I took a half step forward, Petunia grunting in protest but sliding sideways and following me as I eased toward the girl who seemed suddenly locked in the past, her head down, the gun pointing at the ground again. My dog had made zero effort to run to the girl and greet her,

clinging to me as if she understood here was someone she needed to avoid at all costs. And whether Petunia stayed with me to protect me-there was precedence, after all-or for protection, I ...