“Where did the cat go?” Val demanded.
Genevieve’s blinker and windshield wiper levers twitched in a shrug.
“Well, good riddance,” Val growled.
She pulled out her phone and typed in an address: the veterinary clinic from which she’d picked up Jess from work several times. She glanced in the rearview mirror as she slid her phone into the bracket. The dog wasn’t moving.
“We’re going to get you help,” she told him. “Let’s go, Gennie. Quick and smooth.”
The Mustang pulled away so gently that Val could have held a full champagne glass without spilling a drop.
CHAPTER NINE
The vet clinic was tucked into the corner of a grimy shopping center. Val steered into the closest parking space, which wasn’t hard. Only a few cars stood nearby. The clinic was the only building with lights in the windows.
24 Hours the blue neon sign over the door proclaimed. Posters in the windows advertised lost pets, adoption drives, and specials on sterilization.
When she opened the back door, Val was surprised to see that the dog was still alive. His tail twitched feebly, and when she reached toward him, his pink tongue lapped her palm. That made her feel much shittier about hitting him.
“I’m so sorry, dude.” Val scooped him into her arms as gently as she could.
The dog was limp and unresisting in her grasp as she carried him into the clinic. The silent, bare waiting room was so small that six chairs barely fit in the space between the door and the counter, behind which Jess drooped over a stack of paperwork.
She looked up at the sound of the door swinging shut behind Val, and her green eyes widened behind her glasses. “Val?”
“Hey.” Val strode to the counter. “I hit this poor dog on my way home. Can you help him?”
Jess jumped to her feet. “Bring him through. Dr. West is in surgery, but I can examine him in the meantime.”
Val followed her into a cold, bare examination room. A stainless steel table stood in the center with a drainage hole on one side and a bucket hanging beneath the hole. The opposite wall featured a steel sink and a countertop covered in medication bottles. A computer monitor was lost amid the chaos.
“What happened?” Jess asked.
Val laid the dog on the table. I was arguing with a magic cat and thought my car would drive itself. “I didn’t see him,” she told her friend. “I hit the brakes and heard a thump, and he was lying in front of the car.”
Jess stroked the dog’s neck. He whimpered and tensed but didn’t resist as she pulled back his lips to look at his mouth. “The wheel didn’t go over him?”
Val shook her head mutely, surprised by the tightness in her throat.
“His mucus membranes are pink. That’s a good early sign.” Jess retrieved a stethoscope from a nearby drawer and placed it on the dog’s chest.
Val stroked his face silently as Jess moved the diaphragm across the dog’s body. Concentration sharpened her features, but her hands were light and gentle as she felt his tattered coat and bloodstained limbs. The dog lay still, accepting.
“His lungs are clear.” Jess looped the stethoscope around her neck. “I hear good gut sounds, too, and his heart rate is steady but elevated, as you’d expect from an animal in pain. His pupils are equal, round, and reactive to light.”
“What does that all mean?” Val asked meekly.
“It means that I don’t think he has internal injuries, although Dr. West can tell you for sure. I also don’t see any signs of brain injury.” Jess ran gentle fingers over the dog’s left front leg. “This leg is clearly broken, though.”
“He hasn’t moved his back legs, either,” Val murmured.
Jess’s lips turned down in a grimace of sympathy. “That might not be as bad as it seems. Let’s wait and see what Dr. West says after he takes X-rays.”
Val’s hands tightened in the dog’s thick red fur. “This was my fault, Jess.”
“It was an accident. These things happen,” Jess reassured her. “I know you feel horrible, but it could have happened to anyone.”
Val nodded mutely, then stepped aside when a tall Hispanic man in a white lab coat strode into the room, drying his hands on a paper towel.
“Evening,” he growled to Val. “What’s going on, Jess?”
Val retreated to the waiting room and sat on an uncomfortable chair for what felt like hours. According to her phone, in reality, half an hour later, Jess popped her head around the exam room door.
“Come on inside, Val.” She grinned. “It’s good news.”
Relief washed through Val as she returned to the room. The dog lay very still on the table, breathing rhythmically. An IV ran into a clipped area on his right foreleg. The left foreleg was encased in a white bandage from paw to shoulder.
“We sedated him for the X-rays and the splint,” Jess explained. “Here. You can see that it’s an uncomplicated fracture of the humerus.” She pointed at the computer screen, where a dark line ran across the smooth white bone. “This should heal fine in a few weeks.”
“Okay.” Val ran a hand over the unconscious canine’s fur. “What about his back legs?”
Jess clicked on the screen, and a different X-ray popped up. “He’s broken his pelvis, see? Here and here, but again, these are closed and uncomplicated fractures. He doesn’t need surgery. It should heal well with rest, considering he’s a young dog.”
“He’s young?” Val asked.
“About two years old, judging by his teeth.” Jess turned to her. “Where did you find him?”
“A few blocks from here on the edge of Bed-Stuy. Do you think he belongs to somebody?” Val’s heart twisted at the thought of a worried dog owner searching the streets.
