By Enola Jones

JD let out a soft grunt as the ropes holding his wrists parted. He turned and smiled, raising his hands.


The blond detective nodded and raised his own hands. Now we can talk.

I'm Agent JD Dunne, ATF computer expert.

Detective Ken Hutchinson. Call me Hutch.

Nice to meet you, Hutch. Ready to find a way out of here?

You know it! They shot Honey I'm going to see them put away.

JD frowned. Honey?

The dog. She's my service animal.

JD's eyes widened. I hope she's okay.

I'm sure she is. He grinned at JD's expression. Didn't make the connection?

That she was your service animal because you're deaf? No sorry. I knew you were deaf and she was there, but...

Hutch laughed into his hands. JD rolled his eyes. Let's get to planning a way out of here?

You're on!

Planning was curtailed when one of the thugs came in to check on them. As he turned to leave, JD's eyes widened. Without a sound of warning, he lunged.

JD smashed the bad guy into Hutch, who knocked him out. Then he glared at JD. Not that I'm not grateful, but what the hell?

His belt, JD signed. He's got my radio -- and my tools!

Great -- you can radio for help!

Except I don't know where we are. Then JD's hands were busy with the radio's innards. At last, he snapped it closed. There, he signed. Homing beacon. With any luck, we should be found soon.

Hutch crossed his fingers.

"Soon" turned out to be half an hour. The homing device worked like a charm and the punks who thought a kid and a deaf man were easy targets found themselves facing the combined wrath of Bay City, California's finest as well as Denver's own crack ATF Team Seven.

Hutch was reunited with Honey -- who recovered completely -- and they left Denver with seven new friends that they were positive they'd see again.


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