He thought he was checking out illegal logging in the Idaho mountains-until he found a German Shepherd locked in a frozen cage, staring at him like it had been waiting for exactly one person

tissue under the thick coat. Then she worked a blackened scrap of nylon free from the matting near his ribs. A fragment of harness, burned at one edge.

She held it up without drama. “He worked.”

Grant took the strip between two fingers. It smelled faintly of smoke, oil, and old weather. “Military?”

“Maybe. Search and rescue, private security, logging continue reading …