Mission: Cavanaugh Baby Read Free

to social services. She actually thought she had a vague recollection of a tall officer picking her up and carrying her to the squad car. She recalled the scent of something that smelled like mint.
    Since she’d obviously survived the fire untouched, someone at social services had thought it might be clever to call her Ashley—Ash for short. She had no real surname because no ID of any kind had been found on either of the two victims in the car, both of whom had been burned beyond recognition. Consequently, social services had whimsically bestowed a surname on her. She’d been discovered on the last day of March, so she’d become Ashley March.
    The moment she’d turned eighteen—or what someone at social services believed might be her eighteenth birthday—she’d left the system, and her surname, behind. Having grown accustomed to her first name, she’d christened herself Ashley St. James, James from the name engraved on the back of the oversize watch she was never without.
    Squaring her shoulders, Ashley hurried to her used car, ready to face her day.
    * * *
    There were days when she did nothing but drive up and down the peaceful streets of Aurora, searching for strays, birds that had fallen out of nests and couldn’t fly and the occasional unlucky animal that had discovered it didn’t pay to cross the road when a car was coming.
    This morning, however, right after she’d consumed her first cup of tea, her superior, Lieutenant Rener, summoned her into his office.
    Wondering if she was about to be given a lecture on the virtues of arriving on time—she had made it by the skin of her teeth, but it was close and the lieutenant was a stickler for discipline—Ashley crossed the threshold with a warm, friendly smile on her face. She’d learned a long time ago to mask every thought, every feeling she had with a smile.
    “Officer St. James reporting, sir,” she announced the moment she stepped into the lieutenant’s rather small office.
    Lieutenant Rener barely looked in her direction, acknowledging her presence with a curt nod. He held out an address for her. When she took it, he told her, “Someone called in a disturbance.”
    That seemed like it should be more under the jurisdiction of the police department that dealt with people, not animals. But for the time being, Ashley held her peace, confident that if an explanation for rerouting this to animal services was in the offing, she would hear it soon enough.
    “A woman called to complain about a barking dog,” Rener told her.
    She glanced at the address. It was for an apartment complex nearby. They were garden apartments, if she recalled correctly. Garden or not, it was still people living on top of each other, she thought, suppressing a shiver. She’d had all she could stand of close quarters during her foster family days—which was why every penny she’d earned had gone toward buying a house. She’d lived on ketchup soup and mustard sandwiches until she could finally afford to put down a down payment on a place of her own. Her house was tiny—a forty-five-year-old house with three small bedrooms and a postage-stamp-size backyard. It was clear that the place needed work. But it was all hers.
    “How long has it been barking?” she asked her supervisor.
    “According to the woman who called in with the complaint, all morning.” He looked up from the report he was going over. “Go see what you can find out. If the owner’s there and the dog’s been abused or looks like he’s been badly neglected, put the fear of God into them. Tell the owner if you have to come out again, the dog comes back with you,” he told her as if she was a rookie and didn’t know the drill by heart. “Can’t have the good citizens of Aurora listening to nonstop barking.”
    Ashley couldn’t tell if the lieutenant was being sarcastic, droll or was actually on the level with his comment.
    “Yes, sir,” she said, beginning to ease out of the office. “Anything