BRITA LIFTED A TINY red long-haired dachshund out of the front seat, kissing her between her wet, brown eyes. “We’ll just be a minute, Miss Moxie. I need to tell the Sarge that I’m taking my vacation a little earlier than expected.
The little dog licked Brita’s chin, her tail wagging happily. Brita had already made arrangements to have her parents watch her five dogs, but she hadn’t been able to resist bringing the sweet little doxie along with her on one last errand. “Now you be good in there,” she warned. “No peeing under the boss’s desk like last time.” Moxie barked once and wriggled joyfully, always happy to get a scolding she deserved.
After all, she was a dachshund.
Brita was grinning as she started across the street. The precinct building was quiet at that time on a Sunday night.
