Never Let You Go(64)

I drive fast on the snowy roads, too fast, but we make it to the clinic ten minutes later. Dr. Langelier checks Angus over, gently opening his mouth, examining his gums, lifting his eyelids. There was a different doctor when I brought Angus in for his post-adoption checkup. I’d felt like she was too young, too unsure of herself, but I’m soothed by this doctor’s snow-white hair, his calm manner and deep voice. My pulse settles and I take some breaths. It’s okay. Angus is in good hands. I glance down at his sweet face. Just get through this, buddy, and I’ll take you for all the walks and swims and car rides you want for the rest of your doggie life.

“Do you know what he got into?” the veterinarian says.

“I saw bits of pills in his vomit.” I hand him my little bag and he surveys the contents. “My daughter and I don’t take prescriptions—and we don’t have any pills like this. He also had hunks of wieners or sausages in his vomit. I think someone tossed them into our backyard.”

“How long ago do you think that might have been?”

“I don’t know. My daughter was home until around one.”

“Did she notice anything wrong with his behavior?”

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet, but she would have told me.”

“He probably ingested the substance in the last couple of hours—it would’ve hit his bloodstream fast. Let’s get this guy in the back right away and get him on an IV and run some tests. We’ll give him activated charcoal to bind what’s in his bowels so it gets passed out.” He picks up the plastic bag. “We’ll see if we can figure out what he was given.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Hopefully you found him in time, but we’re going to have to monitor his kidney and liver function to make sure they aren’t damaged. We’ll give him IV fluids to flush his body and treat his symptoms as they appear. I want to run a CBC—complete blood count—to see if it affected red to white cells, and monitor clotting time.”

I look down at Angus, stroke the soft fur around his neck. “I hate leaving him.”

“We’ll take good care of him. Someone will be in the clinic all night.”

I fight back tears. “He’s such a great dog. He doesn’t deserve this.”

He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Try to go home and get some rest. We’ll call as soon as we know what he was given, and then you can report it to the police.”

“Thanks.” I lean over, whisper in Angus’s ear. “I’ll come back and get you really soon.”



When I get home, I call Parker and tell her what happened. “I know it was Andrew. He’s angry because Sophie isn’t seeing him anymore.”

“I’ll do a trace on his phone and see if he was near your house today. Did you keep any samples from the vomit? Any of the meat pieces?” Parker sounds just as furious as me, her voice tight, but her thoughts are more focused. I feel my grip on the phone loosen. She believes me.

“He threw up everywhere in the house, but I haven’t looked in the yard yet.”

“I’ll come over and check it out.”

While I wait for Parker, I take a walk around the house to make sure Angus didn’t throw up anywhere else. When I enter my room, I take a quick stock of everything. Have the books on my nightstand been moved? My bedding is slightly rumpled, but that could have been from this morning.

I walk over to my desk. Nothing seems out of place, but I have that sick roll in my stomach. I try to think it through logically. The alarm was still set when I got home and the doors were locked. When Greg installed the dog door for Angus we changed the alarm to the pet setting. Anyone taller would’ve tripped the alarm. It’s impossible. I’m just scaring myself.

When Parker arrives she doesn’t find any remnants of food in the yard, but I’m not surprised. Angus would gulp down anything Andrew threw over the fence.

“I’ll find out what his cell records tell us,” she says. “We’ll know if he was in the area.”

“Can’t you arrest him?”

“We still have to prove he was the one who did it, and that will be a lot harder if there are no prints or other evidence. Let’s see how this plays out. I’ll keep you posted.”

After she’s gone, I grab my supplies and clean up the mess. I feel so bad that Angus was suffering all alone in the house, probably scared out of his mind—and I hate Andrew like never before. After I’m finished cleaning, I take a shower to wash off the medicinal smell of the clinic and the lingering scent of dog vomit. I stand under the warm spray for a long time.

Sophie said she called him this week, but she was vague about how he took the news that she wasn’t going to see him anymore. I wonder what else was said during that conversation. I assume she left some things out, to protect me. I would do the same.

I’m toweling off in my bedroom when my cell rings. Marcus. In the panic I forgot to text him that I wasn’t coming to the party. I answer on the second ring.

“Sorry! I meant to call,” I say.

“Everything okay? You didn’t show up tonight.”

“When I got home, I found Angus really sick and I had to take him to the clinic.”

“Is he okay? What happened?”

“I think Andrew threw some meat laced with drugs into the yard.”