It started out as a simple favor—just two weeks of watching my neighbor Cole’s dog while he flew to Oregon for his brother’s surgery. Nothing complicated. He dropped off Marley, his affectionate Brittany Spaniel who acted like she belonged in someone’s lap, even though she was way too big for that. He gave me the usual rundown: feeding schedule, meds, and her favorite sunny spot on the back deck.
The first day went smoothly. Marley stuck to me like glue. Day two was the same. By the end of the week, it didn’t feel like I was just looking after her. It felt like she was mine, too.
I wasn’t expecting anything strange. Not until yesterday morning.
I was out on the porch with my coffee, Marley curled up in my lap as usual, when she started pawing at her collar—not scratching, more like trying to dig at something. I figured maybe it was bothering her, so I reached over to adjust it.
That’s when I felt it—something firm hidden beneath the fabric. I tugged gently, thinking it was a bit of lint or a twig caught in there. But instead, I pulled out a small, folded envelope that had been tucked under her collar. My heart jumped. Cole hadn’t said anything about this.
Marley stayed curled up, totally relaxed, unaware of the weight of what I was holding. I unfolded the envelope carefully. Inside was a single sheet of paper, handwritten in tight, neat letters. But it was the message that sent a shiver through me:
“If anything happens to me, follow the instructions in the next letter. It’s under the rug. Don’t trust anyone—not even Cole.”
I froze. The words hit me like a punch to the chest. There was no name, no signature—just that ominous warning, hanging in the air like fog. Who had written it? Why was it hidden on Marley? And what was I supposed to do now?
I looked down at Marley’s trusting eyes and wagging tail, and a wave of guilt washed over me. Should I call Cole? Pretend I hadn’t seen it? Or was this exactly why the letter said not to trust him?
Despite my confusion, something told me I couldn’t ignore this. Whoever wrote the letter had gone to lengths to hide it—and for a reason.
I got up, went back inside, and headed straight for the living room. Marley’s bed was in the corner, and a rug covered most of the floor. My hands shook slightly as I knelt down and started to lift the edges of the rug, unsure of what I was about to find…