24
For years, that damn pack of dogs had haunted Mark’s nightmares. He never willingly went near a dog. He would never in a million years own one.
But he knew how to control these dogs. Even if they weren’t even the same dogs, after all these years, they’d probably been trained the same way. He put his fingers to his mouth and made the sound he’d perfected at the age of six.
The piercing whistle drew the attention of the pack. They stopped, confused, milling around, looking from him to Gracie, who was still facedown on the ground. Which order to follow? The “protect me” order from Kaminski or the “stand down” order from him?
He made the sound again—incredible how it came back to him so easily. He’d tried to block out so much of what had happened, especially the dogs. They weren’t bad d
