Cooper had been digging for so long that Brian had stopped seeing it as harmless mischief. Mud flew behind the dog’s paws as he tore into the same patch of ground, whining under his breath, chest heaving. Whatever was buried there had him completely fixated, and Brian was starting to feel afraid.
Then Cooper jerked backward and dragged something small from the hole. It landed near Brian’s boot with a soft, wet thud. Brian stared for one frozen second before the shape registered. A child’s shoe. Tiny. Worn. One strap hanging loose. His stomach dropped almost instantly.
“What the hell…” Brian whispered, dropping to his knees in the grass. Cooper lunged toward the hole again, frantic now, while Brian grabbed his collar with shaking fingers. His mind leapt somewhere dark and terrible. A buried child’s shoe meant only one thing to him, and he was terrified to keep digging.