“Nope. Dad hates red vehicles. Says they catch the attention of the police too easily.”

Just then, he dropped all the mail into the snow. With a curse, he bent over and picked up the letters. I noted one that said Claim Information.

“I better get going,” I said, my mind churning. “Tell Charlie I say hi and let him know I found mom. He’ll be happy to hear that.” I looked forward to the quiet drive home so I could think.

“Sure, Gina. See you later!”

After turning onto the highway, I considered the red paint. Had a car spun out while in a hurry coming or going from Charlie’s house? If so, maybe that would be the way to discovering whoever had committed the crimes. If we could find a red car with scratches and maybe more damage, we’d have our person.

And the claims envelope intrigued me. Obviously, it had been from an insurance company, but I hadn’t caught which one.

I had no idea about Charlie’s financial status. Supposedly, he had received a large sum of money from the will of the woman his wife killed, but I wasn’t sure if that ever panned out.

What if he’d agreed to house the deer, then let Rudolph out when he wasn’t paid? Or maybe so he could file a claim with the insurance company? Then Tony Brewer came over, found out what Charlie had done, and hit him over the head, as well as releasing all of Charlie’s miniature goats and cows as retaliation?

However, all the events had happened the prior day, and mama dog had seen the man who let out Rudolph—she’d chased him away. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Curled up on the seat, she laid with her eyes closed. Hungry, cold and tired, I guessed. Once she’d been fed and had spent some time with her babies, I had to find out what she’d witnessed in the barn. Was she even acquainted with Charlie, or had she just picked his barn as a safe space to have her babies? If that were the case, she wouldn’t know if she was chasing him or someone else when Rudolph was let loose.

Or, maybe Charlie had planned it from the beginning. He’d taken on the deer, put in the insurance claim, then let Rudolph go. If that was the case, he could’ve filled out the claim form days ago.

We needed to talk to Brewer.

“Why didn’t you tell that man that I was the big hero and found the mama dog?” Daisy pouted from the back seat. “I never get any credit for my awesomeness.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. The problem was, I couldn’t give credit for anything to a talking dog. “Next time I’ll be sure to give you the kudos.”

When we pulled into the driveway, I turned to mama dog and Daisy. “What’s her name?” I asked, pointing to mom.

Daisy glanced over at her, then turned to me. “Her name’s Sasha,” she said. “Isn’t that fancy?”

I nodded and exited the car with the dogs in tow. Sasha’s tail wagged as she kept her nose to the ground. Most likely, she smelled her kiddos weren’t too far away.

After opening the front door, Daisy ran ahead. Sasha trailed behind only for a moment, then the puppies began to whimper.

“Whoa!” Jacob said as I rounded the corner after her. “Who the heck is this?”

I found him and his friend on the floor with the puppies. Once Sasha jumped the gate, the young men were quickly forgotten. Sasha laid down among the blankets and greeted each of her pups with a lick. They quickly settled in and began to nurse.

“You found mom,” Jacob said softly as he and Eric stood.

We watched her for a few moments, then she laid her head down, shut her eyes and sighed. Although she’d had a rough few days, she seemed to finally be at peace. “I’ll get her something to eat,” I said.

Once I set her food down, all of us retired to the living room to give the family some space.

I sat down and settled my head back against the cushions, relieved I should get more than a few hours of sleep now that the puppies had the proper care.

“What if I had babies?” Daisy said, lying down at my feet.

Apparently, I’d have to explain that she’d been fixed and puppies weren’t in her future.

“Did you find out who Sasha belongs to?” Jacob asked.

“Not yet,” I sighed. “I’m going to poke around a bit online and check the missing animal groups on social media. Hopefully, we’ll have her back to her owners in no time.”

“Where did you find her?” Eric asked.

“Daisy found her in the barn,” I replied, tapping her on the head. “Isn’t she amazing?”

“Yes!” she yelled, jumping to her feet, her tail smacking against the couch and the coffee table. “Yes, I am!”

“What a good girl,” Jacob said, laughing. “I swear she understands everything you say, Mom.”

“Sometimes it seems that way,” I replied.

“I understand because I’m so awesome!” Daisy said.

After chatting with the boys for a few more minutes, they announced they were heading out for a bit. I retired to my bedroom to poke around online and see if I could find Sasha’s owner.

I scanned the groups, then made a few posts and included my phone number, leaving out the dog’s name. Sasha didn’t have a collar and I had no way to explain how I became aware of her name besides my talking dog, so I left that out of the description. I also didn’t mention the puppies. I didn’t want them falling into the wrong hands and get caught up in a dog fighting ring or something equally horrible. The owner would know if their dog was pregnant or not. This was a way to weed out those with bad intentions.

Hopefully, I’d find Sasha’s owner before Christmas Eve. Having the puppies corralled in my kitchen would put a damper on our holiday dinner. How in the world was I supposed to cook a turkey with eleven puppies underfoot? And I needed to make a decision—if I didn’t hear from the owner, should I get a table at the Christmas Festival where I had a good chance of getting them adopted? Or did I hold out and hope the owner eventually contacted me? The puppies seemed to be full-bred Bernese, which led me to believe that Sasha belonged to a breeder. Had she run away to have her babies? Or had she just somehow gotten lost?

As much as I hated breeders, I also understood that certain dogs were bred to work. Bernese made excellent service dogs, so perhaps that was the future of the puppies, which I didn’t mind. The breeders who ran puppy mills were the ones who really got under my skin because it was all about the money, not about the life and happiness of the dogs.

With a sigh, I sat back and stared at my phone, willing the owner to call.

“Gina! Gina!” Daisy yelled from the living room. “Gina! Come here! Hurry!”

Uh-oh.

“This doesn’t sound good,” I muttered.

Chapter 9

I hurried down the hall to find Daisy in the kitchen with Sasha and the pups. At first glance, I perceived everything to be okay.

“Gina, she loves my idea for names!” Daisy yelled, her tail wagging.

And I’d been right. My dog sometimes got overly excited and I misjudged her enthusiasm for something being wrong.

“That’s great,” I said, grinning while my shoulders relaxed. Sasha seemed somewhat rested and happy to be around her babies. Maybe now was a good time to question her. “Daisy, ask Sasha what her owner’s name is, please.”

The two dogs stared at each other for a long moment, then Daisy glanced up to me. “She says she doesn’t have an owner. But her human’s name is Linda. And by the way, I don’t have an owner, either,” Daisy sniffed. “I choose to be here because I like you a little bit. You don’t own me.”

Okay, fair enough. I wasn’t going to argue semantics. “Does she know Linda’s last name? Or where she lives?”

After a moment, Daisy shook her head. “Nope. But Sasha says she lives over the hill.”