Chapter 4: The Dark Corner

The man in the diner finished his coffee, paid, and crossed the street at a walk.

"Back room," Wyatt said low. "All of us."

"He's coming here," Mara said. "If four men vanish the second he opens the door, he'll know exactly why."

"Then you're alone with him."

"I run a vet clinic. I'm alone with strangers all day."

Wyatt's jaw tightened, but he stepped back.

Dean slid into the hallway, Nash dropped onto the floor with the puppy and a chew toy, and Boone went out the back with his toolbox.

The bell jingled.

The man in the vest was barely thirty, with a shaved head and a patch that was still new.

He stood in the doorway and smiled at her.

"Morning, ma'am. I lost my dog."

"What kind?"

"Small. Brown. He answers to Ranger."

He held up a phone with a photo of a beagle mix on a green lawn.

It was a stock photo. She had seen the same picture on a thousand lost-pet flyers.

"I haven't seen him," Mara said. "Try the shelter on Birch Street."

"I'd feel better checking your kennels myself."

"The back is sterile. Animals in recovery."

"I'll be quick."

His eyes slid past her toward the hallway, and then to her face.

He was not looking for a dog.

He was comparing her to a picture in his head.

"Bathroom?" he asked pleasantly. "It's been a long drive."

"Customers use the one outside."

"I'm real sorry, ma'am. Real quick."

He was already walking.

His boots hit the tile past the front desk, and Mara's heart began to pound.

A hand closed around her wrist.

She was pulled sideways through a narrow door and the door shut behind them.

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