Claire took out a small bottle of Betadine from her medical bag and handed it to her. “Add that to a warm bucket of water. Let him soak in it for a while.”

“Oh, I can do that myself,” said Elwyn, and got up.

“Then we might as well just amputate right now!” snapped Rachel. “Sit down, Elwyn.”

“Gee,” he said, and sat down.

Claire left a few packets of bandages and gauze wrappings on the table. “Elwyn, you come into my office next week, so I can check the wound.”

“But I got too much to do-”

“If you don’t come in, I’ll have to hunt you down like a dog.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly.

Suppressing a smile, Claire picked up her medical bag and walked out of the house.

The two dogs were in the front yard again, fighting over a filthy bone. As Claire came down the steps, they both spun around to stare at her.

The black one trotted forward and growled.

“Shoo,” Claire said, but the dog refused to back down. It took another few steps forward, teeth bared.

The tan dog, spotting opportunity, snatched the bone in its teeth and began dragging away the prize. It got halfway across the yard before the black dog suddenly noticed the thief and streaked back into the fight. Yelping and growling, they thrashed around the yard in a tangle of black and tan. The bone lay, forgotten, beside Claire’s pickup truck.

She opened the door and was just sliding in behind the steering wheel when the image registered in her brain. She looked down at the ground, at the bone.

It was less than a foot long, and stained a rusty brown with dirt. One end had broken off, leaving jagged splinters. The other end was intact, the bony landmarks recognizable.

It was a femur. And it was human.

Ten miles out of town, Tranquility Police Chief Lincoln Kelly finally caught up with his wife.

She was doing about fifty in a stolen Chevy, weaving left and right, the loose tailpipe kicking up sparks every time she hit a dip in the road.