11
Vicious Vibes
I harnessed Boone and got ready to jog behind him as he started his hunt for stinky bad-guy smells. But he just stood there.
“Your dog is broken.” Bradley looked underwhelmed by Boone.
I frowned back at him, and in a quiet voice said, “He’s not broken. And that’s not very nice. He can understand you.”
Bradley examined Boone. “He’s a dog. He doesn’t speak English.”
Boone, who had been standing very still with his nose lifted slightly, turned to Bradley and woofed once.
Bradley jumped in surprise at the deep, vibrating pulse of sound that Boone produced.
I grinned and barely managed not to say, “So there.” My dog was not broken.
Alex had moved to the front door and was already whispering the lock open as Bradley and I bickered over Boone. I turned back to my super-a
