The Troublesome Angel by Valerie Hansen Page B

trail.”
    Lewis glanced up at Stacy as if to confirm her statement, wheeled, and took off at a run, pulling her along behind him. He bounded halfway up the staircase, then stopped and began pawing frantically at the carpeting that covered the steps. Little tufts of rose-colored wool drifted downward.
    “Oh, terrific,” Graydon muttered, swatting at the bits of fuzz like he’d shoo away a fly. “Mother’s going to love this.” He looked back at the drawing room door to make certain it was still closed the way he’d left it. They’d never find Missy if his mother appeared and demanded that Lewis be banished for digging up her new carpeting.
    Stacy was confused, too. She bent over the dog.“No, Lewis. No. That’s impossible. She can’t be there.”
    “No kidding.” Gray peered up at them from between the banister posts. The dog was clearly refusing to heed her warning. “Can’t you do something with him? He’s tearing the place apart.”
    Stacy pulled Lewis up on a tight leash, sat down on the step he’d been trying to scratch his way through, and smoothed the ragged edge of the carpeting with her hand. The dog seemed to relax. He laid his chin on her lap and looked soulfully up at her.
    Thoughtful, she stroked his broad head. There had to be a logical reason for his strange behavior. But what? If Missy had played up and down the steps, leaving a stronger scent trail there than anywhere else, the dog should have taken that route in the first place. Why hadn’t he? And why tear at the carpet all of a sudden?
    Gray was standing at the landing, shaking his head and talking to himself. Stacy ignored him. So did Lewis. Then the dog startled. His ears pricked. His head cocked. His tail began to thump.
    She listened. The muttering man at the foot of the stairs was distracting. “Hush up,” she ordered, waving a hand at him. “Listen.”
    “To what? Your dog tearing up my mother’s house? I’ll have plenty to listen to when she sees the damage.”
    “Not that. Lewis hears something. If you weren’t making so much noise maybe I could,too.” She leaned back and rested her ear on the step above.
    At first, all she heard was the thrumming of her own pulse. Then there was a whimper, a sob. Missy!
    Stacy jumped to her feet. “She is here! Is there a closet or something like that under the stairs?”
    “Yes! A little storage area that nobody uses.” He clapped a hand to his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that? I used to crawl under the table and open the door so I could hide in there when I was a kid.”
    Circling the arch of the staircase ahead of Stacy and Lewis, Gray shoved aside the heavy library table that hid the small, low door from view. “I doubt even the servants know this is here. The catch is hidden in the paneling so it doesn’t spoil the decor. I remember how it works.”
    He tried twice. “It’s stuck.”
    “Well, do something, ” Stacy said, holding the taut leash. “Lewis can hear her crying and he’s going nuts.”
    Gray grasped the rusty latch and gave a jerk. The door popped open. Missy erupted from the dark little space with a shriek and launched herself straight into his open arms. She was sobbing incoherently.
    Stacy stood back and waited while man and child held a heart-rending reunion. Thank you, Lord, she prayed silently, letting tears of relief andjoy slide freely down her cheeks without embarrassment.
    When Gray finally stood and looked at Stacy, his eyes were moist, too. Missy, still drawing ragged breaths and sniffling, hid her face against his shoulder and gripped his neck as if she never intended to let go.
    “I don’t know how we can thank you,” he said hoarsely. “When the door jammed, I guess she couldn’t get it open again. If it hadn’t been for Lewis…”
    “It’s all over now. Everything will be fine,” Stacy assured him. To her surprise, Estelle bustled past and tried to take Missy from Gray. The child clung to him and refused to budge. When the