The sound cut through the church like a blade. A few guests groaned under their breath. Someone whispered, “Is he still out there?” Another muttered something about control. Emma’s heart lurched. Vincent stiffened beside her.
The barking grew louder. Closer. Then the doors opened. A man stepped inside. He was elderly, tall but stooped, wearing a dark trench coat that looked too heavy for the weather. His hair was gray, slicked neatly back, his face lined in a way that suggested calculation more than age.