Chapter 8 - THE TRUTH NOBODY WANTED US TO FINDThree days after Luna's collapse, the sheriff's department contacted us.
Deputy Elena Brooks asked Daniel and me to come to the station.
Margaret and Rebecca Hall were already there when we arrived.
Thomas Reed sat at the far end of the conference table.
He looked nothing like the man I'd imagined.
I'd expected someone confident, perhaps even angry.
Instead, he appeared exhausted.
His shoulders were hunched.
His hands were clasped so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
When Daniel entered, Thomas stood.
“Are you the couple trying to take Rex and Luna home?”
“Yes,” Daniel said.
Thomas swallowed.
“Thank you.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
“For not giving up on them.”
His eyes filled.
Then he sat down.
Deputy Brooks explained that Thomas had agreed to provide a voluntary statement and answer questions relevant to the dogs' history.
Some details remained under investigation and couldn't be shared.
But several important facts had been corroborated.
The archived photographs were authentic.
Records established that Rex and Luna had been housed at Ridgeway.
And financial documents showed that Patricia Sloan had authorized payments from funds intended for the dogs' care.
Rebecca spoke carefully.
“There are serious questions about whether those funds were used for their intended purpose.”
Thomas lowered his head.
“Patricia knew what was happening.”
The room went silent.
Elena leaned forward.
“Mr. Reed, please distinguish what you personally witnessed from what you believe.”
He nodded.
“I saw her visit the facility. More than once. I heard her arguing with Grant about payments.”
“What did she say?” Rebecca asked.
Thomas took a breath.
“She said she couldn't keep telling Evelyn the dogs were receiving specialized care when the bills weren't matching what she'd been promised.”
My stomach tightened.
“She knew Evelyn was asking for them?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she take them back?”
Thomas stared at the table.
“I don't know.”
Daniel's voice was quiet.
“What happened the night you removed the dogs?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he began.
He'd been working late.
Rex was in one enclosure.
Luna was recovering from an injury in another.
Grant had allegedly ordered staff to keep the dogs separated because he believed their attachment interfered with training.
Thomas had argued with him.
Again.
That evening, he received a message saying his employment would end unless he followed instructions.
He'd already been considering leaving.
But something happened that night that made waiting impossible.
Luna stopped responding to her name.
She stood facing the wall, trembling.
Rex paced relentlessly in his enclosure.
Thomas said he couldn't bear watching them deteriorate.
So he loaded both dogs into his vehicle and drove away.
He planned to take them to a veterinary clinic and report what he'd witnessed.
But during a stop beside a rural highway, one of the vehicle's rear doors failed to latch properly.
Rex jumped out.
Luna followed.
Both disappeared into the woods.
“I searched all night,” Thomas whispered.
His voice broke.
“I kept calling them.”
He wiped his eyes.
“I went back the next day. And the next.”
“Why didn't you call animal control?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Because I'd taken them without authorization. I was afraid I'd be arrested, and I was terrified they'd be returned to Grant before anyone listened to what I had to say.”
Daniel didn't respond.
Thomas looked directly at him.
“I know I made mistakes.”
My husband's jaw tightened.
“Yes. You did.”
Thomas nodded.
“I did.”
For several seconds, the room was silent.
Then Daniel asked, “Why are you talking now?”
Thomas pulled a small photograph from his pocket.
It showed Rex and Luna at the shelter.
“I saw this online.”
He stared at it.
“After seven months, I finally knew they were alive.”
His eyes filled again.
“And I realized being afraid wasn't an excuse anymore.”
Nobody spoke.
Deputy Brooks continued the meeting.
She explained that investigators had obtained additional records after Thomas provided information about where certain facility documents were stored.
A veterinarian who had previously treated dogs from Ridgeway was also cooperating.
The picture emerging was troubling.
There were credible allegations of animal mistreatment.
There were financial irregularities.
And there were unanswered questions about how the dogs' care had been managed after Evelyn became ill.
But something else was unfolding.
Grant Harlan's civil claim had begun to weaken.
His paperwork wasn't as straightforward as he'd suggested.
And the estate attorney had uncovered correspondence indicating that Evelyn never consented to a permanent transfer of Rex and Luna to Ridgeway.
Rebecca looked at us.
“The strongest evidence is that Evelyn retained ownership while arranging temporary care. We believe the estate has a substantial basis to challenge Harlan's claim.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“What happens now?”
“We'll seek a court determination confirming the estate's authority to place the dogs with a qualified permanent adopter.”
“And the investigation?”
“That will proceed separately.”
I felt relief beginning to rise.
Then Elena's phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Her expression changed.
“Excuse me.”
She stepped outside.
When she returned, she looked directly at Margaret.
“Has anyone from the shelter contacted you about an unauthorized visitor?”
Margaret frowned.
“No.”
Elena's voice sharpened.
“We need to confirm exactly where Rex and Luna are.”
My heart dropped.
“They're at the veterinary hospital,” I said.
The deputy nodded.
“I know. I'm asking whether anyone has tried to access them.”
Daniel stood.
“Why?”
Elena looked at us.
“A man matching Grant Harlan's description was reportedly seen near the facility earlier this morning.”
I reached for my phone.
No missed calls.
No messages.
I called Dr. Foster's office.
The receptionist answered.
I asked about the dogs.
There was a pause.
Then another voice came on the line.
“Sarah? This is Dr. Foster.”
“Are Rex and Luna okay?”
“Yes. They're secure.”
I nearly collapsed with relief.
“But there's been an incident,” she continued.
Daniel moved closer.
“What incident?”
“Someone attempted to enter the restricted treatment area claiming to be authorized to collect the dogs. Our staff refused access and contacted security.”
“Was it Grant?”
“We're cooperating with law enforcement and can't confirm his identity.”
I closed my eyes.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Daniel took the phone.
“Doctor, listen carefully. Please don't release those dogs to anyone without the proper legal authorization.”
“We won't.”
He exhaled.
“Thank you.”
When the call ended, Thomas looked devastated.
“He won't stop,” he whispered.
Elena turned toward him.
“Then provide us every piece of information you have.”
Thomas nodded.
And this time, there was no hesitation.
That afternoon, the sheriff's department confirmed it was reviewing the attempted unauthorized access.
The veterinary hospital strengthened its security procedures.
Margaret temporarily suspended public information about the dogs' location.
And Rebecca filed an urgent motion concerning their custody.
Everything was moving toward a legal confrontation.
But amid the chaos, something wonderful happened.
Luna was improving.
She began eating consistently.
Her strength returned.
And one afternoon, as Daniel and I sat beside her recovery bed, she picked up a soft yellow toy.
She carried it to Rex.
Then dropped it at his feet.
Rex looked at the toy.
Looked at Luna.
And wagged his tail.
Daniel laughed.
“She's asking you to play, buddy.”
Luna nudged the toy again.
Rex picked it up.
Then very gently tugged.
For perhaps thirty seconds, they played together.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing spectacular.
But Margaret cried when we showed her the video.
Because those dogs were beginning to behave like dogs again.
Not frightened survivors.
Not evidence in a dispute.
Just Rex and Luna.
Two best friends sharing a toy.
That evening, Rebecca called with another update.
“I have news.”
Daniel put the phone on speaker.
“Good or bad?”
“Potentially very good.”
My pulse quickened.
“The court has scheduled an expedited hearing. Based on the documents we've submitted, we believe the estate's representative can establish authority to arrange their permanent adoption.”
“When?”
“Monday morning.”
I looked at Daniel.
He was smiling for the first time in days.
Then Rebecca added, “One more thing. The estate has received a written communication from Patricia Sloan's attorney.”
Daniel's smile faded.
“What does she want?”
Rebecca paused.
“She now acknowledges that Evelyn did not authorize a permanent transfer of the dogs.”
I stared at the phone.
After everything, Patricia was finally admitting that much.
“But,” Rebecca continued, “she disputes responsibility for what happened afterward.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Of course she does.”
“Her liability is a separate matter. What matters for the dogs is that her acknowledgment strengthens our position.”
I sat down.
Monday morning.
It was only three days away.
Three days until we might finally bring Rex and Luna home.
But late Sunday night, while Daniel was asleep, my phone lit up with an unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice spoke softly.
“Is this Sarah Mitchell?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Patricia Sloan.”
I sat upright.
Before I could say anything, she began crying.
“I know you hate me.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why are you calling?”
“Because there's something about Evelyn's final days you haven't been told.”
I gripped the phone.
“What?”
Patricia's voice cracked.
“She found out what happened to her dogs before she died.”
May you like
The room seemed to spin.
“And she left one last message.”
