Troy walked toward the woods. He kept close to the edge of his fence, frosted grass crunching underneath his shoes. He studied the ground as he trod forward. Although he had no experience in tracking anything, he had a sharp eye for visual details, and figured any signs of where the dog had gone would jump out at him.

About twenty yards into the woods, on the bank of a narrow creek, he found the only sign any of them needed: a small bundle of white fur, streaked with dark blood.

“Shit,” he said softly, the air feeling as if it had been sucked out of his lungs.

Something had torn Duchess apart.

Part Two

18

Troy braced himself for the worst when he returned inside to tell Monica what had happened. He got the reaction from her that he’d feared.

“What?” Her lips quivered, a sure sign that she was about to lose her composure. “You found Duchess where?”

Standing next to Monica in the kitchen, Mom’s mouth had fallen open. He was certain she’d heard what he had said and didn’t need him to repeat it. She held the frost-encrusted scarf of hers that he had plucked off the ground as if it were a leper’s limb.

He didn’t see Grace anywhere nearby. Her absence struck him as guilty behavior, though he had no proof that she’d been involved in the dog’s death.

But you know she was responsible, don’t you? Do you really believe Mom left the dog outside?

He repeated his findings to Monica. She shook her head, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“How . . . why?” Her gaze whipped from him, to Mom. “You left her outside, Pat?”

“I did not,” Mom said. “I promise you, sweetheart, I would never do such a thing. Duchess was in her bed next to me when I fell asleep.”

“But you forgot your scarf . . .” Monica stared at the fabric in Mom’s hands. Her face flushed, Mom tossed the scarf onto the table.

It went downhill from there. Throughout their eight years of marriage, Monica had never argued with his mother. The two of them got along as well as if they were truly mother and daughter. But this situation with Duchess had opened a rift, and it was all Troy could do to keep Monica from calling his mother a dog killer.

When it was all over, Monica stomped out of the kitchen, his mother glaring at her, chest heaving. It would fall to Troy to patch things together. He was the neutral party in this situation and would need to broker a peace treaty.

But first, he had to collect the dog’s corpse.