As Amy got out of the bus, she noticed that the skies were gray, and there was a soft rumbling in the distance. She could smell the rain in the air, somewhere between a penny and a flower bed, and did her best to power walk along the blue path her phone was showing her. Sure enough, she turned a corner and saw the sign, ROBINS COUNTY ANIMAL RESCUE, in blue letters on a white stripe atop a squat black building. By the time she got to the parking lot, she could hear the first drops of rain falling around her. By the time she was in the waiting room, it was pouring outside, the water drumming hard against the windows.

The waiting room was empty and gray in the dim, rainy light. The faint smell of dog hair hung around, making Amy feel like she was standing in some sort of canine crypt. A sign on the front desk read BACK IN FIVE MINUTES, and she considered taking one of the seats lining the one corner … until she heard voices singing down the hall to one side of the desk.

In a small break room—basically a kitchen with a table in the middle and a couch against one wall—a group of people stood clapping and singing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” Most of them wore scrubs, though one of them had a white coat like Dr. Chevram. At the table sat an old man, gaunt and white-haired with a kind face, one arm in a sling. On the table in front of him was a cupcake, and hanging overhead was a banner reading WELCOME BACK, FRANK.

The song ended, and everyone cheered and clapped. The old man, who Amy assumed was Frank, thanked them all and picked up his cupcake. Just as it got to his lips, his eyes caught Amy, and he froze.

“Looks like we have another guest,” said Frank. Everyone turned and looked at Amy. Amy shrunk back a little, feeling slightly embarrassed for having interrupted their party. Frank stood and gave her a big, sunny smile. “It’s quite all right, young lady. Can we help you?”

“I was looking for information about a dog who I think was here,” Amy told them. “Is one of you Becca?”

“That’d be me, honeydunk,” said a plump, rosy-cheeked woman in scrubs, raising a hand. “But call me Nurse Becca, sounds more official. Tell me about this dog you’re looking for, and I’ll see if I can find him!”

“He’s a German shepherd named Rover.”

Nurse Becca gasped. Everyone in the room whirled and stared hard at Amy; she took a step back, feeling the sudden wave of anger from the adults. There was silence, deep and awful, as though the air had been sucked out of the room.