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bark, but something had definitely gotten his attention. Maybe the ducks had followed them up the path? She made her way back to the front door and looked out. Thor was standing on the path facing up the hill; his tail was wagging frantically, and he kept stealing glances back at Emily before snapping his head back to whatever had piqued his interest.
    “What is wrong with you?” she called as she stepped outside. “There aren’t any—”
    Emily stopped midsentence. Standing just a few yards away, frozen to the spot by Thor’s barking, was a terrified young girl.

The kid didn’t stay frozen long—and she could move. Ten, maybe eleven. Tall for her age, wide blue eyes, skinny, in cutoff blue jeans that terminated in tattered threads just above her scuffed knees, muddy sneakers, and a blouse. Her eyes flicked between Thor and Emily as if she was trying to decide which of them to be more afraid of.
    “No! Wait!” Emily yelled.
    But she was already outpacing Emily, dodging between the trees and leaping over rocks and outcrops. She obviously knew the area like the back of her hand. If not for Thor, the kid would have lost Emily in the first thirty seconds. As it was, she could barely keep Thor in sight as he loped after the girl.
    The roof of the third house appeared above a thick hedge just as the path leveled off and switched from dirt to a concrete slab driveway. Emily was just in time to see the girl, long blonde hair streaming out behind her, dart around the corner of the house. Thor followed her a few seconds later.
    “Goddamn it, Thor,” Emily yelled between panting breaths. “Stop, you’re scaring her.”
    Emily sprinted the remaining fifty feet to the same corner, working out how she was going to approach the kid to convince her she wasn’t a threat. As she rounded the corner of the house, Emily almost tripped over Thor, his body rigid, his ears down, and his teeth bared in a low growl as he stared at the doorway.
    Emily looked up from her dog. Standing in the open entrance was the little girl; next to her was a man with a pistol aimed directly at Thor’s head.
    “Stop!” Emily screamed.
    Thor raised himself from his crouch and let out a low growl. The man pulled the girl closer to him and his finger began to tighten on the trigger.
    “No,” Emily yelled. “He won’t hurt you…Thor! Come here. Come on, come here.” The dog didn’t budge, so Emily took a tentative step closer to him, her hands raised to shoulder height, palms out. “We aren’t here to hurt anybody.” She spoke as softly as she could, fighting the urge to yell at the man that if he didn’t point the pistol away from her dog she was going to take it from him and shove it so far up—
    “Who are you?” the man said, nervously waving the gun. The words were directed at Emily, but his eyes never left Thor. “Where the hell did you come from?” Emily noticed the girl glance quickly up at the man, a look of fear in her eyes.
    “Dad…” she whimpered.
    Okay, okay. So now she knew what she was dealing with: a father frightened for his daughter and his own safety. She could understand that. Just have to keep them—and Thor—calm, she thought.
    The girl’s father glanced down at his daughter. “It’s all okay, kiddo,” he said reassuringly, squeezing his daughter’s shoulder.Then his focus snapped back to Emily and Thor. “I won’t ask again. Who are you?”
    “My name is Emily Baxter. This is my dog, Thor. We aren’t here to hurt you. I didn’t know anybody was alive here,” she explained, then added, “I didn’t know anybody was alive anywhere.”
    When he next spoke, Emily thought the man’s demeanor might have softened a little. “Are you with an agency?” he asked, the edge of panic almost gone from his voice, replaced now with a tone of inquisitiveness.
    “I’m sorry? Agency?” Emily was confused, but she took advantage of the moment to edge a little closer toward Thor. The malamute was still crouched