And then I see it.
Spray-painted across the exterior wall in bright red:NOW YOU’LL PAY, BITCH.
Terror shoots through my veins, freezing me to my core, and I yank my phone from my pocket.
I need help. More importantly, Kiki needs help.
But before I complete the call, I hear her cries, carried on the wind from the back edge of the property and take off running.
I race down the slight incline, following the sound of her voice, tripping over a branch and damn near going down on my face before catching myself and pushing forward. There’s no time to slow down. Every second wasted is a second lost.
I half expect to find her bleeding out in the snow, so when I spot her standing by the creek bed, I damn near drop to my knees.
Thank God she’s okay.
But as I move closer, I realize she’s anything but fine.
She’s barefoot, standing in three-plus inches of snow. No coat, just a thin sweater providing no protection against thebitter chill. Her makeup is streaked down her face, tears carving paths through it, her hair plastered against her skin.
And then I hear what she’s screaming.
“Gus! Gus!”
Oh, shit.
“Kiki!” I wave my arms, but she doesn’t see me, doesn’t hear me.
When I get close enough, I grab her from behind and she jumps, releasing a piercing scream that rips right through me.
I circle my arms around her, my lips pressing close to her ear. “It’s okay, Kiki. It’s me.”
“No—” She shakes her head and wrenches from my grasp, stumbling a few steps. “I have to find Gus. He’s gone. I don’t know how long he’s been out here, and he’s going to be so cold?—”
I haul her back to me, but she struggles, fighting me every step. “Let me go! I have to find him!”
“Kiki!” I snap, tightening my hold. “I will find Gus, but we need to get you into my truck right now. I don’t know if someone’s still here, waiting for you.”
That’s when she spies the crowbar in my hand.
Understanding flashes across her face, and she sags against me as the fight drains out of her. “Why would they hurt Gus?” she moans in a broken whisper. “He was the best dog.”
“I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,” I reply, even though I’m not certain about anything anymore.
Kiki’s right. The weather is horrible, and Gus is an old dog. We don’t know how long he’s been out here or if he even made it this far. After seeing what was painted across her cabin, I can’t help but think the pieces of shit responsible might have hurt him out of spite.
“I’m going to carry you to the truck. Get you offyour feet.”
But the wind dies down before I do, its silence screaming louder than the storm.
And then I hear it, a low, faint whimper from the far side of the shed.
“Stay right here, Kiki,” I order. “Don’t move.”
I circle around the shed, the knot of tension in my gut tightening with every step. “Gus?”
Another weak whine carries across the air as I spot him, huddled against the side wall and shaking like a leaf.
I crouch beside him, running my hands over his fur. He’s soaked and freezing, but I don’t feel anything broken. Thank God.
