"About half an hour ago. Your husband came for him. You two brought the dog in together before, so when he showed up, I handed him over. Didn't think twice about it."
I thanked them and walked out. My expression had gone cold.
Still, I opened my messages and typed:
Is Mochi with you? I'm coming to get him.
The reply came instantly:
Come over. I'm at our house.
Mochi's bed, his food, his toys were all still at the house.
I could grab everything in one trip.
I hailed a cab and headed straight there.
The front door of the villa stood wide open.
But the moment I stepped inside, I froze.
Mochi's bed was destroyed. Torn apart.
Scraps of blood-matted fur and splintered bone lay scattered across the floor. The blood had pooled and half-dried, catching the morning light in a sickening shade of red.
A small brown head had rolled to one side. His eyes were still open, staring up at the gray sky. Seeing nothing.
I stood there. I couldn't move. I couldn't think.
Time stopped. The only thing that existed was the thick, coppery reek of blood forcing its way into my lungs.
Then a piece of brown fur sailed through the air like a discarded rag, landing at my feet.
A sweet, girlish voice drifted out from inside.