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

wrapped twice in freezer bags. Ray lifted it out with gloved hands and turned the pages slowly.

No full names. Just dates, initials, weights, mile markers, and numbers that looked meaningless until they repeated. The rhythm of them was worse than any confession. A system. A ledger of taking.

Ray’s face changed as he read. “This isn’t a few idiots cutting continue reading …