Chapter 39
Nicky pushed chips between his lips, the heat burning his tongue. His other hand lifted one from the packet and Emma heard the snap of the dog’s jaws under the table. “Farrell, go!” She pushed the dog’s rear end with her shoe and sent him to lie next to the French doors. “You’re a rubbish guard dog!” she complained. “You’re a disgrace to the doggie community.”
Nicky giggled and pushed another chip into the slot in his face. “Chips for breakfast is quite nice,” he commented. “Better than cold pop tarts.” He glanced at the dog. “Farrell sicked his up on the kitchen floor.”
“Oh, great!” Emma sighed. She pushed her half eaten sausage roll away.
“About the phone,” Nicky began, sounding six going on sixty. “It’s like this; Daddy turned the tracker off, see.” He held it up and poin
