Part 4
The paramedics had to work around Scout because the puppy refused to move from Claire’s hand.
He was too small to be in their way for long, but every time someone lifted a branch or shifted a blanket near her, he pushed forward with his teeth bared in a frightened little snarl. There was no strength behind it. Only devotion. Noah finally scooped him up against his chest, one arm firm around the trembling body.
“I’ve got him,” Noah said. “Work.”
Scout twisted once, then went still when he realized Noah was not taking him away. He kept his eyes on Claire as the paramedics slid a collar around her neck, checked her pulse again, and wrapped thermal blankets over her shoulders. One medic, a gray-haired woman named Dana, looked up after taking her blood pressure.
“She’s critical, but she’s fighting,” Dana said. “We need to move before she crashes.”
Claire stirred at the sound. Her hand rose weakly beneath the blanket, searching.
“Scout’s here,” Noah told her. He lowered the puppy close enough for her fingers to touch his fur. “He’s right here.”
Claire’s face tightened with pain, but when her fingers found the puppy’s ear, the panic left her expression. She did not smile. She barely had enough strength to breathe. Still, something in her eased, as if she had been holding on for that one confirmation.
“They came back,” she whispered.
Noah leaned closer. “Who came back?”
Her eyes flickered toward the trees, wild with fear. “Van.”
Price crouched on her other side. “Claire, I’m Sergeant Price. You’re safe right now. Do you know how many people hurt you?”
Her throat worked. The answer came in pieces. “Two. Maybe three. I don’t know. They took my bag.”
“Do you know them?”
Claire’s gaze drifted. Dana looked sharply at Price.
“No more,” Dana said. “She needs the hospital.”
But Claire tightened her fingers in Scout’s fur. “They said…” She swallowed hard, her voice thinning. “One said they had to come back before dark. For what they dropped.”
Noah looked at Price.
Price’s face changed in a way only another officer would notice. The rescue had just become something else. If Claire’s attackers believed they had left evidence behind, they might return to the greenway. If they knew Claire was alive, they might do worse.
“Get her out,” Price said. “Now.”
The climb from the hollow took too long. Every root caught, every patch of mud shifted under the responders’ boots, and every jolt made Claire groan despite her effort to stay quiet. Scout struggled in Noah’s arms until Noah whispered, “You found her. Let them save her.”
The puppy pressed his face under Noah’s chin and shook.
At the top of the bank, Detective Elena Cruz arrived with her hair pulled into a tight knot and a camera strap across her shoulder. She took in the scene in one fast sweep — stretcher, puppy, blood trail, torn fabric — and her expression hardened into focus.
“That the dog?” she asked.
Noah nodded.
Cruz stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Then he’s a witness we can’t interview and evidence we can’t ignore.”
Scout gave a small growl.
Cruz did not look offended. “Fair enough.”
EMS carried Claire toward the access point where an ambulance waited beyond the vines. Noah followed with Scout, who twisted whenever the stretcher moved out of sight. When they reached the pavement behind the shops, the morning had changed completely. Police tape cut across the alley. Neighbors stood on porches. Mrs. Alvarez watched from the bakery door with both hands pressed to her mouth.
The ambulance doors opened.
Dana paused beside Noah. “He rides or she panics,” she said. “But you ride too. I’m not managing an injured patient and a terrified puppy by myself.”
Noah looked at Price.
“Go,” the sergeant said. “Cruz and I have the scene.”
Noah climbed into the ambulance with Scout in his arms. The puppy squirmed until Noah set him near Claire’s blanketed hand. Dana allowed it for half a second, just long enough for Scout to press his nose against her fingers before she secured him against Noah’s lap.
The siren began.
Claire’s eyes opened once as the ambulance pulled away. The oxygen mask fogged with her shallow breaths. She turned her head, searching, and Noah leaned forward so she could see Scout.
“He made it,” Noah said.
Claire’s eyes filled, but no tears fell. She seemed too tired even for that.
“He bit one,” she whispered through the mask.
Dana adjusted the line in Claire’s arm. “Save your strength.”
Claire ignored her, looking at Noah with sudden urgency. “His hand. Scout bit his hand.”
Noah held her gaze.
A puppy had found a victim, led police to the scene, and given them a clue no one would have known to ask for. Before the ambulance reached the hospital, Noah radioed Detective Cruz with one sentence: “Check every urgent care and ER for a man with a fresh dog bite…”
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