Two: Mr. Fernandez caught a glimpse of him going west on Oak Avenue, chasing what was either a squirrel or a very large rat.
Three: Pastor Williams found him sniffing around the Methodist church parking lot and offeredto pray for his safe return.
Four: Everyone in this town has opinions about everything, and they will share them whether you ask or not.
“He’s messing with us,” Dean mutters, scanning the street for the fortieth time. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“He’s a dog.”
“He’s a menace disguised as a dog.” Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Jo’s been spoiling him. Scraps under the table, letting him on the furniture. He thinks rules don’t apply to him anymore.”
“Sounds like someone I know.”
Dean shoots me a look. “Don’t start.”
We turn onto Palmetto Lane, and Dean slows.
“What?” I ask.
“This is Delilah’s street.”
My pulse picks up, which is ridiculous. I’m not seventeen. I’m not the kid who used to drive past her mom’s shop hoping to catch a glimpse of her through the window. That kid got left. Twice. The adult version should know better.
“Since when? Her mom used to live over on?—”
“Eleanor inherited her grandmother’s place. Moved here after the old lady passed.” Dean raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t know that?”
“How would I know that?”
“Because you’ve been to my house approximately eight hundred times, and basic observation skills would suggest?—”
“I was focused on other things.”
“Sure you were.”
We’re halfway down the block when Dean stops dead.
“There.” He points.
A white house with blue shutters and a garden that looks like a flower shop exploded in the front yard. Tulips everywhere. An old pear tree heavy with blossoms. And in the backyard, visible through the wooden fence?—
Two dogs.
Rex, lying in the grass like he owns the place.
And Ruffy, sitting beside him like a fluffy, suspicious bodyguard.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean says.
The tension drains out of his shoulders so fast I can see it happen. He drops his head, exhales through his nose, and mutters something I can’t quite catch but probably isn’t suitable for church.
Dean strides toward the fence, leash in hand, full fire-chief authorityin his voice.
“Rex. Come.”
Rex lifts his head. Looks at Dean. Looks at Ruffy.
Puts his head back down.
