CHAPTER 26: MORE THAN ONE WAYNO, NO, NO! TABBY-STRIPED FUR—COULDN’T it be a stray? A raccoon? Not their Monty. How would he have got in the compost bin? Jump on top and pry off the lid with his claws? Or were coyotes recycling now?
“I don’t think it was a coyote,” said Harry. “He looked peaceful. J.D. can tell you. We both recognized him, even with the grass clippings and such.”
She squeezed his hand tighter. “Where is he now?”
“J.D. took him to be cremated.”
“Harry!” Pam flung his hand away. “You couldn’t have asked me?”
“No, sweet thing, I couldn’t. You’d dashed off to rescue your daughter, remember?” He patted her arm. “I can’t give you much help with that, or Zappa. But I could deal with our Monty.”
Pam rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in both hands.
“Trust me
