I Was His Waiting Room novel · Chapter 13 of 32

Chapter 13: Lasagna

I didn't call her back.

She'd asked me not to, and I don't break that kind of promise.

On Friday morning I put Pepper in the truck and drove to Savin Hill instead.

They lived on the second floor of a yellow two-family with a plastic slide in the side yard.

I parked across the street and kept my hands on the wheel.

Kerry had called it a terrible idea.

"You'll look like a stalker with a Labrador."

"I'm not going to knock."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Letting them see the dog."

Pepper sat up in the passenger seat and stared at the second-floor window.

At ten past eight the front door opened.

The father came out first, in a work jacket, keys in his hand.

He saw my truck and stopped on the steps.

The mother came out behind him with the boy, a backpack on his shoulders and a scooter helmet buckled under his chin.

Pepper whined, one high note.

Then she pawed the window. Hard, three times, and went still with her eyes on the boy.

I knew that pattern.

I'd spent a year building it.

I was out of the truck before I'd decided anything.

"When was his last one?" I called across the street.

The father's face shut.

"Get away from my house."

"When?"

"Tuesday," the mother said. She was already looking down at her son.

"She's alerting. Right now. You've got about twenty minutes."

The boy saw the truck and lit up.

"Pepper!"

The father didn't move.

The mother did.

She unbuckled the helmet and said, "Inside, baby. Change of plans."

"I'll be late for school."

"You'll be early for the couch."

I clipped Pepper's leash on and walked her across at a heel.

The father stood on the bottom step a long second.

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