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Joe Samborsky was not certain that the howl came from him or the house. But it jolted him out of his doze. |
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For a moment he blinked around the living room from the wing chair. Everything was still. No movement, no sound but the rain on the windows. Nothing out of place. The reading lamp beside him was still on, but the fire was now a bed of ash and unburnt log ends. His magazine had slipped to the floor. On the table still sat the half-glass of water and his vial of nitroglycerin. He flicked the cap and popped a pill under his tongue. In a minute the hot bulb in his chest would cool. |
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Probably a dream, he told himselfthe tail end of some nightmare soundtrack played on the inside of his skull. Except the howl still resonated in his consciousness. |
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He hoisted himself out of the chair and shuffled to the staircase. The master bedroom at the top right was dark. The stillness of the house magnified the creaking of the stairs as he climbed. He muttered a prayer it wasn't Anna in the grip of a stroke or cardiac arrest, but the moment he stepped into the bedroom he could hear the soft grating of her breath. Thank God, she lay peacefully asleep. |
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Sophie. Maybe her time had come. According to Dr. Beth, she wasn't due for another two weeks. But vets had been wrong before. |
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The clock in the kitchen said 2:20. He slid the bolt on the cellar door. If she was delivering, he'd wake up Anna. It was possible Sophie just |
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