittens I'd lost while running through the woods.

Would Broadrick have gone back to get them?

No. He'd just buy me a new pair, something I'd already done while online shopping last night along with my new noise canceling headphones.

I lifted the red mittens from the box, running my finger over the dirt caked into the fingertips. A piece of paper lay on the bottom of the box with a typed note.

Stay out of the woods.

-Snowbird

Who the hell was Snowbird? What the hell was a snowbird? How did they get the package in my office?

I checked out the rest of the box for any hidden clues but came back empty-handed. With my pencil, I pushed the box to the edge of my desk and then let it fall to the ground. The resounding quick thud didn't wake Not Brent from his nap.

That seemed like a problem for future Vonnie.

Sliding my drawer open slowly so not to wake Not Brent, I swished my hand around until finding my pair of scissors. I laid out the newspaper on the desk and spread it out, cutting around the edges in the straightest line possible.

The article outlined the efforts of Mrs. Jones to kill her daughter-in-law Jalinda and named Vines Investigation as the person to crack the case. They didn't use my name or picture, but since I named my agency after me, I decided it counted.

The picture, a big three-by-five image, was of Mrs. Jones being led into the Pelican Bay jail in cuffs. It sucked. They hadn't let me do the leading-Anderson made some comment about me not being a cop-but I had to give credit to the photographer. It was an excellent shot.

Next time I'd make sure and take my picture for the local paper to use. A girl had to be prepared.

Hopefully Vines Investigations solving Jalinda's murder would help bring in a slew of new clients since Jimmy wasn't planning to write me a check. In fact, he'd come to the office yesterday to curse me out and demand I give him his box of cards back.

Something about giving incriminating evidence to the murderer's son didn't set well with me, so with a smile, I let him know I'd already delivered them to Detective Anderson. I even called him Detective Anderson, even though he wasn't around to hear it. Pity. I'd make sure and tell him the next time we talked.

I tried to explain to Jimmy that I included my feelings in the police statement, saying I didn't think he'd been involved or had knowledge of his mother's dirty deeds. It didn't seem to calm him. He even screamed something about how that didn't overwrite the jail time I'd sentenced his mother to.

It seemed unfair since I wouldn't be sentencing her to anything. A judge would do that. It wasn't the time for a judicial lesson, so I let him carry on and then Broadrick kicked him out when he showed up a few minutes later with lunch.

I guess that free food came in handy for a few reasons.

You couldn't hold a grudge against Jimmy. He lost his wife and mother in the same month. What a horrible way to start a new year. Anyone would be upset.

My phone rang as I finished gluing the article on the scrapbook page. I hurried to scribble the date on the page's corner and answered.

"Hey, Mick," I said, sounding overly cheerful to my crabby mentor.

Hopefully, he called to tell me how amazing my detective skills were.

He got right to the point. "Good job, Vines. I didn't see my name in the article. There must have been a mistake by the paper. Right?"

I rolled my eyes. Thankfully, he couldn't see. "I'll make sure they get it right next time."

And there definitely would be a next time.

"Send me a scan of your witness statement for the files and don't forget your mentee fee is due on the thirtieth."

No need to remind me I paid him for his subpar mentor advice.

"I'll put the check in the mail." There went most of the money from Ridge's bribe.

A text came through right as Mick started in on how I should dig up fresh cases by canvassing the hospital.

"I'm loving this conversation, but I've got an important text that needs my attention. Might be a new case," I lied. "Let's pick it up next week."

He grunted in agreement. "Call me the next time you get a big one. We'll team up."

"Sure." I hung up with Mick and read the text from my best friend. We hadn't seen each other in days and I missed her face.

KATY: I stole fifteen copies of today's paper. My bestie is famous!

I laughed at her excitement.

VONNIE: Just doing my job.

KATY: Drinks tonight to celebrate?

VONNIE: Hell yes.

Not only did we need to celebrate my big case, but I needed serious friend advice about a certain SEAL.

While I held the phone waiting for her reply, I opened Facebook, killing time. My post on Not Brent had a new reply thirty minutes earlier from a woman named Stevie Natshire.

I know about this dog. Call this number.

They included a picture of Not Brent licking a woman's elbow. It was definitely him.

I dialed the number they included and took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to close out the last case of the week. Finding Not Brent's proper parents. Sadness shook me. I'd grown accustomed to the little guy.

"Hey, I saw a message about a missing Jack Russell on Facebook," I said once the person answered.

"Yeah. That's my damn dog." His voiced scratched over the phone like he needed a glass of water.

"I guess you want me to bring him to you?" Could I drive Not Brent to someone else and hand him over? My heart clenched, telling me no.