Millie’s bootspounded against the ground as she ran after Biscuit, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “Biscuit! Stop!”
But he didn’t.
Her dog darted ahead, weaving between trees, his white-and-brown coat flashing in the dim light.
She reached the back gate—and her heart stopped.
It was open.
Wide open.
How? It was always closed, always locked.
“Biscuit!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Come here!”
The dog ignored her, disappearing into the dense woods beyond the fence.
Millie plunged after him, branches catching at her clothes, roots threatening to trip her with every step.
What had gotten into her dog? This wasn’t like him. He usually stayed glued to her side.
As she continued running, the woods swallowed her whole.
Shadows pressed in from all sides, the last remnants of daylight fading fast. The air was cold, thick with the smell of pine and damp earth.
“Biscuit, please,” she panted, her lungs burning.
She could hear him ahead of her—the rustle of leaves, the crack of twigs.
Then, suddenly, the sounds stopped.
Millie stumbled to a halt, her chest heaving. “Biscuit?”
Silence.
She pushed forward, her heart hammering, and stepped into a small clearing.
Biscuit stood a few feet away, his tail low, his body rigid.
He wasn’t running anymore.
He was staring.
At someone’s feet.
Millie’s breath caught in her throat.
Someone else was out here. That was why he’d run. He was chasing someone.
But who? And why?
Part of her didn’t want to know. But she had no choice but to find out.
She slowly lifted her gaze.
Caleb’s phone rang as he reached his truck.
He answered without looking at the screen. “Yeah?”
