Chapter 5 - THE GIRL IN THE PINK COAT
Titan survived the night.
Barely.
I slept in a plastic chair outside intensive care.
At six in the morning, someone tapped my shoulder.
I opened my eyes.
Lucy stood there in the same pink coat.
Her mother was beside her.
Lucy held a stuffed German shepherd.
“He’s not a Malinois,” she said.
I rubbed my face.
“Close enough.”
“Mom said Titan’s sick.”
“He is.”
“Because of me?”
“No.”
Her face tightened.
“The snake was going to bite me.”
“Probably.”
“And Titan knew.”
“Yes.”
“So he got bitten instead.”
I nodded.
Lucy stared through the glass.
“Can he hear me?”
“Maybe.”
She walked toward the window.
“Titan?”
One ear moved.
Lucy gasped.
“He heard me!”
Her mother covered her mouth.
Lucy pressed both hands against the glass.
“You saved me, okay? So now you have to get better.”
Titan’s tail moved.
Just once.
But we all saw it.
Claire Harper looked at me.
“I owe you an apology.”
“You don’t.”
“I hit you yesterday.”
“You were trying to reach your daughter.”
“I thought your dog was killing her.”
“So did I for about five seconds.”
She looked surprised.
“You did?”
“I knew Titan better than anyone. And I still doubted him.”
Claire looked through the glass.
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“What?”
“We only believe what we see first.”
My phone buzzed.
Another news notification.
I showed her.
The edited video had crossed three million views.
Claire’s face changed.
“That’s not what happened.”
“I know.”
“They cut the snake out.”
“I know.”
“They’re making him look like a monster.”
“That’s the internet.”
“No.”
She took out her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing it.”
Twenty minutes later, Claire posted her own video.
She stood outside the hospital with Lucy beside her.
“My daughter is alive because of Titan,” she told the camera. “That dog did not attack her. He protected her from a rattlesnake.”
Lucy stepped forward.
“Titan is a hero.”
By noon, their video had spread nearly as fast as the first one.
But public opinion wasn’t my biggest concern anymore.
Lieutenant Harris arrived carrying a folder.
“We identified Northwest Exotic’s missing employee.”
He laid down a photo.
A thin man.
Forties.
Deep-set eyes.
Scar across his chin.
“Name’s Evan Pike.”
I stared at him.
“What’s his connection to the snakes?”
“Licensed reptile handler. Fired six months ago. Then started selling venomous species illegally.”
“Why dump them in a public park?”
“We don’t know.”
Harris slid another photo toward me.
This one showed Pike leaving a storage facility.
He was carrying two crates.
My stomach tightened.
“The park crate?”
“That’s one.”
“And the second?”
Harris looked at me.
May you like
“That’s the problem.”
We had no idea where he took it.
