A dog trained for war, thrown into an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by incoherent orders, unable to understand what was expected of him.
Noah leaned over and whispered a single word:
"Home."
The dog's body shuddered. His ears folded, not out of threat, but out of gratitude. He gently rested his forehead against the grating, as if to hold back something more fragile than anger.
At the same moment, Sergeant Pike's phone vibrated.
An alert: a suspicious individual had been seen near Hannah Cross' home. Storm in progress. Possible intrusion attempt.
Pike's heart sank.
Because if Kaiser really belonged to the husband who was thought to be dead...
So who was in front of Hannah's house that night?
And why did this dog seem to have been waiting for this moment for so long?
A truth that resurfaces
In the pouring rain, Pike took Hannah and Noah home. Kaiser, placed in a transport cage, no longer scolded. He moaned softly. Not out of aggressiveness, but out of urgency.
When we arrived in front of the house, a figure appeared under the light of the porch.
A man. Soaked. Motionless.
"Police! Show your hands! Pike said.
