The lobby in the vet’s office was so quiet, Thom could hear the clicking of a clock from what had to be an apartment above. The appointment had been set for Monday at seven-thirty pm, a full half hour after they traditionally allowed bookings, and Thom assumed that Justin had pulled some strings for that favour. The receptionist, or assistant, or whatever title the person behind the admitting desk laid claim to, was on her way out when he arrived and had been busily rubbing down her cartooned scrubs with what looked to be a long, inside-out roll of sticky paper. He’d almost been fascinated enough to ask about it, but had chickened out when the woman had pointed at the chairs with a disinterested, almost dismissive, “The doc’ll be right out. Take a seat.”
He’d done just that, clutching Dog
