Owen nodded. “A dog was lying on top of the box it was in. We thought the dog was stuck, but…” He trailed off, uncertain how to describe what they’d seen. Mallory frowned slightly. “That’s unusual. And lucky.” Tom shifted awkwardly near the doorway. “It’s a miracle that it’s still breathing.”
“Miracle or sheer instinct,” Mallory murmured. “Either way, it bought this little one time.” The room fell quiet again. Only the hum of the fluorescent light and the faint rasp of her movements filled the space. Clara stood near the sink, twisting her damp hands in her jacket. Owen didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Mallory finally leaned closer to the creature’s face.