At the word “vet,” G mustered up the strength to growl. 

Doc Lopez smiled and winked. “OK, fine, G. We’ll just call a regular doctor . . . oh, hey, will you look at that, I’m right here.” 

G let out a soft bark of approval. When Doc Lopez went to retrieve the stretcher from his car, the big, orange Cadillac came racing up the street and stopped right in front of Doc’s car. The Suits were back.

Why would they come back if they had everything they needed to transport? The short Suit named Joe jumped out of the passenger seat and said to us, “We have to go back . . . or ahead . . or is it back . . . whatever it is, we have to do it together.” His expression was grim as he held up Stevie’s phone for us to see.

Bones didn’t even bother looking. “We’re not going anywhere until she gets help.” He pointed at G. 

Chief walked around the side of the car to where G lay on the ground and held up his Foozle. “We can help.” 

“Are you a veterinarian?” Doc Lopez asked, the stretcher for G tucked under his arm. 

“No, astrophysicist.” Chief snapped the Foozle on. “We can go back in time thirty minutes and stop this accident from happening. Then we’ll return to the present and take the boys and make sure they’re safe.” He looked at Yogi. “But first, we’ll save your dog.” 

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