Part 1: The Morning My Dog Wouldn’t Stop Scratching at the Door

property. The door hung unevenly, barely attached.

Baxter stopped at the entrance.

My heart was pounding as I stepped inside.

The shed smelled of damp wood and dust. Sunlight filtered through warped boards, creating pale lines across the floor. My breathing sounded loud in the quiet space.

That’s when I saw it.

In the far corner, tucked behind an old rake continue reading …