Chapter 21
ERIC’S VOICE squeezed through the high window at the back of the kitchen. “Kevin! You there?”
“I’m all right!” I shouted, not taking my eyes from the spectacle on the kitchen floor or my hand off the broom. “Back door’s blocked. Come in the front.”
A few seconds later the front door creaked open. “Kevin?”
“Back here.”
Eric tromped up beside me. “What—oh, wow.”
I’d given up refilling the big dog dish, instead just tearing open the huge bag of chow and letting the ravenous Rottie devour mouthfuls as quickly as possible. He’d already eaten half the bag, scattering bits of kibble across the smeary linoleum into the tiny gaps beneath the stove and refrigerator. The Rottie attacked kibble with a single-minded focus, crunching and swallowing as quickly as he could.
But the dog’s
