Chapter 4 - The Sheriff's Ward
""Everyone stay right where you are,"" Deputy Miller announced, his hand resting casually on his utility belt while his partner secured the hallway entrance. ""We have an active flash flood warning closing Route 9, and the creek behind the shelter is rising. Intake operations are suspended effective immediately.""
Clara exhaled sharply, running a hand through her tied-back hair. ""Deputy, thank God. We have a dispute over this animal. This man claims ownership, but—""
""No animals leave the facility until the county clears the paperwork, Clara, you know that,"" Deputy Miller interrupted, scanning the room before his eyes settled on Thomas. ""Thomas? What are you doing out here? The coroner's van hasn't even cleared the Miller's Creek staging area. They told you to stay at the municipal shelter.""
""I told you I had to find Pip,"" Thomas insisted, his voice dropping into an urgent whisper. ""The dog was in the passenger footwell when the mud hit. I told you she wouldn't have abandoned him.""
""Pip,"" Lucas murmured under his breath. At the sound of the name, the tiny ears perked straight up, large hazel eyes locking onto Lucas with unmistakable recognition. The dog wasn't Biscuit. He was Pip. Sarah's dog.
""Look, folks,"" Deputy Miller said, rubbing his temples. ""The bridge on Old Mill Road just washed out. If anyone leaves now, you won't make it across the river to the highway. This building is on high ground, but we're going to be sheltering in place until the morning road crews can assess the washout. Nobody is taking any animals out in this deluge.""
A collective murmur of panic and frustration rolled through the remaining shelter staff and visitors. Outside, the rain drummed violently against the corrugated metal roof like a barrage of stones.
""We have twenty-four dogs in kennels and twelve cats in isolation,"" Clara said, her voice taut with emerging crisis. ""And the back drainage ditch was already overflowing when I checked twenty minutes ago.""
Lucas held Pip closer against his chest, feeling the tiny heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at Thomas, whose weathered face had turned ash-grey.
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""We need to talk,"" Lucas said to Thomas, stepping forward. ""Now. Before the water cuts us off completely.""
Thomas didn't answer with words. He reached into his coat pocket, not for a weapon, but for a ring of heavy brass keys, and threw them onto the plastic chair. ""If the creek breaches the kennel wall, those dogs drown in their cages. Talk later. Move now.""
