Ten minutes later, Brody turned into the parking area. The vet’s office was in a small building next to his house. Light glowed in the clinic windows.

Dr. Albert opened the door. He’d pulled his lab coat on over flannel pajamas and boots. His white hair tufted out from the sides of his head. “Bring her in here.” He gestured toward a lighted exam room. A tray of instruments, including a set of pliers, was laid out on the counter.

Brody introduced Hannah to the old vet as he picked up the big dog and hefted her onto the stainless steel table.

The vet set a pair of black-rimmed glasses on his nose and frowned. “I’m going to give her some anesthesia.” He patted the dog on the side, shaved a patch of fur on one foreleg, and set up a butterfly catheter. With a syringe, he pushed some medication into the line. The dog’s breathing eased, and her body went quiet on the table. For the next thirty minutes, the vet pulled quills out of the dog’s muzzle with pliers.

“Does anyone see any more?” He moved the overhead light and lifted AnnaBelle’s lips to inspect her mouth.

“I don’t,” Brody said.

Hannah shook her head.

“Then I’m going to give her a shot of antibiotics.” He filled a syringe and injected the retriever’s flank.

The dog stirred. Minutes later, her eyes opened, and she gave them a feeble wag.

“You can take her home. She’ll probably be tired tomorrow, and you might need to give her soft food for a day or two, but she should be fine. Don’t worry. She’s not my first patient who thought chasing a porcupine looked like fun.”

“Thank you.” Hannah reached into the slim purse that hung from her shoulder.

The vet waved her off. “I’ll send you a bill.”

Brody carried the dog back outside. The rain had picked up, falling from the sky in a curtain.

“Good night.” With a wave, the vet jogged across the gravel parking area and disappeared into his one-story house.

Rain hit Brody’s head, and the cold was a slap to his still-damp body. He shuddered hard, a wave of exhaustion sliding over him. Hannah opened the SUV door so he could put the dog inside. Rubbing her biceps, she huddled on the leather seat.

“You know your vet well enough to call him in the middle of the night?” Her voice quivered. A shiver shook her body.

Brody cranked up the heat in the car and directed the vents at Hannah. “My cat is a hundred years old.”

She raised a brow and tilted her head. “You’re a cat person? I thought men preferred dogs.”