Page 12 of So Savage

Faith’s respect for Marcus increased a hundredfold.Maybe she was a little biased, but she absolutely believed that people who were kind to dogs were better people in general.

She looked at Turk and wished she could leave him here to comfort Rooster.But they had a job to do.“Turk, do you smell anything, boy?”

Turk gave her a slightly hurt look, but he complied.He sniffed Rooster, who allowed the examination to take place without reacting.When Turk finished, he dipped his head to Faith to let her know he hadn’t found anything, then nuzzled Rooster.Rooster looked at Turk, and Faith saw something break inside of him.He shuffled closer to the big dog, buried his head in Turk’s chest and began whimpering mournfully.

Turk looked up at Faith, the same grief in his own eyes.He lifted his head and howled softly.The other two big dogs in the room added their voices, all of them mourning the loss suffered by one of their own.Faith felt a lump in her throat and had to look away so she didn’t break into tears.

She tried very hard not to make cases personal.In her line of work, that was dangerous.Even in the West case, when the killer had made it personal before she ever did, she'd learned the hard way that taking an investigation personally invariably led to bad outcomes.It was only when she was able to separate herself from West that she'd been able to bring him in.

But this was personal.Someone was murdering K9 handlers and leaving their dogs broken shells.Rooster might get lucky like Turk and find a partner—whether working or otherwise—with whom he could bond and heal from the loss of his handler.Even if he did, he would still carry the mental scars of losing Sergeant Walsh.

She wondered if Turk carried those scars too, if somewhere beneath his happy exterior, he remembered losing Jack.Were his dreams, like Faith’s, plagued with the taunts of a killer?

CHAPTER FIVE

The handler adjusted the focus on his field glasses until the image of Technical Sergeant Maria Delgado and her dog, a beautiful Dobermann with the sleek coat and noble lines typical of the breed, grew sharp.Delgado was leading the dog through a series of exercises in preparation for his annual board evaluation.

The handler wasn't a fan of shorthaired breeds like Dobermanns in cold weather environments like the winters here in Minnesota, but it was useful for a military K9 to train in adverse conditions.It wasn't likely that the US would ever find itself at war in a frozen environment, but considering Russia's increasingly hostile rhetoric, it wasn't out of the question.

The handler watched the dog complete an obstacle course, gracefully sliding under and leaping over obstacles.He was particularly impressed with the way the dog navigated the slalom.That was one advantage the long-legged Dobermann had over more typical K9 breeds such as the German Shepherd and the Belgian Malinois.The extra stability granted by the legs allowed it to pivot more effectively at speed.

It truly was a shame.Sergeant Delgado appeared to be an excellent handler.Not that he could be sure from this little demonstration.He wasn’t usually impressed by Air Force handlers.They were serviceable, but the handler always had the impression that anything the Air Force did that wasn’t directly related to flying planes was for show more than anything else.Just like the Special Operations unit they had.They were good enough from what he could tell, but was there really a point to having an Air Force unit that could sort of do what the Green Berets and Navy SEALs did for a living?

Their handlers were similar.They could make their dogs go through the motions, but put the dogs in a real combat situation, and he wasn’t confident they’d do well, especially considering the kinds of things the brass expected from their dogs these days.Or maybe the Air Force had smarter leaders than the other branches.

The obstacle course complete, the dog bounded to Sergeant Delgado and stood proudly in front of her.Dobermanns really were beautiful dogs.He might have to consider getting one.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he remembered his old dog, and guilt flooded him.No, he could never have another dog.Not after what had happened.He could never be the devoted owner he needed to be.The memories were too painful.

The next exercise was a takedown exercise.Sergeant Delgado fitted the oversized protective suit and gave her dog the command.Instantly, the calm, regal Dobermann became a snarling, vicious ball of terror.Delgado probably weighed one twenty, and her dog probably weighed one hundred.Dogs of that size could easily take down large men, so when the Dobermann hit her, her feet left the ground for nearly a full second before she landed, cutting a groove in the snow.

Actually, the Dobermann's strength might be an issue.More so, his speed.If the handler didn't place a shot perfectly but alerted the dog in the process, he would have perhaps three seconds to place another one before he was set upon.

He’d have to approach this one more carefully.He looked away from his field glasses and looked for places he could shoot from an elevated position.He spotted a grove of trees on the other side of the field.Those would work, but they were fifty yards from the training field.That would leave him a fairly small area where he could place an effective shot.The roof of the kennel was an obvious choice, but it would be very difficult to reach any military building, especially after the first killings.

There was nothing to do.He’d just have to make damned sure he didn’t miss.

The exercises over, Sergeant Delgado and her K9 left the snow and headed into the kennel.The handler knew that she would return at eight that night to conduct her night exercises.That was far earlier than the handler liked, but it would still be dark outside, and there wasn’t likely to be anyone else out in this cold.He’d have time.

He packed his field glasses and headed to his truck.He needed to adjust the dose of the K9 dart to account for this animal’s larger size.In fact, he needed to adjust the human dose to account for Sergeant Delgado’s smaller size.It was crucial that his victims be alive before he killed them.The lessons he was trying to teach didn’t work if the humans were put to sleep like dogs.

His lips thinned.Dogs deserved better than that too.They deserved to be free is what they deserved.Not stuck here where a bad call from a fucking idiot could get them killed.

He reached his truck and drove smoothly over the snow toward the road.The truck was a lifted Power Wagon, so he wasn’t worried about getting it stuck.The downside to that was that it was noticeable.It turned heads.That limited where the handler could go and how long he could stay there.

Oh well.That was a minor logistics problem.He’d figure it out.

The sun blazed off of the snow ahead, forcing the handler to squint even through his sunglasses.It had been a while since he’d been in the area.He’d gotten used to snow being something to drive to instead of something he lived in.

When he reached his apartment, he parked the Power Wagon across the street and walked inside, a courtesy he showed the other residents since his truck was large enough to be a nuisance in the small parking lot.Courtesy was important.Politeness was important.People looked at men like him a certain way, and if he wanted to avoid suspicion, he had to act the other way.

He'd eat a good meal, get some rest, prepare his darts, and come back to the Air National Guard Station that night.Then he would serve a little more justice.

CHAPTER SIX

After leaving Dr.Parker's practice, Faith, Marcus, and Turk went to a local café for breakfast.Turk ordinarily ate his food with all of the enthusiasm of a teenager, but now he ate slowly, his eyes still burdened with the grief he'd seen in Rooster's eyes and perhaps also with the memory of his own grief.

Faith reached down to scratch him behind his ear, and he lifted his eyes to hers and moaned softly."I know, boy," she said."Don't worry.We'll get him."

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