She pulled it out, grateful for the distraction, and glanced at the screen.
Hadley.
“It’s my cousin,” she said before answering. “Hey, Hadley.”
“Hey.” Hadley’s voice sounded apologetic. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to get back to you. I’ve been swamped with setting up the clinic, and I kept meaning to check the microchip database but—anyway. I finally did it this morning.”
Naomi’s stomach tightened. With everything going on, she’d actually forgotten about the microchip. “Actually, I suppose itdoesn’t matter anymore. The owner already picked Good Boy up.”
A pause sounded then, “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“What do you mean? Arthur Bleakman is his owner . . . right?”
“Arthur Bleakman? No, the owner’s name was Barbara,” Hadley said. “And she died a month ago.”
