Page 65 of Her Dying Secret

Blue darted to the left. A moment later they were on the riverbank. He sniffed the rocks and dirt on the edge of the water and then lifted his nose to scent the air. Josie scanned the river, trying to determine how far they’d traveled. Now that the bend in the river where the peninsula had formed was behind them, Josie had a better view of the opposite bank where it meandered toward Central Denton. Most of it was just more trees or rocky shoals. In one area what looked like an old garden shed now lay in a heap of wood and debris. The trees around it had been cut down. Someone was likely planning to build there.

Blue stopped sniffing and looked up at Luke. There was no active alert—a bark—and no passive alert—sitting or lying down. He’d lost the scent. It was extremely unusual for him.

Turner huffed behind Josie. “I didn’t think this job would involve so much running. What’s going on?”

Luke frowned. “He must have gone into the water. This is as far as Blue could follow the scent. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Josie said.

“Can’t dogs search in water, too?” Turner said. Suddenly he was an expert on search-and-rescue dogs.

Luke laughed. “You have a boat handy? Kidding. What you’re thinking of are dogs that can find a body immersed in water. Unless this guy is dead, I think that would be a waste of a lot of resources.”

“But just in case,” Josie said. “Have some patrols drive up and down the road on the other side of the river and see if they can spot anything.”

Turner used his radio to make the request while Josie squatted down to pet Blue. Luke gave him some water which he lapped up enthusiastically. A few minutes later, they were headed back toward Tranquil Trails, trudging along a lot slower this time and keeping the river in view so they didn’t get lost. Josie was grateful when they entered the shade of the trees again, but she was beginning to think that Turner was right. She did smell like horseshit and sweat.

“Blue?” Luke stopped walking.

Josie looked around but didn’t see the dog. Turner hunched over, putting his hands on his knees. “He have to take a leak?”

“I don’t know.” Luke walked back into the trees, searching for him.

Josie’s heart slammed into overdrive. She hadn’t even seen Blue leave the group. “Luke?”

He kept walking. “He just ran off. It’s not like him. He?—”

Luke pulled up short and Josie bumped into his back. Edging around him, she saw Blue lying beside a haphazard pile of rocks.

Turner finally caught up. “Oh hell. He needs a nap?”

“No,” Josie said, eyes fixed on the dog. “That’s his passive alert?—”

“—for a cadaver find,” Luke finished.

FORTY-SEVEN

The dirt wasn’t freshly turned. That’s what Josie kept telling herself again and again as the hours passed. The dirt wasn’t freshly turned. The grave wasn’t new. It couldn’t be Mira or Rosie. It probably wasn’t even related to their case. Dr. Feist and the ERT were still working when the sun sank to the horizon and it would be hours more, maybe even morning, by the time they were able to transport the remains to the morgue. Josie and Turner waited outside the perimeter that the ERT had cordoned off, sitting side by side on another downed tree. Someone had brought them water. Josie drank her entire bottle without stopping to breathe while Turner poured his over his head.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said, throat aching after so much exertion.

He’d been fidgety as always. Drumming his fingers. Pacing. Skimming stones into the river. But he’d stayed off his phone almost the entire time. She wondered if he was having some kind of medical event.

“Neither do you.”

“I just want to know?—”

“Yeah, me too,” he said, cutting her off.

They got their answer moments later when Dr. Feist exited the scene. Her camera hung from her neck. Tugging off her skull cap, she walked over to them. “It’s not Mira or Rosie Summers. The decedent has been in the ground for some time. Years.”

“How many years?” asked Turner.

“I can’t say until I get them on the table.”

“Homicide?” Turner pressed.

“Detective Turner,” said Dr. Feist. “I won’t know anything until I’ve had a chance to properly examine these remains, but in my experience, people who die of natural causes don’t usually bury themselves.”

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