Max scrabbled to get behind the sofa but Anton was ruthless. He had to be, he told himself, as he tugged on Max's collar. The dog skidded forward, his back legs twisting under him. Anton slipped a hand under Max's flanks and pulled him up. Max yelped but stayed on his feet.
Mrs. Bushnell, across the hall, opened her door a crack. Anton caught a glimpse of her hair, the color of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Every day she looked out whenever they passed. Anton pictured her, hovering behind her...