Can cleaned, the dog goes back to sitting in the middle of the kitchen, as if he’s waiting for something, some action on their part.

Ed gets up from the table with his empty plate in hand. He has to pass the dog as he goes to the sink. A pat on the head is only a pat on the head. Not capitulation. The fur beneath his hand is as soft as down. The dog presses his skull up into Ed’s palm. The eyebrow spots lift, making Ed think of Stacy when she saw him coming home from one of his rare trips, maybe a union gathering in Springfield or training on a new machine out in the Midwest. The eager anticipation of presents writ large on her face, the hope for a new board game or the next book in The Baby-sitter’s Club series, nothing exotic.

Ed looks down on the dog. “What do you want, fella?”

The dog suddenly yawns, his sharp muzzle widening, his tongue curling up in a lingual arc. He emits an elastic vocalization that ends in a sound that could have been words: Home-home-home.

Ed and Alice Parmalee laugh simultaneously. They keep their eyes on the dog, where he absorbs their surprise at the sound of it.

* * *

He watches these two new people carefully. Food, water, and gentle touches are very welcome, but what he really wants is for them to take him home. He’s tried to tell them, but, like most humans, they are single-language speakers. For now, though, this is all right. He is satisfied with his decision. He is safe, fed, and watered. The woman has tidied up his coat. There is a tension in the man, not like Artie and his solid hostility, but a withholding. Like some dogs who refuse to sniff and get acquainted. That’s okay; Mack can handle aloofness, even respect it. He also enjoys a challenge. Just accepting the man’s grudging pat on the head is a start.

The woman takes him outside at night, fastening a length of clothesline around his neck, walking him around the grass until he squats. He keeps to his training, staying close to her side until he needs to do his business, which she picks up with a plastic bag and a squeamish look on her face. She praises him with words he knows: good boy.

He is Maksim, although Justine mostly calls him Mack. This person just calls him “boy.” He’s been called that before; it’s okay. If she calls, he’ll come to it.

The important thing is that maybe they will know how to find Justine.

13

This morning, after coffee with the guys, Ed Parmalee points the Cutlass toward Aubuchon Hardware. He’s out of 3-in-One oil and could use some shop rags. The towel bar in the bathroom is pulling away from the Sheetrock. Maybe he should pick up molly bolts. Oh, and he should get some poster board, too; start tacking up FOUND DOG posters in the area. It’s starting to sound like a Wal-Mart run, so if he can’t get what he needs at Aubuchon, he’ll keep going. Alice won’t miss him till lunchtime, if then.