Tina slowed, rolling her window halfway down. The dog’s head jerked up at the sound, ears flattened, throat letting out a guttural growl. Then, just as quickly, the sound broke into a whine, long and quivering, like he couldn’t decide between warning and pleading.
Her stomach lurched. This didn’t seem like something random. He hadn’t moved or wandered off. All day, the animal must have remained crouched over that bundle like a sentinel. She killed the engine and sat there, heart thudding, unwilling to admit what her instincts were screaming.