Excerpt

Sia and I left the house. Once I'd had a good warmup, I picked up my pace, encouraging my cat to do the same. She wasn't nearly as enthusiastic, but trotted faster anyway.

We had to stop on 200 South at the train tracks—the railroad crossing was flashing, the arms coming down, and a train horn was sounding to the north. The ground vibrated as the train drew closer. It was a slow one, and I looked up the tracks, trying to gauge if it was worth waiting for or if I should turn around and go home.

A movement on the other side caught my attention. A huge dog was chewing on something big, and there was blood. A lot of it. I couldn't tell what the dog had, so I stepped closer—still far from the railroad arm—and squinted. A man's leg flopped into view and I gasped, hands flying to my mouth. What was going on?

The whole body twitched and jerked as the dog chewed it. I shrieked involuntarily, then cursed myself for not holding it in because the dog looked up at me.

I was close enough to hear it growl. Its eyes were dark, its teeth large and bright red from blood. It dropped the arm that was in its mouth and stepped toward me. I backed up. Common sense told me not to run, but I shook with the effort it took not to scramble in the opposite direction.

Sia hissed. Her fur stood on end, her tail three times its normal size. The dog growled again, then lunged toward us.

Self-control out the window, I turned and ran, nearly stumbling on the gravel that lined the road. The train honked, and I glanced back as the dog stopped just in time to prevent getting hit by the train as it rumbled along, horn blazing. I picked up Sia, and ran as fast as I could. Trying to keep her calm while holding her that tight wasn't easy, and her claws were probably ruining my shirt. I didn't know if this would be a long train, but I wasn't willing to risk the dog being able to find me.

Shaking and out of breath, I arrived at my doorstep and flung the door open. Once inside, I called the cops.

It didn't take long before two police cars showed up outside, and once I had explained what happened, I led the way to where I'd seen the dog. My hands shook the whole way.

I hadn't expected the dog to stay around, obviously, but I had expected us to find at least a trace of a struggle—blood, shredded clothes, something. Nothing was there.

Detective Evans glanced at me, confused. I didn't blame him—my reputation here was sound, and he'd never had a reason to believe me capable of exaggeration.

"Let's head back to your place, and you can tell us everything you saw in detail," he said. "We'll take a full report and put it on file in case anyone else sees something—or you do again."

I nodded. Where had the dog gone? But more importantly, where had the man gone? Because I knew I hadn't imagined it.