He wasn't there.

She stopped in shock in the entrance of the tent.

Ned still lay on the table. He raised his head and whined softly as he saw her.

"How are you doing?" She crossed the tent. He seemed to be fine. Fully awake and alert and didn't seem to be in pain. "And where is your friend, Marrok? I need to talk to him."

Ned gave a low growl deep in his throat as if trying to tell her and nudged his head against her arm. She melted immediately. What a sweetheart.

She stroked his head. "You must have a great nose," she whispered. "You found a little girl tonight. Did you know that?"

He made a sound that resembled a half yodel, half bark. She would swear he was trying to answer her. She had not known a dog that tried so hard to communicate since her German shepherd, Tess, had passed away years ago. "Is that supposed to be a yes? I think it is. I used to feel as if my Tess could read my mind. But that's a bond that-" She broke off as she saw a piece of paper lying half-under Ned's body. "What the hell?"

She saw that her name was scrawled at the top of the page in bold dark script as she eased the sheet of paper from beneath the Lab. It was only a few lines.

I can't stay with Ned. Take him home with you, and I promise I'll pick him up as soon as I finish my business here. I've had a talk with him, and he won't be any trouble. I'd offer you money, but I know that won't work with you. You'll do it because you won't be able to leave him here hurt and with no one you regard as responsible enough to care for him.

Don't put him in a cage. Cages scare him and drive him crazy. Give him a chance to prove that it's not necessary. You won't regret it.

Marrok

Damn him.

Her hand closed around the paper, crushing it. She wished it was Marrok's throat. How irresponsible could you get? You didn't just leave your dog because it interfered with business. Particularly a dog like Ned. What business? She'd bet he'd skipped out before she had the opportunity to talk to the soldiers about his presence on the mountain.