By one in the morning, Elsie was dead on her feet, but the stray dog without a name was soundly sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia after undergoing surgery to repair the broken bones. As far as Elsie could determine from all the imaging she’d done, there were no other major internal injuries, just contusions and sprains. That little beagle was very, very lucky…or had a guardian angel—no, make that a pair of angels—looking out for him.
She couldn’t put off meeting with the owners any longer. After asking Maria to bring them into another room, she went to the break room to pour herself a cup of cold coffee to steel herself against their charms. Only the carafe was empty, and no one had thought to brew another pot.
Damn it, she thought, shaking her head. She considered making it her
