When the car stopped, Aiden jumped out first. He walked ahead with the certainty of someone who knew every crack in the pavement.
“She was right here, sir,” he said, pointing to a peeling concrete wall. “Lying on an old blanket. And the dog was right next to her.”
Nathan moved forward slowly, heart pounding. On the floor, just as Aiden had described, lay a threadbare blanket, a dented metal bowl with dried crumbs, and fresh paw prints in the dirt. He knelt down and ran his fingers over them.
“My God…” he breathed.
Suddenly, a hoarse bark echoed nearby. Aiden and Nathan whipped their heads toward the sound.
“That’s him,” Aiden said. “That’s the dog.”
They ran toward the barking. From behind a half-collapsed wall, weaving between ripped sacks and soggy cardboard, a black dog appeared—thin, filthy, but alive. The instant he saw Nathan, the dog whined, tail wagging weakly.
“Ranger…” Nathan’s voice broke. “It’s really you?”
He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck, pulling him close. Ranger licked his face and whimpered, as if scolding him and forgiving him at the same time.
Aiden watched quietly. No doubt in his mind—no one could fake a reunion like that.