Upholding the Paw by Diane Kelly Page B

man in jeans, sweater, and pocketed canvas work apron wrestling with a roll of carpet.
    I was about to yell “Hands up!” but Mackey beat me to the punch. He angled his gun around the end of the row and yelled, “Fort Worth Police! Put your hands up!”
    The man didn’t put his hands up, though. He didn’t look Derek’s way, either. Instead, he continued to look up at the roll he’d been wrangling and slid a hand into a large pocket on the front of his apron.
    Oh, Lord! Was he going for a gun?
    My eyes met Derek’s across the space. What should we do now?
    As much as I didn’t want to give Brigit the order to take the man down, I knew this situation was precisely what we’d trained for. I issued the order and said a quick prayer for her safety as she bolted down the row, leapt into the air, and latched onto the back of the man’s sweater. She took him to the ground before he could even turn his head. Unfortunately, he’d still had one forearm wrapped around the roll of carpet. The roll fell to the ground with him, instigating an instant avalanche. Thomp-thomp-thomp! Roll after roll cascaded over the man and my partner. Berbers. Friezes. Saxony. My shaggy dog narrowly missed being buried by shag carpeting.
    The man writhed on the floor under his weighty load. “What the hell!?!”
    Mackey ran up from his end while I ran up from mine. We reached the man simultaneously and pointed our guns at him. I rounded up Brigit while Mackey used his foot to force the rolls aside. When the man was unearthed, he lay on his back and raised his hands over his head, eyes wide and mouth gaping in surprise. It was then I noticed the black wire coming from his ear buds and heard the faint sounds of Maxwell’s Grammy Award–winning R&B song Pretty Wings . No wonder the guy hadn’t heard us tell him to put his hands up. He had his music turned up to full volume.
    Mackey reached down and yanked the main wire, the buds springing from the man’s ears. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œI work here!” the man cried looking from Derek to me. “I’m pulling out carpet for the installers. They’re on their way to pick it up.”
    â€œDon’t move,” Mackey ordered. He bent down and patted the man’s pockets, pulling out a retractable blade. He held it up. “What’s this for?”
    â€œCutting the carpet!” the guy cried. “It’s my job.”
    â€œWhere’s the bus?” Mackey demanded.
    â€œBus?” The man’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know anything about a bus.”
    Clearly we’d gotten the wrong man here. I reached a hand down and helped him to his feet. “So sorry, sir. We owe you a big apology.”
    I explained the situation and the man was gracious enough to cut us some slack.
    â€œI haven’t seen or heard a bus,” he said, brushing carpet lint off his sleeves. “Of course I didn’t hear y’all, either. My boss always texts me when he needs something. I keep my phone on vibrate.”
    I supposed it was possible one of the bank robbers had pocketed the cell phone we’d traced. If so, he could be hiding in the warehouse without this man’s knowledge. I suggested as much to Mackey.
    He gestured to Brigit. “Send the dog out. If someone’s here, she’ll find ’em.”
    Mackey and I decided to wait with the man. If the bank robbers were in the building, his life could be in danger, too. I sent Brigit on a hunting expedition, ordering her to search the building for anyone who might be hiding among the rows.
    Fear wrapped its cold fingers around my throat while my furry partner scuttled around the space, sniffing here and there for criminals playing hide-and-seek. Though building searches were Brigit’s job, it made me sick to send her out on such missions, knowing a person desperate to escape apprehension could be capable of hurting