Unforgettable by Meryl Sawyer Page A

been in jail. Everything about that experience had been terrifyingly new.
    “No ka oi! Wow! Look at those!”
    Two teenage girls were pointing at her shoes. The vinyl slippers had Maui PD stamped across them. Greg had been able to rustle up a lab coat that could pass for a dress, but she’d had to borrow the shoes.
    “Waaay cooool!” they cooed as Greg guided her down the aisle.
    She supposed she should be thankful that the girls hadn’t recognized her and called her Pele’s ghost. And laughed at her. The baseball cap probably helped by hiding most of her hideous hair and shadowing her face.
    Dodger sprinted ahead of them, then stopped with one paw raised, pointing to the panty hose display that consisted of two cabinets pushed together.
    “What’s the matter, boy?” Greg halted beside the dog. “Is someone under there?” He held up one finger, but Dodger didn’t respond. Then he held up two fingers. Dodger barked once, twice, three times.
    “Body A!” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “It’s alive!” But how big could it be? It was probably a rat or a mouse.
    Dodger barked three more times. A few shoppers stopped to watch. A damp patch of moisture formed on the back of her neck and she moved closer to Greg. After her experience in jail, she was positive if more than three people were near her, she’d reach critical mass and run. But these people weren’t interested in her; Dodger had their attention.
    A man elbowed his way through the group. His “Welcome to Kmart” badge said his name was Hank and he was assistant manager. “ What’s going on? Dogs aren’t allowed in the store.”
    His officious tone didn’t faze Greg. “You’ve got a problem here.”
    Greg shoved the cabinets apart. A small gray animal with a bushy plume of a tail blinked at them. Obviously, they’d awakened the poor thing. But what was it? Not a rat. Not a squirrel either.
    The animal quickly regained its wits, took one look at the people and bolted, scurrying down the aisle at astonishing speed. Greg snapped his fingers and Dodger was racing after the animal. The crowd followed, led by Greg.
    She trailed along behind. The good old college of knowledge had severe gaps. She didn’t have the vaguest idea what kind of animal that was. Like a dying heartbeat, the secure feeling of being in a Kmart—a place she remembered—vanished. What she didn’t know, what she would have to relearn was overwhelming.
    Dodger had the creature cornered in the garden department.
    The little beast was up on its hind legs, teeth bared, claws out. The animal was much smaller than Dodger, but it looked vicious. One swipe of its claws and Dodger could lose an eye.
    “Stand back,” Greg ordered and everyone obeyed.
    He leaned down and grabbed the animal. There was a lot of hissing and flailing claws, but Greg had it by the scruff of the neck. He walked toward the plant arcade, holding the squirming animal away from his body.
    “Get that dog out of the store,” the manager told her as soon as Greg had disappeared from sight.
    “ Dodger’s a special dog,” she informed everyone with pride, repeating what Greg had told her while he was getting her out of jail. “See that?” She pointed to the gleaming chrome badge on the back of his collar. “It means he can go anywhere, just like a Seeing Eye dog. He’s a registered disaster dog.”
    She was about to subject the uppity runt of an assistant manager to the biggest piece of her mind she could spire, when she spotted a woman staring at her intently. If the slim brunette had been in a grass skirt instead of a buttercup yellow halter dress, she would have been pe rfect for a travel poster. Some thing about her expression told Lucky that the woman thought she was Pele’s ghost. If the woman said anything, the crowd would taunt her the way they had in jail.
    “Come, Dodger.” Lucky snapped her fingers the way Greg did, and Dodger trotted off with her, leaving the amazed crowd