Chapter 1 - SOMETHING WAS STILL ALIVE
The rusted latch screamed as Walter Reeves threw his entire weight against the steel digging bar. The old refrigerator rocked in the weeds, crushing wet grass beneath its metal side, but the padlock held.
Then the scratching inside stopped.
“No. No, don’t you quit on me.”
Walter reset his muddy boots, tightened both hands around the bar, and drove it downward.
The screws tore free with a violent snap. One shot into the weeds. The broken hasp swung from the padlock as Walter caught the heavy refrigerator door before it slammed shut again.
Hot, sour air rolled over him.
A golden-brown dog lay curled against a filthy dish towel inside the white metal compartment. Its ribs moved in shallow jerks. Its ears were flat, and its eyes squeezed shut against the sudden daylight.
Walter dropped to one knee.
“Easy, buddy. You’re safe.”
The dog recoiled when he extended his hand, then weakly pressed its nose against his wrist.
Behind him, someone gasped.
Walter turned.
An elderly woman stood near the farmhouse porch, clutching a stained towel against her chest. Her gray hair hung loose around a face Walter had seen only twice before—once at his son’s courthouse wedding and once across the room at his wife’s funeral.
“Eleanor?”
Melissa’s mother looked thinner than he remembered. Frightened, too.
Walter glanced at the abandoned farmhouse, then back at her.
“The bank said this place was empty.”
Eleanor stared at the dog.
“They say whatever they need to say.”
Walter kept one hand on the refrigerator door. “Who locked him in there?”
Her eyes dropped to the broken padlock.
She took one step backward.
Walter looked inside the refrigerator again. Beneath the dog’s neck, a worn leather collar was partly hidden beneath the towel. A metal tag caught the cloudy light.
JASPER HAYES.
Eleanor’s last name.
Walter’s jaw tightened.
“This is your dog.”
“He tried to protect me.”
“From who?”
The fear on her face answered before she did.
A truck door slammed somewhere beyond the house.
Eleanor’s fingers closed around Walter’s shoulder.
“You have to leave.”
“I just bought this property.”
“No,” she whispered. “Your son bought your name.”
A black SUV came around the side of the farmhouse.
May you like
Walter recognized it immediately.
Ryan was driving.
