Puppy Mill

Paige

“What?” I asked Tom, but my phone beeped, signaling he’d already hung up. Shit. Okay. I knew he seemed antsy to get this finished when he’d left, but I expected at least a couple of hours to pass before he had results. I texted Lauren the short string of emojis we’d come up with to signal a big group of newcomers, in case police ever subpoenaed our message history, and raced out of my office for the van we kept parked in the back for situations just like this. Lauren would handle everything here while I managed pickup and transportation.

Behind the wheel of the van, I drummed my fingers on the steering column. Traffic crowded the normally empty road, but that didn’t worry me until I heard the whine of a siren. Tom had “handled things” in the kind of way that made cops show up. I’d gotten good at talking to them over the last few months, managing everything from domestic violence situations to stuff like this, but transfers always went cleaner when we didn’t have to grapple with