“What happened?”
“Cooper got sick.”
Silence.
Then Megan's voice became frightened.
“How sick?”
“I don't know.”
“I'm coming.”
“You don't have to—”
“Daniel.”
He knew that tone.
“Okay.”
He hung up.
Behind him, Cooper shifted.
Daniel reached one hand backward.
“I'm here.”
He had owned Cooper since the dog was eight weeks old.
Cooper had slept beside Abby's crib when she was a baby.
He had followed Lucas everywhere when Lucas was learning to walk.
He had waited by the front window every afternoon when Megan came home from work.
After Daniel's father died, Cooper had become his silent companion during the hardest months of his life.
He wasn't just a dog.
He was family.
And someone had put something dangerous into his food.
Daniel just didn't know who.
By the time they reached the clinic, Cooper could no longer stand.
A veterinary technician rushed out with a stretcher.
Daniel helped place him down.
Then the doors closed.
Daniel stood outside.
His hands were shaking.
Megan arrived seven minutes later.
She ran toward him.
“Where is he?”
“Inside.”
“What happened?”
Daniel looked toward the parking lot.
“Linda Mercer says I poisoned him.”
Megan stared.
“What?”
“She found meat in my feed bucket.”
“Did you put it there?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Because for the first time, another possibility had entered his mind.
Someone had entered his yard.
Someone had placed the food there.
And someone had wanted him to be blamed for it.
Daniel and Megan waited for nearly two hours.
The emergency veterinarian finally came out.
“Mr. Hayes?”
Daniel stood immediately.
“How is he?”
“He's stable.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Megan covered her mouth.
“Stable means he's going to be okay?”
“It means we haven't lost him.”
That was enough for Daniel.
He leaned against the wall.
“What happened?”
“We found evidence of gastrointestinal distress and possible exposure to an unknown substance. We're running toxicology.”
“Poison?”
“Possibly.”
“Can you tell what?”
“Not yet.”
Daniel looked at Megan.
The word possible echoed in his mind.
Linda had accused him of deliberately poisoning his own dog.
But why?
What reason would anyone have?
The veterinarian continued.
“There is one unusual thing.”
Daniel looked up.
“What?”
“Cooper had traces of a substance on his paws.”
“What does that mean?”
“It could mean he stepped in something before licking his paws.”
Daniel immediately thought about the backyard.
“The bucket?”
“Possibly.”
“I didn't put anything there.”
“We're not making accusations. We're treating the dog.”
Daniel nodded.
“I understand.”
When they returned home, Maya Torres was still there.
She had been joined by another officer.
The bucket had been sealed.
The meat was gone.
The ground around it had been photographed.
Daniel stopped near the gate.
“What happened?”
Maya approached.
“We're treating this as a possible poisoning incident.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“Am I a suspect?”
“No.”
“Linda thinks I am.”
“Linda isn't conducting the investigation.”
Daniel looked toward her house.
Linda was standing behind her upstairs window.
Watching them.
Maya noticed.
She said nothing.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“There's something you should know.”
“What?”
“Linda has dogs coming to her house all the time.”
Maya nodded.
“I know.”
Daniel looked surprised.
“You know?”
“I responded to a complaint at her property this morning.”
“What kind of complaint?”
“Neighbors reported continuous barking.”
Daniel remembered that.
“What did you find?”
“Three dogs.”
“Were they hers?”
“She said she was temporarily caring for them.”
“That's what she always says.”
Maya studied him.
“Do you have a problem with Linda?”
“I have a problem with people running businesses out of residential neighborhoods without being honest about it.”
“Have you ever threatened her?”
“No.”
“Argued with her?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Enough.”
Maya nodded.
“That's important.”
Daniel sighed.
“I don't care about her business right now. I care about Cooper.”
“I know.”
Maya looked toward the sealed bucket.
“There was something else.”
“What?”
She reached into her evidence bag and showed him a photograph.
The red tape.
Daniel frowned.
“What about it?”
“Have you ever used red tape on your buckets?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
Maya showed him another photograph.
This one had been taken at Linda's garage that morning.
Several large feed containers stood against the wall.
Each had a strip of red tape.
Daniel stared.
“That’s her system.”
“What?”
“She uses red tape to identify special diets.”
Maya nodded.
“That's what she told me.”
Daniel looked at the photograph again.
“So?”
“So the tape in your bucket looks similar.”
Daniel frowned.
“Similar isn't proof.”
“No.”
“Could be coincidence.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because evidence isn't usually one dramatic thing.”
Maya lowered the photograph.
“Sometimes it's a collection of small details.”
Daniel thought about the container Linda had shown him.
“You said she handed it to you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you test it?”
“It's being processed.”
Daniel suddenly remembered something.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Linda wasn't supposed to know Cooper was sick.”
Maya looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I was in the backyard when he collapsed.”
“And?”
“Linda came through the gate almost immediately.”
“How immediately?”
“Less than a minute.”
Maya's expression changed.
“Did you hear anything before she entered?”
Daniel thought.