Something wet pressed into his palm. He looked up to find the dog sniffing at his hand, watching him with her big puppy-dog eyes. When she started to whine, he rubbed a hand down her back and whispered, “It’s okay now, girl. It’s going to be okay.”
And for the first time since he’d begun to smell alcohol on Roger’s breath, he finally believed that.
Chapter 24
It seemed like hours later when Wes pushed himself up from the floor and entered the darkened living room. At the window, he pulled the curtains back, flooding the room with sunlight. The street below his apartment building was empty—Roger’s car was gone.
He sank to the couch, the dog beside him, her paws in his lap, and together they waited. Fifteen minutes came and went, thirty, forty-five. When he heard footsteps on the stai
