Story code: ST-001083
Part 2: The Record on the Paper
I looked from Chloe to the golden retriever sitting quietly on the concrete pad. “A livestock deed?” I asked, keeping my tone even. “This is a suburban dog park, and that is a golden retriever. Can you explain what an agricultural livestock deed has to do with Buster?”
Chloe’s thumb hovered over her screen. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She tapped the glass twice, then stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. “It’s… it’s the legal term Marcus sent,” she muttered, her voice losing its rehearsed sharpness. “It’s the official classification for animal custody under the state registry.”
“Which registry?” I asked.
Chloe shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking toward the parking lot before looking back down at her phone. Her fingers moved in a flurry of texts, but the screen remained silent. “The registry for multi-owner assets. It applies to all animals.”
Sarah reached into her canvas shoulder bag and pulled out a folded, laminated sheet of paper. “I kept this in his travel bag because I knew Marcus would try to pull something like this,” she said, handing the paper to me.
I unfolded it. It was an official Veterinary Microchip Record sheet, bearing the stamp of the Oakwood Animal Clinic. The document listed Buster’s microchip ID number, his breed, and his registration date from three years ago. The primary owner listed on the vet record was Sarah. There was no mention of Marcus anywhere on the page.
“He said he registered the chip,” Chloe insisted, though she stepped back an inch, her eyes darting to the laminated paper in my hands. “He told me he has the master account.”
I held the paper up, pointing to the barcode. “This record is for a companion animal microchip, not livestock. And the only name on this registry is Sarah’s.” I reached down to my belt and unclipped the handheld microchip scanner. “We’re going to scan Buster right now to see if the chip in his neck matches this record. If it does, your script is completely wrong.”
Chloe stared at the scanner in my hand, her fingers frozen over her phone screen. I watched her eyes follow the yellow plastic device as I switched it on. The device gave a short, high-pitched beep, its small LCD screen lighting up with a green status bar.
“Marcus said he has the paperwork at home,” Chloe said, her voice dropping an octave as she backed up against the outer gate. Her gaze darted to the street, where a black sedan was idling near the curb. “He told me the chip was registered under his business tax ID.”
“A business tax ID for a family pet?” Sarah asked, her voice steady. She patted Buster’s side, and the dog leaned his weight against her leg. “He’s trying to use his contracting business to claim my dog, Chloe. And you’re helping him.”
“I’m just doing what he asked,” Chloe said, her thumb tapping the screen again. A new message bubble popped up, but she didn’t read it aloud this time. She bit her lip, looking at the Veterinary Microchip Record sheet in my hand.
“If the chip matches this paper,” I said, stepping between Chloe and the dog, “then Sarah is the sole owner recognized by this facility, and you have no authorization to block this gate.”
I knelt down beside Buster, holding the scanner near his shoulder blades.