And they had. As it turned out, Kendra’s child had ended up with a trust account, funded by half of Ben’s life insurance proceeds and set up by Becca’s lawyer, who had been a friend of Ben’s. Becca accepted that as the child’s due, but if Kendra wanted to come after her for more, the fight was on.

Now Becca hugged Ringo briefly, fitted him with his new collar and clipped on his leash, then slid her arms through her favorite rain jacket. Twisting her hair into a knot with one hand, she crammed a baseball cap onto her head as Ringo danced at the door.

Outside, the night was black with rain and cold as they strolled around the condo’s grounds. Ringo waved his tail at several other dogs, but he didn’t bark. Apart from a woof or two when food was coming his way, he was pretty quiet. Rarely did he growl or make any noise. On walks, he was content to bury his nose or lift his leg on any and all interesting tree trunks.

Today was no exception. There were fewer pedestrians, probably because of the rain. Head ducked into her collar, Becca walked a few blocks toward the river, then back again, giving Ringo time to take care of business.

About a block from her front door, the dog suddenly stopped, planted his feet, and growled low in his throat. Becca tugged on the leash, but Ringo couldn’t be moved. “Come on,” she said as the hairs along the back of her neck lifted. Un-Ringo-like behavior, for sure.

The dog stared into a space about a hundred yards away where a thick grove of firs, branches waving like beckoning arms, stood tall and dark in the slanting rain. Becca’s pulse jumped. Something was wrong. She glanced around jerkily, half expecting the bogeyman to pounce on her.

Ringo gave a sharp bark and lunged, tugged at the leash.

“You’re freaking me out, dog,” Becca rebuked and bent down quickly, sliding the wet animal into her arms and hurrying toward her front door. Ringo’s head swivelled to keep sight of the trees. She could feel the low grrrrrr that rumbled through his body.