Amy’s mouth went dry, and without thinking, she leaned away from Katie. Something about hearing those words come out of a six-year-old’s mouth made her skin crawl all over. Rover had told Katie things—unpleasant things, she thought, thinking about the fire and the accident and the big cave.

“When did all these things happen?” asked Amy.

“I don’t know,” said Katie. She knuckled her eyes. “But Rover is really old. Older than Mommy and Daddy.”

“That can’t be …” mumbled Amy. Big dogs like German shepherds lived to be about fifteen years old, tops. If Rover was older than their parents …

A memory flashed back into Amy’s head—the woman on the phone, when Dad had called the animal shelter. The terror and anger in her voice.

What’s the dog’s name?

“What else has Rover told you about himself?” she asked, suddenly worried by what Katie had told her, though she wasn’t sure why. “Did he tell you who tied him up by the side of the road?”

“No,” said Katie thoughtfully. “He doesn’t say things, really. It’s like he puts the ideas in my head, and he understands what I’m thinking, too.” She yawned, and her eyes blinked heavily. “He told me he hopes you’re done with your science fair project soon. He’s getting tired of letting you do it.”

“He’s not letting me do anything,” said Amy. “He’s our dog, Katie.”

“Rover says he’s never belonged to anyone,” said Katie. “He’s not my pet, he’s my friend. That’s what he tells me …”

And then she closed her eyes. As if she couldn’t stop herself, as if just talking about Rover exhausted her.

That’s crazy, Amy told herself. Stop. Your sister is not being controlled by a dog.

Soon, Katie was snoring softly, looking perfectly normal for a sleeping six-year-old. But Amy sat for a while and watched her.

Katie’s words echoed through her head.

Older than Mommy and Daddy.

He’s getting tired of letting you do it.

How long had Rover had these powers?

And what would happen when Rover didn’t want to be her experiment any longer?

Chapter 8: Rescue

A few nights later, Amy pulled open the heavy bottom drawer of their hall dresser and shoved the piled-up contents around. Dead batteries, Dad’s old camera, finger paints, shoe polish, Katie’s birth certificate … nothing important. Nothing she could use anyway. She shoved the drawer shut and sighed.

“Mom!” she called off into the house.

“What?” Mom called back from a couple of rooms over.

“I need to make my presentation board for the science fair! Where are all the art supplies?”

There was a pause; obviously, her mother had to think about that one.

“I don’t know, honey. I might have put them all up in the attic.”