The vet tech brought the dog into the waiting room. The animal’s head and tail hung low.

“Oh no. That poor thing. She’s so thin. Are those bite marks? Did she get into a fight?”

“More likely she was put in a fight.” Conor described how he’d found the dog the night before. “She looks better than when I dropped her off this morning.”

At the sound of his voice, the dog’s mangled ears pricked up. Her gaze landed on Conor. The stubby tail lifted and wagged back and forth.

“What horrible person would do that to an animal?” Louisa asked.

“The cops have been cracking down, but dog fighting is still a real problem in this city.” Conor took the leash from the technician. “A pink collar and leash?”

The vet tech laughed. “We thought she needed something girly. The way they butchered her ears gives people the wrong impression. Consider it a gift for not dumping her at the shelter.”

“Anything special I should do for her?” he asked.

“No.” The tech handed him a sheet of paper. “She’s been starved for a while, so reintroduce food slowly. If her appetite doesn’t pick up in a week or so after she settles in, then bring her back. We’ll also want to spay her, but I’d like to wait a couple of weeks and let her get stronger first.”

“Thanks.” Conor folded the paper and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. He led the dog outside. On the sidewalk, he squatted and rubbed her head. “Bet you’re glad to be out of there.”

Louisa bent down. “Can I pet her?”

“You’re not afraid of her? Some people might find her scary.”

“Should I be? She looks pathetic.”

“She is pathetic.” Conor sighed. “Let her smell your hand first.”

The dog gave Louisa’s hand a sniff, then licked her fingers.

“She likes you.”

Louisa stroked the animal’s neck, being careful not to touch the healing wounds. Except for the scarred areas, her fur was silky soft, like crushed velvet. Her mother had been allergic to animals. After her death, the aunt who’d raised Louisa had forbidden animals in the house. “I’ve never had a dog.”

“Would you like this one?”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with her.” But the thought was strangely appealing. Louisa gave the dog one more gentle pat before straightening. How hard was it to take care of a dog? “And I work all day.” Though she could easily go home at lunchtime most days, and she’d seen the Rittenhouse staff walking other residents’ dogs.

“You keep thinking about it. For now, let’s see if we can get her to eat.” Conor headed back toward the bar. The dog practically plastered herself to his legs.

“She’s very attached to you.”

“I don’t know how that happened.”