Her worried tone had its intended effect. Mrs. Orson blinked and uttered a faint “He’s in the bedroom, most likely. Or out back. He can’t have gone far.”

Ruby sincerely hoped so. She was no expert on dogs or marijuana, but she knew that an entire loaf of anything couldn’t have been good for him. Dashing down the hallway, she pushed open every door she passed. The bathroom and linen closet were empty, but when she reached the bedroom at the back, it was to find a heavy, unmoving lump behind the door.

“He’s in here,” she called. “Wheezy, love. You have to move. Or roll. Or slump a few inches. I can’t get in.”

Since she’d never used the terms Wheezy and love in the same sentence before, she could only assume he hadn’t understood.

“Wheezy, you beast. You devil. You greedy, addlepated nuisance of a—”

“Why are you yelling at him?” Mrs. Orson drew close and pressed her face against the narrow opening. “Wheezy, my pet. Ruby doesn’t mean it. Listen to what she says. Help us open the door.”

He didn’t respond to either approach. Although Ruby was tempted to chalk this up to his unwillingness to conform to accepted standards of behavior, she knew better. They’d come too far, she and Wheezy. He was the reason she got up every morning with a smile on her face. He was why she was suddenly exploring career options and feeling excited about her future. He was responsible for introducing her to a whole new group of people who saw her not just as a pretty face but as someone worth getting to know.

With a flash, Ruby realized what she had to do. She needed help, and she needed it fast—and there was only one person in the world who could be relied upon to provide it, no questions asked.

She tossed Mrs. Orson her cell phone. “Call Spencer Wilson. Tell him we need him right away. I’m going to have to go in through the window.”

“Spencer Wilson?” Mrs. Orson echoed. Her fingers flew as she scrolled through Ruby’s contact list. “Are you sure he’s in here? I don’t see his name.”

Ruby paused just long enough to call back, “He’s listed under Porcupine,” before darting out to the back door.

Although the house’s countertops and bathrooms were wheelchair-accessible, no one had thought to lower the bedroom window to make a convenient escape—or entrance—route to the house. The window she wanted was located above a colorful row of chrysanthemums, which made a picturesque setting but also rendered Ruby’s task a lot more difficult.