Amy and her dad looked up through the windshield. They were just down the block, Amy realized, with their house visible a ways in the distance.

There was something on the front step of the house. Something the color of the clouds overhead, as though the storm itself was waiting for them. Even as the wipers pushed the rain out of the way, Amy couldn’t make out for sure what it was.

But it looked like a dog. Sitting stiffly, ears up.

Watching them. Waiting for them to let it in.

Dad fumbled with his phone, dialed a number, put it on speaker. The phone rang twice, and then there was a click, and a panicked woman’s voice said, “Southside Animal Shelter, can I help you?”

“Hi,” said Dad, sounding alarmed and upset to Amy. “I just dropped off my dog, and I wanted to check that—”

“Your dog’s dead, sir,” said the woman loudly, out of breath.

Silence. Amy wondered if they’d heard that right.

“I’m sorry, what?” said Dad. “I haven’t even told you—”

“They’re all dead,” she said, and then her voice cracked, and she sobbed. “All of the animals. They all just died at once. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The phone clicked, and the line went dead. Mom and Dad looked at each other blankly.

“What do we do?” asked Mom.

“Maybe … maybe it’s not him,” said Dad.

Mom drove slowly into the driveway. Amy felt numb, shocked beyond feeling. She couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t …

They climbed out of the car.

Rover sat on the front step.

No other German shepherd had those cold, punishing eyes.

No other dog in the world could sit so still and straight.

Mom, Dad, and Amy stood there, staring at Rover.

Behind Rover, the front door clicked and swung slowly open. Rover glanced back at it, then at the family. One by one, the three of them filed into the dark house. Rover followed on Amy’s heels, and she heard the door close softly behind them.

Chapter 16: Top Dog

Amy took extra time brushing her teeth. She did the fronts, the backs, behind the molars, even her tongue. She flossed and used mouthwash, rinsing until her gums stung. She’d become an expert at brushing her teeth over the past week—and making sure her backpack had everything in it, and getting her outfit to look perfect, and making her bed. Anything that took time out of her morning, she was good at.

Anything to keep her up here, on the second floor, away from him.

She spat in the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face looked tired and worn, like it hadn’t seen a smile in some time. The dark circles under her eyes looked especially ugly. She certainly hadn’t been sleeping well. The nightmares were worse than ever these days.