Dogs. At least a dozen, maybe more. Some curled up in tight balls, too thin, their ribs jutting beneath matted fur. Others lay still, barely breathing. His heart clenched. These weren’t lost pets. They had been kept here for god knows how long. He saw various diagrams and charts on the wall talking about the ‘perfect’ dog.
He was taking pictures of the entire ordeal when a noise outside made him freeze. A low rumbling, like an engine turning over. His breath hitched. Someone was here. His gaze flicked toward a wooden desk in the corner, littered with scattered papers. Whatever this operation was, those files had the answers. But he had seconds, maybe less.