Page 117 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

“I should sue you!” Merle calls out, despite still being held down by one of his own crutches. “You brainwashed her!”

I cup my hands to make a megaphone.“Benny!”

“I don’t brainwash people,” Hannah says. “I help people get what they want!”

“Benny!”I listen hard over the sound of Tond jumping in to ask follow-up questions about who’s brainwashing who—but it’s just regular neighborhood sounds, no cries for help or anything. This isn’t working. What if he’s already dead? In desperation, I try something else.“Jacques!”

And from behind the school, I hear a familiar howl. Two other dog voices join it.

It’s not a howl that sayswe need to peeorlet’s rip the duvet to shreds.

This is awe-might-be-fancy-show-dogs-but-we-used-to-be-literal-wolveshowl.

“Hold on, Benny,” I plead as I take off sprinting toward the spot where the dog park curves around behind the school, a small patch of grass that’s just out of sight from the sidewalk.

And I know this is definitelynotthe right moment to celebrate—butHoly cow I think I was right about the dog motive thing?I transformed my anxiety into creativity and solved the case??

The round of high fives I so desperately deserve will have to wait.

As I turn the corner, they all come into view: Jacques and Louis are leaping and pawing at a woman’s hunched back. Jean is delicately but firmly tugging on the hem of a silk blouse with his teeth. Charlie is pawing and barking at Jean.

Balls.

That’s Leslie, all right. There’s officially no doubt—she’s a killer/stalker/thief and all-around creepazoid.

I need better role models.

Leslie’s kneeling on the ground, and she’s got on one of those tote bags that parents put baby toys in, the wide strap diagonal across her back. She hasn’t seen me yet.

There’s a pair of legs with sneakers sticking out horizontally from under her, and they’re not really moving.

I know those calves.

Benny.

I throw myself through the dogs, ignoring the growling and snapping teeth all around, and grab the bag strap, yanking Leslie as hard as I can off Benny. She topples backward and skids across the ground on her butt.

Benny’s lying on his back, panting, his face beet red and his hands pulling at something around his neck. It’s a dog’s choker collar. The metal kind with prongs sticking into his neck—basically a spiky noose.

Oh my god.

I straddle his body and try to help him loosen the collar, seeing the bruising and pinpricks of blood on the skin of his neck where Leslie jerked it hard enough to cut off his airflow.

Behind me, Leslie screams bloody murder (Literally!I think, unhelpfully), and I feel her slam into my back, trying to wrestle me off him. She’s tiny, but terrifying, and as her bony hands grab for myhair and my face, all I can think is that I need to keep her off Benny until he’s okay and I’m sure he can breathe. I don’t know how to body-slam somebody, but maybe now’s the time to try?

But then everything turns into a freaking animal channel movie of the week, andthe dogs actually come to my rescue. Or at least it feels that way. Jacques throws himself at Leslie, shoving her a little off-balance. Then Jean gooses me, which is super weird but really does boost me up, and Louis—well, Lou sneezes in my face, but I know it’s out of love this time.

I’m up, I’m on my feet, but when I whip around to hold off Leslie’s next attack, I see that she’s pulled an actualsyringeout of her tote bag and is pointing the business end right at me.

“Benny!” I yell, kicking out at Leslie to give us a little distance from that death needle. Benny’s still red and gasping, and he’s not ready for this, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I yank him to his feet and we start running for the gate.

The poodles follow us, and Charlie chases them, nipping at their heels. They all seem to be having a great time, but there’s Leslie right behind, racing after us with a syringe of... cyanide? I don’t know, arsenic? What are poisonous things that go in a syringe? And why does she have one??

We race out of the dog park onto the street and then it’s, like, do we just keep running? Benny’s injured, Leslie’s not exactly in her prime, and I’m really not in good enough shape for all this running and kicking and whatnot. This is, frankly, a pretty agonizing chase. But what are we supposed to do?Stoprunning and face off with a geriatric murderer-slash-stalker holding a syringe full of deadly stuff?

I don’t love that either.

That’s when I see Tond and Merle and Hannah all standing next to the sinkhole, remarkably calm. Hannah’s planted between the two men and taking notes on her phone. Oh my god, she is“UPGRADE”ing them. I feel a pang of guilt, again, at how I treated her. It really is amazing to see her at work. She could be an incredible diplomat. She can doanything.