Chapter 41
Naomi grabbed her phone, checked that the ringer was off, and shoved it in her pocket. Then she climbed out of her SUV and locked the doors.
Lord, I know this might not be smart. I know I don’t deserve to ask for Your protection in the mist of my stubbornness. But I’m asking anyway. I have to do this. For Good Boy. I really do want to be wise about this, though. Please, give me Your guidance.
After murmuring a silent “amen,” she began moving carefully through the woods toward the property.
Fifteen minutes later, she caught sight of a house through the trees.
The place was small and run-down, with peeling paint and a sagging porch. An old white truck sat in the driveway, streaked with mud.
That wasn’t the vehicle the man had been driving when Good Boy had been picked up.
Yes, Good Boy. She knew the dog’s original owner had named him John. But who named a dog John? Good Boy was much more fitting.
Naomi crouched low and circled around toward the back of the property. She still heard the barking, and each time she did, the sound solidified her decision to do this.
Still, her heart pounded harder with every step.
I’m just going to look. Just going to see if he’s here. Then I’ll call Micah. I won’t do anything stupid.
This wasn’t like her. She was practical and organized. Not a risk-taker.
But she felt compelled to keep moving forward. Her concern for the dog outweighed her own logic.
Finally, she reached the edge of the tree line and stopped, pressing herself against a thick oak. She had a good view of the property from this location.
The backyard was small and overgrown, bordered by a chain-link fence that had collapsed in places. A rusted shed sat to one side. And near the back porch—
Naomi’s breath caught.
It was Good Boy.
The dog was tied to a metal stake that had been driven into the ground, and he had a short length of rope around his neck. He stood, barking into the air.
Anger surged through her—hot and sudden and overwhelming.
How dare someone do this?
How dare someone take her dog, tie him up like that, and leave him alone in the cold?
Okay, not her dog. But still . . . that’s how it felt.
Naomi lingered behind the tree and stared at Good Boy. She wanted to reach out. To comfort him. To do something!
But she’d vowed not to be rash.
The best choice right now was to go back and wait for Micah to act.
But more than anything, she wanted to get Good Boy. Take him to her SUV. Bring him home.
You can’t do that, Naomi. You know he’s here. Now go wait for Micah.
It took every ounce of her self-control to take a step back.
She glanced at her phone and considered calling Micah. Her heart fell.
She had no signal here. She couldn’t call anyone.
That meant she had to leave, drive somewhere she had service, and then call Micah. She had no other choice.
Before she could move, a sound made her freeze.
A man stepped into view near the house.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a flannel jacket and jeans. His face was partially obscured by a baseball cap pulled low, but she could see enough.
She didn’t recognize him. It wasn’t Arthur. Could he be . . . ? She squinted. Could he be the man from the alley? The one who’d stared at her while she waited at the pediatrician’s?
She couldn’t be sure.
The man walked toward Good Boy, crouched down, and checked the rope. The dog lifted his head slightly but didn’t move or react.
Naomi’s chest tightened.
The man stood slowly, brushing his hands on his jeans.
She ducked behind the tree—but it wasn’t quite big enough to conceal her entire body.
Don’t turn around. Don’t look this way.
A few minutes ticked by, her heart pounding with every passing second.
Finally, she peered out again, desperate to see if the man was still out there.
As she looked, the man paused. His head tilted slightly, as if he’d sensed something.
Naomi’s pulse hammered in her ears, afraid to move. Afraid it might attract his attention.
His gaze swept the tree line—casual at first.
Then his eyes locked on the spot where she stood.
Naomi’s heart stopped.
For a split second, neither of them moved.
She saw the exact moment recognition hit. His expression shifted from mild curiosity to surprise. Then it hardened into something darker.
He stared directly at her and shouted, “Hey!”
Fear shot through her like ice water.
She was in serious trouble.
The accident scene was chaos.
Two vehicles—a sedan and a pickup—crumpled together in the middle of Route 9.
Glass scattered across the asphalt like ice.
A woman sat on the shoulder, blood streaming from a gash on her forehead, while a paramedic worked to stabilize her.
The driver of the pickup was already on a stretcher, conscious but dazed.
Micah directed traffic around the wreckage, his movements automatic, his mind running through the checklist. Secure the scene. Document everything. Get statements. Clear the road.
Deputy Knox was already photographing the vehicles, his camera flashing in the gray afternoon light. A state police officer was also there.
“Sheriff!” One of the paramedics waved him over. “You need a statement from the sedan driver before we transport her?”
Micah nodded and started toward her.
As he did, his phone rang.
He pulled it from his belt and glanced at the screen.
It was Ruby.
His stomach tightened.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” he told the paramedic before stepping away from the noise and answering. “Ruby, is everything okay?”
“I don’t know.” Ruby’s voice was tight with worry. “I’m sorry to call you, but Naomi left about an hour ago. Said she had to run a quick errand. I tried to call to ask her a question about Grace, but she’s not answering her phone. That’s not like her, and I—I have a bad feeling, Micah.”
Micah’s pulse kicked up. “Where did she go?”
“She didn’t say. Just that she’d be back in a couple of hours.” Ruby paused. “But she was acting strange.”
Micah’s mind raced.
Quick errand. Won’t answer her phone. Acting strange.
Then it clicked.
The address. Cooperstown. Gary Lee Foster. Good Boy.
“No . . .” he said under his breath.
“Micah? What is it?”
He strode back toward his SUV. “Ruby, I think I might know where she is. I’m going to go find out.”
“Micah, what’s going on?”
“I think Naomi went after Good Boy.”
Ruby sucked in a breath. “Alone?”
“I told her not to.” His jaw tightened. “But yeah. Alone.”
He ended the call as he reached his SUV and yanked the door open.
“Knox!” Micah called across the scene. “You’re in charge. Get statements, clear the road, file the report. I have to go handle another situation.”
Knox’s expression shifted from confusion to concern. “What’s going on?”
“Emergency. I’ll explain later.”
Micah didn’t wait for a response. He climbed into his SUV, started the engine, and pulled out onto the road.