The Escape Artist

By Nicki Bennett and Ariel Tachna

Health issues have kept Scott Calligan in quarantine since the start of the pandemic. But when a wandering dog is nearly hit by a car in front of his house, he can’t help but come to its rescue—even if he’s more of a cat person.

Max’s owner, Brandon Richards, represents everything Scott has kept himself safe from. Once he picks up the runaway, Scott doesn’t expect he’ll see either of them again.

It seems Max has other ideas….

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Aug 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781641084758

Nicki Bennett

Growing up in Chicago, Nicki Bennett spent every Saturday at the central library, losing herself in the world of books. A voracious reader, she eventually found it difficult to find enough of the kind of stories she liked to read and decided to start writing them herself. Facebook: www.facebook.com/100011754789784

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The Escape Artist

By Nicki Bennett & Ariel Tachna

Health issues have kept Scott Calligan in quarantine since the start of the pandemic. But when a wandering dog is nearly hit by a car in front of his house, he can’t help but come to its rescue—even if he’s more of a cat person.

Max’s owner, Brandon Richards, represents everything Scott has kept himself safe from. Once he picks up the runaway, Scott doesn’t expect he’ll see either of them again.

It seems Max has other ideas….

SCOTT CALLIGAN pulled off his headset and stretched. The downside of working from home was the two-hour conference calls it took for his biggest client to decide whether they wanted the web pages for their latest sales campaign to have blue backgrounds or mauve backgrounds. Mauve, seriously? Still, it was their money and their choice. Oh, he’d chime in if they wanted to do something stupid, like white text on a yellow background that would make it impossible to read, but otherwise their bad taste was their problem.

Scott stood and cracked his neck. Maybe he’d take his laptop outside and get some fresh air. The wooden deck that ran the length of the second floor was what had sold him on buying this house in the Piedmont area of North Carolina. The front view of his quiet street with its early twentieth-century houses always helped him to de-stress. And if he went around back, he had an unfettered view of the mountains rising to the west and the hills falling away to the east, with barely any indication people had ever been there, much less still were.

Just the way he liked it.

He was scanning through the notes he’d jotted down during the call when the screech of brakes broke through the midday quiet. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed his cell phone and ran downstairs, ready to call the police or an ambulance if necessary. From the front door, he could see a sporty red convertible stopped crossways in the narrow street. The driver rolled down the passenger window and yelled out to him. Is this your dog? Keep it inside or it’s going to get killed!

As if summoned by the driver’s words, a medium-sized hound dog with a black body, blond head, white feet, and the dopiest smile Scott had ever seen came trotting up his front sidewalk like he belonged there and plopped his butt down at Scott’s feet, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

It’s not my dog, Scott called back, but the driver was already peeling off, driving much too quickly as far as Scott was concerned.

He glanced back at the dog, who seemed to have made itself at home and nudged Scott’s knee with its nose, clearly asking for pets.

Yeah, you’re cute, Scott muttered, but you don’t live here. I don’t even like dogs.

A bright red collar circled the dog’s neck. Scott hesitated a moment, debating whether to go inside for a pair of latex gloves, before squatting down for a closer look. The dog took that as an invitation to try to crawl into Scott’s lap, knocking him onto his ass.

Get off! Scott grabbed the collar to keep the dog from trying to lick his face and managed to read the tag proclaiming his name was Max, followed by a phone number. Scott keyed it into his cell phone (which he’d managed not to drop when the dog—Max—tackled him), hoping someone would answer.

The phone on the other end didn’t even ring before it went to voicemail. You have reached Brandon Richards. I’m unavailable to take your call at the moment. Please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.

This is Scott Calligan, and I have your dog. I’d appreciate if you can come get him as soon as possible. Call me back. Scott left his number and ended the call, then scowled down at Max. And what am I supposed to do with you until your owner deigns to respond?

Max pranced up to the front door and pawed at it.

Oh no, I’m not letting you into my house. Beatrice would claw you into doggie shreds. He was rather surprised his calico cat hadn’t come to the door to see what was happening, but she was probably snoozing on her cat tower, soaking