Deathtrap Read Online Free PDF Page B

Broslin animal shelter, dialed the number that popped onto her screen, then explained her situation to the receptionist on the other end.
    “I’m sorry.” The woman cut her off halfway through. “We have no openings. We have dogs sleeping in the offices. You might have better luck at the county shelter. They have a larger facility.”
    Sophie thanked her for the information, then made the next call, but the county shelter couldn’t take the dog tonight either.
    “You can always try calling back in a couple of days. We have an excellent adoption program. We do get animals out to new homes as fast as we can,” the guy on duty there told her.
    She thanked him, then hung up. Okay. What next?
    She checked out the window. The dog was still there, watching her front door as if waiting for her to appear.
    Deep breath. She needed to stop stressing and obsessing about the dog, she thought as she turned away and walked into her kitchen. Stress was the enemy. Calm and serene. She was going to make herself a healthy dinner. She needed to visualize the biopsy results coming back good tomorrow, and living to a hundred.
    The body’s immune system treated the new organ as an infection. The meds helped with that, but it still needed to be monitored. Depending on how many rejection cells the lab would find in her biopsy specimen, the doctor would update her meds. Maybe she could cut back on her pills a little.
    She washed her hands twice with antiseptic soap in the chipped sink that she hoped someday she’d be able to replace. She glanced at the small shabby chic wooden plaque above the faucet. WONDERFUL THINGS ARE ON THEIR WAY. Exactly.
    She got out a bowl and in went lettuce, washed twice in a special liquid that came at a high price but guaranteed to free vegetables from all sinister bacteria. She laid grilled chicken strips on top, added some cheese and wedges of boiled eggs, sunflower seeds, topping it all with raspberry vinaigrette—all of it organic.
    But she only nibbled on the food as she walked to the front window. Night had fallen outside. She shrugged into her coat, picked up her plate, and walked out to the front stoop.
    The Rottweiler watched her with brown eyes that seemed big enough to swallow the world.
    “I did what I could,” she told him, pulling the coat closed in the front. She wasn’t supposed to risk a cold. She was to stay as far away from germs as possible. Pets were out of the question. Adopting strays was specifically on her no-no list.
    She picked a piece of chicken out of her salad and tossed it to the dog. Of course, it only made it halfway, so he had to come closer. Her heart raced. But she had to toss him another piece now, even closer than that, to get him out of the road.
    And then he was suddenly standing at the end of her walkway.
    She froze, poised to flee back inside.
    He didn’t look too sure about her either, his head down, his eyes on the plate she held.
    The overwhelming Captain Bing had said he didn’t have a fenced property. She did. She glanced at the fence that surrounded her backyard, the gate to her right. Would the dog attack if she walked over to open it?
    “Come on. You’re not going to hurt me. I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?”
    She got no reaction to the deal she was offering. The dog watched her as if he was trying to figure her out, as if she was something strange.
    Time for a blind leap of faith. She tossed a piece of chicken to the left; then she hurried right, to the gate. She opened it, stepped way back, then tossed a piece of chicken into her backyard.
    The dog watched her.
    “Up to you now.”
    He moved toward her.
    She held her breath.
    He came closer.
    Don’t attack. Don’t attack. Don’t attack. She tossed another piece of chicken.
    And he calmly walked through the gate.
    She locked it behind him with shaky hands, dumped the rest of her food inside, and hurried into the house. She ran through, out the back, and opened the shed door while the dog was still