It was when I first stepped into the hallway that I got my first hint of something terrible.
I could smell waste, and I worried I was about to walk in on the dog having shit himself because Brady had accidentally left him locked up.
As I started pushing open doors, and looking inside, I quickly realized that this part of the house was empty.
There was one last door to try, and I could practically hear Butterfinger losing it.
"Shit," I sighed.
The dog really did hate me, and I didn't want to open that door.
But I did, and found myself staring down a very angry dog. A dog that was standing over her master with a ferocious snarl on her face.
"Shit," I snapped.
When I tried to step forward though, it was to find Butterfinger getting even more angry.
"Shit!"
I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 even as I was running back outside to Naomi, the only person I knew who Butterfinger actually liked.
"Naomi! Get in here now!" I bellowed at the garage door.
She fell out of her car, and started running toward me even as I got on the phone with EMS.
"I need a medic to 511 Pottersview Road. I have an unconscious male, late eighties early nineties. He's not responsive," I relayed to the operator.
The operator started to ask questions, but I halted them by telling her I knew no more.
She accepted that, and I hung up, running to where I found Naomi trying to get Butterfinger under control.
"Careful, baby," I eased in the room. "She's scared, and I don't want her to hurt you."
Naomi was careful, but luckily Butterfinger was in a willing mood to cooperate, and allowed her close to Brady.
The moment she dropped down to her knees, though, and I heard her soft cry, I realized that Brady wasn't alive anymore.
Not even close.
"Rigor has already set in," she disclosed shakily.
"Can you call the dog off?" I rumbled. "The paramedics will be here shortly, and I don't know if Butterfinger will allow them in."
She swallowed convulsively, and then stood up, calling Butterfinger to her.
"Come here, baby," she called her. "Come to me."
Butterfinger went, but the entire time she kept turning back to look at her master, whimpering with each step she took.
The moment Naomi got her out of the room, I checked for signs of life myself, even though I knew there wouldn't be any of them.
The minute my fingers met the cooled skin of Brady's neck, a deep wave of grief washed over me. Naomi was going to be devastated.
Brady had become one of her greatest friends since moving here, and now that he was gone, she would have a huge hole in her life that he used to fill.
"I put her into my car," Naomi said softly from behind me.
I looked over to her from where I was kneeling beside Brady's body.
"What are you going to do with her?" I asked curiously.
I knew after a discussion a few weeks ago that Naomi wasn't allowed to have dogs at her apartment. The moment she tried to have a dog there, the landlord would kick her out just like she'd done the last four tenants who tried to sneakily have a pet.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But if we take her to the pound, she'll be put down. Everyone will look at her and think she's mean when she's really just heartbroken."
I didn't point out that Butterfinger really was mean. In fact, she was a downright asshole.
Naomi was speaking the truth. If we did take her to the pound, which I knew we weren't, she'd be put down immediately. She was that much of a jerk.
"We'll figure it out in a little bit, baby," I said softly, returning my eyes to the man in front of me. "Gather her food and toys. We'll take her to my place until we figure this out."
With one last glance at Brady's prone body, she turned and escaped.
I stayed there until the medics came through the door, followed on the heels by my father.
"Son," my dad said. "Your woman is in the yard crying next to a dog that growled at me."
My lips twitched.
"Yeah," I said. "She's sad."
Dad took a look at the man, then nodded. "Get out of here. Take your girl home."
Dad clapped his hand on my shoulder to halt me before I could take a step toward the door.
"Did you touch anything?"
Confusion swept over me. "Just touched his body, felt for a pulse, why?"
"Don't touch him."
The two paramedics who were about to bend down froze.
"Get out. Tell my boy outside that we need a crime scene crew."
The two paramedics left just as fast as they came.
"What is it?"